Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:07:02

Ringgggg!

The bell sounded the first round and Troll Heavyweight Champion (Unenhanced) Toshio Kameda came out swinging. Angus "Rocky" Smith was almost immediately on the defensive. The first round was always a confused haze until he got into his groove. Unable to get on the offensive, he kept his gloves up and tried to ride the storm out - but he already knew what he needed.

As always, he'd had to jones it out through the 48 hours leading up to the fight so he could pass the piss test, but once he weighed in he was home free - except that Skinny, Doc, and Bruno were always right there by his side all the way into the ring. But his ploy always worked - they lace up the right glove and then, after the wrapping was all signed and while his left hand was still free he would go take one final leak - made perfect sense - he naturally wouldn't want no one holding it for him - and while in the stall he would secrete the pain killers in the lacing on the back of his right glove, high up on the wrist and where it was always right up by his face when he was covering. Then, IF he needed the help - and of course he always hoped he wouldn't - like, it was a LAST resort - all he had to do was bury his face in his wrists while he was covering up and snarf the pills.

So here he was taking a beating in the first round as usual, but he knew help was close at hand.

John
Monday 1/20/70 19:37:40

Clink
Champagne spilled everywhere as executives toasted and aides scurried to rescue the reams of newly-signed documents from the sloshing liquor. The Expectation of Privilege clauses, the fee schedules, the Due Diligence affidavits, Breach Failsafes, contingency clauses and contingencies on the contingency clauses. Compliance agreements. Several thousand pages in all, signed now by all the principles and sealing the single biggest retainer in the history of John Francis Fitzalan-Howard's firm. What a mouthful. Of course he didn't call the firm that - he'd left the names of the original partners on the letterhead - Rouis, Falcao & Smith. It would impress the ignorant, and those in the know would, well, they would know. John's name wasn't out in the open anywhere, just as he was now much more likely to appear in a lecture hall than an open court of law, but his advice was worth gold to men who measured gold the way mere mortals measured flour.

Of course, Bertram Scudder was hardly one of those men - the corpulent fellow approaching the podium was merely a figurehead at the helm of what at the moment was little more than a shell company. But John had just signed a deal to propel Scudder's little stewardship, the Appalachian Alliance, to the top of the heap. The soon-to-be king of North American mining started to speak -

"Ladies and gentlemen - it is with great pleasure that we conclude our arrangements with possibly the one legal genius on the planet capable of clearing the myriad regulatory obstacles to our great endeavor. Messrs and Mmes, I give you John Francis Fitzalan-Howard!"
John smiled and waved politely. Fat bastard was already drunk. Had no one told him how much I hate the spotlight?
"And truly the obstacles before us are substantial. Navigating the vagaries of the primeval anti-trust legislation still lurking on the books of both the UCAS and CAS; weathering complaints from NAN fanatics not content with their own half of the continent, but wanting to meddle in ours; not to mention the environmentalists, determined to undermine efficiencies of production and supply that can add to the livelihood of millions, all for the sake of the imagined health problems of a handful of hillbillies." FOOL!!! John thanked the gods no media were present. Don't mention those issues AT ALL!

Scudder went on and on, and for the most part what he said was perfectly true - uniting all the mining interests of the Appalachian Mountains under the NeoNET umbrella would lead to tremendous scale merits, employ tens of thousands, and generate capital which would generate greater economic well-being for millions. But the greater the potential relief of suffering, the more those who made their livings fanning the flames of discontent and suffering came slavering after the prospects of a fat target. That was where John came in.

The speech was followed by a dizzying array of conversations - all of which John had to keep straight in his head. He hated that part - he always had SO VERY MUCH to juggle in his head. But such was the security profile of some of the men here (who were they kidding, the women were window-dressing) that even he was not allowed any sort of recording device, and an obvious aide would have indicated weakness.

He took a moment to thank his trusted right hand and firm CFO Kip Chalmers, a son-in-law of one of the old founders. Incredibly bright and quite trustworthy, he had relied on Kip to supervise production of the bulk of the contracts. This was a big night for both of them.

And of course a moment with Miles. Everything Lanier said had multiple meanings. Just his presence at the signing bespoke the importance NeoNET placed on the whole endeavor. "How's the health, John?" Not much subtlety there - they both knew what he meant. "Listen John, I want you to know that you will anything, ANYHING you need on this project. Here is my personal commcode. Anytime, John." And he held the handshake just long enough - "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." Translation - no screw ups, and if you do there'll be no excuses. Zero tolerance for failure.

The idea of zero tolerance from Miles Lanier - the thought alone spoke volumes.

Conall
Saturday 6/21/70 19:59:55

Conall O'Neill was backstage at Belfast's Grand Hall on Midsummer's Night - better known as Alban Heruin on the Emerald Isle. It was the chief festival of the Path of the Bard, and as such the greatest musical event of the year. Televised throughout Europe, it was, and attended by all the noble of Ireland. His best mate Declan was talking about something (when wasn't he?), but Conall had eyes only for Etain. He was behind her, and she stood in the wings, poised to take the stage. In the darkness there, she was silhouetted by the bright lights out under the proscenium, clad neck to wrist to ankle in a velvet glove special-ordered from Florence. Through an uncertain mixture of her clan's influence and her own talent, she was to open the concert. He had never felt so proud. Nor so captivated.

Etain
Saturday 6/21/70 19:59:55

It was hardly Etain's first public performance. But all that had gone before paled in comparison to this. And while it was indeed the perfect opportunity to launch her professional career, that now seemed inconsequential compared with the grandeur of the assemblage out there in the darkness. The full nobility of the Danaan would be facing her. The Lady Brane Deigh. And perhaps more important - her own parents. She wished she could be certain they were here to see her...and not simply to be seen.
She would sing Dwyer Joyce's "The Wind that Shakes the Barley," unaccompanied. The stage manager would prompt her any second now. Keelin stood beside her gripping her hand, but as usual the one closest to her thoughts was Conall.

Etain
Belfast's Grand Hall, Saturday 6/21/70 19:59:55

If she was nervous as she waited in the stage wing, it didn’t show on her features. Inside however her stomach was in knots. She was confident in her voice, in her memory of the words and the emotion within the song. However it was the motives of two people and the attendance of a third that caused her to find the need for long, shaky deep breaths and to focus her light brown eyes on something in the distance that no one else could see.

”I pray the Lady Brigid to give me silvered voice and charm; I take her gifts to my beloved people, that I may bring light to their faces and their hearts.”

Her mother had pulled out all the stops earlier in the evening to get her daughter ready for such an honour as this. Waist-length auburn hair had been elaborately braided back from her face into a long tail that hung down her back, suspended from a high atop her head. Whisperstrands of ribbon that shimmered with the colour of flame were interwoven in the braids, accented with glittering jewels, almost forming a suspended crown around her head and accentuating her Elven ears. Her face was flawless, amazingly devoid of any heavy stage makeup, just a pale dusting of a shimmering powder. The dress was stunning, worthy of its very own standing ovation really. Etain’s body was wrapped from ankle to wrist in velvet, stitched together and dyed as to appear as if a fire started at her feet, blazing in shades deep crimson and orange, and ended just below her neck-line. Delicate tendrils of flame danced across her breastbone, over her shoulders, and down each arm, ending in pale yellows at each wrist.

Just before the stage manager prompted her to step out onto the stage, with her free hand she reached behind her and found it’s sought after destination, her slender fingers intertwining with Conall’s for an instant, for words between them were unnecessary. A slight squeeze before she dropped both his and Keelin’s hands and stepped forward out into a blinding light.

With each confident step to the polite soft applause, the knot in her stomach slowly loosened. She took her mark at center stage and suddenly felt nothing but calm as she looked out from beneath her lashes with her head bowed into a void of white light. The audience didn't matter anymore, more importantly who was in the audience didn't matter to her anymore. Her hands rested at her side as she drew one final breath before she got her starting note piped into the earpiece in her left ear.

As she exhaled she lifted her head and out came the first note, perfect pitch and with a haunting and powerful tone to come out of her small frame.

I sat within the valley green
I sat me with my true love
My sad heart strove the two between
The old love and the new love
The old for her, the new that made me
Think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glen
And shook the golden barley

Conall
Belfast's Grand Hall, Saturday 6/21/70 19:59:55

Practically hidden amongst the folds of the heavy drawn back stage curtain, Conall’s pointed ears listened to Declan’s elated lecture about recent football events… but he didn’t hear a single word. His entire self and attention were turned toward Etain. She stood only a few feet away, and yet, the young elf felt the gap in a disturbingly painful manner. Uneasiness clogged his throat like a rock, and he could feel the knot in his stomach tightening itself with each passing moment.

Brief passing beams of light danced off stage and shun in darkened backstage. Conall proudly wore his War College dress uniform. In such public and official events, it was required of all students… but since the festival took place in Belfast, many had opted to take their chances and gone more casual. It was well known that anyone in uniform would be a prime target for revolutionary groups. Especially went you were an elf. Especially when you were of the Danaan. But Conall didn’t care. There was not one of those lowly human, ork, dwarf or troll he couldn’t deal with.
He had never lost. Never.

The lights passed briefly on him, dancing off the polished buttons of his uniform. Although not especially tall per elf standards, at a mere 1.75 meters, the young man was probably bulkier than most of his kin. Broad square shoulders, well defined arms, strong legs; he would have been the perfect grunt had he not been of noble rank. His fair skin looked almost pure white under the briefly passing lights, complementing his light brown, almost golden eyes. His hair kept short, and which it seemed grew in mixed direction, almost as if he had just woken up, made his ears seem longer and pointier. His face wore no imperfections… at, maybe, the exception of the always serious mask it had on.

As Etain slightly reached back with her delicate hand, Conall instinctively took the few quick steps that separated them, finally closing the tear. When his rough skin connected with hers, soft and gentle, the knot went away. He was able to swallow the apprehension that had been stuck in his throat. Everything was going to be fine.

You’re beautiful.

He felt her finger gently slid away from his own grip, and had to keep himself from catching her back at the wrist. Reluctantly, he watched her walk out into the bright spotlights of the Grand Hall. Conall had heard her rehearse the piece a hundred times, but it simply had never sounded so beautiful to his ears. He felt Declan’s firm grip on his shoulder, as if his friend was trying to reassure him. The young elf ultimately took his eyes of the young woman. He didn’t want his presence to break her concentration. Not that it really would… she was stronger than that. But for some reason, the song always made him feel sad.

