Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:32:10

Adam's eyes got wide and he was silent for a moment. He hadn't really expected this. When Tyisha said Shwen was getting close to the wrong kinds of people, Adam thought she ment drug addicts or BTL junkies or a violent boyfriend or something. The MOB? She wants me to sweet-talk fucking mobsters? An intervention, he could do. Convincing some asshole drunkard boyfriend to move on... piece of cake. Convincing the mafia that Shwen isn't really their type? Okay, get your head together, man. Your friends need you.

What is with today, anyways?

Adam started to regain his composure, and his confidence. "Yeah, I'll do anything I can to help her out of this." He thought about it a little more, and continued, "but I'm not sure what we can offer them. Still, maybe you're right - maybe we'll get lucky this time." Adam said this mostly to give Tyisha some hope. He was pretty sure they would end up with matching bruises pretty soon. Mafia-types, from what he had seen in the movies, where very buisness-minded people. If he showed up with nothing to offer them in exchange for their 'property', they would be very very unlikely to let him walk away with her. Even if Tyisha was right, and Adam could somehow pull this off, they would come to their senses eventually, and Adam would have no leverage to keep them at bay.

"I need to know where to start." He looked at her shoulder, "Maybe with whoever gave you that? Or with Shwen - maybe she knows who is 'in charge' of her. That's the only guy I gotta convince." Adam found himself wishing he knew more about the mob and its structure - or knew someone who did.

Jonathan - Third Wave

Monday 7/7/70 11:15:15 Carbon Freezing Chamber

Jonathan gestured once to his Padawan, who instantly disappeared into the shadows, and slowly pulled himself up the ladder to face the white clad StormTrooper. As he hauled himself over the edge of the pit his robes changed into a copy of the uniform of the officer who challenged him upon entry into this node, so that when he finally stood straight and tall before the challenging icon he looked exactly like an Imperial Officer.

"Systems administrator J37THOMA*95 preforming routine database maintenance functions."

The faked admin codes convinced the security icon that Jonathan had every right to be here doing what he was doing, and just as quickly as it showed up it turned and left. Off about its assigned tasks. Jonathan wasted no further time, back tracking his route into this node doing his best to erase any signs of his presence in the system as he went.

It took only a few ticks to follow the route back to his ship's landing pad where R2 stood silent guard. Jonathan prepped and launched his ship back into vastness of the Matrix-scape.

Only a second or two later he opened his meat eyes and grinned to himself. He could feel the stiffness he associated with long term VR use but he was also flushed with victory. The adrenaline sang a love song along his veins and he relished the feeling. He stood and stretched, getting the blood flowing again and feeling the high start to wear off. There were better technical hackers out there he knew, guys who had better gear, or rode nova-hot code, or were true Matrix-masters, but almost no one he'd ever met had the same feel he had for working the nodes. It was part of his Talent, part of his innate ability that gave him his edge, and there was nothing he liked more than proving it against the best his rivals could throw at him. Part of him wanted to crow out loud.

He called up a view of the file he'd down loaded, a ghostly window appearing in his vision, as the commlink transmitted the data to his image link. It appeared the file was heavily encrypted, far too heavily encrypted for him to take a poke at it with nothing more than the commercial decrypt software he could download of the Matrix. He'd need a better decryption program and a diffuse program in case it had a data bomb attached, before he could open the file. Two programs he didn't have.

Alister probably made sure I didn't have those programs available to make sure I didn't open the files he sent me off to get. Jonathan thought.

The Bossman hadn't specifically said not to look at the file, it had just been understood when he'd handed out the assignment that the file was to be retrieved not reviewed. Still, if the Boss hadn't wanted him to know what was in the file then he shouldn't have told Jonathan to get the thing in the first place.

Curiosity killed the cat, chummer. Jonathan thought with himself. With a shrug he headed off to Rafeal's office. His supervisor had been hacking for years now and probably would have the programs Jonathan needed, he'd just have to weasel them out of the older man. He knew he was going to look at the file, he could no more stop himself than a junkie could turn down the next hit.

Ya, but satisfaction brought him back!

Caittie
Tuesday 8/12/70 18:41:25

The three teenagers ran for all thier worth down the street, desperate to get some space in between them and the club. Before they knew it, they had run out of breath and were just sitting infront of a Stuffer twitching from the adrenalin rush. Breathing heavily they looked at each other and just sat there, oblivious to the world untill the sirens got closer and closer.
Alex was the first to stand, but his face was grim and his eyes were staring off into the distance. He just stood there for a second before looking down at the two girls. There were a few seconds of silence between them before he finally broke it. "I'm getting out of here... I don't want to have anything to do with the Star...", he said as he reached for his commlink.
"What are you talking about, Alex? We did nothing wrong and if we help them, they can catch Beth's killers!", Caittie said back to him, her voice raising a bit at the end.
"Of course we did nothing wrong! That bastard deserved what came to him! I hope the same thing happens to the other two!", Alex replied, voice raising in response. Finishing up with his commlink, he set it back in his pocket and took at deep breath. "Caittie, sorry. I just dont think the Star is that much better than those three we saw back there. I dont trust them one bit.", he continued as he turned his back to the girls.
Cattie just looked at his back for a few seconds, thinking of what he just said. 'Can't trust the Star? I know they are trustworthy, my uncle is in the Star!'

"Caittie? Caittie, can you hear me?! It's Sgt Fonz!", a voice in her head popped up just as she was about to say something back at Alex.
"Yes. I'm here.", she replied to the voice.
"Whew. Good, I thought something had happened to you. I was trying to get you for the past few minutes. What's going on in there?", she heard Sgt Fonz ask.
"My friends and I escaped without getting hurt... but... but...", Caittie tried to reply as it finally hit her. But Beth was murdered... As it hit her, she felt the tears that should have fallen minutes ago, all coming down at once as she put her face in her hands.
"Caittie?", she heard three voices ask at the same time. Alex turned around as Lisa put her arms around Caittie. He just looked down at his feet, while listening to sounds of one girl crying as the other one tried comforting her before she herself started crying.
"Beth... Beth's... She's DEAD", she cried out in both worlds not caring who heard her.
"Caittie... Caittie, this is Sgt Fonz. I need you to calm down and tell me what is going on. Please, Caittie.", she heard as Sgt Fonz tried his best to get her to calm down enough to talk.

Caittie did her best to straighten up and control herself as she responded to Sgt Fonz. "Beth, the owner, was shot by three men. My god... I cant belive this is happening. It's only supposed to be on the Trid's, right?"
"Caittie, its alright. You're safe now, but I need to know what happened to the men who shot Beth."
"There was a man on fire. He fought one of them. I dont know where the other two are now.", Caittie said while wiping her face.
"Can you tell me about them? Anything will help.", Sgt Fonz said.
"They were both in suits. One of them called himself Louie-something. Thats all I know..."
"Ok, Caittie. I have a few cars on the way to the scene, but I told one of them to head to where you are right now. I'm going to stay on the line untill they get there though. Ok?", Sgt Fonz said with the standard comforting tone.
"Ok.", was all that Caittie could reply with, cause about that time, a taxi had come to a stop infront of the store. The ork in the front rolled down the window and looked at the group expectantly.

Alex stepped out towards the taxi and opened the back door, looking back at the girls. "Lisa, Caittie. Lets get in and go...", he said to the girls.
The girls looked at each other and Alex before Caittie finially said, "I need to stay here and wait for the Star." Alex twitched as she said that, but she was too busy helping Lisa up and didnt see it. "You go with him, Lisa. I'll be fine."
Lisa just nodded and leaned in to hug Caittie as she said goodbye. Alex helped her into the back and got in himself afterwards. "You be carefull, Cait. I'm going to take Lisa home.", Alex said as he got in. As soon as he closed the door, the cab started off without waiting another second.
As she watched it turn a corner, she heard sirens close in on her and then turn off. The sound of an engine and two doors closing turned her around, face to face with two humans in Lonestar uniforms.
"Are you Caittie Natome?", one of the officers asked.
All she could do was nod her head as she hugged her stomach and try not to cry again. "Ma'am, I'm Officer Mc'Coy. You're safe now..."

--------------------------------------

Tuesday 8/12/70 19:09:48

Caittie didn't even hear the squadcar drive off as she just stood there crying in her father's embrace. The officers had told Mark Natome what they had learned from Caittie and he just stood there dumbstruck thinking about what his daughter just went through. As the minutes past, he finally looked down at his crying daughter and stroked her hair. "Lets go inside.", was all he could think to say at the moment.
Inside, they sat down on the couch in the storefront and both of them sorted through what was going on in thier minds. After a while, Caittie had cried all she could and sat up straight. All she could think to say was a whispered, "I'm sorry, Dad..."

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 03:29:50

Harriet had barely had time to pull her work boots off when she heard a pounding on her apartment door.
It had to be Andy! He didn't have the code for her building's front doors, but he delighted in finding new ways to get in anyway - he hated having to be buzzed in, hated waiting down there at her mercy.
And to think that after she'd bawled him out and turned him down earlier today he was here tonight anyway - instead of being angry, she was delighted. What hez. The last thing she wanted was some sensitive type - she needed an ork, dammit, and Andy was hers. She stalked to the door and swung it wide with a feral grin, already feeling a certain familiar warmth.
There he was - covered in dust, had he been working another site? - and he smiled sort of wanly, a smile that somehow conveyed a sense of great contentment, and he reached up a big calloused hand and touched her cheek. She took the hand and gave it a playful tug, drawing him toward her. And he collapsed forward. She was caught off guard, and the sudden drop of his weight was too much for her, so when she reached out to catch him all she could do was scrabble ineffectually at his body as he crumpled at her feet, breath now coming in shallow rasps.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:33:20

"All I know is his name is Franco Balducci. He stinks Mafia. I only know his name from her though - I guess he spends a lot of time at the Dancing Bare, you know, the place downtown with the big tacky neon koala doing the macarena - that's where she worked. So I guess he's been trying to run her nice for a week or so - figures if she's down with it it's better for everyone - he's not stupid - just looks like it - so he offers her good money, and protection, of course - not just from johns but from cops, too - she was still riding that high and she won't admit it but I think she was flattered. In fact, I think she slept with him, but she hasn't said. I just think so.
"So when she acts hesitant about his proposition he let her know it wasn't really her choice, and turned up the heat. She quit going to work, but he showed up at her apartment. She called me while he was outside the door, and by the time I got there the doorjamb was busted and he was in there with her.
"As soon as he saw me he snatched my comm off my belt and - just - crushed it in one hand. He pointed to a chair and told me to sit -and Adam, I sat. You know how when you're your favorite sim star you can just stand up to those kind of guys - well, real is different, I found that out. I sat, and he ignored me. He laid it all out for her, in no uncertain terms. His nice offers from before now amount to slavery. I plucked up the courage to say so, and he gave me that bruise, holding me by one hand nose to nose, my feet dangling off the ground, just glaring hate into my eyes.
"So he says to her he'll be back in two days - that's tonight - at ten - and if she doesn't look like a thousand nuyen an hour, he'll cut off a toe.
"But obviously by that point it was hitting her - like I said - understanding how far she'd corrupted herself - and the little girl that came over from China was sitting there in the corner and I think she'd've died before she turned another trick. I think she'd have stepped off the Union Street Bridge before tonight. But that fucking bastard saw what I saw - and he had her fucking parents' commcode - obviously he's got megabytes of her on stage, and now she's in her room like some sort of zombie, resigned to her fate.
"Adam, I will owe you forever if you can save this girl - I can't know about it and live letting it happen."

Jonathan
Monday 7/7/70 11:27:00

Rafael Cantu was a tall man in his forties with a permanently sleepy-sad expression on his razor-burned face. Somewhere in a gray nether-region between bald and merely high-foreheaded, and sporting a wattle that would make a bullfrog envious, Jonathan could never help wondering what the man's wife must look like. Either exactly the same or totally the opposite, he figured.

Cantu's voice always sounded as though its production was some sort of monumental strain. "But you still have not explained to me WHY you want to borrow my analyze software, certainly not to my satisfaction, in any event. I don't suppose it could PAWsibly have anything to do with the job Alister sent you on this morrrrrning. Oh which one was that? Oh, let's see now. Oh, could it have been the one that he offered you my help with but that you did not need my assistance with. Oh oh oh, oh my dear but that must have been the very one." Jonathan was nearly beside himself with impatience - verbose though the man was, the worst part was the way his lazily sarcastic drawl made every word take twice as long as normal to spit out.
"Well, Mister Oh-so-smartypants, I would like to hear just one good reason - just one mind you - but it has to be a good one, oh yes, it must be a good one -" getting higher now, getting shrill - "why I should sully your high and mighty independence" - nearing a crescendo - "by sharing with your lordship my PUNY WORTHLESS INSIGNIFICANT PALTRY JOKE of an analyze program." And looking into those hangdog wells of complacency sitting under that very very high forehead, you would never know that Rafael Cantu had raised his voice.

