Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:10

All the first patch got was a moan. Wary of a trick, Smith kicked him and got no reaction, so he applied a second patch. The man's head lolled about, and finally he warily opened the one eye that was not swollen shut.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:16
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

...betaware?... man, we're messing with some big-time guys....

When the man's eye opened, and managed to focus on him, Smith smiled, and said, "Pay attention. My friend and I have no interest in killing you - but that doesn't mean there are not horrible things we can do to you if you don't cooperate. Get it?" He was in a hurry, but Smith tried to keep his voice calm and steady. If the hostage got the idea that Smith had to dash in a couple of minute, he might try to bear through whatever could happen in that time. If he thought he was going to be here until he buckled, it might help loosen his lips.

"Who sent you here?" Smith figured he would start out with a couple of questions that he already thought he knew the answer to, in order to find out if the guy was cooperating or not.

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:08:36
Sledge - Ripper
PAN - Hidden

<<@team (audio/visual/text::CounterStream:NoDevice)::

:: 08:08:33 :: 122 ::

:: 08:08:34 :: 121 ::

:: 08:08:35 :: 120 ::

:: 08:08:36 :: 119 ::>>

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:25

The man tried to move his mouth, but winced as his jaw bone worked itself even farther from where it was supposed to be. He managed to mumble - "Call. Commcall. Say goodbye. Then talk."

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:28
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

Smith looked at Fortunato. The request caught him off-guard, but seemed reasonable. If Smith was ever caught and being questioned by Shadowrunners, he knew he would want to make a couple last calls before they killed him... but at the same time, this could be a very daring trick. Then he remembered that Fortunato was doing some magical mojo and said he could read surface thoughts.

"What do you think?"

So as not to waste any time, Smith started typing out a message in AR. He could always decide not to let him use it, but he clearly wanted it - so having it on hand might make for a good bargaining-chip.

<<@Cerberus:: Could you bring in the human's commlink?>>

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:07:31
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Fortunato was momentarily confused when Johnson asked what he thought so early in the conversation. It was clear that Johnson had set himself up as the bad cop and that Fortunato would have to swoop in shortly to make the deal.

Then it struck him, Johnson was approaching this like a negotiation, not an interrogation. Hoping to salvage the situation he messaged at top speed:

<<@Johnson: You've set yourself up as the bad cop and for this to work you need to follow through with it. You need to go against what I'm about to recommend. Then keep asking the questions while shaking his jaw around a bit. Maybe force him to pantomime answering ones you have answers to, that'd be suitably disheartening. You could also threaten to rape his wife, but be careful with that one. It'll might have the opposite of the intended effect. I'll step in when the time is right.>>

Message Sent, Fortunato said, "He's in pain, we've got to give him what he wants."

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:43
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

Smith definatly didn't expect Fortuanto's response, and the series of unanticipated moves was beginning to worry him. The advice seemed solid, Smith figured this wasn't the first time Fortunato had to rough a guy up for information before - but he wasn't sure about this 'bad cop' nonsense. It reminded him of a police-drama trid, which always seemed a little hokey and transparent. He certainly wasn't going to pretend to be interested in messing with this guy's wife. That's just not cool.

The truth of the matter was, Smith couldn't insure this guy's safety - not from his own team, the clincial staff, the mobsters outside, or whoever he would have to answer to for failing to kill Cerberus. Smith had no intention of killing the man, but he certainly couldn't garuntee how long he would live, either. It seemed to Smith that if this guy was going to die tonight, it would be the least he could do to let him use the phone to say goodbye to whoever it is he wants to call.

Must be the wife Fort mentioned.

Smith didn't have a lot of time to think about his options, and Fortunato was right about how he wouldn't get what he wants by caving in and showing compassion right away.

"No. I don't care if he's in pain. He should be thanking me that he's still alive. Did our guys get to make a call before his guys attacked? Did that dwarf get to call home before this elf over here shot him in the back of the head?" As he said it, Smith started to convince even himself.

Turning to the hostage, he spoke clearly and carefully, as he walked closer. He needed to sound mean, but didn't want to sound like a completely unreasonable asshole - even though it would probably help his interrogation. Smith prefered negotations to one-sided threats, but had spent enough time working for Franco that this wasn't the first time that he had had to pretend that he was willing to do something horrible - this was just the first time that his life wasn't on the line if the other guy didn't believe it.

Smith hoped that Fortunato's reference to the 'bad cop' meant he was planning to be 'good cop' - and that, in the end, they could work out a deal where they let this guy call home. He decided to play ball, and see where things went - he still had a little time left to give up on getting information, but leave with his self-respect intact.

"I'm not going to ask you again." He reached out and grabbed the guy by the jaw just hard enough to send waves of pain through his face - causing a great howl, and then a lot of wimpering when the act of screaming was more painful that his touch. Letting go, Smith waited to see who would make the next move - Fortunato to offer a higher-road out of this mess, or the crew-cut hit-man offering up information to save his life.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:45
Cerberus - Street Samurai
PAN - Hidden (cybereyes, earbuds)

Seeing the message Cerberus left Rocky to continue recovering. Walking out of the curtained area where Rocky was he walked back to the recovery room in the fake hallway. Digging around in his pocket he pulled the two commlinks out as he walked. Finding the one Johnson asked for he stuck the other one back into his pocket. Right before entering the room Cerberus heard a loud howl from somebody in alot of pain.

It didnt take long for Cerberus to figure out what they were doing. He walked in and saw Johnson and Fortunato standing near the cybered human. The man had two stim patches stuck to his face and if the man hadnt been trying to kill him a few minutes earlier Cerberus would have laughed outloud. He kept his cool though and walked over to Johnson and held out the commlink.

A pang of guilt went through Cerberus as he realized that this guy was probably fed some bogus lie from Loui just like he and Rocky had. He no longer wanted to see the guy being tortured or worse so he left the room. Seeing the doctor walk back out into reception he gave chase, now would be a good chance to try and et things right with him now that he wasnt fixing people.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:47

"Johnson was Fishbreath. Please lemme call."

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:53
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

When Cerberus entered and offered up the commlink, Smith nodded at Fortunato but never took his eyes off of his target. Seeing the man struggling in pain was tough - Adam wanted to help him, and he thought he probably could, but Smith couldn't afford to give up this opportunity, and Johnson certainly didn't want to lose face in front of his team. So, he stood there looking cold and deadly serious in his hoodie and jeans, staring the hostage in his one working eye - an eye which seemed to follow the man holding his commlink across the room to where Fortunato was sitting. Smith saw his expression turn from relief to dismay, when he saw he wasn't being given his call.