He took a few steps back, standing aside the main way so that the next performers would have easy access to the stage. Declan had stopped his yammering, content with sticking a crazy happy ear to ear grin on his face as he listen to the song.

Through the hazy diffuse light reflected off the stage, Conall could discern his mate’s features. Like him, he wore his War College dress uniform, with his dark green beret folded and stuck in his shoulder strap. Even though neither of them were officers yet, and Conall would only be because of his “talents”, Declan outranked him… but it never got in the way of their friendship. Conall would have lied if he said he wasn’t jealous of his friend’s position. He would have a chance at becoming what he could never be.

John
Monday 1/20/70 20:00:02

The champagne was excellent, or so the lable told him. He took in the sight of a myriade of waightless pearls disturbing the golden liquid and sampled it. The taste and feeling where exquisit, but with the obligatory toast and zip done, John only held on to his glass and put the christall on the next servants tray after Scudder´s speach, as most of the men did, that realized that this was a business meeting as much as it was a celebration, if not more so.
The detailes 'Bert the Blob' adressed cued John´s brain to project the contracts paragraphes back into his mind, making him involunterily re-check everything.
The overwaight man developed little beads of sweat on his forehead, as he stood in the spotlight. John was abled to suppress such signs of nervousnes most of the time, long enough at least, to make his retreat. It wasn´t the only thing in which the two men differed, in fact they where quiet the oposit of each other. Bertram was heavy and rather short in comparison to the willowy elf. One face was round and crowned with light hair combed neatly over the nigh-bald patch, accentuated by a slim moustach that failed to imitate Marlon Brando. The other was elongated and sharp, cleanshaved and with imaculately styled, but casual looking, short, dark, hair. Bert´s skin was rosy and rough, where John´s was smooth and well taned. The later prefered clothes that made his frame look a bit wider and more solid, while the former tryed to look leaner and taller. The human´s light gray pin-stripe armani was expensive and showed it, masterly tailor-made to measure, though his whine-red tie was bound somewhat sloppy. The elf prefered cloths that where less recognizable to the uniformed eye and while costing as much as a middle-class car, didn´t advertise it.
The dark, single-breasted three-button was a bespoke Gieves & Hawkes made of gray, blue and black three-ply Harris Tweed, the top and middle black-pearl buttons where closed. His silken, navy-blue long tie with narrow, red, european-style stripes was tied in a perfectly symetric Pratt-Shelby and held a bland, golden tiepin engraved with the names Rouis, Falcao & Smith. John held his silken, navy-blue Handkerchief embroided with the Arms of the Dukes of Norfolk in his inside pocked, as such accessoires where generally not received well by un-japanized american cliants. Instead a fine Franklin-christoph fountain pen crafted from gold and lapislazuli was placed in his breast pocket. He wore a high-colar, french cuff, button-down shirt of pearly white silk, with near invisible, platinum embroidery and golden cuff-links with the classic Novatech logo. Balmorals-style, jetblack Cesare Paciotti and a matching belt with golden buckle compleated the ensamble.
Honoring the formality of the event, John did not ware his Fairlight and not even a watch, but in an emergancy he would be reachable by the skin-linked microtransceiver concealed in his pen. The DocWaggon bracelet was integrated into an unobstrusive, golden accessoir, covered beneth his left frensh-cuff, where any medical technician would look for it first.
He stood there, making eye-contact and nodding slightly to everyone, that mattered and some that didn´t. All the while, his amber eyes scanned the audience, the unobstrusive security and the beautyfull women, checked the exits and windows, judging cover-positions and projecting paths of escape, as well as maping the locations of any people he could use to escape an unpleasant conversation, or should avoid in the first place. The sights spawned intelligence data to pop up inside his head on each and every face. His previlaged contracts made him know the darkest secrets of more then half of the persons persent and adding a software-branch to his company had been priceless, to keep them all in mind at all times.

The chatter after the official oration was unnerving -so many people in one place, the inability to record everything for later analysis didn´t help either- but the trained professional didn´t show it. By the time he had the oportunity to talk to Kip Chalmers, he had allready secured three new mandates with major clients.
Kip was a good man, he had done a great job and would be revarded handsomely for his talent and dedication. In case anything went horribly wrong against all odds, the boy would also be good to take the fall, off cause. The Lord may shelter us from such hardship. It would be a distinct los for the compay -the contract as much as the person- besides John genuinly liked the man.

As Lanier approached John, his heart-beat increased just a bit. As much as he enjoyed his current lifestyle, he allways fealt nostalgic, when thinking about the old days with Novatech. He gave the man an allmost compleatly genuin, short smile, used to not see it returned as Lanier retained his usual stoic mask. He had only once seen the man smile for more then a second or two, and that had been when John had pulled a 'Miles Lanier' on Novatech´s most dangerous fiend.
Drawing together all his resolve, John managed to return and hold Lanier´s unblinking gaze. His own reflection stared back at him, in the dark eyes. A verry handsome yet somehow bland face, like it was cut straight out of a fashion-magazin. Looking more hispanic, then british, south asian or japanese and agelessly hovering somewhere between 25 and 50.
Only noding slightly at his biting remark, John returned the firm grip of his hand. The message was clear, Scudder and Kip wouldn´t be the only ones suffering if this somehow went wrong. Even when John made them take the major blow, he wouldn´t go unscathed. Escaping through legal loopholes wouldn´t do, Miles could simply put a hole in his forehead, but for that to happen, EVERYTHING had to go wrong. John was forced to mentally re-check the contracts unavoidable weak links again and asure himself that one layer of contingencies or the next would work in the unfortunate event.

The intelligence on Miles Lanier is disturbingly spotty. Though Fuchi´s, Novatech´s and now NeoNet´s counter-intelligence had allways been weak in comparison with the other big kids, Lanier had mostly been an exception to this day. Still John knows the man and can handle him, at least better then most people present, if not every last one of them.

John: "This is a historic event and it will propel NeoNet to new hights, plucking the stars from the sky. Kip did a good job there."

Playing to the prospective fortunes, that this arrangement would bring was a bit blunt of course, but it reflected the general mood of this event, to put up another fasade would be inapropriate. The elf isn´t sure if Lanier will fall to the ploy, being distracted enough by the statement of modesty, the Fuchi-pun and the invocation of the fortunes to come, to divert his attention from Chalmers subtily being placed in responsibility, right next to John, step by step.

Conall and Etain
Saturday 6/21/70 23:17:04

The performance had gone off without a hitch. The standing ovation the noble audience had granted Etain had matched the applause given to the more renowned acts, far exceeding the polite recognition that would have been accorded simply out of respect for her father.

Now, as the lobbies and reception areas and every other part of the Hall swirled with scintillating fashions and upper-crusty hobnobbing, Etain and Conall stood holding drinks in the lavish green room with Declan, Keelin, and Fiona. At that moment, several people entered the performers' area - led by their parents.

Etain's father put out both hands to take hers. "You are a true vision, lass. That dress is a particularly pleasing choice. And your voice - what remarkable progress you have made. It gladdens my heart that you have been making the most of your talents." Of course. thought Etaine, he praises the dress before my singing - must express approval for not showing an inch of flesh, mustn't we? The fact was that however exquisite the velvet sheath, the current fashions Etain admired made better use of the female form, the cloth only accentuating the canvas of the human body. But the men in her family - they housed their bodies in an opulent mansion, but their minds in Stone Age caves.

As her father moved on to give a manful handshake to Conall, Etain's mother joined the evening's round of congratulations. Never one to fail to turn a social occasion to good use, however, she quickly introduced a young man that had entered the room with her.

"My dear, this is Patrick O'Donnell." Between the name and the face, her mother knew no more introduction was needed, and moved on to embrace Conall.

"It is so very much a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You look positively sublime, and your interpretation of Dr. Joyce's classic was flawless." Patrick had the face of an angel. The face of nobility - he was the scion of the only house in Ulster with a more glorious lineage than her own, but not all nobles lived up to their bloodline. Here was one that did. Had he always been so fetching? She'd last seen him four years ago - perhaps she was simply giving more thought to such things these days?

Seeing her daughter apparently speechless in the face of Patrick's charm, Caitriona O'Neill chimed in - "Patrick has been off playing things in a delightfully rebellious manner, reading economics and law at Tokyo Imperial University."

Etain
Saturday 6/21/70 23:17:47

Struck momentarily silent by Patrick’s praise, not to mention the striking good looks he had managed to grow into, Etain felt a warm pink blush stain her pale and freckled cheeks. She glanced down to the cocktail in her hands and finally managed a soft and melodious “Thank you” in response to his compliments. Suddenly forgotten was her father’s praise of her dress before her talent and she raised her brown eyes up to look into his blue ones as her mother’s voice and comments registered inside her brain.

“And please do tell me just what is so rebellious about economics and law? Should it be that one finds nothing more to do in the Tir than to run away to Tokyo to study?” She flashed a teasing smile, full of perfect white teeth, and yet quite coy and demure at the same time.

Her confidence was back like it had been on stage. She was still basking in the heady drug of genuine approval and recognition for her gifts. It could become positively dangerous if she got too wrapped up in it. It was intoxicating, much like the drink in her hands, much like Patrick’s smile.

Etain
Saturday 6/21/70 23:17:51

"That's what I ask my mother. I studied all the right subjects on the Path of Etain," his eyes sparkled at the pun, "I just chose to do it in Asia. I found it refreshing - the Japanese mind is much more open to the values of proper breeding than some of our supposedly enlightened European neighbors. And speaking of breeding - well, I must not gush." His smile confirmed the unspoken compliment.

Etain
Saturday 6/21/70 23:17:55

She found herself giggling lightly at Patrick’s pun. No matter how many times she had heard it growing up and how many times she had rolled her eyes at it, when it came from his lips it was charming. The blush on her cheeks deepened just slightly at his veiled compliment and the way she could feel his eyes move over every inch of her as he looked at her. Flirting even in a high-society setting always brought out the shier side of her personality. While she was a social being, her experience with boys on a level outside of minimal friendship was limited at best. She found herself quickly changing the subject and turning the attention away from herself.

“So… Are you back home just for the festival and to see your family or is it of a more permanent visit?”