Caittie
Tuesday 8/12/70 19:09:55

"Oh, sweetie, you have got NOTHING to be sorry about. That's the first thing you have to get through your head right now - there was absolutely not a blessed thing you could have done to help poor Beth." Mark would have traded his soul right then for anything he could have said to reassure his daughter. He knew that for a healthy, good-hearted girl like his little angel, the memory of this trauma would heal, but the irrational feelings of guilt, the sense that she should somehow have done more for her friend, would torment her for years - just as his feelings of helplessness and inadequacy still tormented him so many years after his wife's death. He took her by the shoulders and made her looke at him through her tear-flooded eyes - "Listen to me honey - I know you are in the most horrible pain of your life right now, and I know you just need time to curl up and cry and get your head together, and that is fine, but there is one thing you MUST hear me say, and I mean REALLY hear it, Angelface," Mark felt as though he had never had a more important task in his life than getting this message through to his daughter right now, like if he could do it he might not only save her but also atone for all his own imaginary sins, and that fervor carried itself to Caittie's heart through his voice.
"You cannot, MUST not, blame yourself for this in any way. Beth would not want that. I do not want that. God does not want that. You must NOT give in to that sort of self-blame. Hurt honey, go ahead and hurt, but oh my dearest most precious treasure, hurt the hurt of the victim, of the innocent, and NEVER NEVER NEVER let that hurt come from anywhere inside of you, do you understand me?"

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 03:29:55

For the second time in the last 24 hours everything froze. But this time despite of everything she could plan, it didn't change the outcome. Instead of the obvious instant to grab a hold and bring everything into her safe grasp, now no matter what she did it wasn't enough. The tiny tug to bring Andy in triggered a set of reactions as she scrambled futilely to control events. It was a blur.

"A.a.. andy..?", Harriet knelt near his head, and frantically searched with her eyes for what was wrong. Her vision blurred by distracting ARO overlays splatting useless information on how to emplace splints for broken bones. Angrily she reset the commlink, clearing everything, an eternity later the medical panic button floated in front of her and she mentally punched at it.

Jonathan

Monday 7/7/70 11:27:20

FRAGGING UP-TIGHT HOOPKISSING BASTARD!!!

Jonathan tried to smile obsequiously, and did his level best to hide the thoughts concerning Rafael's sexual practices and the marital relationship between his mother and father at the time of his birth. The freaking jerk spent half his time doing his work and the other half making sure he got credit for the work of the poor slobs lower on the corporate food chain. He was however a pretty good code-meister.

"Look Raf, I decided to make the initial forays without you cause the job looked like a waste of your time omae. I mean c'mon, why should you waste your time on a mediocre hack that even I could do, when you could be doing work that I couldn't do? It's not efficient use of company resources, the only reason Alister even suggested that I might need your help is because he over estimated the opposition and he doesn't appreciate just how valuable your time is chummer. Seriously, having you do this hack would be like launching a missile at a squatter's cardboard box, total over kill."

If this spiel keeps going I'm going to choke on my own tongue. The bull-drek is so deep in here I'm going to have to scrub my knees clean. If I have to go through all this and the little breeder doesn't give me what I need then I'm going to hack his home's sec-cameras and post pictures of him and his wife in the shower to about a dozen 'find-a-friend' porn sites and attach it to Alister's commcode.

Jonathan gave a big grin and resisted the urge to simply grab the chubby little slug and shake the programs out of him. He remembered reading something in his employment contract about a company policy somewhere that said you'd get in trouble if you assaulted a corporate officer.

"Now that I've done the grunt work I am coming to you for help, I need to borrow your decrypt program and your diffuse program to finish the job. We both now I can do the work but you're the code expert, and I don't have the tools do the job, while you do. The work needs to be done but I need to tools to do the work. Look, I'll owe you a favor." He couldn't help it, by the end of the request his voice had taken on a distinct if quiet growl.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:33:20

"Ten? Okay." Her words were like an echo in his mind, since he had already made peace with the fact that this emergency was probably going to conflict with all of his other plans for the night. It wasn't so much the time that worried him, as much as the day. Adam felt fine about postponning his meeting with the Phee-Gees for something as important as this, but he wished he had some time to do a little homework on the mafia, or on this Franco Balducci guy.

After a moment, of thought, he let it pass. It wasn't meant to be - a craftier person might be able to orchestrate something ingenious to get Shwen out from under this guy's thumb without any mess, but Adam just wasn't that good at planning things - and didn't have so much influence that the mafia would look at him twice. He had imagined a few scenarios, mostly ones barrowed from elaborate heist sims, wherein he came up with comparable blackmail to confont Frank with, offered him a deal that made them both happy, or was able to negotiate help from someone with more power than he had. Unfortunatly, the reality was that while any of those things might exist, Adam didn't have enough time to find them.

Then there was the fact that homework and coming up with plot-worthy wern't really Adam's strong points. He was more of a "chips fall where they may" guy, although explaining that to Tyisha would make him sound very callous. If he had a sweet plan available to him, he'd run with it... but since he doesn't, he'll just have to make things up as he goes. That's really when he was at his best, anyway.

"Franco Balducci. Dancing Bare. Superhumanly strong.... Got it." Adam flashed Tyisha is most confidant smile, hoping she fell for it. You know, if you told me about this two days ago, when you found out... He kept his thoughts to himself. There was no reason to make Tyisha feel any more responsible than she already did.

He pushed himself off of the wall, to head back into the resturant, but stopped and faced Tyisha. "I know if sounds lame, but I hope you understand that none of this is your fault, Ty." He paused for another second to catch her gaze and make sure she was looking him in the eyes. "Shwen made her own choices, even if they were bad ones, and now those choices have cought up with her. You and I will try to do everything we can to help her escape the hole she has dug..." Adam put his hand gently on her injured shoulder, "... but make sure she doesn't pull you in with her, okay? These are dangerous people. I wan't you to stay away from them, okay?"

Then he headed back into the resturant.

Inside, he turned to Jeff and John and appologised. "Sorry guys, but I gotta split - a friend of mine is having a real emergency." He turned to Jeff, specifically, "I'll call back Sally, and either reschedule the meet, or work it out with her. Thanks for dinner, too."

Outside, he pulled out his commlink and ordered a taxi while calling Sally back. I hope this Phee-Gee thing can wait until tomarrow....

Caittie
Tuesday 8/12/70 19:10:18

"I think so...", was all Caittie said. She somehow knew her dad knew what he was talking about, but her mind still wasnt making full sense of everything.
"Just remember, I'm here for you if you need me and that I love you.", Mark continued. He was trying his best to console his daughter, but knew that only time would truely help her. He let out a long sigh as he thought of his own ordeal he went through with his wife, Fiona. It pained him so much to see his daughter in a situation that was so close to that.
Caittie lowered her head back onto her father's shoulder and they both just stayed that way for a while. Time stood still but it passed all the same, the sky growing from a deep red to a sombering darkness.

Tuesday 8/12/70 19:46:39

"I know, Dad. I love you too...", was heard through the silence as Caittie started to sit up straight. She twisted on the couch to face her father, taking his hand from her shoulder and holding it infront of her. "Thanks for staying with me. It helped more than you could know."
After she finished talking, Caittie stood up and faced her dad, with her hands behind her back. "Well, I think I had enough adventuring today. I'm gonna go and get ready for bed.", she said with a smile on her face that didnt match with the tearstains. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the storefront and went towards the stairs.
"Oh, Caittie...", was all her father whispered as she walked out. He knew this was tough for her, but the sight of her putting up a happy front to make him feel better just tore his heart apart.
Mark just sat there for a minute and then picked up his commlink. Punching a few buttons, he then held it up to his ear. A few seconds later, he said, "James... We need to talk..."

Tuesday 8/12/70 19:52:23

Upstairs, the only thing Caittie heard was the sound of water. It was relaxing. The feel of it on her face, running down her hair, flowing on her skin. So relaxing.
She stood there, just letting it fall on her face for what seemed like hours. She knew she couldnt stay in there forever, as she dropped her head down and let out a sigh.
Reaching up, she turned off the water and stood there for a second, letting the water just drip off her onto the floor of the shower. Shaking herself out of her trance, she reached out and grabbed a towel to dry herself. Wrapping it around her body, she grabbed another and stepped out of the shower. Drying her face, she walked up to the sink and then started drying her hair.
As Caittie started to dry her hair, she opened her eyes and immediatly flinched as she let out a small gasp of surprise. Slowly opening her eyes, all she saw was her own reflection in the steamy mirror. She reached forward and slowly ran her hand along the mirror, leaving a trail of spotty wet glass that started steaming back up soon after.
'My mind must be playing tricks on me... I swore I saw... No, my mind is playing tricks...', She thought as she shook her head. She finished up as quickly as she could and put on her pajamas.
As she walked from the bathroom to her room, she heard her father talking to someone, but couldnt make anything out. Shrugging, she walked into her room and sat on her bed. With a long sigh, she turned off the light and crawled under her sheets.
As she closed her eyes, Caittie couldnt help but see images of the day, as real as life. Her crazy science teacher trying to explain quantum physics. The guy looking at her from down the hallway when she was putting stuff in her locker. Mrs. Nakamura trying to explain what was happening to her commlink. Alex, Lisa, and...
Caittie curled up in a ball as she thought of what she saw in the mirror a few minutes ago. Beth. The body of her friend. The blood on the wall behind her. The lifeless eyes that didnt look anywhere, but boared into your soul. All as if Caittie was still standing there, right there next to her friends.
"Make it go away...", She whispered to no one, as she put her hands against her head. "Make it go away!" The image still vivid in her mind. 'Just make it go away...', she whispered in her mind, as she softly cried, unable to do anything.
Sleep came to Caittie sometime later, but the only thing that awaited her, were warped images of things she didnt want to see. Pinstriped suits, waving disperportionate handguns and yelling. A girl hanging off a cliff by her bare fingertips, desperatly trying to pull herself back up. And the sounds of beatings and gunfire that were ingrained into her mind, followed by rivers of red...

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 03:30:01

As soon as she hit the AR medical panic button she was connected to a Doc Wagon automated icon. Within seconds it had computed an ETA for its responder and initiated a countdown in the upper right-hand corner of her field of vision. Seven minutes and change.
Looking desperately down at Andy's head in her lap, Harriet saw his eyes flutter open. He seemed to be gathering all his strength to speak to her. "Love you....So damn...mu....Al..ys..." and she watched the last of his strength ebb out of him with the fading words, "...perf....ever....smuch cred...dontru....nodeven....base....subbase..."

Caittie
Tuesday 8/12/70 22:13:17

Caittie was awakened from her dream-ridden sleep by her father's voice downstairs. He sounded a bit agitated, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She laid there half asleep for a while, just reminding herself that she was safe at home in bed and that all those dreams had been just that - if only the warehouse had been a dream as well.
But as the minutes slipped by, her father's voice kept on periodically punctuating the stillness of her room, each time a bit louder and more upset than before. Not frantic or anything. But definitely sounding pissed off. Who could he be talking to? The only person that ever came over much, certainly at this hour, would be her Uncle James, and he and her father did occasionally fight the way brothers were prone to.
She wished she had a brother right now.
She was about to go downstairs and see what was up when she got a call on her comm. She didn't feel like reaching for it, so she just 'went' to it - and it was Lisa.

"Caittie? Are you all right? How ARE you?" The girls spent several minutes consoling and reassuring one another that they were both home safe and sound. Neither mentioned Beth right away.

"Caittie, have you met the DA? That's where I'm calling from right now - a SAFEHOUSE!" Lisa said it in the same way she's say she just had lunch with Maria Mercurial. "It's almost fun, Caittie. As soon as I got home, my parents called the police, and the next thing you know a whole motorcade pulled up in front of our house. And while we were looking at them, like, a whole SWAT team was suddenly taking over our house. Only they weren't Lone Star, or any corp - they were actually government employee police - you know, like we learned about in history. That kinda worries me about them, ya know. But Myers - that's what the DA says I should call him - he's REALLY sweet - talked to me and my parents and said I had a duty to testify against those guys that...that....those guys. And they said we really weren't in any danger, because the Mafia doesn't target kids, but they were gonna keep us safe anyway. I'm not even supposed to be calling you right now, in case I get traced or something! Isn't it so so so!! Ooh, someone's coming, gotta go. Call me! I'll send my new secret number. Bye."