A moment later, Cerberus must have left, because Smith heard the door close, and through a small sputter of blood, the man managed to form a correct answer. Smith was confused for a second. Hearing the man say 'Johnson was Fishbreath' threw him off. He had gotten used to the team calling him 'Mr. Johnson' but he quickly figured out what the man meant since it fell more or less in line with what he was expecting to hear.

He wanted to say something encouraging to the man, but he was supposed to be playing 'bad cop'.

Fortunato better be a really good cop to this guy. He doesn't deserve to be treated like this. He's probably a better Runner than any of these guys.

"You'll get your phone call when I say you do - so keep talking. Who, exactly, were you sent here to kill?" As he waited for the question to register in the guys head, Smith was working on a small list of questions he wanted answered. He didn't have a lot of time, so he wanted to limit it to just a couple.

Top on his list at the moment was whether or not Louie had tipped these guys off that Cerberus had reinforcements. From the reactions he saw when they entered, Smith was pretty sure they weren't expecting anyone except the clinic staff, but if Louie was on to the fact that his three targets were ganging up and drawing in friends the job was going to get a lot deadlier fast.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:07:54
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

The Johnson had the right idea. Fotunato feigned looking away, as if the scene pained him and messaged:

<<@Johnson: You've got him on the ropes, keep pushing.>>

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:10:30
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

For a few seconds, the man struggled to speak - but nothing intelligable came out of him. Johnson glanced over at Fortunato who nodded. Johnson hoped that meant that the poor Shadowrunner he was questioning was thinking about the answer - even if he couldn't say it.

It didn't really matter. Johnson wanted to eventually know the answer to the questions, but he doubted they would change his line of questioning at all - if anything that surprising came up, he was pretty sure Fortunato would speak up.

Without getting an answer out of his target, Johnson moved on. "Where is Louie now?... How were you guys going to let him know the job was done? How were you going to collect the payment?" He paused slightly between questions, allowing them to sink in, and intelligable thought to bubble to the surface of his mind. Each time, he waited for Fortunato to indicate, by gesture or matrix message, that Johnson could move on. After all of his questions were asked, Johnson fired up a message offering to ask anything that Fortunato wanted to know - or offering to let him ask personally.

It must have been quite confusing to the man in the chair. Some kid in scrubby clothes barking questions at him. Forming the answers was agony, but he tried anyways, because if it meant he could tell his wife goodbye, it was worth the pain. For some reason, though, the kid didn't seem to care what the answers were. Before he could moan them out, he had already moved on to some other question. It was almost like psychological torture.

Then, as abruptly as it began, it was over. They had seen whatever thoughts the man could put together requarding the questions they had. Johnson leaned in very close and said, "Listen to me carefully." His tone was much softer, but loud enough that Fortunato had no trouble overhearing. This was no longer an interrogation, it was an offer. "I'm going to let you talk to your wife - but I have to be careful. I have to protect myself, and my team. You've been cooperative, and were only doing your job. I don't see any reason that you have to die."

"But, if we leave you here. You certainly will."

"So, come with us - on our terms. I'll spare your life, and we can settle up later - but if we stay here much longer, we're all going to die. You can make your phone call in the van. What do you say?"

Despite wanting to explain the whole situation, Johnson left it at that. They were in a hurry, and he wasn't sure how long the guy was going to stay conscious. He seemed to still be alert, but Johnson needed him to stay conscious at least until he found out where he wanted to be dropped off. He wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea to so easily discount the guy - but he was in a hurry, and he definatly didn't want to condemn a man to death.

Most importantly, as a new Johnson, he could see a lot of potential use in having a professional Shadowrunner owe you a favor.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:10:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Fortunato had to admit, the kid was pretty good at this. Johnson, after he was done pussyfooting around, started launching a barrage of questions that would have made any police interrogator proud. The guy was just struggling to keep up, which played directly into Fortunato's hands; every time crew-cut fought to come up with an answer, or even a lie, the information fell straight into the hands of his interrogators.

At a nod from Johnson, Fort strutted his stuff briefly, bringing year's of interrogation experience to try and squirrel out everything the man knew about the late Birnhauser.

Then Johnson really surprised him by making a flawless transition into a job offer. The kid was certainly blessed with a silver tongue. But the time limit was closing on their team rapidly and Fortunato didn't even know if the man would survive after the stim patches wore off. He reflected that a little diagnostic training could go a long way before refocusing on Crew-Cut's response.

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:10:30
Sledge - Ripper
PAN - Hidden

Sledge had disdained the whole thing about the wires in the beginning. If you were going to augment, there was plenty of other useful stuff out there, like the latest brain and memory upgrades, things that would be useful all the time. Carrying around milspec ware that let you twitch your trigger finger a little faster on the incredibly rare moment you needed to shoot first was typical of the movements confrontational approach. But now her ork arms recently stained to the elbows in slick blood, brain and other fluids had been able to work maybe not quite twice as fast, but what she appreciated more was the way she could keep flipping between what her hands were doing, running scenario projections through the PM software, absorbing the clinics ARO vivisection equipment guides, and keep an eye on her agent's frequently updating sitreps.

She'd even been fast enough so that momentary inattention hadn't resulted in her slicing her own finger off when the laser scalpel had fired up.

But doing four things at once in the time it used to take two still didn't give her enough time to do everything she wanted. And no matter what nightmares it caused she wasn't going to leave money sitting on the table.

As the elevator doors were about to open on the ground floor to let the ork woman out, Sledge checked one more time that her bio sealed packages were not leaking out into the convenient grocery bag she'd co opted for the task.

<<@team (audio/visual/text::CounterStream:NoDevice)::

:: 08:10:29 :: 6 ::

Johnson is driving the Love Machine, I'm on the bike. Fortunato, you get to pick which one you want. No room for trogs on my hog.

:: 08:10:30 :: 5 ::

Is the fishbreath here for us to run over on the way out of here?>>

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:10:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

The gun in Fortunato's right pocket was creaking under the pressure he was putting on it. The trigger was grinding against the safety and the slide of the stubby hand cannon was being ground back and forth as his hand shook. He knew, in some part of his brain, that the firing range instructor would have tried to get him kicked out of the agency for this kind of safety violation, but the admiration, the brotherhood and the respect that Fortunato could feel oozing out of Rosso's godforsaken, crew-cut skull at the mention of Birnhauser was enough to override his safety training.

His other hand was steady as a rock over his ever present AR keyboard. Typing with one had was a skill he'd perfected since the advent of AR for situations almost exactly like this one. He could record with one hand and work a scalpel with the other. The keyboard hand had been recording the information spooling out of Rosso, formerly known as Crew-Cut, and periodically shipping it to Johnson.