Etain
Saturday 6/21/70 23:18:01

He smiled with the pleasure of being able to give the answer he wanted to give. "Definitely more permanent. I've graduated Todai, and now I'm taking a year to trek around the island, spend time seeing the country and meeting its people before assuming greater responsibilities under my father. Some of us are actually planning a long hike out around Larne starting day after tomorrow. Perhaps you and some of your friends would like to join us?"

Conall
Saturday 6/21/70 23:17:04

Conall held his still full and untouched champagne flute. Holding himself propped with his free hand against one of the large banquets’ tables, his eyes slowly scanned the room.

“Assay, mate you need to lighten up some!” boasted Declan, giving him a rather hard pat on the back… just enough that some of his drink spilled forward and unto the rich carpeted floor.

“Belfast’s a dodgy spot on this isle. I don’t harbor any fondness for it.” said Conall in calm tone, all the while wiping his gloved hand on Declan’s uniform.

When the young man realised what his friend was doing, he quickly backed off.

“Away! Watch the brass! Took me forever to get the whole thing spit’n’polish.”

He looked up at Conall’s grin, whispering to himself “Rakkie”.

“See me? I don’t go about all serious about every beat there is. Unwind. Relax. And check out the broads n’ dames! This be a fair feast for the eyes and mind.”

Giving him a little nudge with his elbow, the officer in training did his best to nod Conall in the direction of Keelin and Fiona. Both girls were standing a few meters off, talking and giggling with Etain. The way Keelin laughed at the slightest thing show her tipsiness. The red that was slowly glowing on her fair cheeks didn’t help either. When her gaze crossed Conall’s, she smiled shyly and covered her mouth as she started giggling again.

“Not bad Conall. Not bad.”

“Away and shite Declan.”

Declan would have probably shot back some witty remark, but stopped in his track when the O’Neills’ made their rather noticeable entrance. Conall always had very little interaction with his parents, and seeing them tonight only served to annoy him. They were all about pomp and flair; about parades and grand designs. They were ridiculous; that’s what they were. Seeing them approached , the young man sighed heavily with no shame, and gave his friend a side glance.

“… Here they come”.

Conall hadn’t exchanged a single word with his dad in over a month. They never saw each other. That and they had nothing in common beside blood and last name. Both cadet stood at attention when the O’Neill patriarch came their way, hand extended forward.

“Conall.”

He took his hand firmly.

“Father.”

They shook on it, and he moved on.
It was now the mother’s turn.

“Dear lord; you boys look quite dashing in your uniforms! Declan, how are your parents doing?”

Conall heard very little of his mother’s chatter. His attention was focused over his her shoulder… on some flimsy elven boy. He wouldn’t have given him a second of his time in any other situation, but the way he looked at Etain, the way he slowly crept toward her like some beast in heat made his blood boil. An plea of excuse for his leaving barely left his lips as he abandoned Declan to his mother’s questioning. More serious matters were at hand than the rainy weather and the O’Brian’s state of health.

“well, I must not gush” was the only words that reached Conall’s pointed ears. He felt like knocking these pearly white teeth down the kid’s throat. Who did he think he was?

He firmly gripped Patrick’s shoulder, squeezing just hard enough not to hurt him… but to get across that he meant business.

“Hey mate. You're Patrick O'Donnell right?” he said with a polite smile on his face, but with no such emotion in his voice.

Conall didn't wait for an answer. He leaned in close to Patrick so he could whisper in his ear: "Seems to me like you've lost your way; want me to square you out?"

"Excuse my clumsiness, sir." he said, with the same empty voice.

Without even trying to hide his move, Conall literally poured his full drink on the man's luxurious suit.

"You'd better go wash that."

Conall
Saturday 6/21/70 23:18:06

Patrick O'Donnell looked down at the shorter but obviously sturdier Conall. Although his thin smile twitched a bit, he showed no sign of distress, ignoring his soiled shirt and looking back at his younger offender. As the two locked gazes, a moment of indecision passed across Patrick's eyes, and he took a calm step back. "Yes, quite so," he said. He took another step back, but before turning to leave he looked back at Etain. "I do hope you will consider my offer. Great fun to be had by all, I've no doubt." He bowed to her, turned on his heel, and left the room.

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:07:08

Ringgggg!

Angus comes out of his corner moving sluggishly as usual. His opponent, Toshio had obviously watched the fight tapes because he comes straight across the ring to pound on Angus as fast and hard as possible while he was in his first round daze, as he always was. With what Angus could only describe as luck he dropped his 2.6 meter frame just enough to dodge Toshio's massive opening right hook. Damn, that one would have hurt. Angus thinks to him self as he tries to shake off the opening daze and keep himself in good enough shape to show his stuff later in the match.

Before Angus realizes it Toshio comes back at him with a left cross catching Angus on the jaw hard as he tried to recenter himself after dodging the first shot. Spit and a small amount of blood slip past his mouth piece and fly out of the ring, as Angus's head is rocked to the left with an audible thud. Angus slips under Toshio's reach staggering out in to the ring, trying to give himself a little room to move.

He makes it out of the corner, but before he can find the center of the ring Toshio is on him with short jabs try to control where Angus moves. After a short dance and lot of covering up Angus sees his opening and shoots a right jab out, catching Toshio on the chin. This seems to make Toshio only smile as he closes in for another exchange of blows.

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:08:38

Kameda is apparently unphased by Smith's momentary rally.

It actually looks like he's SMILING at Smith, Bob.

Well, Kameda's known for his almost supernatural ability to take a hit, and now here he is with a STRONG jab to Smith's chin. That boy needs to get his hands up!

He NEEDS a new coach, Bob. He has CONSISTENTLY lost every first round in his entire fight career, despite the fact that he's 20 and oh in terms of final outcomes - and I will add that NONE of those ever went to the judges.

Well, I guess that's why they're calling him Rocky, but I'll tell you, watching him stumble around taking a beating like an amateur out there - it really takes some faith to think he's gonna pull out of it.

Looks like he's getting back on the offensive, but he's off balance and can't penetrate Kameda's defenses. And there's the bell.

Stay with us folks, for round two of this title match between defending champion Toshio Kameda and challenger Angus "Rrrrrocky" Smith here at Seattle's Safeco Field.

Etain
Saturday 6/21/70 23:18:06

The dreamy smile that was on Etain’s face from being “asked out” by the one and only Patrick O’Connell was quickly replaced by a look of shock and almost horror and Conall “accidentally” spilled his drink all over him. Her eyes flared at Conall for an instant as she tilted her head and shot him a look of complete “WTF?!” Her mind was flooded with a myriad of thoughts at once, but the ones meant for Conall were sent pointedly in his direction at lightning speed.

“Conall are you mad?! What did you go and do that for, he was just inviting me and the girls, perhaps even you and Declan, to Larne the day after next.

Before she could start cursing out loud she grabbed a stack of napkins from a nearby table and started lightly pressing them against the spill on Patrick’s shirt. A string of apologies and I’m sorries spilling from her lips so quickly she almost missed that the offer to join him still stood despite Conall’s attempt to drive him away.

“I will definitely consider it, I’m sure the girls would be thrilled to go, thank you.”

She watched him walk away with all the Elven grace that his family’s bloodline carried and smiled. As soon as he was out of the room however she spun on a heel and faced Conall again, her finger pointing and jabbing at him while she tried to keep her voice down.

“Why do you always do this to me?! Anyone looks at me the wrong way and you’re gearing up like you’re going to war on them. We were just talking, I was trying to appease Mother more than anything else…”

Her anger was short-lived the longer she looked at Conall and stared into his eyes. She could never stay angry at him for more than an instant, besides she knew he was just trying to keep her safe, to protect her interests.

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:09:01

Ringgg!

Angus sighs with relief as the bell ending the first round finaly rings. He walks to the corner as Doc slids the oversized stool in to the corner for him and Skinny climbs to the edge of the ring with a towel over one arm a water bottle in his hand and a bucket in the other.

Angus turns to see that Toshio is waving off the stool and opting to stand in his corner as he confirs with is ork trainers and human manager. As he takes a seat the scantly clad elven round girl climbs into the ring carrying a classic round marker with a bold large 2 printed on it. Doc grabs the tools of his trade to help put Angus back together and make him ready for another round. Skinny drops the bucket in front of Angus and starts to talk, "Good start, but you gotta keep you guard up or this guy is going to eat you alive." Angus spits his mouth piece in to Skinny's hand as he talks, and nods even though he is only hearing part of what Skinny is saying to him. Its the same thing he does after the first round of every fight, keep you guard up, move around more, hit the slitch and don't let him you. As Skinny talks, Doc cleans off the couple cuts he got and applies a couple quick spots of invisible skin to seal the cuts.

Angus takes a long drag off the water bottle offered by Skinny, swishing the water around in his mouth, looking the elven round girl over as she passes his corner. Once shes passed he spits in the bucket and finally responds to Skinny, "Yeah I know, I know, I'm working on it, but you know how I am. This is just the way it goes. Been this wat since you found me, you oughta be used to it by now." As he finishes his response the round girls climbs out of the ring and the ref turns from the judges at ring side so he can see both fighters. "bout that time, lets see if this fool can fight" Angus smiles to himself as he slips his mouth piece back in and stands so they can move the stoll and bucket out of the way, as the bell rings Skinny slaps him on the back, and says "GO SLAG'M!!"

John
Monday 1/20/70 20:01:16

John: "We should should sattle the lawsuits pending against the project´s M&A targets first. The less publicity, the better. Once our plans are public knowledge, it would only raise the suing parties´ demands and the compensations to sattle these things out of the court room. Once these unpleasant issues are cleared, Sierra and the other hippies have less they can do against our plans. My miners are allready on that reporter´s heels, once we have undermined their credibility, blocking that damn massive lawsuit shouldn´t take to long. It might help, to have an 'indipendant' sorce establish a study on the birthdefects and tarnish the other laboratory´s reputation, as well." With a sidelook in Scudder´s direction -which he uses to scan the surrounding- he adds: "How long will we be abled to keep this operation secret? There are other things to do that might best work out of the spotlight, but we should present the project to the public on our own, before word leaks out."

The elf stops for a beat, to give Lanier a chance to respond or stop the conversation. When he dosn´t, he goes on.

John: "I´m sure preparations for the inevitable interception at the courporate court are under way. We won´t win up there, by law-savyness alone! With the dragon´s interests in the CAS increasing since before the crash and it´s recent problems in the middle east, SK will probably be our biggest adversary."