Caittie hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, but she received the number, so she could just call Lisa back any time if she wanted to say something. She wondered if Alex had even TOLD his parents what had happened - he hated the cops so much. Maybe if he knew they weren't Lone Star....

But her thoughts were interrupted again by her father's voice, much louder. "James, I cannot believe you are mixed up with these people! Just get out of here. Get out RIGHT NOW!"

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:38:40

"Yeah, I'm sorry...." Adam smiled at two good-looking girls that walked past him and John on the street, while Sally started to become frantic on the other end of the commlink. After they passed, he resumed his conversation (and noticed that John was still watching them walk away). "She called me right after you did, and its kind of an emergency."

More noise on the other then, and then his spirits suddenly lifted. "Yeah, I could probably come over late tonight." This mess should be settled one way or the other by then. "Anytime? Okay, I'll call you before I head over." Unless I'm "sleeping with the fish." "Talk to you then."

"What's going on?" asked John, when Adam ended the call.
"You don't wanna know..." Adam responded, flashing John a reassuring smile.

Despite being called "Ads" again, Adam was in a good mood, and was releaved that Sally hadn't actually planned to introduce him to the Phee-Gees tonight. She seemed to understand that some things in life were more important that inter-frat relations - and seemed eager to still see him tonight. Assuming that Mafia-guys took it easy on him, Adam didn't see how that would be a big problem, and after this little ray of sunshine he was his usual positive self.

This is going to be fine. I'm sure Franco is a reasonable guy - he's probably just too used to looking at women as property instead of people.... In the back of his mind, Adam was still a little apprehensive, though. Something Tyisha said about the way that Franko treated Shwen, and the fact that he had blackmail lined up, meant that he probably knew exactly what he was doing and was just a very bad person. Adam's taxi arrived, and he and John got in.

"Why are we taking a cab, again?" asked John, still fishing for answers. Adam wasn't usually this mysterious about anything - since he rarely had anything to hide.

"I told you. I'm in a hurry. A friend of mine got into some trouble, and she needs me to come bail her out." That seemed to be all the explaination John needed. Although he had expected as much, when Adam said that the friend was female, it didn't seem so strange to John that Adam would be running off to save her.

The ride home was quiet. Adam was distrated in AR, watching as his commlink's search and filter programs went about locating the kinds of information he wanted. It took some effort on his part, to refine his parameters, and manually filter the results, but within a few seconds windows started popping up all over his field of view. Man, how did people function back when everyone else's dirty secrets wern't posted all over the internet? Newspaper articles, blogs, and other peripheral data was scanned quickly and either saved or discarded - but a couple of results jumped right out at him.

Adam was a bit surprised to find a number of references to "the Balducci Brothers" on various Seattle crime-related nodes. "Alfonse and Franco" were, if the interent rumors were to be beleived, big up and commers working their way into the Seattle scene, and creating reputations for themselves. From Adam's point of view, they sounded more like Mafia bottom-feeders, but he didn't really understand how the whole organised crime thing worked. Apparantly, if a mafia-guy slaps around a prostitute, it makes him "brilliant at finding niches in the underworld economy that have fallen between the cracks" and not just another abusive pimp.

To be fair, Franco didn't hurt Shwen, he hurt Tyisha - he just threatened to mutilate, and humiliate Shwen - but that didn't really change Adam's opinion of the guy.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:49:00

By the time he got back home, Adam had collected a fair amount of data on the Balducci Brothers. It was all fairly available widely information - but Adam definatly felt like some sort of digital spy digging up information on someone without them knowing it. He was especially surprised to see that his luck hadn't let him down. It wasn't Franco that had a kid who went to UofS, but Alfonse. A quick look at teh UofS student directory gave him some contact information for "Harper Balducci". He didn't know how safe it would be, but he imagined that if he had a mob-boss for a father, he'd want him to stay the hell out of his personal life while he was at college. Unfortunatly, this girl was living at home, and commuted in a limo, so maybe not.

Hellcat had also messaged him back, including her results (including another commcode) and mentioned not wanting to know why Adam was digging up information on Franco Balducci. She also told him he should stop by when he had some free time. Adam thanked her, and said he was getting some information as a favor for a friend, and that he was a little busy this week, but would be sure to pop over to her place this weekend.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:55:00

After the fastest shower of his life, Adam was standing in front of a mirror trying on his suit. he got it as a perk when doing some modelling a few years ago, but it still fit him well, and he kept it in good condition. It didn't see a lot of use, but he thought he looked like a million nuyen. It also came with concealed armor. Adam hadn't really thought about it at the time that he got it - in fact, he only remembered thinking he would never need it... but he sure was glad he got it now. Seeing himself all dressed up he reminded himself of a secret agent or Johnson or something from an action Sim-flick. Hopefully, the Balducci Brothers would think so too - and take him more seriously.

Once he was all cleaned up, he ordered another cab, and hurried out of the dorm room,acknowledging a few people (whose names he couldn't recall) that he passed by, who commented on how good he looked.

Once outside, Adam sat on the bench by the entrance while he waited for his ride to arrive. He took the time to reconfigure his programs and do a little more digital recon. Unfortuantly, he would have to solo this one, since Loree would never believe that he needed to know Franco's exact location... for a friend.

The first thing he did was spoof his commcode ID. He had done this a few times in the past, mostly as a caller-ID-fooling precaution, and it was a relativly simple procedure. In this case, though, it just might save his life. When he contacts the Mafia, Adam would like to make it as hard as possible for them to discover who he is. Especially when dealing with people who are willing to target your parents. In his head, he could hear what his father would say if he knew Adam was about to meet a big-time Mob guy, but he quickly put it out of his mind.

He loaded an agent program into memory, and configured it with the proper programs to initiate a trace - should he connect to any of those commcodes. He also started up his top-of-the-line Seattle mapsoft, and linked the agent-output to the mapsoft's input, and set the display to show Seattle in a nice little out-of-the-way window in his field of view. When the photorealistic 3d map came into being, and quikly became pockmarked with AROs describing just about everything there was in Seattle, Adam marveled at the thing for a moment. He wasn't sure where Loree got a hold of the software, but it was clearly not meant for your typical user. A Fairlight Caliban didn't even meet the recommended specs. Thanks to Loree's help, Adam's commlink did the program justice, but some of the ultra-slick features were still disabled. Of course, his agent was way more "bleeding-edge" - but considering it cost about as much as a new car, it wasn't nearly as impressive to Adam as the mapsoft with so many features that no commercial commlink could use them all - and which still managed to hit a 30 price-point.

As the cab rolled up, Adam finalized his settings, and four red AROs appeared. One at the Dancing Bare, one at Shwen's place, one at his current location, and one along the route that quickly appeared from his current location to the club (along with an estimation of the travel time according to the current GridGuide traffic feeds). This fourth ARO indicated the most convienent ATM machine along the way. If I'm dressed to impress, I'm going to need the cash to back it up - and I'd rather not wave my SIN around that place...

"Where to?" asked the familiar synthesised voice of the taxi's pilot-program. Adam forwarded the route to the cab, glad that he didn't have to deal with a real life driver. As the cab pulled away he continued to mess around with his commlink, looking over his library of illegal software and wondering if any of it would help him.

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 03:30:01

ETA 6:47

The first time Harriet met Andy was when he had been sent to chase the trespassing monkey kid from a site. There hadn't been much of a chase. She'd been panicked be the reaction of the other workers, poised to run as one of them commented, "Uh oh here comes the chief.". Standing defiantly with a bucket of ice, filled with cold brews, in one had, the other grasping the top of the ladder she'd climbed to deliver the drinks at half a nuyen a pop, she wasn't sure which way to jump.

Andy just grinned his big grin, tusks and all, and held out the offering in his hand. It took her so long to realize what it meant that Andy started getting a worried look on his face, but then she squealed delightedly as she dashed forward and grabbed the hard hat in his hand. It was too large, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was there was someone here she felt safe with. No, someone she knew she was safe with.

When Andy pointed over to the portable office near the entrance and said, as he started down the ladder, "Let's get you signed in." there was no hesitation as she scrambled after him.

ETA 6:46

Andy breathed out...

ETA 6:45

Andy still breathing out ...

ETA 6:44

It had to be a troll the first time. There were a lot of them working, being naturally strong they were good for quite a few jobs. They got paid well for it, and got a few perks too. One of them thought Harriet was a perk. Most other people weren't a problem, being a bit smaller than Harriet, but this trog wasn't, and he wasn't inclined to listen much, even when some members of his own crew warned him. Nothing got through his thick skull till she used the rivet gun on it.

She knew even before Andy showed up to deal with what would happen. She was just the water carrier, carrying buckets of cold water around for the crews, acting a gofer for any odds and ends needed by any crew that happened to spot her. The troll was an old hand, specializing in manually setting the core pre fab columns on their final maneuver slots, a critical part of any high rise construction.

After listening to the trollish concoction, and before Harriet got to say anything, Andy grabbed the rivet gun and asked, "She hit you with this rivet gun?". Without waiting for an answer Andy blew a hot rivet into the trolls cheek, then jumped into his chest feet first, knocking him down to the next deck. After jumping down onto the trogs chest and then dropping a knee onto his neck, Andy very carefully explained the appropriate uses of construction tools and that using non authorized equipment would be confiscated forcefully, especially if some dumb trog tried to use it on any of Andy's crew.

Andy blushed when Harriet asked what non authorized equipment was, as the troll hadn't been carrying anything other then his rivet gun.

ETA 6:43

...

ETA 6:42

"A.. a ... ndy, it's going to be okay..."

ETA 6:41

.... breathing in ...

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 3:48:45

The troll and ork in Doc Wagon uniforms counted to three and carefully placed Andy on the gyrnie.

When Harriet had first heard their siren fifteen minutes ago, Andy had still be struggling for breath, but he'd never spoken again. For a while there was a desperate look in his eyes. They shut for a while...she lost him...but they opened once more...this time softer, calm. By the time the EMTs pounded down the hall to her still-open front door, they were closed again, and he'd stopped breathing - so she lost him again.

She told the med techs that he'd only just stopped breathing.

"Got a shot, then," the troll had said.

The ork used an ORC-tattooed hand to check Andy's pulse, then peeled back his eyelids and smelled his breath. "Vut! Fucking bliss gonna kill all the kindred. C'mon cerri, pull out of it. Do it for her, she's here cryin' for you, cerri."

They'd shot him full of something and started CPR. "He's way too hot," the troll had said, and the ork had run into the kitchen and in seconds was back with an armload of everything frozen in Harriet's ice box, and packed it around Andy's head.

But after working on him for another ten minutes, the troll caught the ork's eye and nodded at some sort of monitor. They'd moved quickly and carefully to get him onto the wheeled stretcher, but somehow the sense of urgency had left their manner.

Now, as the troll moved into the hall with one end of the gyrnie, Harriet looked at the other EMT with pleading eyes. He looked at the floor, and said quietly, "We can't call it in the field, but...."

Caittie
Tuesday 8/12/70 22:17:46

'Sigh... I wonder what Uncle James did to make Dad mad this time...', Caittie thought as she got out of bed and stood up. Yawning, she reached above to stretch out a bit as she started walking through her open door. 'Whatever it was, it had to be big, cause it's been a long while since Dad has tried to kick Uncle James out like this.'
Walking down the hallway towards the stairs, Caittie saw herself in the mirror. Grumbling, she straightened her hair from the tossing and turning from the last few restless hours. Though it wasnt tied back like she usually had it, her red and pink hair was a stark contrast to her light blue pajamas.
"Calm down, Mark... Let me speak...", she heard James say to try and calm down her father. Caittie shook her head again after hearing that line, as she started back towards the stairs. The two brothers get into enough fights that these few next lines are commonplace in them.
"OK, James. You have five minutes...", Mark replied to his brother.
"No interuptions?", entered Caittie's ears as James continued with the next line.
'No promises.', Caittie thought.
"No promises.", her father finished the last line just as Caittie thought it out like clockwork. Caittie couldnt help but grin a bit at how she had thier timing down. What would usually follow was around twenty-three seconds of silence as they stared at each other before anyone said anything.