The whole operation had run smoothly as Johnson asked his questions. Brief flashes of professional, confident operations with a fixer named Tuttle and a clear image of a slick mobster Johnson named Angelo (who had paraded across the video feed from Caittie's drone moments ago) had filtered into his brain. The plan that he and Johnson had improvised was working so well that he started tapping his foot and bouncing a little with anticipation; it felt like lifetimes since he'd last felt like he wasn't out of his league.

As a result Fort was confident when it was his turn to ask the questions. But as soon as he leaned close to the bound mercernary and, keeping with his role as a good cop, gently said "You need to tell us about Burns," he was hit by a sickening wave of positive feeling. Rosso had been in the trenches with Birnhauser and he would go to hell and back for the bald mage. Fortunato intended to send him there.

The grimace on Fortunato's face must have given away his feelings because Rosso's mind began to close like a clam. A swift backhand to the shattered jaw broke the mercerenary's focus long enough for the Fortunato's shouted question, "Where'd he live?" to cut into Rosso's brain. Fort's hand whipped back as he shouted "Who did he work with?" He got his answers.

"Enough." Johnson's voice cut through the heat of the moment. The kid was good.

It was only at that moment that Fortunato realized that his pistol was in his striking hand. He must have grabbed it by instinct; he'd pistol whipped and beaten enough people to know that he was much more effective with a club than without. The safety was off and his hand was shaking.

It hadn't stopped shaking since he'd put the safety back on and grudgingly shoved the gun into his coat pocket. Some aggravating AR Icons were blinking in Fortunato's eyes and his message feed had long since passed him by. More importantly, Johnson looked like he had something to say. It had better be good.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:10
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

"...so, come with us - on our terms. I'll spare your life, and we can settle up later - but if we stay here much longer, we're all going to die. You can make your phone call in the van. What do you say?"

For a moment, Rosso didn't respond to his offer. Johnson could imagine the gears turning in the hardened Shadowrunner's head. Unfortunatly, due to massive injuries and recent interrogations, they were turning just a bit too slowley.

"You in, or out?" Johnson asked again, looking more towards Fortunato than Rosso. He was less interested in if Rosso said 'yes', than if he actually meant 'yes'. Fortunato seemed a bit wrapped up in his own thoughts, and his arm seemed to be shaking.

Rosso began to nod, and Fortuanto gestured in his direction. Returning his attention to whom it belonged, Johnson began to losen the man's bonds. "You'll be riding with me in your friend's van. If you have someplace you would like me to take you - let me know."

Turning to Fortunato he added, "When we get to the van, let him make his call, and if his thoughts so much as consider using this opportunity to betrey us, you have my permission to shot him." Johnson smirked from behind Rosso, where he couldn't see him, but Fortunato could.

He then began to speak to the team, as Rosso sort of fell out of his chair, then unsteadily lifted himself from the ground.

<<@Team:: "Okay, interrogation over. We're moving out. Escape plan. I figure, we can do this two ways - although I would love to hear any other ideas. The first plan, the 'car chase scene' is that we ride out of here like we have half the mob on our tails... because we will - and as soon as we're clear of the building I doubt the Bigio protection will extend very far. The team on the bike will probably have enough mobility to lose them, but that doesn't really help the team in the van survive. The van team will be going slower and we will probably need superior firepower, and a lot of luck, to hope to lose them.">>

He gathered up his things and began to leave the room, laying out the second option.

<<@Team:: "The second plan, is that we play on the fact that the moment the van peels away from here, they are probably going to mobilize their vehicles and chase us down while they shoot out our tires, or force us to crash or something. Now, I figure this van is rigged for remote operation, but correct me if I am wrong, Angel. I figure that if one of us drove it that way, from here, we could probably lure away most of the people out there who are interested in seeing us dead. By the time they realised the van was unoccupied, we could have escaped on foot, or grabbed a taxi or something. Unfortuantly, the Bigio mobsters would probably be left here to check out this building and have a chat with the doc... but we would have given up our only mode of group transportation, on a gamble that it could preoccupy our enemies for a few minutes - and we'd be left dealing with a faction of the mob that doesn't have a personal interest in seeing us dead.">>

Reaching the main room and seeing the Doc, he gestured back at the interrogation room and said, "The elf is all yours. We'll be out of your hair shortly." He then went back to speaking to the team.

<<@Team:: "Both sound dangerous, but considering some of us are wounded, and we've worn out our welcome here, I am inclined to go with the original plan - but speak up if you have any other creative solutions.">>

Clinic Exterior in a van
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:10
Cerberus - street samurai
PAN - Hidden

Cerberus tried to think back to a time when he felt worse then he did at this very moment. None of the flu's he had suffered as a kid compared to this and none of the beating he had suffered from older kids, his "dad", or even the other people he faught professionally even compared to how he was feeling now. The hole in his arm and the one in his leg just throbbed perfectly in sync with the throbbing in his head. He was tired and had basically not had any rest in the last 24 hours. Not even the brutal attack that had changed him into this half machine half troll thing had hurt this bad.

He was thankfull for all the time he had trained his body trying to push it to the limit of physical perfection, it helped him push all the pain aside and keep going for just a little bit longer. He knew that eventually he was going to crash though and not even the spectre of death would be enough to wake him. He just hoped they could make it to safety first. Why the hell didnt the mage guy cast a freaking healing spell on him, couldnt he see he was near death?

Johnson's messages filled his eyes and ears breaking his mental lapse. Setting the sweet gun he found on the elf down on another tray he started heading for the van.

<<@team "We've got that drone right? Cant we use it to keep Loui's men at bay? I dont think we want to lose such a big resource either, I've been inside of it and even if we cant use it later it can still be stripped and sold to help fund our attack on Loui.">>

Cerberus reached the back of the van with Kyle following close by, looking down the street he could see mob soldiers climbing back into their cars. Turning back to the van he climbed in and sat opposite of Angel who appeared half asleep, Kyle climbding in afterwards and taking a seat next to Cerberus. Every time he had seen Angel in the clinic looking at him she had been staring daggers so he was glad she was out of it or atleast appeared that way. He sat there waiting for further instructions from the Johnson and hoping he didnt pick the second plan he was to tired and hurt to do anything complicated. Looking over at Kyle who looked wholey untouchd from this ordeal and seeing him looking back at him they couldnt help but burst into laughter. They both knew what kind of luck Cerberus had and this all seemed to fit perfectly. Kyle gave him a pat on the shoulder and they straightened up knowing the road ahead would be anything but smooth.