Never deal with a dragon! The old phrase crosses his mind, but he brushes it away. He had forsaken to adher to this advice, when he agreed to consult Novatech in the merger with Transsys and Erika.

John: "Off cause, Nakatomi will be happy to help them. Thats Priault, Belczyk and Benson. Nishimura, may be in against us, too, depending on how much influence Yamana has on him, he would probably be reluctant to vote for the dragon, however and we might be abled to get Yamana to use his influence to counter Nakatomi instead. Ares´ brutes might vote against us or not, depending on who´s calling the shots in Detroit that day, maybe Ms. Villiers can have another dinner with Daviar and bring her to vote agaist the mean green midget. We can probably get Aztech´s vote against SK and we might be abled to get MCT´s. They would be more interested in weakening SK´s heavy industries and their main interests on this field aren´t in north america anymore, though they might still have a grudge because of wireless tokio. We might be abled to catch Sandrene Moskovitz´s with offering some incentives on a 'north american alliance' platform, that would cater to Ares´ image, as well. Li Feng´s and Yoshiko Hino´s votes are quiet a wild guess. We might also be abled to further disrupt SK´s assets, by spreading gossip in the right circles, that in addition to it´s trouble in the east, it might face steaper competition elsewere, leading the dragon´s enemies to strike against it."

He waits for Laner´s reply, holding his gaze and trying to gaug his reaction.

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:09:46

Ringgg

Before the bell finishes ringing indicating the start of the second round of the fight Angus is on the move, and this time he looks like a fighter not a stumbling drunk. He meets Toshio in the center of the ring, but Toshio does not seem overly surprised, once again he appears to have done his research. The men circle for a few seconds as Toshio tries to size up his new opponent. Angus seeing an opening takes it, moving in quickly and landing a heavy uppercut to Toshio's jaw. The shot catches Toshio off guard and the CLACK! of his teeth being slammed together can be heard by the crowd in the first ten rows. As Toshio appears to be dropping back to recover, but as hes at the limit of his reach he catches Angus with a jab.

Angus also backs off a little as the fighters start to circle again and test each others defenses looking for another hole to land a telling blow. Shaking his head and covering up as Toshio comes in to test his defenses Damn that hurt, Frak, I don't want to do this I want to win this on my own, but I can't keep this up. That's it I'm goin' cold turkey tomorrow. As he's covering up from Toshio's continued probing, Angus pulls the pills from the lacing of his glove and slips then over his mouth piece. As hes swallowing the pills Toshio starts to back off and Angus takes a quick wild swing, coming close but not quite connecting, which Toshio returns quickly hoping to catch Angus off guard and over balanced, but Angus is ready and drops out of the way.

The two fighters continue to dance around the center of the ring testing each other defenses. As the round nears its mid point Angus sees a pattern in Toshio's defense and exploits it, landing a left hook that sends Toshio spinning and crashing to the mat. The ref quickly moves up to the fighters waving Angus back to the ropes.

As the ref starts his count, ONE!... TWO!... THREE!... with his hand coming down in time with each number, the crowd comes to its feet as everyone tries to get a better view of Toshio laying on the mat, even though the huge Trid display projects done from the ceiling and anyone that wants it can have a live feed to their comm. Angus wanting to keep his rhythm keeps his feet moving and his gloves up just in case Toshio still has some fight in him. SIX!... SEVEN!... EIGHT!... NINE!.... TEN!... the ref finishes his count, and does a sweeping motion with his hands shows the match is over and Angus is the new champion.

Angus throws his hands up in victory as both fighters supporters climb into the ring, Angus' to congratulate him, as Toshio's wave smelling salts under his nose to get him up and moving. Skinny & Doc close quickly slapping him on the back and congratulating him. Angus turns to look out at the crowd, finding his parents George and Anna at their ringside seats as they have been for all his fights. He waves a smiles in their direction as Skinny speaks up to him just loud enough for Angus to hear over the noise of the crowd, "Wiz job kid! Now you just gotta keep it."

Conall
Saturday 6/21/70 23:18:40

As his sister came at him with the full force of her brief furry, Conall simply stood and took it. He understood why she was so… displeased. He didn’t simply understand it, he also felt it. It was only when she had finally calmed back down that he took her by both shoulders, and looked her in the eyes; those golden brown eyes he shared. His rough hand slid against the dress, up to the young woman’s fair cheeks.

“That bloke is an effete dandy who has nothing but sideways thoughts about you. He might be pure blood, but he’s a coward.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“You’re the very best girl of the Danaan, and you deserve the best.” He said in a gentle whisper, brushing her cheek with the tip of his fingers.

He took back his distances, straightening his uniform as he shot a quick glance over his shoulder toward where Patrick had ran away.

“And believe me, anyone who folds so easily doesn’t deserve you. How do you expect a man to stand up for you if he can’t even stand up for himself”, he said with a playful smirk playing on his face.

John
Monday 1/20/70 20:03:20

"Well," Lanier chuckled, "It's good to see you're already thinking about these things, and it sounds like you're fairly well acquainted with the forces we're dealing with on the court. I don't need to...oh, one moment..." Lanier's gaze takes on a familiar cast as he obviously directs his attention to an incoming AR message. "Thank you very much. Relay this to Jenkins in marketing and Alvarez in PR....Sorry, John, ink hardly dry on the papers and it looks like you've got your first wrinkle to deal with - SK's UCAS office has already managed to prepare a filing for an injunction against three of our planned acquisitions in Pennsylvania. They're taking it before Judge Watkins tomorrow morning. Everything we know has been relayed to your staff." He gives a grim smile - "Looks like an all-nighter for you. But then, I suppose you're no stranger to them. I'll leave you to it."
They exchange the obligatory pleasantries, and Miles Lanier is gone, his other goodbyes delegated to staffers.

Etain
Sunday 6/22/70 09:02:34

Waking at her leisure, Etain laid for some time in her bed, savoring her memories of the previous night's success. And that was not the only pleasant memory from the night before...if only Conall was just a little less protective.

Rising and wrapping herself in a dressing gown, she headed down for the kitchen. But as she strode along the balcony overlooking the marble-tiled foyer, she saw a young man in riding attire waiting patiently in the center of a splash of sunlight. It was Patrick! Panicking that he might see her in such a disheveled state, she retreated into a hallway and accosted one of the maids - "Why was I not told I had a visitor?"
"Beggin' yer pardon, milady, one moment," the maid said, accessing her commlink. After a moment, "I am sorry, miss, but the gentleman downstairs has come to call upon your brother."

Conall
Sunday 6/22/70 09:00:30

Conall woke to a polite tap on the oak doors of his chamber. "Master Conall - begging your pardon, sir, but you have a caller. Master Patrick O'Donnell awaits you in the foyer."

John
Monday 1/20/70 23:59:59

As he stares out of the window, John watches the seconds of the day tick away, displayed into the upper righthand corner of his goldrimmed glasses. 00:00:00 21.01.70. Refocussing his gaze on the snowstorm outside the window, he can not help but be reminded of the autum 2064. RFS had made a killing in the stock marked chaos that preceded Novatech´s IPO. If not for the Crash, John might well have been one of NeoNET´s major shereholders by now. Not nearly as major as Villiers or the Wyrm, but enough to make him a factor in the boardroom. Yet, he would probably be doing the same thing he is doing at this moment.
SK UCAS´ injunctions are insubstential and sloppy. By now he had found three different ways to postpone them, but he would spend the rest of the night, finding an original and stylish way, to do so and at least one or two contingencies. He can´t stop wondering, wether SK UCAS´ lawyers are this incompetent or if there is more to this. Maybe they intended to take them by surprise or maybe this was merely a faint. Probably both.[/b] He feels that ticking in the back of his head again. Paranoia, some would call it, he calls it common sense. If only more people posessed a minimum of it!
NeoNET´s plans would tighten the Megacorps stranglehold on the people even more. Sure many people would profit from it, but still more would pay the debt. [i]It´s their own fault! They want to be lulled in by politicians, media and consumer items. They voted the people into office, that put these laws into place. It was not his fault that they where exploited so easily. In fact he might do them good, by pointing the finger at all the loopholes in the system. Maybe some day they wake up.

After a late snack and a chat with Kob about Ares´ rumored involvement with insect spirits, John sends his personal security specialist to retire for the night, while he resumes his work.

Five hours later, the storm has calmed down, while the snow is still falling in big puffy flakes. After a quick shower and a change of cloths, he takes in a healthy breakfast and gets ready to go to his office. On the way to the car, Alice intercepts him with a smile. The ride to the downtown offices is uneventfull. The usual routine, Alice fills him in on the latest developements and coordinates his schadull for the day. Some commcalls and the obligatory morning sweap throught the databases. When they arrive, he has an double espresso and brifes his staff on the strategy for this week. Then he bounces his ideas for the SK issue off his specialist team and retreats to his office, to jack in and hitch on the sensory-feed of his emissary to Judge Watkins and cue her the right lines.

Etain
Sunday 6/22/70 09:03:01

Etain couldn't hide the raised and arched brow from the maid and the obvious look of surprise that struck across her face momentarily. She shook her head and looked past the woman standing there as she took a step back into the shadows of the upper foyer and unintentionally found herself trying to straighten the thick braids that she slept in while she tried to get a better look at Patrick below.

Why is he here to see Conall?!? He should, if he knew his manners be calling on me.

Silently she grumped to herself while she let out a frusterated sigh from her pursed lips. She shook her head again, this time in almost disbelief as she spun on the ball of her foot, the rich peach silk of her dressing gown flowing around her, and sulked back towards her bedroom.