Caittie walked down the stairs to see that the brothers were in the kitchen to the right. As she sat down on the stairs, she could see both of them in the staring contest that usually happened in thier fights.
Her father, Mark, though four years older, was the shorter of the two at 70". His brown hair combed back and falling to his shoulders gave him a laid back look. He must have been working since she went to bed, cause he still had his grey coveralls on and his magnifying glasses on his head. He was pretty fit, but the coveralls he had on were baggy and disguised the muscles he had.
Caittie's uncle, James, was almost completely different from his brother. He stood at around 79" and had around thirty pounds of muscle on the shorter sibling. His clothes were of Lonestar issue, so Caittie guessed he just got off shift and came over here. Both the Lonestar uniform, that pretty much clung to his body to show off the muscle, and the blond flat top he had on his head, formed up to make a pretty intimidating man. But even so, everytime he looked at Caittie, his eyes showed a kindness that almost rivaled her father's.

As he looked down at his older brother, James sighed a bit and dropped his arms to his sides. "Mark, I know what's running through your head right now.", he started out, already holding up a hand to stop the interuption he knew was coming. "First off, I dont like it anymore than you do, hell, I didn't know it was being done till a few months ago. But let me tell you this, what was being done was for the greater good of the people. Sometimes you have to deal with the lesser of two evils to beat the greater."

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:56:30

As the taxi pulled away, Adam began to fiddle with his commlink. Noticing that one of the commcodes he found for Franco Balducci he began to think about what his objectives were.

Tyisha only asked him to talk to this guy. She figured Adam had a way with people, and Adam was inclined to modestly agree. He also felt like he could handle this task pretty well. However, she also mentioned that this guy kept blackmail on all his girls - something that Adam felt was going to throw a big kink in his negotations.

For one, he had no leverage himself, besides the hope of appealing to Franco's human compassion. Secondly, even if the negotiation went well, and Franco agreed to everythign Adam asked, there was no way Adam could be sure he'd go through with it - and Franco would always have that same blackmail if he ever changed his mind.

Staring at the commcode information in an AR window, Adam convinced himself that something would have to be done about the blackmail - or he would never really feel like he had saved Shwen. Unfortunatly, he wasn't really the guy for this type of job. He had done a little hacking in his past (Hellcat had showed him the ropes when they were dating) but he relied on the power of his programs and pure luck to compensate for his lack of skill and experience.

Still, if he was lucky, Franco Ballducci would still be at the Dancing Bear. If he was luckier still, he would be gathering more blackmail material on the girls there - or at least this would be the same commlink. And if he was really lucky, he might be able to get to that data and delete it - taking away Franco's bargining chip (and maybe saving countless other girls from the same fate).

Before he could think better of the plan, Adam slipped into VR. The ETA countdown and mapsoft information remained at the edge of his awareness, but his main field of view was composed of his commlink's process information. He quickly rearranged the programs in active memory, selecting a preset template that he had found useful in the past - then he attempted to connect to Franco's commlink.

Hope this guy isn't as computer-sauvy as he is buisness-sauvy....

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 3:59:57

It had been awkward the whole time for the med techs with Harriet holding Andy hand almost the entire time. The ork stood there waiting for her reaction. Without noticing she was letting go of Andy's hand, it slid out of her hand as the gurney moved. Intently she glared at the med tech and asked in Or'zet, "Bliss?"

He nodded in response, then quietly followed the gurney out, leaving Harriet staring blankly out the door and down the corridor speaking quietly to herself, "Bliss?"

She stood there a few minutes more, then went into motion, moving swiftly down the corridor and out the building into the night.

I got your back c'rzon

She started accessing the Hirotomo site log remotely, scanning the check ins for Andy's shift, and thinking furiously before trying Morris's commcode. Blocking incoming as usual. Harriet was going to have to go see him in person.

Caittie
Tuesday 8/12/70 22:19:30

James: Listen, you know the scenario. Left unchecked, the gangs and syndicates will tear this town apart fighting each other and feeding off the citizens to fuel their wars. The law enforcement people are willling to pay for can't touch the problem - not only is it too little but the bleeding hearts and limousine liberals, people who'll never get raped in an alley or lose a child to a drive-by, they tie our hands, won't let us do what needs doing. But what we can achieve is to tip the balance of power, give one side just enough support to give them enough of an edge that they can dominate the scene. That way, they regulate themselves, keep the street crime down because it steals money from their customers - the druggies and sex freaks. And we get to keep an eye on them, keep them from getting out of hand. Really, we are using them.

Mark: And this is ALL about helping out the little guy, right?

James: It's about keeping the peace. It's about serving and protecting the best we can given what the realities are.

Mark: So you've never, like, taken money or anything from these people?

James: ........

Mark: Oh RIGHT - protect and serve - YOURSELF you fucking hypocritical bastard. I cannot....

James: LISTEN - I have to take something - if I don't, I'm not trusted, I'm a liability.

Mark: Yeah, if you don't take their money you might actually do something crazy like, oh, I don't know, turn their asses in for corruption or something. So, what? Are you trying to tell me the entire Seattle Lone Star contingent is on the take to the O'Malley mob?

James: No, not all, just....

Mark: Just the fucking dirty ones. You make me want puke. My own brother, a damned dirty cop.

James: I am not dirty - I am a helluva good cop, and one who's got a much better view of reality than a pantywaist hippie like you...

As James' voice rises to a peak, Mark suddenly appears at the bottom of the stairs, obviously to see whether their shouting has awakened Caittie. Obviously it has, since he finds her sitting there on the stairs.

Caittie
Tuesday 8/12/70 22:21:45

Mark barely got his foot on the first step when he stopped in his tracks. Looking up the stairs, he saw Caittie, with eyes wide, staring at James while backing herself against the wall. "Caittie?", Mark softly called up to his daughter as he slowly climed the stairs towards her.
Apon hearing Mark call up towards his daughter, James looked up and locked eyes with a scared girl who was trying to sort through all the information jumbled in her head. His hardened features softened immediatly, and his eyes almost seemed to declare his guilt as he felt it wash over him. His mouth opened and closed a few times as words failed him.

The words she heard seemed to float around in Caittie's head, and she franticly tried to make sense of all of it. Mobs, gangs, money, LoneStar, corruption, money... O'Malley? 'Haven't I heard that before?'
"O'Malley...", she unconsiously whispered, the name flashing in her head like a light far away. "O'Malley...", she repeated, this time the flash was closer and she could almost see something.
"Caittie... Sweetheart, are you ok?", Mark asked uneasily, as he kneeled infront of his shivering daughter. He reached out and lightly touched her hand to hold it, but as soon as he brushed up against it...
"O'Malley!", she yelled as she snapped gaze around to meet her father's. "They were the ones that killed Beth!"
"What?!", both men reacted at the same time. Mark held onto Cattie's hand and looked her in the eye, and James stepped forward towards the stairs.

Caittie saw James moving towards the stairs and immediatly started scrambling up them to back away. Mark couldn't hold on as she quickly jerked her hand out of her father's grasp. "You... YOU know them! You help them! How could you?!", she yelled down at her uncle.
"Caittie, I...", James started to say something, but the words just wouldn't come. Looking up into those angry and terrified eyes, he could only feel guilt and sadness. Caittie never got mad at him before, he was always the good guy.
"James, you should leave... now.", his brother said in a flat dead tone. Mark never looked at his younger brother, but James knew that his welcome was wore out.
James gave one last look at Caittie with eyes filled to the brim with sadness, and then turned to walk out the back door.

Hearing his brother leave, Mark walked up next to his shivering daughter and crouched down. Seeing his only child break down like this, so many times in one day, was wearing him down. So many things on his mind, and so many things left unanswered, he couldn't make sense of many things. The only thing he could make sense of, was the fact his daughter needed his help.
Without saying anything, he reached under Caittie's legs and around her shoulders to carry her against his chest. Standing up, he winced as he remebered when she was alot lighter the last time he did this, and then carried her up to her room.
After he tucked her back in bed, he just kneeled beside her looking into the eyes of a scared little girl. The same eyes she had when she was still afraid of the dark. He stayed there at her bedside, softly stroking her hair, till she finally gave in to the emotional exaustion that they both felt.
Mark stood up slowly and walked towards his room, turing the hallway lights off as he got to his door. With one last look towards Caittie's room, he closed his door and prepared for the sleep he desperatly needed after a stressfull day.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:56:30

Adam cheered inwardly as his connection was finally accepted - as security-access, even. As the VR world shifted around him to reflect Franco's system, his spirits dipped a little bit. Stock iconography on a relativly easy-to-hack system. Before he even initiated the search, Adam began to suspect he wouldnt' find a thing. Sure enough, squeeky clean. Almost too clean, in fact.

It wasn't the lack of mob info that tipped him off - that's just common sense. It was the complete lack of porn. What sort of man spends most of his day at a strip club taping young girls so he can exploit them later, and who doesn't keep porn on his computer? Well, besides one with a wife and kids at home who might check his commlink.

Adam was pretty sure this wasn't the commlink he was looking for. Franco probably carried a second offline system for making his little videos - and that was going to be a big problem for Adam in about ten minutes.

Before logging, Adam took one last look around - pouring through the rather innocent-looking contact lists, and checking any active connections.

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 4:00:07

Half a block later her head buzzed. Harriet slowed as she answered.

//Morris.. &^9 --> Spade:: Archer and Spade Investigations.
//Harriet:: Where are you?
//Spade:: Archer and Spade has offices at 1500 West Yukon Ma'am. Office hours are 8 am to 5 PM. But Sistah, I can tell you are in trouble, my apartment is around the corner at 1012b 2300 Preston Avenue.
//Harriet:: Cut it out. Andy's dead.
//Spade:: Someone killed Miles? You'd better get over here and tell me about it. Someone has got to pay for this!
//Harriet:: It was Bliss.
//Spade:: That junk! Miles was no junkie. This stinks.
//Harriet:: I thought you might know some one who figure out where it came from.
//Spade:: I don't touch the stuff, I put away a few bums in my day. Miles too. But I may a have a few leads. Sistah, you better come to my place where it's safe.
//Harriet:: Be there as soon as I can.

//Query?Archer+Spade+Investigations

... 1936? ... oh, a remake in 2036, 100th anniversary edition...

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:00:30

Harriet closed the link with her brother. Tragic though they were, oftentimes she could not help but smile at her brother's personafix antics. But now, blinded by shock and grief, was not one of those times. She knew she had to keep moving to avoid being overwhelmed by her emotions.
But no sooner had she started walking in the direction of Morris' place than a terrible roar assailed her ears, accompanied by a still-powerful shockwave, and followed by the terrific ruckus that only the collapse of a thirty-story skeleton of steel and concrete can create.
She knew that sound all too well - she'd made it herself enough times - and she knew what she would see when she turned and looked down the long avenue. Twenty-three blocks down was the Hirotomo site. Now all she could see were clouds of dust where they peeked through the glow of the streetlights, and she knew that under that dust was nothing but a pile of rubble.

Jonathan
Monday 7/7/70 11:29:00

Cantu gave a self-important sigh - the pained sigh of a man with the world's weight on his shoulders and only idiots to share the burden with. "I am transferring two ONE-SHOT utilities for your use. I advise you do NOT attempt to use them twice. Now begone."

Having received the programs, Jonathan returned to his workstation. Rafael's ware WAS hot, and the decryption was a snap, especially since there was not a data bomb. The file had Aztlaner and Japanese options, but the office had a library of translation ware (copy-protected to the hilt, of course), so that was no problem. Big file. All numbers. Some kind of accounting spreadsheets, maybe daily expenditures on overhead costs or some crap like that. Maybe it really was just the null file that Alister had said it was.

With his work done by lunch, Jonathan was wondering how to kill the time until his meeting with Guile and Jason at eight. He was eager to meet them to show Guile his latest victory in their game of who could dig up the most private dirt on the other. The recent shopping records that he had traced to her commlink confirmed that she wore thongs, which he had to admit got him a little hot, even though she was already going out with his best friend Jason. And that she liked Nerpsicles. As he was pondering this very victory, an agent that he had sent to find more information on these very topics reported back to his commlink. Wow - he totally had her now - what e-zines she subscribed to (Sylvan Unions?!? - elf wedding planning! He would have to warn Jason!); registration for a support group for people with transportation-related phobias (so THAT was why she never drove!), and her utility bills (BOOORRRING!).

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:01:55

For some reason Harriet felt Monica was to blame. Her head buzzed again.