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:10
Angel – Technomancer - Hidden
PAN – Hidden

Caittie leaned to the side and rested her head against the cold metal that made up the walls and doors of the van she sat in. The open door let in a slight breeze from the west, bringing cool air into the vehicle to stave off the growing mugginess that was the damp Seattle day. As she sat there, the elf’s green eyes had a harder and harder time keeping themselves open as the seconds past.
The girl tried to stay awake, but her mind was getting fuzzy from exhaustion and she couldn’t think straight. Her head and eyelids would jerk every once in a while, her body’s natural reaction to conflicting desires of staying awake verses relaxing and rest, but her mind was on the losing end of the struggle. Even the data stream from the drone and the team’s network were working against her as it slowly changed from a rotating picture of black vehicles and worried voices of her new teammates to calming background digital white noise.

It had seemed like she had just closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall when the slight light from the door darkened and the vehicle swayed with the weight of something getting in. Even this was only able of getting Caittie to slightly open her eyes enough to barely make out a giant man as he sat across on the opposite bench. She couldn’t make out who it was, but at the second, her mind cared little except that he wasn’t bothering her as she slowly closed them again and drifted off yet again.
In her mostly asleep state, the young elf then heard some people laugh like a grand joke had been played out. Unconsiously, Angel giggled a bit and smiled slightly as her subconsious mind figured it must have been pretty funny. After a few seconds had passed, she settled back down into her rythmic breathing with her head still leaning against the wall near the back door.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:11:20
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Johnson didn't have anything good to say. In fact, it was the exact opposite of what Fortunato wanted to hear. Rosso was staying alive for the moment. At least there was the fleeting chance that he'd try to escape and earn a bullet to the head.

Fortunato grunted assent to Johnson's orders and hauled Rosso to his feet by one arm. He kept his gun ready in his other hand and a close eye on the man's thoughts. As he half dragged, half carried the huge fighter out to the van he worked slowly through his message log. Seeing a question from Sledge about transportation arrangements, he replied:

<<@Team: I'm going to ride in the van. I need to play doctor and the van is too big a target to go without spell defense. Besides, Sledge is probably faster without me.>>

He'd reached the van and, in spite of his less than muscular frame, did what he could to toss Rosso into the back. He crawled into the increasingly cramped storage area and winced at the thought of patching up Cerberus. He'd spent the day running a magical marathon, and the troll bleeding in the back seat looked like climbing a mountain afterwards. Fortunato knew he'd hurt himself healing Cerberus, but he hoped he could still do some good and messaged Rocky:

<<@Rocky: How bad are you. I may be able to patch you up before I collapse.>>

It was almost too much to keep going. He was exhausted and sweating and his muscles had started cramping from the effort of holding and channeling mana. But he had a job to do. While waiting for Rocky's response he poked his head out the van door, using a seat as a support an quickly scanned astral space for mages, spirits or other threats.

Clinic Interior, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:20
Rocky - physical adept
PAN: Hidden

Rocky followed the others out of the clinic as the last of them started to load up, not wanting to sit all folded up until he had to.

Seeing the message come in from Fortuanto as he was about to climb in he reads it and the climbs in.

Looking over at Fortuanto he responds directly to him seeing no reason to use the comm. "I've been better, but I think you being awake for the ride out is more important than me being at full strength. But as soon as we get some donw time, sign me up." Trying smile Rocky takes a seat and waits for the show to get on the road.

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:11:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Fortunato was surprised by the troll. That was a weird enough idea that he had to stop for a second to parse it. He decided between hauling a half-conscious, half-chrome prisoner to the van and the magical protections he was weaving that missing Rocky wasn't all that unusual.

"Sure Rock, we'll take a look at it when we stop."

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:40
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

As Johnson slides himself into the driver's seat, he glances back at his team (most of them anyways) crammed into the back. As he reached for his own safety restraint, he got a big smile on his face and said, "Buckle up. This is going to be a bumpy ride." He then went about applying his trodes, and accessing the van's control system, mentally. He wasn't an ace driver - but he had at least been behind the wheel of a 4-wheeled vehicle in the last six months. He prefered the freedom (not to mention, style points) of his motorcycle, but found, yet again, that it wasn't helping him at all when he needed it. He couldn't exactly take a vehicle registered to 'Adam Lear' with him on his criminal rendezvous. He was going to need a new vehicle for this sort of thing - and maybe this van would work. It didn't have the mobility or sweetness of a topped out bike, but at least it could haul a team of banged up criminals around town in relative safety and anonymity.

Johnson was beginning to feel like one of those sitcom characters that has to admit they are growing up and trade in their badass sportscar for a minivan.

Just because I feel like a soccer-mom doesn't mean I am about to drive like one.

Johnson was excited. Things were about to get out-of-control and reckless, and for the first time all morning, he didn't feel like he needed to control everything and have a plan, and see that it went off without a hitch. He had as much of a plan as he possibly could have - and now he was going to have to leave it up to chance, and play things by ear.

Black Clinic
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:11:40

Taking a final look around the wreck of a reception area, Smith hefted his two briefcases, one in each hand. He was the last of their growing crew to leave the building - roughly fifteen minutes after he'd entered it.

Felt like fifteen hours.

As he stepped out, he heard the interior door shut - that was it, he knew they wouldn't readily let him back in - and he shuddered to think what was going to happen to that Indian elf.

Outside, Sledge was already astride her hog - alone - the engine purring quietly. Looking into the back of the van, he saw everyone there and in various states of disrepair. The two trolls, both suffering multiple gunshot wounds and who knew what else. Fortunato, sitting up near but not in the cab - he was covered in his own blood, though thankfully he was no longer bleeding. But he looked better than Rosso, sprawled on the floor either unconscious or dead. Angel, with no obvious wounds, was clearly sound asleep on one of the bench seats next to Rocky. He wondered how long he would be able to let her slumber. The only one not hurt was Cerberus' friend Kyle, who sat next to the green-eyed troll and appeared to be making idle chat with his friend, although Smith suspected it was calculated to keep the huge troll from falling asleep.
Smith pushed the rear doors shut with a slam and went up to the driver's door.

Before falling asleep, Angel had opened all the van's access codes to the team, which Smith now used to enter the driver's seat and fire the beast up, watching a flood of data on the vehicle's capabilities and status flood across his field of vision. He had a wide array of piloting options at his fingertips, and had not yet decided where on the spectrum of pure manual to full-VR he wanted to operate.

And there were dozens of other questions popping into his head - where to go? How to break the mob cordon? And what was Sledge up to? Not even decided what to do next himself, he obviously had not yet coordinated anything with her - was she just going to follow, or did she have something else in mind?

And then, as if he didn't have enough on his mind, he saw something on the feed from the drone -

The limo's passenger doors opened up, and --- damn, the drone made it's periodic pan around the perimeter. At least he could see that all the black SUVs surrounding them were still in place. After an eternity, the camera got back to the limo - but there were no people in sight - all the mobsters had mounted back up, apparently, but only the limo was moving. At a measured, easy speed, it pulled away from the SUVs, turned a corner about four blocks from the clinic, and was headed straight for them.