John
Thursday 1/21/70 09:16:22

Everything Marlean Tompson´s ears heard was replayed in John´s earplugs, everything her eyes saw was displayed on his glasses and every word he spoke echoed in her head. David Brenner, the young SK-lawyer was sitting beside her in fron of Judge Watkins´ desk. It was unusual these days, that hearings with a Judge where made in person. John knew Watkins from his non-corporate days but had never worked closely with him. The Judge was a human in his late 50s with gray-black, shoulderlength hair and a bushy beard. Combined with his enormous eyebrows and the nose, that was red due to a light cold, he almost looked like a warehouse-santa. But Watkins did not grant whishes! Or did he? Brenner had elaborated on SK´s demands and accusations for allmost an hour and the bearded man had listened paciently without any sign of dissagreement or dissaproval for the technically improper way, SK was taking this to him.
John had listened in silence as well, untill the moment had come to intercede. In a quiet and friendly tone, he wispers just the right words into Ms. Tompson´s ear, like a Regiseur instructing her in how to present them for maximum impact. And like a talented actor, she uses these instructions to create something the mere script could never provide. That was the reason she had been send on this assignment. This and the fact, that Watkins liked blond hair and frackls. Off cause she had allready been brifed and knew the tactics, but still John´s leadership improved her performance and helped her to win the audience.
Through Marlean´s interjection, Brenner loses his rythem and tempo. He struggles to regain controll by speaking faster and slightly louder, but his eloquence is lost. Another polite comment from Marlean´s lips and David stumbles again. Watkins´ attention shifts to John´s girl as she starts to disassamble SK´s request, his eyes locking with her´s, behind which John is sitting comfortably in his office and watches the scene. In Ms. Tompson´s peripheral vision, John can see Brenner looking at her as well and he can´t but wonder who else might be sitting behind this pair of eyes, watching the procedings. Judging from SK´s standard MO, it would be perfectly reasonable for an SK Prime specialist, to occasionally sit in even on the lowlyest cases.
After 2 minutes and 36 seconds, Brenner interrupts Marlean, just as planed, but the Judge flashes him a disaproving look. David dos not return the look however, as Marlean locks his eyes in place with her gaze for 1.6 seconds. Looking into the young man´s eyes, John wonders who might hid behind them again, maybe even Lofwyr himself. But the wyrm would puppeteer Brenner into a better performance, or would he? Is this a faint? When Watkins asks Ms. Tompson to procede, she returns her look to the Judge and goes on, as John delivers her the points for her argumentation.

Conall
Sunday 6/22/70 09:00:30

Still half enthralled in his own grogginess Conall rolled out of bed. A shiver went up his spine as his bare feet connected with the dark wooden floor of his room.

“Thank you.” He said while shaking his head from side to side “I’ll be right down”.

Patrick. What in bloody hell does that dandy wants.

Stretching and yawning hard enough to unhook his jaw, the young elf finally got off his bed and strode out of his room, wearing nothing but loose dark green silk pants. Etiquette would have asked him to be all official about the visit, and to unroll the red carpet for the O’Donnell son. But at that point in time, Conall cared very little; he had woken him up.

After last night’s event, Patrick’s sudden and unannounced visit probably hid something. Even thought he was a pure blood elf, like himself, Conall didn’t like him. The fact he had approached his sister probably didn’t help… even though he would never admit it.

The young elf stood on the balcony for a few seconds, observing Patrick as he stood waiting in the foyer. For a brief moment, Conall even considered the fact of getting himself some breakfast before even going down to meet him. But then again, he had to keep some sort of decorum.

“What can I do for you O’Donnell?” the young shaman said from high above.

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:10:00

Angus was exultant as a tidal wave of everything good he could imagine washed over him at once. Not the least of it was the euphoria of the pain killers washing away all the discomfort of his fighter's body and the pain of the serious beating Kameda had managed to dish out before being vanquished. But that he could have every day - an in any case didn't need. In fact, he was quitting that tomorrow.
No, the pleasure rushing toward him and surrounding him now were far more profound. The beaming look of pride on the faces of his parents. The crowd chanting 'Rocky! Rocky! Rocky!" The swell of newshounds threatening to burst through the security cordon. Skinny and Doc rushing into the ring to embrace him, and Skinny's gruff words of approval that masked the old coach's approval. The fight commissioner approaching with the championship belt. And a groggy Toshio Kameda mustering his strength and dignity to walk across the ring and formally bow to Angus.

From that point it was a whirlwind all the way to his dressing room. Andre, his agent, was waiting there with a handful of handpicked sports reporters, and this time all their questions were friendly - none of that "What makes you think you can win?" and "What about your bad knee?" crap. Just a bunch of congratulations masquerading as questions. As they filed out and Skinny took the gloves off, Andre opened the doors for a flood of additional reporters - all the ones he hadn't owed exclusives to, or that weren't part of his carefully crafted publicity plan. The room filled with them - along with plenty of groupies that had 'somehow' made it past security.

It was the happy culmination of years of 12-hour training days. He'd lived and sweated and bled for this moment all his adult life. It had all come true. And then all of a sudden security officers were clearing the room. As they herded the throng of reporters out, Skinny gave Andre a questioning look, but all the elf agent could do was raise his palms in confusion. This wasn't his doing.

With all the reporters gone, the boxing commissioner and half dozen other people - about half wearing lab coats - filed in and closed the door. The boxing commissioner gave Angus a thin, reassuring smile from across the room, as his assistant huddled in the corner with Skinny and Andre. They both nodded, Skinny very sober, but Angus had the impression that Andre was maybe hiding a smile.

Skinny came over and motioned Angus into a separate room.
"Sad news kid. Kameda just flatlined. Just collapsed in his dressing room. They tried to get him back, ya know, but turns out you musta broke some blood vessel in the poor slot's brain, and it just went bad internally from there.
"Now Kameda was a good guy, and it'll be natural if ya take this hard, but you gotta remember he knew the risks gettin' into the ring. You fought a clean fight, and these things happen. And we know his family is gonna be well taken care of.
"So right now we just gotta go through the usual procedures, just to maintain the Association's rep and to cast aside any sorta doubt about things. So you know the regs - if a fighter dies or is seriously injured, they gotta redo all the tox screenings and glove checks and all that, only more thoroughly, just to clear the air so there's no question of impropriety or negligence.
"But you got nothing to worry about kid. Whole thing'll just take an hour or so, and then we'll duck the press and go pay our condolences."

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:12:13

Angus is silent for a moment as everything Skinny tells him sinks in. I killed somebody, I didn't want to kill anybody. If I frak'n wanted to kill peole I'd be a runner. Damn! But I got bigger issues. Angus shakes out of his daze and turns to Skinny leaning down so he can whisper and do his best not to be heard.

"Skinny, I got a problem, and now its a big problem. I've been using the pain killers a little to much, and well, damit I'm hooked. I had to take some tonight, so their is no way I'm going to pass that screen." Angus looks over his shoulder in to the other room, looking back he continues "What do I do, hope they miss it or tell them straight up right now before they start?"

Conall
Sunday 6/22/70 09:03:39

"Top o' the mornin' to ya, O'Neill. You struck me as the sorta fellow enjoys a ride of a summer's morn. I've brought me best two steeds. Will ya join me then?"

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:12:25

Skinny stands up and looks eye to eye with the sitting troll. His lips start to quiver and something ugly comes alive in his eyes. Heedless of the half-open door, the little man bitch-slaps the big troll across the face.

"A problem!?!? You've got a fucking PROBLEM???" he screams, then kicks the door shut and twists the knobs on the big stainless steel tub, filling the air with the sound of rushing water.

He turns back to Angus with a face the young fighter never imagined he was capable of. "I have spent the last years of my career training you. Nurturing you. LOVING you, for fuck's sake! Like a SON! Have you got any idea how much I trusted you? Not to mention Doc. We COMMIT to you. Our lives and our sweat. If you don't make it, then them's the breaks - but the deal is you chase it with every damned fiber of your being, with all that's good and strong in you - we teach you all we know, we massage your aching muscles, we share cheap hotels, a lot of us lose our families to put you there, where you were tonight. And we do that 'cuz we know you, we trust you, we feel in our guts that you're fighting for it ten times more than we are.
"Only a chosen few make it, boy. Only the noblest. And there you were tonight, you son of a bitch! And you have thrown it all away."

Outside the assembled officials and entourage are acutely aware that something is very wrong. Andre begins tapping on the door.

Angus

Friday 8/1/70 20:12:45

Angus recoils as Skinny slaps him, just looking down at his feet like a small child might as Skinny scolds him. Nodding in agreement with the statements that his friend and mentor is making.

When Skinny appears to be finished Angus looks back up with the begining of tears starting to swell in his bruised eyes. Just above a whisper, "I'm sorry Skinny, I've let you, Doc, my parents and everyone else down. I should have said something when we could have done something about it."

Angus stops for a moment and takes a deep breath, straighting and looking as determined as he does when getting ready for a fight. In a much stornger non appoligetic voice, "Look your right I Fucked up, in a really big way. Can't change that now, what We have to do now is determine how to address it. Unless you got some kinda plan the commision will know as soon as the piss test comes back that I have pain killers in my system less than 10 minutes after finishing a Heavy Wieght Chanpoinship fight in which I won and Killed my opponent! If it will keep the heat off you and the others I'll walk out there and tell them straight up whats happened and take my lumps. Making sure they know you and the others did not know or assist in any way with me using the pills in connection with the fight. But if you got a better idea I'm all ears." Angus straightes himself up and looks down at Skinny waiting to see what he has to say.

Then he adds one last thought, "What ever we are going to do we need to get it done, I have to talk to Toshio's crew and family."

John
Tuesday 1/28/70 09:56:23

"All right, I think that's everything for now, Marlean. Just remember I want your evaluation of those amicus briefs from CDC by tomorrow morning."

Marlen Tompson nodded her assent and went back to her office. John was pleased with her - with his guidance, she had handled the S-K thing last week quite deftly, and the outcome had been as he desired - S-K's efforts to circumvent the regular legal channels that were his forte had failed, and they were now relegated to the usual snail's pace maze of appeals and preliminary hearings. But he knew they would come back fast and hard.
For now, though, his primary concern was this health thing. He'd been on it for eight days, and the various pieces of the puzzle were falling into place - although of course he would not be satisfied until he had a comprehensive and foolproof plan of action in place and running.

Turning back to his data feeds, a window in his glasses signaled an incoming call from Alice. "Ive got a call for you from Senator Billings' office. Apparently the Senator himself would like to speak with you."

John was not in the habit of refusing calls from UCAS senators.
"Yes, Senator, how can I help you?"

"Well, John, Ah think in this case it is moah a mattuh of how Ah kin help you'all. Little bird tells me you've got yoah staff burnin' the midnight oahl ovah this ground water poisonin' thing down south. Well, seems there's a very similah thing brewin' in mah own proud state o' Kentucky, down 'round a place called Erskine Ridge. I do believe, in fact, that theah are a coupla big mines down thataway - independent outfits, of course, so nothin' that could be of interest to a big time lawman like yoahself. Anyway, mahself and a few of my colleagues are headin' down that way on li'l ol' fact findin' mission, and we thought maybe y'all might like to tag along. Now before ya say anthing, don't worry - ya won't be all alone with my bleedin' heart - Ramsay and Guadalupe, they's comin' along too - regaluh multai - pahtisun junket. And they got some FINE country clubs down that way."