//Spade:: Sistah, word has hit the streets. Take my advice and don't say anything to the cops, let me talk to them. Keep yer yap shut and yer head down.

This paranoid PI business was getting on Harriet's nerves, she hadn't done anything wrong. In fact she'd already gotten her Harley out to go ride to the site so she could assist with the preliminary investigation. As far as she could tell from the logs she was scanning before they went off line, along with most of the remotely operable equipment at Hirotomo, she had been the last person on site, so it looked like no one should be hurt. Of course there was always the possibility of people in the area being struck by debris, in fact that was the most likely risk. The insurance rate discounts for effective site security pretty much guaranteed the construction company tightly controlled access to any active construction site.

Numb with horrified fascination, Harriet headed towards the devastation, momentarily distracted from the pit of sorrow in her soul. Maybe someone needed help.

Caittie
Wednesday 8/13/70 02:12:02

"Caittie, Caittie, wake up," called a soft, distant-sounding voice.

Caittie opened her eyes, wondering if this was another dream. But the voice sounded like Alex's, and that would make it a good dream. There he was, right beside her bed, practically on it. She bolted up and wrapped her arms around him...but they went right through!

He just smiled at her shock. "You can't touch me, Caittie, but we can talk a little."

"Are you a ghost?"

He smiled again. "Not yet. But if I was one, I'd definitely choose to watch over you. I wanted to see you, Caittie. Actually, I've always wanted to visit you like this, but...I don't know, I guess I was scared. So wouldn't you know that when I finally do come to see you...well, I guess it's just that I've got nothing to be scared of anymore. Like I said, I've wanted to see a lot more of you anyway, but I also have something I have to tell you.
"Caittie, you cannot trust the authorities right now. Not the Star, and not the DA either. Lisa's parents called my parents, and the next thing you know that Myers guy, the DA, was at our door and they hustled us into 'protective custody.' He wanted me to testify against those guys. I guess that Louie Fishbreath creep is a real key to Mafia operations in Seattle. Looked like an ignorant thug to me, but whatever. So my parents were all up to do their civic duty so I had to go along. But about half an hour ago something woke me up. I went to the kitchen and all the security guys were gone. I got scared and went astral - that's what I'm doing now, Caittie, visiting you with my astral spirit form. I went outside the house to see what was up - and Caittie, right then it exploded - just a huge fireball. I zoomed back inside and I saw my parents' pain as they burned to death."
Alex's voice was quiet, but as he told his story his aura grew brighter and brighter, lighting up her whole room.
"Myself, I never felt anything. There was...there is...nothing of me left. My body is in charred pieces scattered all over the place. This is all that's left of me. Little by little over the next few hours, even this will fade - I can't stay alive without my body, Caittie!" She can see that his calm is cracking, that he's panicking. "I'm gonna die, and I can't do anything but feel sad and scared and wait for it to happen!"

Her mind spun. All she wanted to do was comfort Alex, to fill his last hours with peace and love. But she also knew she had to warn Lisa right away. And then she realized that the arguing voices downstairs had started up again, much more violent and angry than before. And then she heard the shot, followed by her uncle's voice - "Oh God in Heaven, Mark, no!!! I didn't...I didn't...."

Caittie
Wednesday 8/13/70 02:16:35

*Blam*
"Oh God in Heaven, Mark, no!!! I didn't...I didn't...."

Caittie snaps her head towards her door, and her eyes go wide. 'No... No more... Please...', she thinks as she jumps off her bed and runs out into the hallway. Sprinting as fast as she can, she makes it to the stairs and starts going down them.
Looking to her right towards the kitchen, she jumps back against the wall startled, as she sees Alex glide through the ceiling. Putting her hand up to her chest, she takes a quick breath to steady herself and looks around but cant see anything other than Alex.
She slowly turns the corner to her left, heading towards the front of the store with Alex gliding along behind her.

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:10:07

By the time Harriet covered the blocks between her and the site, sirens were converging from everywhere, and a few Lone Star squads were already setting up a hasty cordon. She was about to identify herself to them when her comm rang again - Cody. Thank goodness.
<<Harriet? Don't talk, just listen for a minute. I've talked with the board - got them out of bed on teleconference - and they agree that the company receives no benefit from prosecuting you. We just want the money back. Just give it back to us and we will all go our separate ways. For fuck sake, Harriet, you're a smart woman, and you had a real future with VB. Did you really think we were going to MISS Y2 million?...>> Cody kept talking as Harriet's head spun. She was standing in the middle of the street and the cops at the cordon had seen her and were waving her off, and Cody was going on and on and on about how much the company would find it profitable to spend on hunting her down if it meant a chance at recovering Y2 million and between the two she suddenly had the distinct feeling that Cody was trying to keep her on the line....

Caittie
Wednesday 8/13/70 02:16:39

As she approached the front of the store she saw a scene that would haunt her to her last breath in this world, and maybe beyond.

There, on the floor, her uncle was cradling the limp form of her father in his arms. A pool of blood was rapidly widening around them both, spreading to encompass the big pistol that lies on the ground beside them. James' face was streaked with tears and he was rocking back and forth. And he was bleeding too, from what looked like a deep gash in the side of his head, red pouring down over his ear and across his cheek.

"Oh God, Caittie honey - I...I...he made me do it, he was...oh, Caittie, you shouldn't have to see this....Just...just....just go to bed. I'll...I'll come up and tuck you in. I'll bring some milk and cookies. That's right, milk and cookies."

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:53:58

Adam spent a few minutes moving through the iconography within Mr. Balducci's commlink. He found a large number of contacts, just as he hoped to - including his brother, wife, children and neice - nobody named "O'Maley" though. Anyone else mob-related probably wouldn't jump out at Adam, so any of the other Luigis or Tonys could be what he was looking for, and he'd never know. As he started to copy the data to his own commlink he wondered if it would really be of any use. There was a number of conversations, all saved for later playback that might be somewhat useful, but Adam didn't have the time to sort through any of this, and was pretty sure that Franco's family knew better than to talk buisness on this line.

After he was finished riffling through Franco's contacts (and had a copy for offline reference), he started to look for attached devices. Adam found a number of connections open, but all to pretty mundane things. Contacts, Earbuds, a car. The car was interesting, but Adam couldn't start or operate it from here, so he moved on. Franco's SIN and liscense information was easily accessable. It seemed he was the manager of the Dancing Bare. Great. Waltzing in and sitting down next to a patron to talk about a personal matter might be doable.... Walking in and demanding to speak to the manager is probably going to be more of a hassle.

Adam glanced at his mapsoft's output, and noticed the taxi was quickly approaching the ATM.

Waking up quickly, he lowered the window and handled his transaction. Tyisha is going to owe me so bad.... As quickly as he could get the cash, he sent the command to the cab to resume the route, and shifted his perception back to the matrix.

He had plenty of time before he would reach the Dancing Bare, but he felt as if his leads had dead-ended. Aside from projecting images and sound to the mobster's devices, Adam couldn't think of much else he could use the connection for. He didnt' find the blackmail he came here to look for, and didn't manage to find anything else of interest that he might use as leverage against him. He was going to have to go into this negotiation with almost nothing to offer - and that didn't make him feel very confident. What's more, Franco has no reason to listen to him. Adam isn't in a position of power over him. Franco doesn't even know who Adam is, so why would he have anything to fear from him?

Wait. That might be it. Adam's spirits rose again, breifly as a half-formed idea came to mind. I didn't find the information I was looking for - but Franco doesn't know that. If he's mafia, its a safe bet he has some dirt somewhere. And he has no idea who I am - but I might be able to make that look scarier than if I was someone he knew. Bluffing a mob boss. It wasn't much of a plan, but if anyone could pull it off, Adam thought he could.

He imagined one of those movies, where a big corporation or power-player in organised crime hires some sort of anonymous "middle-man" to do their negotiations - so that they can remain anonymous, or deny responcibility. Besides lending itself well to Adam's desire for personal anonymity, if he was lucky Franco might think his "anonymous employer" had a great deal of power - and that Adam shouldn't be ignored so carelessly.

That would be cool.... Adam thought more about the tools available to him, and remembered some movie he saw once where some hacker dropped a cryptic message on the main charater's commlink, right before something relevant happened - so the main character would know it was the hacker's doing. Adam wasn't particularly interested in showing Franco that he hacked into his worthless public commlink - but a simlar effect might throw him off-guard. It might make him consider that the man in front of him, dressed in a nice suit, isn't just some college kid off the street.

Adam set about his last bit of Matrix legwork. Examining Franco's contacts' and earbuds' capabilities, and sending some commands to get them to do what he wanted, later.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:58:03

Adam shifted from, VR to AR, waking up in the cab just as it was reaching its destination - a block away from the club. He left a little window open in his field of view, maintaining his connection with Franco's commlink, and bound a few new macros to buttons on the touch-screen. Gathering his confidence he finished the transaction with the automated taxi and left the taxi.

Adam took a second to straighten his suit, then began to confidently walk down the street towards the club. Its showtime....

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:59:00

There he was, standing in the rain beneath the great neon dancing koala - the coat-of-arms, if you will, of the cultural center that was the Dancing Bare. Adam shook his head at the ridiculousness of it - it was not in his nature to consider that one day he, too, might not be young and good-looking and need to pay cash to see naked women.

The wide one-story building was windowless but far from run-down. It was surrounded by a large parking lot with numerous cameras, and Adam had to weave his way through a veritable maze of cars to get to the entrance - whoever had devised the lanes on this parking area must have been either insane or geometrically challenged - there was no way to proceed straight more than ten or fifteen meters at a time.

Reaching the door - helpfully emblazoned with a 'NO MINORS' sign in both ARO and RL - he hauled the no-tech slab of plastic open and found himself face-to-navel with a gigantic tuxedo-clad homo sapiens ingentis. Another ARO across the troll's chest explained the Y50 cover and two drink minimum. Adam had expected something about not touching the girls, but that must have been either unspoken or academic in this place.
He sent the cred and was allowed to pass down a black-walled corridor, the music getting louder as he proceeded. He must have gone through some sort of sensors, because the next thing his AR saw was a humanoid diagram with the location of his taser highlighted, along with a listing of the weapon's specifications. A window opened and he dutifully handed the device over to a pair hands whose attached face he could not see.

With the formalities out of the way, a door opened and his senses were assailed with all a horny teen or paunchy sarariman could hope for. The music was far from Top 40 - fast and aggressive, with searing female vocals - music designed to arouse, and to keep the dancers moving no matter how much Bliss they were on.

There were three dance floors - two in each of the corners to his left, and one on the wall to his left between the other two. The one nearest him currently featured one of the more attractive ork women he'd ever seen - stark naked and dancing like a banshee - didn't do a thing for him. The other two stages were farther off - the place was quite spacious - but he could see that both were occupied by humans, or else elves with enough mammary enhancement to pass for human. Again, naked and dancing like dervishes, hair swinging and spraying sweat on their delighted customers. The dancing might have been half good if they were always stopping for a moment or two to deliver that one particular view to whatever seat had just commed a tip.

The other side of the place was a bar, with tables scattered throughout the middle, and plenty of girls of all metatypes working the tables - giving or offering table dances. And in the right hand corner farthest from where he stood, Adam saw a large, raised, circular area - looked like it might once have been another stage, but now it seemed more like a dais for a throne. It had a set of steps leading up to it, right up the center, with a brass railing encircling the rest. It was apparent that you could see virtually the whole club from up there, and behind a big table sat a big Italian man named Franco Balducci. Sprawled casually on chairs to either side of the opening in the railing were an ork and a troll in pinstripe suits.

Adam was just thinking how he wanted to make his approach when an insistent looking human woman wearing nothing but waist-length hair and carrying a tray caught his attention, and he realized that he'd been ignoring the AR menu 'offering' him his first Y30 (plus tip) drink.

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:10:49

Harriet shuddered rhythmically as she gazed at the blurry silhouette of the Lone Star Officer moving towards her. The dark figure gesticulated, reaching towards her, asking questions in a louder and louder voice. The voices, all asking her questions she couldn't answer, kept droning insistently.

Finally her voice broke, "no" <<no>>

She turned the bar, and in a smooth motion gunned the engine, pulling away in a wide u-turn, away from the monster chasing her.

"No" <<No>>, she snarled, teeth bared.

Revving the engine slowly up, building engine cycles up into a deep roar, Harriet started racing towards the only things left to her. The only things she had left to lose.

"NOOOO!" <<NOOOO!>>, the sound bouncing off the buildings over the sound of her engines.