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:40
Sledge - biker
PAN - Hidden

It reminded her of the last job.

Every time Sledge was about to jump off and head in and fetch them out, another one staggered out, or something distracted her. Tracking the trid feeds from the drone, checking the map layout against her memories of the way in, running status updates on the van and every member of the team was keeping her busy. On top of that she had run some analysis on the basic medical procedures she knew were available at the clinic and compared that against her list of home brew sticky flammables and explosives and she was fairly certain at least a decaliter or two quick burning molotovs would have taken about thirty seconds to rig. Another couple of minutes and she was fairly sure of a low power bang. Low power being relative to someone used to handling c12 and bringing down thirty story buildings. it would be enough to slow a car. And then there was the prospect of some home made smoke screen, along with road slickeners.

It was all more things to add to her list of essentials.

The only active thing she'd done was trigger the van's ARO to set the racked assault rifles and ammo bins to the standard high priority pay attention to me mode. Maybe someone in there could use it.

Though it looked just the same as Idensitech, Sledge and Johnson were going to the only ones leaving without being hurt, shocked, or otherwise without the capability to try and get away clean.

That wasn't quite true. This time Sledge wasn't carrying bleeding belly wounds from tangling with a two ton tiger.

Things were improving.

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:55
Sledge - Biker Blocker
PAN - Hidden

<<@team running interference>>

Squinting slightly Sledge flicked through the series of mental commands to dim, shrink, fade, and offset the myriad of ARO feeds so she could focus on the approaching encounter. A slight twist of her wrist and the release of the clutch set her in motion the throb of the engine barely changing pitch as her hog glided away towards the oncoming vehicle.

Keeping it smooth, no tire burns nor tire chirping she boosted the speed right up until it was time to slow down. Downshifted and tapping the brakes she slowed down, keeping her hands on her handle bars visible. In response to her downshift the limo eased it's cruise, and in a synchronised bleeding of speed both vehicles eased to a stop.

Sledge kept her hands still on her grips, head turned to the side, feet spread wide for balance astride her hog.

... breathe ...

The limo window rolled down.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:00

Behind her, Sledge heard the van pull easily away from the clinic. In front of her, a human face appeared in the limousine window. The woman was very white and had long, straight black hair, bangs cut straight across Nefertiti-style. Her eyes were a deep emerald green, her shades held casually in one hand. She had a strong, aquiline nose. Her lips were not thin, but neither were they the grotesque estrus-evoking balloons so fashionable among monied women. The ork could see that she wore a suit jacket over a white blouse.

"Hi," the woman called out, just loud enough to be heard over the purr of the hog. "Are you the one I talk to?" Her voice was so friendly, so casual, she could have ended the sentence with about borrowing a cup of sugar or concerning car pooling to soccer practice. But instead it just hung there in space, and both women knew what she meant.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:03
Mr. Smith - Driver
PAN - Hidden

As the van started to pull away, Johnson shifted his attention to the various sensors and options available to him. He was already seeing a panaramic scene as the rigger modification to the van translated the vehicle's 360-degree camera suite into something akin to metahuman vision. Unfortunatly he felt suddenly deaf. He knew he could hear, but the van's audio sensors were not up to snuff. He definatly couldn't hear the other occupants of the van - so he hoped they continued to communicate using their comms.

The experience wasn't new. Johnson had driven using VR before - but not recently. His motorcycle couldn't keep itself upright if he wasn't activly guiding it with his body.

One thing he really appreciated was the speed with which he was able to handle the information coming at him. For the first time all morning, he didn't feel rushed. His mind flew through the available options, menus, and commands - noting the existance of the collision-avoidance system and promptly turning it off.

There is a good chance we're going to hit someone, soon.

Warning icons began to fight for his attention. Also, hardly anyone in the back was wearing their safety belts.

Outside, his theromographic vision easily picked out the two closest vehicles - the slowly approaching limo, and Sledge's bike. He had honestly espected shots to be fired by now, but wasn't about to let his guard down yet. He had spent all morning gathering together shadowrunners to track down Angel, Cerberus, and Rocky, and now that his job is basically complete - he didn't want to risk letting the limo get close enough to endanger his cargo.

Luckily, he didn't have to worry about it. Sledge had already run interception - and she didn't get run over. She was brave. Johnson knew that before he even called her about this mission - and he was pleased that she realized that the mob had no interest in seeing her dead, so she'd make the perfect emmisary.

Of course, that didn't mean Johnson wanted to stick around, so he guided the van rather slowly away from the clinic, and onto the street. If he tried to drive away, the patrolling SUVs would certainly notice, and might become agressive. He might be able to handle that, but its quite possible he couldn't. If the mobsters in the limo gave Sledge the time of day, maybe Francesca DelGato had an alternative arangement.

Shifting his visual spectrum he could see the window was down, but couldn't really make out any details. It didn't help that he was driving away from them. He suspected it was either the Angelo guy that Angel pointed out earlier, or the Bigio negotiator - and that they were probably questioning Sledge on the occupants of the van.

He hoped it was Francesca. At least they didnt' know she was their enemy. He had seen her once at Franco's, but, in the mob universe, that didn't mean those two were on friendly terms at all - quite possibly the opposite.

I wonder if she saw me, back then...

Certainly, Johnson wasn't important enough in the mob structure to be memorable to someone like her, but he was a pretty good looking guy. It wouldn't matter why she remembered him. If she did, things could go rather badly for him. In any case, of the contributions that he knew Sledge to be capable of... delicate negotiations were not one of them. She was very direct and to the point, and a situation like this required a certain amount of finesse.

In any case, he figured he might as well give Sledge a head's up so she didn't think he was ditching her. His voice came across the team network as his thoughts were translated into speech.
<<@Team:: "Good work, Sledge. Keep us updated on the situation. I don't want to leave you hanging if we need to gun it.">>

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:03
Sledge - Ears
PAN - Hidden

Sledge couldn't help herself.

With a tusky grin, a wink, and a twist of her head to present her three quarter profile she responded, "Ears."

"Sugar Lips pouting, not ready sweet talk to pretty ladies right now."

"But I listen, he hear."

<<@team pale softee woman, black hair, green eyes, talker.>>

The whole time her grips hadn't shifted at all.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:11:55
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

... Closed fist, circular block, wheel into ...

Fortunato's mind was, for a split instant, flooded with groggy memories of 5 AM Tai Chi sessions. Mana swirled around the perimeter of the van in response to his thoughts. The current was likely to deflect or disperse incoming spells, he hoped it was enough.