John paused to consider the Democratic senator's offer - and more importantly his news. Dammit - if the environmentalists suing in the CAS over this poisoning thing could find a similar suit in UCAS, they could go international, bypass the CAS courts and make their case to the UN or the corp court. What an annoying wrinkle.

And he knew damned well Billings was going down there to find the dirt to help them do it - he was a died-in-the-wool populist liberal. Sure, he was taking Ramsey from the Republicans and Guadalupe from the Technocrats, but they were ineffectual freshmen, along only to give his little junket a veneer of multipartisan credibility.

John
Tuesday 1/28/70 09:59:03

Am I getting paranoid? Billings offers to take me on a trip and the third thing I warry about are SK assessins! Maybe the relaxation techniques he had practiced last week, when he had found the time did not work that well. He quickly pushes the thought aside, this oportunity was just too good to pass by. While he replyed, intelligence data on Senator Billings was straming over his glasses.

Jhon: "I will off cause be happy to accompany you on this excursion, Senator! A trip to bluegrass will be a nice change from the snowmud-filled streets of boston. Your assistent can syncronize my schedull with Ms. Mon. Do you plan on taking along any specialists? If you have not had anything arranged yet, maybe I could do so. Be sure to relay my best whishes to Mrs. and Ms. Billings."

Even while he talks, John starts to think about the two freshmen. Newcommers would at least probably be easy to manipulate in favour of NeoNET´s interests, but he needed to check back with the databases on that. If not, maybe it could be arranged to have them be represented by more cooperative party colleges on this junket.

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:13:10

Skinny's expression softens as Angus speaks. He cannot stay angry as the young troll peels back the layers of weakness he has allowed to enshroud himself to reveal the good person at the core. His fury gave way to a wave of sadness - both for his own crushed dreams and also for the tragedy that Angus has made of his life, made worse by the fact that the good part of him will be dragged along to hell by the bad part.

He starts to nod slowly. Coming to a decision, he goes to the door and opens it just a crack for Andre, who has continued to knock. "Listen up and listen good, Lasseter - you're fired...No, just shut up and listen, ya damned shyster, I - AM - DOING - YOU - A - FAVOR." A quick glance at Angus and the elf understands instantly. He nods gravely. Skinny continues - "Do this last thing - just stall the vultures out there with smiles and crap so we can get our heads together in here, then go to your office and tear up all the contracts. We won't contest it. And send Bruno in."

Closing the door, Skinny says, "Bruno will know your options better than I do"

This was a bit of a shock to Angus. He had always liked his head bodyguard, but never thought of him as anything but hired muscle. When the middle-aged ork stepped in, Skinny laid it out for him simply. Bruno nodded dispassionately.

"All right, boy, I'm legit now, so what I'm going to do is lay out some facts for you. I make no recommendations, offer no advice. Just some facts about the way things are.

"Fact - you are not going to beat this test. There are a couple of Lone Star dicks out there now. They think it's just a formality - and are hoping for autographs from the new champ. But with Kameda dead, refusing the test is not an option, and their job is to make sure you realize that. The test itself includes drawing blood, taking a sweat sample, piss, astral scan, and an electrospectrograph. And they give the test even if you go out and fess up.

"Fact - there is no way to get enough people on board to sweep this under the rug. Besides the boxing commission, besides the Star, Kameda's people have a lawyer out there as an observer, as does the fucking Imperial Japanese Consulate. Kameda was their great yellow hope - personally honored by the Emperor when he took the title. There is going to be diplomatic pressure for someone's head to roll.

"Fact - you will not make bail. You have a lot of money, and you'll be facing a capital charge - that makes you a flight risk. And you're not going to get a better lawyer than Kameda's family and the Japanese government can provide, not to mention back-channel pressures on the judge. You'll be arrested the moment you fail the drug test. Legally, the charge here should be negligent manslaughter, but they'll go for third degree homicide.

"Those are all facts about what happens if you walk out that door. There are other options in this world, but I don't deal in those anymore."

Etain
Sunday 6/22/70 09:03:39

Etain paused as she stepped just across the threshold of her bedroom doors and turned her full attention towards the whispers of conversation tickling her ears.

"Top o' the mornin' to ya, O'Neill. You struck me as the sorta fellow enjoys a ride of a summer's morn. I've brought me best two steeds. Will ya join me then?"

She stared blankly in the direction of the foyer and suddenly wondered if Patrick knew what he was getting himself into asking Conall to go riding with him. Oh to be a fly in the meadows as they went along! What she wouldn't give to listen in on their conversation as there were bound to be juicy bits along the way. It was taking all of her willpower to stay out of Conall's head as the two were talking.

As she waited for her brother's answer, she picked up her commlink and dialed up her girlfriends, a day of shopping and pampering had suddenly become of the higest priority.

Conall
Sunday 6/22/70 09:03:44

Leaning a bit more over the railing of the balcony, Conall made no attempt to hide the surprise that took hold of his face.

Is that fellow for real?

It was obvious that after last night’s little “incident”, Patrick had done his homework. Just like Wolf, Conall was very protective of his pack and outsiders were very rarely welcomed... unless, of course, they proved themselves worthy. There was always the probability that Patrick had simply decided upon this course of action to correct his previous faux-pas.

“Give me a few.” He said in a sharp tone, not wanting to betray his surprise even more.

The young elf then turned away and went back to his room. He hadn’t found himself on horseback in quite some time… especially since he had answered the calling of Wolf. When he ran the plains and forest, it was usually on his bare paws.

Angus

Friday 8/1/70 20:13:55

Angus listens closely as Bruno outlines the facts as he sees them.

"So in other words I'm FUBARED if I walk out that door." Angus stops for a minute thinking to him self. FUCK!, now I'm screwed. Maybe I can get Bruno to help me disappear, it sound like he knows more about this than I realized. I'm not taking an extra hit just because I got a problem. Toshio would have been dead even if I hadn't taken the damn pills. But what about everyone else, mom, dad the crew.

Taking another deep breath and starting to tear off the wrappings he lays out his plan to Skinny and Bruno, "I'm willing to take the heat for what I did, but I'm not going to go to jail just because I'm addicited to pain killers. Skinny, I need you to do me one last big favor. I need you to make sure my parents know whats happened and take care of them. I'm sure the Star and who knows else will be watching them for a while so I'm going to have to stay away for a while. Bruno while I will not pretend to have even a small clue as to what you've done in the past, it sounds like you can help me. I don't want to drag you back in to a world you've gotten out of but what ever you can do will be a great help and I'll make sure you get paid as much I & Skinny can arrange."

Looking over at Skinny, Angus seems to have another thought, "I want you to get a hold of what ever you can as far as my assets go, and do with as you see fit, as long as you make sure my parents, yourself, Bruno and the crew are all taken care of. I have enough stashed for me to get by, I hope."

"So can you two do these things for me, or do I just walk outside and get railroaded because Toshio was more important than I am?"

John
Tuesday 1/28/70 23:10:40

The male elf is sitting in the heavy leather chair of his boston-home´s office with a stack of e-papers on the massive teak-table infront of him. As his sleak fingers shift through them, datastreams shoot over the integrated skinlinks, projecting the texts onto his glasses or directly feeding softs into his datajack. The calming voice of Alice Mon is reciting this days latest raports. His personal assistent is sitting on the left armrest of his chair, while she is expertly massaging his sore nack and shoulders.
This day had been extremly busy. Two major cases had allready been won and everyone worked extra hours to tie up the others asap. John wants this multitude of minor anoyances to be resolved as long as his hand is still covered. Also with Senator Billings´ invitation, he wants to get some rest tomorrow, before he goes on this trip. Thus he had juggled around more stuff then usual, to make up for the day off and he would do so for some more hours, probably for the rest of the night.

This morning after the Senator´s call, he had first set his data-miners up to get anything he needed to prepair propperly for the trip. The Mayhurst might develope into a problem and John had talked to Lanier imediately after he had read the dossier.
They could have her organizations reputation tarnished enough, that Billings would have to reconsider taking her with them. It would be preferable, to find real dirt on her or any of her co-workers, the search on the databases was running on that, but some unfounded accusations would do as well, as it didn´t matter when they turned up to be false after this weekend. The trick was to shroud the sorce of this information so that NeoNET´s involvement could be keept secret. Since the tip would have to be anonymous, it would have to be belivable through hard evidence - fabricated or real.
Otherwise they could delay her enough so she would not attend the junket. A simple gastrointestinal infection would do. This was hardly really harmfull with proper medical care, but would drop her out of business for just that precious few days. It would be easy to have something sliped into her food at a restaurant and wouldn´t give any cause to suspicion if other guests suffered from illness, too.
He had have lunch at a cozy little fish restaurant in the north end - off cause they did never use catch from close by waters. There he had met with Wayne Carver, a mining lobbyist that was secretly on the take from NeoNET, to coordinat last minute moves on Ramsey and Guadalupe.
In the evening John had have an AR conference with Alvarez from NeoNET´s PR, some scientists and media-flunkies. Before leaving the RFS main offices barely two hours ago, he had even managed to spend some minutes running in the gym, though he had still read reports simultaneously. The stresslevels where slowly mounting up with this assignment, but the relaxetion techniques Manolo had tought him started to have an effect. Of cause his magic doctor´s support did help a great deal as well.
Back at home he had taken in a quick dinner of full meal sandwiches and then coordinated Alice´s responsibilities for John´s stay of absence.
The elven woman was a precious pearl. They knew each other since her graduation at MIT&T, when she started to work for FUCHI as a security decker. They had worked together on some tricky problems, after she had managed to be asigned to "Schrödinger´s Cats". In the early 60s when Novatech suffered from Dankwalther´s attacks, they hade to reduce personal and Alice voluntered to 'go ronin' and do some inofficial work for Novatech as well as others. After the crash, John met her again. He prevented her from going to jail and offered her a job as a spyder for RFS and since she had quickly climbed up the hirarchy and ended up as his personal assistent.

Alice: "... be resolved by EST 0700, 04.02. ..."