<<disconnect>>

//@Monica+@Morris::They killed Andy! There after me! RUN! RUN! I'm coming Morris!
//Spade::Sistah, I .. <<disconnected>>
<<POWER OFF>>

Can't let them get the little one...

Her vision clearing as the tears streamed away, Harriet never heard what the patrol officer had been asking. "Ma'am, are you alright? Can I help you?"

But she had answered.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:59:00

60...59... The ARO counter counted down in Adam's AR overlay as he took in the scene around him. His attention wasn't really on the music (although it wasn't half bad) or on the girls (not half bad either) - it was on the Italian sitting on his bar-seat throne, flanked by two bodyguards.

53... 52... Still not sure how he wanted to approach the man, Adam saw someone trying to get his attention, out of the corner of his eye. Turning to face the person, he prayed that it wasn't anyone he knew - he wasn't sure even his silver tongue could explain what he was doing here... and it would seriously hamper the image he had planned. Luckily the bare waitress didn't look familiar, judging from her posture and portable tray, she just wanted Adam to order his first obligatory drink right away.

46... 45... "Um, just a sec." He opened up his AR menu, and glanced breifly at the overpriced offerings. He had been to a couple of bachelor parties where the guys ended up at places like this - and he knew how the girls delivered shots to you when you tipped well. He wasn't particularly intersted in that (having a stripper deep-throat your shot comes off as "unsannitary" more than "sexy"), but still felt like a shot would help calm his nerves.

44... 43... No. What would a professional negotiator do? Adam thought to himself. He certainly wouldn't show up with sythohol on his breath.

42... 41... Adam closed the AR menu. "Why don't you start my tab by getting a round of drinks for Mr. Balducci and his two acquaintances." Adam gestured towards Franco's table. "I assume you know what they like to drink." He then looked right into her eyes, "... and while you're up there, could you inform Mr. Balducci that Mr. Smith has arrived to meet with him. I'll wait here until he is ready."

30... 29... He hoped his demeanor came off as cool and professional as he had intended, and was watching the waitress carefully to gadge her reaction. Was this sort of thing commonplace? Would she appologize for treating one of Mr. Balducci's aquaintances like a regular customer? He also turned up the volume on his link to Franco's earpieces - if the waitress informed security, or contacted Franco wirelessly, he wanted to know.

26... 25... I hope I timed this right....

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:12:00

Warm summer air blew through Harriet's short-cropped hair as she gunned her Harley along the most direct route she could recall to Morris' place. It was the first time she'd driven without AR for a while, but she couldn't risk turning her commlink back on.
When she got to the dilapidated tenement Morris and dozens of other whores, junkies and beetleheads called home, she parked under the one streetlight and just didn't even have the will to lock it up. She didn't care about it, or anything else, except salvaging what she could, and Morris was at the top of that list. But then, he had been at the top of that list for years, for all the good she'd ever been able to do him.
As she approached the building, he came out to meet her, wrapped in a mangy, threadbare trenchcoat. There was a newspaper folded into something roughly the shape of a fedora on his unwashed head.
She grabbed him in an embrace, and he said, "Slow down, sistah. Whaddaya say you tell me all about it...from the top."
As he was speaking, before she had time even to get annoyed, she saw over his shoulder a Lone Star cruiser burst out of a pile of old boxes and rev straight towards them. From around a corner, two more officers rushed them, guns drawn.
Harriet swung Morris around behind her, and that was when she realized they weren't going to even tell her to freeze. The two on foot were leveling their weapons and she could tell they meant to shoot, even as the car screeched to a stop and started to disgorge another pair of armed ambushers.

Jonathan
7/7/70 - 16:45:06 - N.E. 159th Street Phantom Lake Condoplex

Jonathan pulled on his black synthleather jacket, covering most of the dark green Seattle Timberwolves 68 Championship T-shirt he was wearing, but it matched the black jeans and biker boots he was wearing. He activated his PAN, setting it to notify him of any other Miracle Shooter players interested in challenging the Jedi_Master_Frost, and tucked his Colt Manhunter styled mock-pistol into its sleek inner jacket holster.

He dropped the file with the Boss and called it a day. He'd tucked a copy of it away in a private data storage area he had so he could look it over and see if he could figure it out later but to be honest, accounting was about as much fun as unmedicated dental work.

Tonight was all about fun, he was going to meet Jason and Guile tonight at the Underworld and he wanted to hit the mall in Issaquah on the way to pick Guile up a nice weekend thong. He grinned at the thought of dropping it in her lap while she and Jase were making smoochie faces at one another. It'd be perfect payback for her finding those fragging yearbook photos from his freshman year in college and hacking his icon to look like that photo. It'd taken better than an hour to fix that job, and if he ever saw himself in shiney yellow plastic bell bottoms again he'd eat a bullet. He still couldn't believe he'd ever wore those things.

Before he left he tucked his spare commlink into the hollow book he'd gotten when he was living in the dorms, and ordered R2 to monitor any communications and all of the cameras he'd put around the condo and alert him of anything unusual. With the agent catching messages and calls and 3PO spoofing his datatrail constantly he could effectively disappear for awhile. Let Guile track that!

Locking the door he jogged down the three flights of stairs to the garage and his waiting car. He had places to go.

Caittie
Wednesday 8/13/70 02:17:00

Caittie slowly stepped back out of the room, keeping an eye on her uncle and the gun right beside him. James paid her little notice as he slowly rocked back and forth, his brother limp in his arms. The pool of blood getting bigger by the second, but it was slowing down and Mark was looking pale.
Once she was around the corner and out of sight of the scene, she turned and headed up the stairs towards her room. All the while, she was accessing her commlink and making an outgoing call...
"LoneStar Emergency Response. Officer Barding speaking.", a voice spoke, which only she could hear.
"I need help! My uncle went crazy and just shot my dad! My dad is bleeding all over and needs help!", she silently yelled.
"...Understood. We are dispatching some officers and a medic team to your location. Please stay on the line and get somewhere safe."

By the end of the conversation, she was already in her room and had locked the door from the inside. As she turned around, she saw Alex's etheral form and walked up to him. She tried to grab his hand but it just waved right through and she could see a pang of sadness wash over his face.
"Alex, please help my dad. If there is anything you can do... Please...", she pleaded with the still living ghost. Alex just floated there for a second before he nodded.
"I dont know, but I'll try... I dont know how much time I have left...", Alex replied with a resigned tone of a man knowing that his time was coming near. Without a nother word, he glided through the floor towards the bloody mess they had just witnessed a minute before.

As soon as Alex had left, Caittie was thrown into a blur of motion as she ran to her closet and grabbed some cloths. Her father had gotten her these street cloths for her, just some small measure of safety, as the cloths had a light lining of protection.
While she quickly changed, she called up the secret number that Lisa had given her. Remembering what Alex had said, Caittie wanted to call Lisa and warn her.
After a few rings, a nervous look crossed over Caittie's face as she was tieing her hair back. "Come on, Lisa. Pick up..."

Jonathan
Monday 7/7/70 19:13:34

Jonathan sauntered across the floor of the third tier of Dante's Inferno. He and his friends were pretty happy to have recently started getting let in this low. Seems like they'd been stuck forever on the second tier before the door guys had passed off on them moving down. But really, he knew, they only got down this far because they came in so early - Dante's was about making money, and if they could give coolness bumps to their customers that actually had jobs to go to the next day (and cred on their comms), then they would do so. Whatever - it beat being on level one with the tourists.

The place was, as usual, dark and frenetic, the music loud, and the lights designed to give a sense that the whole place was on fire. And he never could get used to walking across the class floor.

His coworker and best friend, a human named Jason Bell, was already seated with their elven hacker pal (and Jason's current koibito (fiancee???) Guile. Yeah, just Guile. It annoyed the hell out of Jonathan that she was so slippery about he identity, and it didn't help that, unlike he and Jason, she was obviously SINless. But thanks to Jonathan's efforts, she was getting less and less hard to pin down all the time, and tonight, he thought as he found the sheer black thong he'd just bought at the mall, he was really gonna have her.

Caittie
Wednesday 8/13/70 02:17:35

Lisa didn't take long to answer her comm, despite the late hour. "Caittie! Wow, you called at the PERFECT time. I told you I'm not supposed to use my comm, but, like, all the security just now went outside for some reason. Window of opportunity, girlfriend! How are you ssssssssssssssshhkrkkrkrshcchch" and Lisa's node disappeared. Before Caittie could react, Alex reappeared, but he looked much paler now than before, less substantial, more wispy. "Caittie, I am so sorry but your dad's dead. And your uncle - I've never seen an aura so sad and full of self-hatred and despair." He came closer to her, and she could see that if ghosts could cry, he would. "Oh I just need a hug so bad right now," he moaned as all his testosteroney teen boy pretense shattered, giving way to a hopeless, impotent panic. "I'm fading out, Caittie, I'm disappearing out of existence and I don't know what to do and I'm so scared. Oh, I'm so so scared, can't you help me??"
He pled with her and she tried to think of some way to comfort him, but then there was a pounding on her door and the sobbing voice of her uncle. "Caittie," he began, struggling to control himself and communicate clearly, "you have to open the door so we can talk. You are in such terrible danger honey - such terrible danger there is just no time. You have to let me in. I understand why you called the police, but I called them off, Caittie, okay. No one is coming. At least, no one good."

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 18:59:33

25...24... Adam kept half his attention on Mr. Balducci's table, trying to make it obvious that his attention was not on the girls. The other half of his attention was on the waitress, who apparantly took the 100 bill he handed her and walked off. She didn't head to the bar, and didn't head over to Franco's table. Bitch. The metaphorical drek was already being thrown up at the fan.

15...14... At about that time, out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw all 6 eyes from Franco's table turn his way. Adam's ploy seemed to be working somewhat - he was standing out enough to get attention. Unfortunatly, probably not the kind he was looking for. The ork moved over to Franco and whispered at him. Luckly, Adam had a bug in the fat mobster's ear.

"Whaddaya wanna do about this mook, boss?"
"Hey, we're open for business here. Let's hear what he wants, the cheeky bastard."

5...4... Adam gathered the last bit of self-confidence he could muster, and stood up. Now or never. Shwen, I hope you're worth all of this....

3... 2... As he approached the stairs he got a better look at the men. The ork seemed to be looking in his general direction - but was now wearing shades. Apparantly the darkness was too bright for him. Adam knew a guy who was sort of into that look - black longcoat, tricked out shades, black mascara.

1... *beep*... The thought of the ork bodyguard wearing black mascara and white facepaint resulted in Adam's wearing a bit of a smirk as he started to ascend the steps. Both goons stood up before his foot hit the first step. The ork was standing slightly in front of the troll, and took his gloved hands out of his jacket in a way that told Adam that he was about to be frisked.

The search took a little bit longer than he would have liked. If nothing else, the ork was thorough. For some reason, he also seemed to think Adam kept his weapons in his ass. Adam tried to shoot Franco a look that said he understood the precaution but was loosing patence with his gropping minion. The ork was also very careful to reach int oAdam's pockets and examine anything he found. Luckily for Adam he didn't realyl have anythign on him - although he got a little nervous when the ork pulled out his commlink. When it was returned to him un-molested, Adam felt better. Under his breath, so only the ork could hear him, Adam asked, "Satisfied?"

Finally, he was lead to the table, and the ork pulled out a chair for him. Adam smiled and took the seat, aware that the ork and troll were both now behind him where he couldn't keep an eye on them. Beneith the table, he opened his hand wide, and a circular AR menu appeared where he could discretely select one of his preloaded macros. His select-sound filter attuned itself to Franco and Adam's voice, and began to record the datastream.

"On behalf of my employer," Adam began, attempting to keep his demeanor as cool as possible, "I would like to apologize for the last-minute nature of this meeting, Mr. Balducci. However, I understand that it is similar last-minute urgency which created the necessity for our discussion."

He paused for a moment to gadge Mr. Balducci's reaction. His improv act was going to depend heavily on subconscious cues the crude man gave off. Franco seemed relaxed. That wasn't exactly the state that Adam would have prefered - but it wasn't entirely unexpected, either. "Say the word, Mr. Balducci, and this meeting is over. This is your house, and I have no intention of disrespecting you in it. I also have no interest in wasting either of our time." He then put both of his hands on the table and folded his fingers, in what he believed to be a very professional manner. "I would, however, ask that you hear me out. I believe that you will find my message enlightening...."