Noticing that no one else in the cab would fit in the front seat, Fortunato bumbled his way there, astral vision making his movements more clumsy than usual.

... open palm, knee sweep, ...

Landing heavily in the passenger seat he cupped his palms together and blew gently into them. He poured mana into the tiny vortex until a tiny pair of slit red eyes opened and stared back at him.

I breathe my life for your service ... Extend leg, crane hand ...

The air was sucked out of his lungs as the little vortex spun faster and grew larger. He was winded, but no worse for wear and it was out of his control now. He opened his hands and let the air spirit spin out into the van's astral space.

Stay close, you'll be needed soon ... High knee, golden rooster ...

He relaxed for a moment. Able to focus solely on running through his mental martial arts was a relief. He never multi-tasked terribly well. He pulled his eyes from the astral just in time for a slowly approaching limousine to break his solace. He hoped these were the talking mobsters and not the leg breaking ones.

... Needle to the sea bottom, Turning hand push, Hidden ...

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:05

The woman leaned out to watch the van pull away, and bit her lip in apparent disappointment.

"Sorry," she said with a slight shrug and a half-smile, "I only do face to face." She paused, and then added, "Good luck."

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:07
Sledge - Mouth
PAN - Hidden

<<@team Gah.. she only like sweet talking young men. Johnson?

Johnson's ARO icon are a large pair of oversized bright red lips and tongue moving in and out slowly around a large sugar cube.>>

With a slow roll of her shoulders, a kind of half shrug, carefully keeping her hand on her handlebar grips, Sledge calmly nods slightly, answering, "You wait, Sugar Lips come do face thing, enough time?"

... enough time to talk ourselves to death...

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:18
Mr. Smith - Eyes, Ears, and Mouth, thank-you-very-much
PAN - Hidden

<<@Team:: Gah.. she only like sweet talking young men. Johnson?>>

Yeah, I prefer chatting up hotties to Shadowrunners, too. As Johnson's paused to weigh the consequences of either decision, so did his van. It skidded to a halt, sending the less restrained members of the back seat forward a foot or two. Then, a moment later, it was backing up, with the same casual speed it had previously been going away from the clinic. Somehow, in reverse, that speed seemed quite a bit more urgent.

On one hand, the fact that she was unwilling to talk to Sledge meant he'd have to take more risk talking with her. On the other, it meant he got to handle the discussion personally, which was how he liked it. It also meant that whatever she had to say was too important to get translated through an ork lacky. She wanted to talk to whoever was in charge.

<<Team:: "I'm always interested in talking to a pretty lady - especially one with an army of cars circling us. Keep an eye out, though - she might just be buying time. Angel, keep the drone circling the area watching the perimeter, but be ready to target the limo if we need to. Everyone else, keep your heads down, and mouths shut. No need to tip them off to who's back there, or what shape you're in.">>

Johnson kept his electronic eyes peeled as he reversed, quickly, towards Sledge's location. He had decided it was worth at least hearing her out. Escaping even Angelo's persuit was going to be a gamble, and if the Bigio family had a stake in the matter, it would help to know what that was - and the team seemed to have a pretty good eye on the situation.

He just wished he could do this while keeping his cargo out of harm's reach. That, and he wished he was a little more presentable. Francesca might actually see eye-to-eye with Smith or even a well-dressed Johnson, but if she saw a punk college kid driving a stolen van, he probably wouldn't make it very far with her.

And, in a thrill-seeking, not-very-well-thought-out sort of way, Johnson was definitely interested in seeing how far he could make it with her. It certainly wouldn't hurt his 'career' to have mob contacts besides Franco.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:19


Sledge heard Johnson's reply over her network, but no acknowledgement from Angel. But no time to worry about that - Her Highness was rolling the window back down.

"Actually, now that he's on his way out of Dodge" - and her eyes flicked ever so subtly, but unmistakably, toward the clinic - "he is no longer any of my concern. Looks like I got out of bed for nothing." She shrugged and smiled, but her face was an open book - Sledge could hear her as though she'd said it out loud -
But I wish I hadn't - be smart and make this work for us...

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:21
Sledge - Mouth
PAN - Hidden

"Engine trouble."

Sledge wasn't stupid. It was an obvious enough hint.

<<@team I'm parking it Johnson. Pretty Lady might want to give you a tow....>>

Without turning to check what was happening, Sledge focused on her ARO for the van and started sequencing through the series of commands and controls to stop the van.

... breathe... Angel eyes, where are you....

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:31


Sledge got no reply from Angel or Her Highness, as the limo pulled forward the remaining twenty meters and came to a stop directly in front of the clinic...and about five meters behind the stalled-out van.

The woman let herself out of the car, revealing a very expensive-looking black skirt-suit. Walking around the front of the limo, Sledge could hear her speaking vociferously into the air in a voice that brooked no argument - although apparently she was getting plenty anyway - but at that distance and with three vehicles' engines effectively creating a giant white-sound generator, it was impossible to make out what she was saying.

She walked up to the door of the clinic and tried it, but it didn't open. She stood there expectantly facing the door, while a dark-suited man got out of the front passenger seat and watched her back.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:31
Mr. Smith - "Stalling" for time
PAN - Hidden

If it wasn't for Sledge's warning, Johnson might have seen the incoming commands to shut off the engine as some sort of electronic warfare attack - but he was willing to see what it was Sledge was thinking. The abrupt bottoming out of the vehicle left a horrible empty feeling in his stomach, and although he couldn't see or hear them, he didn't think his passengers cared much for the maneuver, either. He didn't like that he didn't understand the situation. He definitely felt as though he wasn't hearing the whole situation, and that Sledge, despite being very successful historically, might not know what she was doing, just now.

But, considering his only other option was to gun it, and none of the other cars had moved an inch - stalling out here didn't doom anyone, and it bought them time to think up another plan. Mentally, his trigger finger was on the ignition, and he was ready to start the car and drive away the moment anything went wrong.

Does she wanna talk to me, or what?

<<@Team:: "Doesn't look like she wants to talk. We're wasting time here. Louie's men are surelly calling for reinforcements. The inevitable get-away scene is only going to get more difficult. I'm ready to leave when you are, Sledge.">>

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:33
Sledge - Big Sister
PAN - Hidden

Wheels spun, a small chirp, and the bike turned ninety degrees in place as the limo rolled away. Turning her head to look around the ork woman cycled through all the ARO feeds to re affirm her view of the environment. She highlighted the overhead drone view and brought it up as primary feed. It looked like she may need to drive everything.

Interuppted in her review of the drone commands by Johnson she snarled audibly.

... breathe... calm ...