John: "Verry well. That should be enough for today. Go home and get Mr. Pringles some snuggle-rations." 'Mr. Pringles' was a fat, tri-colored persian, who´s main social contact was the carpet cleaning drone. "You should get some rest, tomorrow will be a tough day for you!"

Alice: "Allright, I´ll pick you up at 0500 to accompany you to the airport."

John: " That´s not necessary, just take care of work, I´ll be fine with Kob escorting me. And if anything gets out of hand or warrents my imediate personal attendance, just give me a call!"

He feals uneasy at the thought of taking a day off, but he dosn´t want to look like an office-zombie when he meets with the Senators, either. At least I can use that day to hop over the pound and back! Meet some people, get some stones rolling. But he still has five hours and he will wait for a nap in the Semiballistic, so he waits until Alice is gone and then resumes his work.

Conall
6/22/70 09:32:56

Conall planted his riding boots on the marble floor of the foyer at the bottom of the steps. "Ready when you are, O'Donnell."
He'd taken his time with his morning toilet and getting dressed - at least more time than he usually took - not caring if he made O'Donnell wait. The fact that Patrick was from the one family in Ulster of more noble lineage than his own sweetened the pleasure of being slightly rude.
Patrick, who had been admiring some of the portraits adorning the vestibule, turned to greet Conall. He came forward with his hand extended, betraying not the slightest irritation.
"Top o' the morning, O'Neill. Lovely day for a ride. I've left the mounts just out front."
He led the way out to two beautiful steeds. Conall was not very knowledgeable about horses, but they looked strong and full of vigor. Patrick's was a shiny black, and he mounted easily, indicating the chestnut-colored one to Conall.
Conall mounted cautiously, wary. He knew some horses had nasty temperaments, and that some of the best ones were also the most willful. He expected to have to work hard to master the beast, but Patrick had apparently chosen with care - the animal responded easily to Conall's rudimentary commands.
Soon they were galloping across wide green meadows and along high clifftops that skirted the ocean. During rare moments of calm, Patrick easily made small talk about the weather, and asked questions about things in Ulster - he appeared quite behind on local news after his sojourn to the East. Conall responded laconically but courteously; Patrick's relaxed manner made surly words feel out of place.
As they neared the big manor on the return leg of their journey, Patrick slowed and stopped beside some of the O'Neill groundskeepers planting shrubs. "See how they dig about the roots, there? It will help water find its way to them, encourage it to pool near the plant, instead of waste its way into the earth in another spot. The Japanese have a word for the technique, nemawashi. Over the years, the term has evolved past its simple horticultural meaning and is commonly used now in business and politics. In those worlds, digging around the roots takes on a meaning of - well, I suppose we might translate it as 'prior consultation,' a preliminary smoothing of the way. Foreigners observing Japanese board meetings often criticize the lack of debate, but what they don't realize is that everything has been thoroughly chewed over and laid to rest before the official meeting ever starts. All cultures put some value on that, I suppose, but to the Japanese I dare say it is an art form. It is eminently useful in a culture such as theirs in which non-confrontation is a cardinal virtue."

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:15:07

Skinny nods slowly. "Sure kid. You got plenty of money, and I've had power of attorney over it for a long time - made sure of that before we ever signed on with Lasseter. I'll take care of everyone, especially your parents." His eyes cloud a bit when he mentions them, and Angus knows the old man is thinking beyond his own crushing disappointment at tonight's turn of events and thinking of how unbearably ashamed George and Anna Smith are going to be. "But remember, kid, it's like Bruno says - this is gonna be a murder rap - ya can't never contact none of us after this."

Angus turns to Bruno. The big ork says - "What I'm gonna do is my job, no more and no less. That means going out that door with Skinny and making sure you got privacy in here until you are good and ready to come out. Of course, what that really means is you got about five minutes before the lab rats get antsy and the Star boys make me stand aside. After that, I think I'm gonna call an old friend of mine called Ezekiel Smithers. Hangs out at a club in Redmond called Crusher 495." And those are the last words he ever says to Angus. He opens the door, knowing that without a push Skinny might never leave the pathetic troll's side. With a last look mixing pity and the anger he cannot fully suppress, Skinny walks out of the room and Bruno follows.

John
Wednesday 1/29/70 12:09:12

John's coat flared behind him, blown by the rotors' downwash as he exited the chartered Plutocrat on the front drive of Castle Harlech. A cold winter sun shone down on him as his shoes crunched over the gravel. Despite his early departure from Boston and the fastest transport money could buy, there was no getting around the earth's rotation, and here half his day off was gone already. Of course he'd get it back on the return trip, but he knew how he'd end up spending those hours - buried in work when he should be resting.

The staff was lined up to either side of the main hall's entrance, a formal welcome. The Duchess of Snowdon herself came out to meet him on the steps, golden hair blowing in the chill wind, but herself seemingly impervious to the Welsh winter air in a wispy white blouse and cashmere slacks.

"Cousin, your visits are growing fewer and farther between, and seldom for any worthwhile reason."

They exchanged pleasantries, but she was soon off - "A little warning would guarantee you my undivided attention - but today I have much to attend to. I will make haste, and at the very least take tea with you. Until then,you know your way around." And as if on cue, an entourage of attendants whisked her away.

John considered a number of the pleasures the castle had to offer, but soon found himself working in his room. The exquisite comforts of the family apartments had an old-world coziness that no amount of money could ever buy him back in the UCAS. Despite his sleep regulator, it made him drowsy, though as usual he denied himself slumber.
Thus, he was wide awake when Alice called him with an update on the day. Among her other reports, she mentioned that she was arranging a thank-you party for the cleaning staff, and John smiled - their best team was in place, and Louisa Mayhurst-Washington would wake up tomorrow with a miserable case of the runs.

Wednesday 1/29/70 16:00:00

John smiled as Rhiannon entered the Sun Room at precisely tea time. He had arrived a few minutes early and kept an eye on his chonometer just to amuse himself with her punctuality.

She poured.

He was quite fond of his cousin, though not so much so of the other noble kin they shared, and of which she spoke for some time. Odd that his only close relationship was with her, when his professional days were spent furthering the sorts of interests the others were far more likely to support.

Could she read his thoughts? For just as that observation came to his mind, she deftly turned the topic. "And Norfolk is also buying NeoNET right now, I'll have you know. Seems he based his decision on the strength of YOU working for them again. Now, now, don't try to deny it - really, John, this room is QUITE secure, and much as I disagree with your current atrocity, I won't tell tales out of school, at least not with family involved. But REALLY, I'm sure I'd prefer you back springing Mafia goons to this latest warping of the laws of men."

John braced himself - it was clear she was off on one of her tirades.

She gave him a self-satisfied smirk. "Would you believe me if I told you I have an actual copy of your current contract with Villiers and his cronies? Don't worry, love, I didn't get it from any of your people - you must be treating them right, because they're maddeningly loyal. But I have skimmed the thing. Now I know we could go round and round about who benefits and who gets hurt, near and long term, by these business sector consolidations, so I won't waste breath on that. But the contract's emphasis on your making sure they are granted total exemption from ALL environmental and labor laws - now I KNOW for a fact that runs directly counter to your own personal beliefs."

"The very fact that they must use the laws to circumvent the laws means that ultimately they remain bound by those same laws. The CAS and UCAS are still democracies - if people want to close the loopholes..."

"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." Her tone was full of jest, but her eyes were sad. But only for a moment, and she turned to lighter fare.

John
Wednesday 1/29/70 16:49:03

After exchanging some pleasent memories, John had inquired on recent news about Princess Caroline and Johny Spinrad. This topic had inevitably lead to Spinrad´s co-conspirators against Lofwyr. John considered asking his cousin to circulate some rumors that might make the dragon´s enemies move and thus distract SK´s attention, but he did not want to draw her into this. They had chatted for quiet a while and could do so without end, but obviously there where still other things Rhiannon needed to attend to and John did understand this more then anyone else.
Before she leaves he touches her hand and gives her a look. You saved my life! He wants to say something, to tell her that her opinion really matters, but no words are needed to convay his thoughts to her. She gives him a smile, though it´s somehow sad, which he returnes and they part without another word. As he watches her walk away, his thoughts drift away.
He had wished, she would have lightened the burden on his concience instead of pushing his shoulders down, but if she would do so easily, it wouldn´t mean anything. She was the only living relative that really fealt like family to him. Her tirade had touched him deaply, though he would never acknowlede. He wondered of he had chosen the wrong path once too often this time. Maybe the only other person on the planet that could make John ponder his ethics would have been Ian. The boy was like a nephew to him, but his warped sense of morality even stretched the lawyers profesional flexibility.

In the evening hours, the lawyer forces himself not to work and relax instead, but the affort to keep himself from thinking about work makes it allmost pointless and the nap that ambushes him in the study offers little regeneration. When the sun goes down, he takes in the vewe from a balcony. Somehow this was the only place on earth that had ever fealt like home to him. As he watches the sun go down, a chilly gust of wind embraces him and he has a dreaded feeling of foreboding, like he would never come here again. When he turns his gaze south towards the dragonlands he can´t shake the feeling of being a pawn in the game of dominace between the wyrms of Caerleon and Essen.

Late in the night, Rhiannon finds some more time for her cousin. They share a brandy infront of an enthralling fire and exchange stories. They talk into the dead of night, until the Countess finally retreats. John spends some more time staring into the fire, untill Alice sendshim a raport, that he quickly reads through. He hasitates for a few minutes, tempted to call Boston and jump into work again, before he retreats to his bedroom himself. Sleep comes easily, thanks to more then one glass of brandy.

He is standing on a large field of black and white marbel squares. He is a pawn on the chess board. Villiers is there, too, and Lanier and Alice, Jean-Claude Priault, David Brenner and Marlean Tompson, they are all figures in a game. And there stands Rhiannon Glandover in all her beauty, as Claudia Romanova moves into position, to stike her down, but still covered by her allies. When she moves in for the kill, John throws himself into her path at the last moment and awakenes. Slumber comes quickly again and though he wakes up some more times during the night, he easily falls asleep again in a matter of seconds.