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 19:00:04

As Adam started speaking, he heard a faint hum come up. It was much more quiet than the blaring music, but nonetheless was definitely there, like a refrigerator you don't notice until it shuts off. Almost immediately a red AR message appeared, announcing that his sound filter had been overpowered by an overload of random noise patterns. And right after that, his AR made a second announcement - all external connections lost. He knew enough electronics to know he'd been jammed.
But he managed to continue his speech without showing any surprise. Once he had finished his initial pitch - "I believe that you will find my message enlightening..." the musclebound Mafioso spread his hands wide, palm upward, and said charitably, "Kid, why wouldn't I hear you out? I let you up here didn't I? Now shoot."

Caittie
Wednesday 8/13/70 02:17:54

Caittie stood there listening to the static in the air, stunned at the loss of another friend, but somehow it didnt hit her like it would of a day ago. First Beth, then Alex, her father, and now Lisa...
*Wham* *Wham* *Wham*
"Caittie, let me in! I need to talk with you before they arrive!", James yelled through the door. His pounding on the door was getting harder than before.
'I have to get out of here or I'll end up like everyone else...', Caittie thought to herself as she started looking around her room. Other than the door that James was pounding on, the only way out was the window.
Moving over too it, she looked over towards Alex's transparent form and noticed that it was getting dimmer as time passed. His etheral head hung as he contemplated his life and how short it was.
"Alex...", Caittie called over to him, causing him to look at her. "You were right..."
"I know... I wish I wasnt...", a very soft voice could be heard in reply as his form slowly faded to almost nothingness. "I love you, Caittie. Sorrrryy...", was the last thing she heard him say as his form just blew away when she opened the window.
*Wham* *Wham* "CAITTIE!"

She wished that she could mourn him right now, but she felt that if she didnt hurry she would be joining him.
Looking out the window she saw the lattice work that her father had built. On it grew some geneticly engineered blue roses without thorns. They added some color to the otherwise bland house and shop.
Nodding quickly, she went back to her closet and grabbed her backpack. After quickly stuffing as many spare cloths in it as she could, she grabbed her glasses off her desk and went back towards the window. Dropping her backpack out the window, she could barely hear the dull thud of it hitting the ground over the noise her uncle was making at the door.
"Cait! You have to the count of 10 before I'm coming in by force! ONE..."
Her eyes widened at hearing that and she bolted towards the window. Climbing out it, she heard a loud. "TWO...". coming from beyond the door.
She worked her way down the lattice as fast as she could without slipping off it. The dew that settled on the humid night was making the painted wood slippery and it wasnt easy goings. "Seven", she could barely hear it from where she was. As she looked up towards the window, the piece she was holding on to gave way and she fell towards the hard earth. Just as her mind registered that this would be the point in time to scream, she landed hard. Standing up, she rubbed her sore rear and saw that she had fallen from around two meters from the ground. 'I could have just dropped that if I was ready...'
*Wham* *Wham* *SMASH*

Caittie understood that sound ment her uncle just bashed through the door and was now looking for her in her room. Picking up her backpack, she started running down the alley. She had just turned a corner when she heard some vehicles peeling out trying to get away from her house.
A few seconds later, an explosion behind her flung her forward and onto the ground. Peices of wood and other rubble rained around her as she tried to protect herself by curling up into a ball.

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:12:00

It had been a quiet shift. Not that much of a bar crowd on a Monday night, even in a cosmopolitan downtown like Seattle the masses had work to go to the next morning. So the mobile drunk tank fleet tonight had been only one Citymaster, and only two cars had been needed outside the Flying Lizard Dance Club to ensure the quiet exit of some of the hardcore partiers. Doris hadn't even needed to unclip her baton. One stolen bicycle report, two waffle house bill skips, one minor domestic, settled when it was discovered the overloud trid show had been what disturbed the neighbors, no need to let the neighbor know the volume was to cover some squealing college girls in a game involving gallons of soy oil and textured rubber mats, Doris had to get her partner, and herself really, out of there in a hurry. The initial trid recording was probably all over the precinct within five minutes.

Two dozen special order glazed donuts, made with real flour and real maple syrup. from real maple trees, still weird to think about eating tree sap, almost got left on the counter when the blast shook. The tremor wasn't an earthquake, most earthquakes don't send out a shockwave for blocks. Any doubt was erased when the Code Texas Star had come in on both their commlinks. It was not done lightly to bring the entire Lone Star Division up to full alert. In about five minutes a lot of off shift officers were going to be checking in. Commlink traffic spiked. Things got tense.

They'd stared in awe at the cloud of dust and debris as their patrol car rolled down the street towards the Hirotomo building. Or what was left of it. Their commlink buzzed a second time before they responded as available. Distractedly they viewed the commands, then peeled off towards the location designated by dispatch. Doris reviewed the data on the request while her partner concentrated on driving. In terse tones she relayed the information, "Armed Suspect seen leaving the Hirotomo building... here's a visual, address is a known associates. Sending us in case they show up, intelligence projects high probability arrival... "Pre Authorization of Lethal Force".. wow... We got Car 673 en route as backup."

The tires chirped as Doris's partner punched the accelerator in his haste to get there ahead of the perp. She was already braced as the patrol car was slid to a stop. Convenient piles of trashed boxes, some filled with metahuman stench, Doris glad of her gloves, made a quick screen over the patrol car. The most important part was concealing the lights and Lone Star decals. They were going to have to wash with disinfectant after the shift. They drew their sidearms and checked the loadouts with neutral expressions and got themselves ready.

When the perp stopped Doris and her partner looked at each other, then shrugged. Perps did the strangest things at times. Car 673 was several blocks away, not being as close as they were initially, now it needed hurry. SOP called for them to approach and apprehend immediately, the backup available to maintain contact if the perp decided to keep running, or riding out. A recheck of the grid map showed Car 673 a block away, it should arrive just in time, so they stepped out and approached.

Doris had done all the standard tactical courses. It was required if you worked for Lone Star. Everyone got checked out every 6 months on basic firearms. The fact is, there is a vast difference between the best simulators used once a month every month for years, and the reality of a pile of fat, bone and muscle twice your mass twisting and firing itself at you, teeth snarling and casually ripping out metal railings to use on you. Her finger jerked. She didn't even feel the gun move in her hand.

She'd been prepared to shoot, it was standard psychological preparation when approaching a perp, you don't draw a weapon unless you're prepared to use it. But shooting through some fancy colored lights images didn't carry the same feeling as knowing in your bones that something big and nasty with lots of pointy sharp teeth was coming to kill you. Doris didn't even realize she had dropped her gun as she reached for the one thing she knew worked, and had lots of experiencing using, her baton.

Moments later she realized her mistake, and wondered why she was alive. The monster had arrived. But she lived.

But how? Doris stared at the monster, it's snarling teeth, felt it's hot breath and it whirled and crouched in front of her. The iron railing trailing dark fluids in a stream, odd bits of white debris falling away from it.

A pair of familiar resounding thunks informed Doris of the arrival of her fellows from Car 673. The sounds of choking and convulsing momentarily relieved her, the typical reaction of a late night drunk to being shocked.

The monster in front of her stumbled, bending it's knees. But with a snarl it straightened, twisting to put both her and the new attacker in its' view. Bits of dark jellied goop slid off of the iron railing in it's hand.

Doris suddenly remembered there had been two monsters.

Doris knew it wasn't her brains.

Doris really really just wanted to be home.

The monster raised it's hand.

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:12:00

It was so frustrating whenever she dealt with Morris. He treated everything like a game. Both Harriet and Monica had tried for years to make him realize there were some real consequences for not taking care of himself. Monica had given up recently, or perhaps had conceded she would never be able to help him. Now look at what he was doing. Harriet had come here to save him, knowing he would never do the simple thing and simply take off and hide out for a while.

He heard what you said, but never listened. She'd told him to run, but just like back in grade school, he had to charge right in along with her. At least back then he hadn't done any of this strange business of speaking lines from the trid. She doubted most Lone Star officers got told, "When I slap you you'll take it and you'll like it.". Of course it only happened because Morris was a Tusker and the softskins always were a little weak in comparison.

She'd swung extra hard more from worry, and in the quickly dismissed hope that Morris would at least run when his man was down. The batons smashing into their backs and knocking them down quickly reminded Harriet of the one advantage the softees had, damned numbers and pack tactics. She felt something break and gritted her teeth in agony as she fought off the urge to curl up and die.

And now Harriet was getting Morris killed.

The thought made her sick, but it kept her up, and she glared at the woman in front of her... if there's going to be killing...

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 19:00:05

Come on, Adam. You can do this.

He attempted to keep a straight face and seem unphased by the disruption of his commlink's signal. The truth was that he was a little surprised - not that the Mafia would try to jam him (in case he was wearing a wire, or to keep him from calling for help) - but because they were able to. Hellcat got him one of the best radio transmitters money could buy when he was pouring money into a commlink, and normal radio interference rarely had any effect. If it didn't hit him before, it did now. Whoever he was messing with was extremely well-connected.

"Kid, why wouldn't I hear you out? I let you up here didn't I? Now shoot." Franco looked as confident as ever. Adam couldn't tell from his reaction if he was aware of the jamming or not - but couldn't imagine it would happen by anyone else's orders. Very well. We've both shown we have impressive gear.

The moment he took to reflect on his loss, and to gadge Franco's reaction to his offer, was coming to an end. "Eager to get down to buisness. I like that, I will dispense with the usual pleasentries." Adam dropped the word 'usual', in hopes that it would help lead Franco to believe that this wasn't the first time Adam had done this sort of thing. Of course it was, but if Adam was half as skilled as he would need to be to convince Franco of what he came here to convince him of - this little embellishment would help his case.

"You see, my employeer has developed a growing concearn reguarding your interest in one of the girls in your employ." Adam glanced back towards the stage slightly. For a moment, he worried that Shwen might be around, and blow his cover - but then he remembered what Tyisha said about Shwen cowering in her room. This was the last place she would be spending her last hours as a free woman. "One, " he paused, and clicked open a random AR window, as thought double-checking the name as he spoke it. "...Ms. Shwen Xiao." The hand and eye movements were meant to give the impression of distance between Adam and Shwen, as he had to reference her name, as well as to reinforce the idea that Adam is a professional negotiator. If Franco also noticed that Adam's AR was still functional, dispite his attempts to disrupt it - all the better.

"I understand that you are a buisnessman," Adam continued. "Your reputation, as such, has travelled farther than you would appreciate - however, this is one of your qualities that leads me to believe that we can come to some agreement. You are used to the concepts behind PRMs, BPCPs, and of course, ROIs." Adam threw out those acronyms, partially to throw Franco off, and partially because they sounded cool - like there was some lingo between them that the goons certianly wouldn't understand. Adam picked them out of his memory from a buisness class he took a few years ago, but wasn't entirely sure that he was using them correctly or that they even applied to this sort of 'operation'. Still, he didn't imagine the mobster had a buisness degree - so he didn't expect an argument.

Adam paused for a moment to see if Franco made any indication of knowing what he was talking about, before finishing up the last few sentances of his turn of banter. Mr. Balducci hasn't been the talkative sort up until now, and since he was letting Adam play his hand first, he figured that he would make the best of it and turn his speech into somewhat of an essay. The first paragraph was coming to a close....

"As I understand the situation (and please correct me if I am mistaken), Ms. Xiao wishes to take an early retirement. However, she is currenly 'on retainer' with your organization, and that you believe that this sort of career faux paux would result in a loss of sales - hurting both the economic standing of your company, as well as your own personal income." Adam allowed himself to smile, he was having fun with this analogy - but had not forgotten the seriousness of this situation. However, he wanted Franco to know that he meant no ill-will towards him. "Don't get me wrong, I am inclined to sympathise with your position. Your viewpoint is an understandable one, but I think someone with your reputation, as one who can see economic opportunities, and pitfalls, that others have overlooked, will have no trouble taking a broader perspective of the situation."

"My employeer has a stake in the welfare of Ms. Xiao - physically, socially, and economically. Therefore, it disturbed him greatly when word reached him of your 'counter-offer', and of the unspoken termination clause in your employment contract with her. As soon as he heard, he put his resources to work insuring that you and I spoke, so that this matter could be resolved to your mutual satisfaction, before either of your interests came into conflict." Adam was taking a bit of a gamble on this last part. From what he knew of Franco's buisness-model, he avoided conflict and confrontation with the other powerful members of organised crime. Adam was sure that the 'mafia' thing to do would be to develop friendly relationships with these people, but hoped to give the impression that he represented another unknown player in the Seattle OC scene. If he was lucky, and Franco bought it, he might be more inclined to back off or at least negotiate - if he wasn't lucky, Franco would call his bluff or prove to be unafraid of stepping on toes while he climbed to the top. "As I understand it, Ms. Xiao's last 'assignment' has a hard deadline of 10 pm tonight." He glanced at the time in AR, "... meaning that in less than three hours, this matter will undoubtably unfold in a manner that leaves everyone unhappy - unless those with the power to do something about it, come to some agreement about her fate."