<<@team:: Pretty Lady has chaperone from Family. Cannot make first move on date, look really bad for Uncle L. You need to make the move. Date can only be at the place we just left. Otherwise no reason to meet. Had girl talk, she really wants to meet you.

Open door for Pretty Lady! I fix The Love Machine.

@Johnson:: If Angel is out, I need time to re route the drone and work it's command set for the getaway.

@Angel:: ?>>

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:33
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

What the hell?

Johnson was definatly confused. Francesca was all but ignoring his existance, but for some reason Sledge thought it was important that he go talk with her. Johnson considered protesting, or pulling rank, but she had shut-down codes for the van and apparantly wasn't afraid to use them. Besides, at this point, discarding turning around and running away would seem as bizarre as the situation actually was.

Okay, Deep breath. You can do this.

<<@Team:: Okay, going to talk. Sledge you're in charge of the van until I get back - anything goes wrong, get them out of here. We absolutely can't afford to let them get their hands on their targets. Angel, I'd feel a lot safer if you had her in your crosshairs.>>

Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.

Removing the trodes from his head, he slowley opened the door and stepped out into the street. Francesca's guard faced him, and seemed ready to draw a gun, but Johnson slowly raised an obviously empty hand and waved a silent greeting. The guard didn't seem impressed, but also didn't seem like the kind of guy that took action without being given direct orders and Francesca either didn't notice or didn't care that he was now out of the van.

"Francesca DelGato?" He hoped that his recognition of her would be enough to regain her interest for at least as long as it took to say his bit. "Dr. Cline is fine. It was fortunate that my team was on the scene. He is probably indisposed while dealing with a certain treacherous employee of his who took part in the events which I assume demand your attention."

"Perhaps, while he cleans up in there, you and I could talk about this situation? Otherwise... I am running a little bit behind this morning, and have kind of a full schedule. I would happily get out of your hair, if your dragnet will let us pass."

Johnson stood there, dressed like nothing special, but brimming with confidence and good will. If Francesca's interest was peaked, he was certain the two of them had some useful information or services to exchange - if not, if she was really as disinterested as she appeared, she might just let them go.

Somehow, given that she was seen talking to one of Louie's men about the situation, he doubted that she was oblivious to what was going on. The question was more a matter of where her loyalties lied, and how much responsibility she was willing to take for allowing Louie's enemies to escape.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:55


Smith was pretty sure he'd never seen such a perfect combination of looks, style, and obvious intelligence. She turned, looked at him and smiled, and he could tell she thought something was funny. And he could tell she thought she was hiding that from him.

She looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at him, biting her lip slightly. Hands thrust straight down into the outside pockets of her suit jacket, she tilted her head toward the clinic door and simply said, "Looks like we're locked out."

Smith was sure she was going to say something else so he waited. And just when she'd been silent for so long he decided he'd been wrong and was about to say something, she asked, "What makes you think it's MY dragnet?" She looked genuinely interested in his response, but maybe not in his answer.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:12:55
Sledge - Hacker
PAN - Hidden

The countdown clock in her upper left field fo view kept counting. It was well past the trigger point set only ten minutes ago. It didn't matter much anymore, things had blown up long ago. Just like the rest of her life.

The drone's ARO visual feed from Angel was just enough to go on, along with the signature established an age ago when she and Fortunato had followed the van in, less then half an hour ago. Sledge prepped her agent software, cycled through her ARO views, and ran a final update and pumped it out to the team.

<<@team What's up with Angel? Drone's up there spinning around doing nothing unless Angel talks to it. I can take it over, but it'll scream loud when I do it.>>

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:14:02
Mr. Smith - Face
PAN - Hidden

Johnson really didn't know who was in command of the SUVs, at large, but it was either Angelo, or Francesca. If it was Francesca (which he hoped it was), he figured he was fine, as she didn't have a lot of reason to kill him, or prevent him from leaving. If it was Angelo, which he suspected it was, he was going to need some help preventing him from using them to kill him or stop him from leaving. That was where Francesca came in.

Johnson shrugged, "Honestly? Angelo hasn't impressed me." His voice and body language gave the impression that the topic wasn't anything important, and neither was the fact that he knew Angelo's name. "The hit was hastily put together, not-well-executed, and about an hour late."

As he spoke, he walked slowly forward, distancing himself from Sledge and the van, but not getting so close as to draw a reaction from her bodyguard. He just didn't want to have to yell to talk to her about this. Let her think about that last part. Now, stir up some drama.

"He put more effort into being able to deny his involvement when it failed and you, and your bosses, found out, than he did in making sure it was successful. He even went so far as to hire Shadowrunners to get close enough to the doctor to put a bullet in him. If he had a small army of armed men in SUVs, on hand, and was going to own up to the attack, anyways, he could have won through sheer numbers." Johnson was starting to convince himself - a sign that he was either right, or was making some interesting points which, if Francesca bothered to clear them up, could offer some more information as to what was said in that limo.

He shook his head, as though the whole hypothesis that those were Angelo's SUVs on the horizon made no sense at all. "This whole 'cars-stationed-at-every-exit' thing seems way too organised." He raised an eyebrow, "...too likely to succeed. It requires a good understanding of the area, and its possible exits. Way too punctual to be Angelo's handywork. They arrived when you did - less than ten minutes after the first shot was fired. Of course, I could be wrong."

From her amused expression, Johnson couldn't tell if she was toying with him, or found his dire predicament entertaining - but either way, he didn't want to appear despirate for her help. He was stalling, a little, but the conversation wasn't as stressful as his usual mob-negotiations because there wern't any clear objectives. As far as he knew, Francesca wasn't interested in the three Shadowrunners he had just picked up, and he had no interest in disturbing Bigio-family buisness. In fact, he would really like to get out of here, and leave them to handle their buisness. Still, she was way more likely to do Angelo a favor than some random guy in a stolen van. So, he figured it might help his position to fan the flames if there was any conflict between the two factions over the attack on a Bigio clinic. If Francesca had to "deal" with Louie's mouthpiece, it might buy them a little time.

"But, even if those are Finnigan SUVs out there, I understand that this is a Bigio neighborhood. I figure, that makes it your call. Angelo has already crossed one line by organising an attack on one of your clinics - presumably without permission... I trust he wouldn't make the same mistake twice in one morning."

Smith hoped to put the right amount of charm and spin on things, so that Francesca would feel some social pressure to assert her dominance (if she hadn't already) over Angelo, but not so much that she become offended at the idea that she wasn't in control of his actions. Likewise, he was walking a thin line in his casual tossing about of names of powerful mobsters - but, aside from his recognition of Francesca, this was all information that he picked up as 'Johnson' and not as 'Smith'. Though his clothes didn't match the role, he was playing the part of the Johnson who had done his homework. Dispite the fact that she clearly valued appearances (and that, on a more prepared day, so did he), he hoped that Francesca was professional enough to listen to what he was saying, and not dismiss him on appearance alone.