In the chilly morning, he is jogging through the gardens, with the right cloths protecting him from the cold. After taking in a good breakfast, he says farewell to his beloved cousin and takes his rotorcraft to the airport. My soul and heart can never be lost, as long as you are here to hold them safe my dear!
Before catching his flight, he meets with Sara Smallman for a coffee and a quick chat. He had offered to meet his relatives in London as well, out of courtioussy, but as expected they where not courtious enough to find the time at such short notice.
The ride on the rocket is uneventfull and John uses the time, to prepaire for the senator´s junket. When he arrives in Boston again, he stays at the airport, just changing cloths and having his styling renewed in one of the VIP launge´s private rooms.

Conall
Sunday 6/22/70 09:32:56

When Conall’s golden eyes were set on Patrick, he was slightly surprised to see him smiling back at him, hand extended forward as he approached him. He had taken a certain pleasure in making him wait… but apparently his little ploy to annoy his fellow Ulster noble had done very little. Come to think of it… Conall had to admit to himself that O’Donnell had scored some point in this manner. Maybe he was, after all, a man worthy of respect. Maybe, after all, he had judged him a bit too fast.

Riding was an even more strange experience than Patrick’s sudden visit. Conall had always loved the great outdoors, and hiking around was probably his favorite pass-time. Before everything else, Wolf was a hunter. Middling with passive, yet noble animals, like horses, were not something he was known for. Conall would have never said so, but he felt strangely uncomfortable on the animal’s back, his boots dangling above the grass.

Slowly, Conall relaxed his guard… but not totally. After all, he had to protect his pack; its safety depended on him.

As Patrick started his tirade on nemawashi, Conall couldn’t help himself but feel as if there was some underlying message.

“Well” the young shaman said, holding his chin just high enough “don’t forget that those are the ways of the Japanese Imperial State… not the Tir’s. Be wary as to not lose the way of your own lineage into some other diluted culture” he added, putting a certain emphasis on the last part.

He guided his own horse in front of Patrick’s, as to almost bar him the way.

“Now O’Donnell, why did you come here this morning? I do appreciate the gesture, and it is well noted.”

Etain
Sunday 6/22/70 18:18:34

The beginning strains of golden-hued light started to stream through the window to lick at the plush carpeting of a young woman’s bedroom. In the center of piles of bags from various upscale stores, clothes, shoes and makeup sat Etain chattering away on her comm to the two girls that left her side only minutes earlier. The three women had managed to do some major damage to their bank accounts today, none of them worried about the actual amount spent only that they were still on the cutting edge of fashion at all times. The shopping trip had succeeded in its goal, as she had forgotten about her brother being invited out with Patrick and hadn't gone looking for Conall the moment she came home.

Finding herself already somewhat “bored” with the process of unwrapping all of her items, she left the task half-finished and stood up, leaving the “mess” to be cleaned up by on of the many people working in their home. Realizing it had been hours since she had anything to eat, she made her way down to the kitchen and gracefully moved around the cook as he was preparing some small dinner for her mother’s five or six friends. She flashed Philippe a smile and a wink as she stole a strawberry from a plate of elegantly displayed fruit, for which she got a playful silent admonishment. She hummed the latest piece she was working on softly to herself as she looked in the refrigerator for something to satisfy the emptiness in her stomach.

Her eyes landed on a generous amount of fresh cut berries in a bowl that she knew was meant for her as it was one of her favourites. Beside it was a bottle of tropical flavoured sparkling water and she was positively beaming from ear to ear as she pulled both out and closed the door. It was these little things that always made her so endeared to Philippe out of all of the house’s staff. He was always looking out for her, and leaving her little thoughtful things like the berries.

Angus
Firday 8/1/70 20:15:38

Angus smiles weakly at Skinny as he agrees to take care of the crew and his family. "Thanks Skinny, for everything. I know you'll do your best by the crew and my parents." Angus reaches out and lightly sueezes his shoulder.

He then turns back to Bruno nods and says a simple, "Thanks."

Standing out of sight behind the door as they leave he pushes it to make sure it closes and then locks the door. As soon as its locked he turns and moves the closest work table so it blocks the door, trying to keep the noise to a minium.

Once he has the door blocked he moves over to the old equipment and slids it out of the way so he can access the panel. As he works he keeps repeating the info Bruno gave him so he doesn't forget. Ezekiel Smithers, in Redmond at Crusher 495. Ezekiel Smithers, in Redmond at Crusher 495. Ezekiel Smithers, in Redmond at Crusher 495. Once he has removed the panel he sets it down where he can hopefully grab it and put it back from the other side maybe giving him another minute while they try to figure out where he went.

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:17:00

The plate was surprisingly easy to remove. It looked like it was bolted, but was actually only loosely attached. Behind it, the only light was whatever spilled out of the trainer's room Angus was in.

With a last glance at the barricaded and locked door, he stepped through into some sort of narrow maintenance access way filled with pipes and vents and whatnot. Knowing there was no time to waste, he pulled the plate back over the opening. The equipment that had been screening it was still out of place, but if he could buy even one extra minute....

The access way was now pitch black, although as a troll Angus could see well enough to move around safely. He knew Safeco field had been renovated twice since the turn of the century, but apparently this access way had never been redone since the Awakening, and it was going to be very slow going for anyone of his race.

Proceeding just a few meters, there was an intersection - three paths to choose from, and little indication of which might lead him out.

Conall
Sunday 6/22/70 09:33:10

"Aye, O'Neill, ye speak the truth. I am a Son of Erin first and foremost - and I will not forget it. So I will respect your request that I get straight to the point, for I feel no shame in my mission.
"Tis my intention to court your dear sister, her willing. My memories of her from our youth are fond, and her performance last night ensorceled me. A rare jewel your sister is, O'Neill, though I dare say you already know it well. I know as well as anyone that appearances are not everything, but there are times, few and far between and to be seized when they can be, that a woman is found of such sweet radiance that it can only be sustained by an eternal flame of inner beauty. Your sister is such an angel, and I am decided. My resolution will be deterred by none but herself.
"Now I speak frankly to ye - to hear the Families talk, your dear sister would die an old maid if you had your own way of it, O'Neill, and if I had such a kin as yours I might act much as you do. So I blame ye neither for your actions nor your demeanor. But as God is me witness my intentions are honorable. And beyond that, if you do not trust your sister, or else consider her somehow incapable of looking after herself, your presence or that of any chaperone you may designate will be most welcome on any occasion when you sister may agree to see me.
"But shall we at least let her choose for herself those with whom she will make dear acquaintance? Whatever ye say, I WILL be calling upon her, and that till the earth ends or she wave me aside. I pray that ye will not hinder me save I give ye fair cause."

John
Thursday 1/30/70 08:30:10

John was waiting with some of his key people in the VIP lounge when Senator Billings from Kentucky strode in with his entourage, and the two junior senators with their own sub-entourages. The spacious room was immediately too crowded, though everyone gave Billings plenty of space.
"John!" the senator called out warmly. He gave the lawyer's hand a firm shake, his left hand touching John's right elbow. "We ah running a bit latah than Ah'd like. Walk with me." As they headed for the tarmac, the senator placed his arm firmly around John's shoulders. "Ah am TRULY glad you could make it, son," he continued, heading for the exit that led outside. "It is going to be a spec-TAC-u-lah day."
And with those words they were out the doors, just the two of them, their retinues bottlenecked behind them. And waiting outside was a throng of reporters, instantly bombarding the senator with questions about pollution and the working poor and mining interests. Of course knew that it would only take a few seconds for the studio staff monitoring the feeds to run his photo and alert the reporters to his own identity.
The senator's smile expanded in a very good likeness of surprise. Gripping John about the shoulder like a long-lost son, he started eagerly and magnanimously answering the reporters' questions.

Conall
Sunday 6/22/70 09:34:27

Conall had never been very good with words. Wolf was not know to be a great poet, or even a speaker. He was not even considered a leader. Wolf was a warrior. Wolf was a hunter.

The young elf's eyes became two thin slits as Patrick spoke of courting Etain. If his pointed ears hadn't been ringing, he would have heard the leather of his gloved hands creaked under the tension of his closed fists. His mouth was clenched in such a way that he could feel his jaw twitch.

But... he couldn't do anything. Patrick was observing proper etiquette, and had shown only good intentions. Conall still couldn't forget Etain smile when she had seen Patrick; the twinkle in her eyes.

Finally, when he forced his teeth to stop grinding agaisnt each other, Conall cleared his throat.

"You say much to say little, O'Donnell"

Before Patrick could reply, Conall sighed and spoke again.

"My sister is like a masterful work of art. She is beautiful in every way possible. Delicate. Precious. Fragile. I will respect her calling...." he said, avoiding Patrick eyes.

He had felt Etain anger last night. He had felt her hearth sink as if it had been his own.

"If you think of courting my sister, I need a proof from you that you can also be her protector and guardian." he quickly added, his eyes going back into Patrick's.

A strange smirk started to creep on Conall's face... an almost sadistic grin.

"Now... how you want to go about proving that is up to you." he said while he cracked the knuckles of his right hand.

John
Thursday 1/30/70 08:31:10

Billings is really acting chummy, what is he up to? John thinks without a reflection of this in his expression. He expressly shakes hands with the other senators as well, before he follows Billings to the exit.

As he is hit in the middle of the spotlight, the cockroach-reflexes implanted durig his time as a crisis-ressource-manager kick in and make him want to crawl under the fridge. But he resists and hides his surprise, showing the camaras a reserved smile that only reveals a thin line of his perfectly symetric and polished teeth. He had assumed the usual media-coverage but had not expected it to hit that early. With nothing more then a thought the PR/Media-Knowsoft he had safed for later is loaded from his headware-vault, confirming the thought, that he could not escape a photo at the side of senator Billings.

Simultaneously, a quick-dial command rushes over the skinlinks from his jack to the goldplated caliban in his breastpocket, as he takes in the reporter´s faces and logos. As Alice, Alvarez and RFS´ own PR-experts respond to the call, he relays the vid-feed of his observations to them, so they will instantly know the situation and be abled to run the images through the databases. They had coreographed and rehersed John´s inevitable confrontation with the media in advance, but the unpredictable nature of such encounters meant that their direct tele-presence was never a bad idea, much less with Billings camera-ambush.

When the reporters´, the senator´s and his own advisors´ voices start to overlap, the caliban automatically transforms the later ones to text-messeges beaming over his glasses.

He calmy analyzes every word spoken, ready to interven if necessary to prevent any uncomfortable headline, while he waits for Ramsey and Guadalupe to show up and pose enough of a distraction for him to unobstrusively take a step aside.