His remember Shwen's last words to him: she's in her room like some sort of zombie, resigned to her fate.

"Mr. Balducci, my job is to cheat Fate."

"I would like the opportunity to convince you that it would be better for everyone if you reconsidered your support of Ms. Xiao's sudden change of heart."

Adam paused again, that was it. His objective was out, although not all of his cards were on the table just yet. He hadn't been openly threatening to Mr. Balducci, but hoped that his not-so-subtle hints that there were other things going on that he might want to consider had hit home. However, if Mr. Balducci was going to have Adam thrown out on his ass - this was the time when he would do so. If he didn't, it meant Adam had gotten a foothold in the man's mind (or at least peaked his interest) - and that Adam's objective just might be attainable.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 19:01:30

As Adam reeled out his improvised pitch, he watched as Balducci's expression turned from one of amused dismissal to thoughtful attention. When Adam had first mentioned Shwen's name, the mobster holds up a finger - "I'm sorry, Shwen What???" at which point the ork calls out - "I think he's talkin' about Jasmine, boss." A look of understanding had crossed Balducci's face and he had nodded for Adam to continue.

Once Adam finished speaking, Balducci pursed his lips and nodded slowly, obviously weighing his options along with his next words. He called to the ork - "Pour us some vino, Freddie." As the ork produced glasses and poured, Balducci spoke: "I'm getting the impression you haven't met this girl. Well, I can see why someone would take an interest, but then that's the point. You probably should meet her before we even talk more, but she ain't here right now. She's got somethin', this chink, that certain something, and you know by that I'm talkin' about nuyen, my friend. That terrified and unwilling but resigned and submissive thing that a pro cannot fucking fake. Like striking damn gold. She was a good earner here - face, body, full package, along with a good dose of that innocence-corrupted thing, right. Hell, I had a taste. But after she started turnin' her own tricks in my house - behind my back, mind you - well, when I told her how it was gonna be something happened in that little slant that fucking sextupled her value. I am telling you right now, I am gonna get a cool three grand a fucking hour from that whore, and I got four saps lined up just for tonight. You gotta know I am looking to clear over a hundred K, easy, before her eyes glaze over and she's becomes just one more hunnerd-a-blow Asian hottie.

"So you'll understand me when I say, I respect your position and that of your employer, and I am more than willing to discuss an accommodation, but I am gonna need to see something on the table here, ya know, before we can seriously talk."

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 19:02:07

"Of course." It took everything in Adam 's power to conceal his building disgust. Besides hearing Franco talk about Shwen like a used condom, it was becoming more and more apparent that what Adam had initially feared was true - that Franco was a deepy sick individual, and that appealing to his humanity would prove to be futile. However, Franco's last few remarks about Shwen had helped him keep his resolve. Adam was determined to do everything in his power to stop Franco - both because what he was doing was wrong, and because someone like Franco didn't deserve to succeed at anything. Adam wanted to knock him down a few pegs. Unfortuantly, although he seemed to be buying Adam's professional act - Franco had just called him out on the one thing Adam knew he would need, but didn't have... anything to offer. Adam needed to distract Franco from this for a bit, till he had time to come up with something.

Adam clasped his gloved hands thoughtfully, looking down for a moment while he prepared what he was going to say next. Then it suddenly came to him and he looked back up at Franco. "If we are going to talk seriously, Mr. Balducci, it is important that we both show mutual respect for one another - and the people we represent." I hope this works, in the mobster trids, the boss-guy is always going on about 'respect'.

"My employer wouldn't appreciate you calling Ms. Xaio a 'chink', 'slant', or 'whore' any more than you would appreciate it if he were to refer to you, or one of your buisness associates, as a 'goombah', 'dago', or 'pimp'." Adam paused for a moment to let his words sink in. He looked very serious, but derived a small bit of pleasure from insulting the Mob Boss to his face. He had a point, though, and as long as Franco saw Shwen as nothing more than a source of income (the more miserable the better), this conversation wouldn't go anywhere good. "While she may, or may not, be those things - I am sure a man of your position understands the necessity for civility and respect in a delicate situation such as this one. Therefore, for the remainder of this meeting, I would appreciate it the both of us could refer to her by her name, which is 'Shwen Xiao'."

Franco held up his hands in a stop motion. "My friend, I assure you I meant no disrespect. I mean, I figured, seein' as how we are not in mixed company, an' how you don't have an emotional involvement, we can speak as men speak. But I very much appreciate your point and agree that we should....I should...elevate the civility level of this discussion."

Adam smiled, to let Franco know he was pleased with his compliance. "Thank you. That will make this meeting go quite a bit more smoothly. If I might be frank, in turn, dispite the fact that she is clearly beneith your attention, I am surprised that you didn't recognize her name. As I understand it, you are in possession of contact information for her parents." Adam unfolded his hands and leaned back in his chair. "This, of course, being one of thethings you are currently blackmailing Shwen with."

"What I am not surprised that you didn't know, was that those people, in China, are not the only family that Shwen has." Adam looked around the bar, a little bit. "I'm sure you understand the importance of family, Mr. Balducci. In your buisness, I believe it is held with very high reguard." I hope the mafia still considers itself a big italian family, or this innuendo is going to be lost. "While not biologically related, my employer considers himself part of Shwen's 'extended family', so to speak, and cannot help but take any insult - or attack - on her person, as an insult or attack on himself."

That is true enough, but I should make my point clear - and give him what he asked for, "something on the table".

"Clearly, he would be displeased if you were to carry through with any of the 'distasteful' things that you have proposed to do to Shwen - reguardless of what she might have done to offend you. It isn't anything personal, Mr. Balducci, but family must protect family."

"I'm sure that you can appreciate this position - as you are a family man, yourself. Arn't you, Mr. Balducci?" The bodyguards behind Adam immediatly stood and started towards him. But Franco - whose expression darkened considerably, held up a hand to stop them, and a moment later accentuated the hand movement and they sat back down. Then Franco nodded at Adam to continue - but he began watching him like a man watches someone who is holding a gun to his head.

Whoa. I didn't even say the most insuating part yet. Adam hoped that he didn't seem as moved by the situation as he felt. Guess I made my point.

"...but enough about that. I think you get the idea."

"So, now that you see my employer's position more clearly, perhaps you now feel comfortable to 'seriously talk'?"

Harriet
Tuesday 7/2/70 04:12:06

"Guys?"

Weasel was nervous. He had something really important to say to his roomies. They'd been passed out from the mix of home distilled ethanol and low grade smokeweed they'd been drinking all the previous night. Chilled with stolen bags of ice from the stuffer it wasn't half bad. At least if you weren't abysmally allergic to it. Weasel therefore wasn't asleep, the cough syrup he'd grabbed worked a little differently, making him a bit hyper. The other effect was making him a bit afraid of enclosed spaces. That explained why he was out on the ledge.

"Guys?"

It afforded a great view, Weasel spotted the Lone Star cops blocks away. It had been all he could do to not giggle as they rolled up. It had been a bit nervous at first, but when he saw they weren't coming in he relaxed. He started giggling again when the pair of them had thrown some of the boxes over there car. The loss of the convenient target to piss in was definitely offset by watching the woman shaking her hand to get rid of the noxious fluids. The most amazing thing was they never looked up to see him.

"Guys?"

Then the burnt out chiphead, nice enough tusker, but day to day you weren't sure whom you were dealing with, came out. Right on the steps in front, not seeing the cops. Watching the cops react, but not coming out to grab the chiphead, that had been a puzzler. Why would the Star send someone to grab a harmless chiphead? Then he saw her roll up, sliding to a stop after tearing down the street on her hog. Still didn't make sense, the Star coming for the chipheads sister.

"Err... guys?"

Then everyone was running all over the place, the other patrol car showing up too, which Weasel had missed he had been watching the two hiding ones run out. He heard it all the way up here on the 5th floor window ledge. That sound. Like when he dropped the rotten melon out the window when it got too ripe to even use for home brew alcohol. The shots he was used to, especially around here, it was kind of a background noise you learned it was best to ignore. But she had really laid into that one, and the chiphead had charged right in as well.

"Wow.. guys?"

Some tussling, then the chiphead was down, amazingly slapping down a cop, and the chipheads sister had taken off. Weasel thought finally she had some sense, but then she turned right back, and he noticed she had grabbed one of the Star own damned stun batons. He'd been prodded enough times with one to know they really hurt. In fact, how the heck was she still standing, most people folded right up like the chiphead had when touched. He was sure she'd been hit a couple times, and she was still dishing it out.

"Guys!"

"What is it weaselbreath?"

"Guys... this is important! Don't ever let me say anything bad about the chiphead tuskers sister ever again."

"Why?"

Weasel just pointed down at the carnage in the street.

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 19:05:02

"Yeah, we can get down to business. Like I said, I am more than willing to work out some sort of mutually equitable arrangement." Franco's words were as agreeable as before, but now there was a new edge to his voice - a sort of devil-may-care determination. Adam felt the bodyguards shift in their seats as they, too, sensed it.

"But first," Franco continued in a calm, agreeable tone, "what I need you to do for me is to take a deep breath, sort of lean back a little, and then smash your nose into the tabletop as hard as you can. And if I don't think that you really gave it your best shot, Bruno is gonna have to help you give it your best shot, and that could hurt my new hardwood table."

Adam
Wednesday 5/14/70 19:05:32

The tone of Franco's voice had shifted, as did his posture. At first Adam wasn't sure what it meant but he could tell that something in the conversation had shifted even before the goons behind him did.

Then it hit, when Franco politely asked Adam to smash his nose into the table. Stunned, it took a second for the words to process in Adam's brain while the mobter continued about how if he wasn't satisfied, he'd have his goon 'help him out'.

Holy shit. Adam took a deep breath, just the way he was instructed - but not because Franco asked him to. Adam suddenly could feel his heart pounding in his chest - and needed to calm himself if he was going to come up with any way of setting this situation right. Talk about a one-eighty....

A second ago, Adam was sure he had Franco on the ropes. He was sure that Mr. Balducci was worried that Adam's mystery employer was someone powerful - enough so that Franco had been pretty agreeable up until now. Obviously, Adam crossed some sort of line - but as the last few moments of conversation raced through his head, he couldn't figure out what it was that he might have said that would have given away his deception. It probably wasn't anything he said, Franco was the kind of guy that could probably just tell that Adam wasn't.

He leaned back in his chair, hoping his demeanor was holding up - dispite the sudden sense of danger and failure. However, Adam had absolutely no intention of smashing his own face into the table. For one thing, it would let Franco know that he was in control. If Adam was willing to do that to himself, Franco will have won. Secondly, Adam had the sneaking suspicion that no matter how good a job Adam did of breaking his own nose, Franco would be sure to have his goon hit him a second time anyway.

Really the only option that still seemed viable for him was to push his luck and continue the bluff. What would a professional negotiater do if he was asked to do something like this? Well, he wouldn't fucking do it. But the other side would know better than to ask. Time was running out, Adam had to talk fast, or act quickly.

"Excuse me?" He asked, having heard Franco perfectly the first time. Whether or not Franco endulged him, and repeated himself, Adam continued. "If either of your men lays a hand on me, this discussion is over." Adam held his hands open, in a show of peace. "Obviously, I cannot stop you from breaking my nose, and if that is your final answer on this matter, I will deliver it to my employer. But I trust that you wouldn't want to give him the message, that you're unwilling to negotiate and that you are only capable of communicating with violence and physical force...."

This is it, thought Adam. Although he tried not to show it, he was metanlly preparing himself for a beating against the table. If he smashes my face in, at least I gave it a shot. I just hope I'm gonna be able to walk out oon my own.

Still, Adam hadn't lost all hope. He had made a good point. Whether or not his attempt to intimidate the mob boss had blown up in his face, if he was still buying the professional negotiator act, following up on those threats would be a huge mistake. Rather, it would be a huge mistake, if Adam was actually backed by a powerful criminal element, who was capable of retaliation. Adam prayed that Franco hadn't figured out that he wasn't.