"So, if you're willing to give me permission to leave, that's good enough for me. I trust you have the authority, and that Angelo isn't stupid enough to violate your wishes, on your own turf. Otherwise, if there is anything I can help you with, besides the stuck door, just say so. The ork on the bike seemed to think that you and I had something to talk about - but, unless you authorised the attack on your own clinic, I don't believe it is any of my buisness... and that you'd probably appreciate it if I took my team and got out of your way, so that you can handle it."

Watch the attitude - she probably knows....

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:14:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

The van had stalled and Fortunato had held his breath. Was it enemy hackers screwing with their newly acquired gear? Some kind of dangerous planned obsolescence? Eight Ball or Cue Ball or whatever his name was striking back from beyond the grave?

But Johnson stepped out of the car and commenced negotiations with someone and Sledge seemed to be patiently waiting. Even so, it was no time to let their guard down. He focused on the exercises he'd been using to keep the van safe. He was so focused that he almost missed Sledge's message:

<<@Team: What's up with Angel? Drone's up there spinning around doing nothing unless Angel talks to it. I can take it over, but it'll scream loud when I do it.>>

Fortunato obediently climbed over the back seat, weaved past the heavily breathing Cerberus and stepped over the semi-conscious Rosso. He had to suppress the urge to kick their captive -- the man disgusted him. The temporary burst of rage he experienced seeing Birnhauser's friend started to destabilize the spell defense. He decided that he had better things to think about and stopped to ensure that mana was flowing the way it needed to.

He found Angel snoozing at the other end of the obstacle course of bodies in the van's cargo hold. He tapped her arm gently and said "Wake up kiddo, we need to use the drone."

She opened her eyes and started groaning as he typed.

<<@Team: Angel was sleeping. She should be up and handing out drone access shortly.>>

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:14:20


"You're a fun guy. And if I were to let myself, I might be impressed. I'd really like to sit down with you sometime. Somewhere much more private. I am sure we'd have a lot to talk about. Very sure." She paused for effect. "And when I want something, I don't like to wait for it...my number should be easy for a clever fella like you to find."

She started back for her car, where her gorilla was holding her door. Just before getting in, she turned - "As for my permission, you've got it...reluctantly," she tacked on with a smile. "But my ability to influence events out here today ended the minute you walked out that clinic door. Good luck." And she disappeared into the dark fastness of her limousine, her man taking his place up in front. The car pulled out.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:14:39
Angel – Technomancer - Hidden
PAN – Hidden

Caittie had been laying her head against a sidewall of the van, breathing slowly. The empty haze of her mind was nice to her. It was comfortable, warm and soothing like nothing had truly happened recently. The pink banged girl was content for the hours that it seemed she floated in nothingness, the digital communication a humming white noise that drowned out anything else and the rumbling of the van’s engine a soothing massage to her weary body.
Still, even through all that, something was trying to pull her out of this nice feeling. She could feel it… somewhere, somehow that some… someone was trying to… All around her the feelings slowly faded to darkness and the sound of some people talking low from somewhere far away. Then the young elf felt someone pat her on the shoulder and heard them say, “Uade ob heppu, di mieg ju boo de baune.”

Hearing that confusing garble, Caittie stirred from her resting position and rubbed her eyes with her right hand as she set her left on the bench to steady herself. She let out a soft groan of confusion and annoyance, which was soon followed by her asking in a groggy voice, “Huh…? Wha… What’s going on?”
As she finished mumbling her broken questions she dropped her right hand from her eyes and slowly opened them. She first saw the steel floor of… some sort of vehicle? She also saw some boots… big boots, and as she looked up she saw the owner, a huge troll who was talking to a human…
Still, neither was bothering her, as she looked to her left towards whoever had their hand on her shoulder and saw another man, though this one was an elf… He was typing something out with one hand as he pulled back the one that had woken her up. “Fortunato?”, she asked as she brought her right hand back to her eyes and covered them up, trying to help her brain sort everything out.

<<@Team: Angel was sleeping. She should be up and handing out drone access shortly.>>

‘Drone…? Wait… Oh, no…’, she thought as it finally dawned on her like a rushing torrent a breached dam. The drone... The clinic, the bodies, the blood… The look on the rigger’s face as she and her sprite tore through his avatar all appeared in her mind at once.
Her eyes shot wide and with what seemed like super speed to her own mind, she looked around franticly. Quickly spotting the back door to the van she reached over, opened it and stuck her head out to once again retch though her stomach was already near empty from her prior episode.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:14:42
Mr. Smith - Face
PAN - Hidden

Johnson smiled as Francesca got back in her car, and muttered, mostly to himself, "It's a date, then."

Assuming I survive this morning.

Turning to Sledge and the van, he gave her a thumbs up, and then spoke to the whole team over the matrix-connection, as he made his way back. <<@Team:: Have permission to leave from the local mob's mouthpiece. I can't garuntee that Angelo will give a shit, though - so stay on guard. Sledge, did you do whatever you needed to to the van? I think we've more than worn out our welcome here.>>

As he reached the van, he was started by the back door opening up, and Angel, once again,vomiting up what was left of her very expensive breakfast. He stopped to make sure she was okay, and express some compassion. "Angel, everything alright?" He looked in through the back, at the hardened professional criminals that were crammed in there, and felt a little worse for the poor elven girl. "It won't be long, and this will all be over...."

Course, we might not be alive to care.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:14:42
Sledge - Trail Boss
PAN - Hidden

The smoothly thumping motor kept turning over under her, reassuring beat pulsing against the jagged series of events unfolding. Looking at the brief encounter between the two humans, nothing much now, but maybe promises for the future. If the kid would grow up. If the crew made it out of here.

If.

In the meantime she'd run through checking her gear, checking the assembly of her hammer and placing it where she could reach use it. Handle sticking out from her saddle, taser grip ready in her pockets. Cycle through the ARO maps and signal scans. updating the overlay on her local grid map and sending it out to the team. Looking at the possible routes, she deliberately highlighted and emphasized it in the grid view. The feral snarl, tusks flashing, unnoticed as she transmitted the data to the team.

<<@Angel:: Better if you let your sistah here take care of this part with the drone.

@team:: < Local Grid Map - highlighted on the map are several routes, one stands out in pulsing color, labeled as "primary" >

@team:: They've made their pitch, brought the heat straight down the middle, now we are going to hit it right back at them. Love Machine's ready, get it moving, it's armored, keep it moving, hit them, just not head on, it'll get through. Love Machine leads, I follow on cleanup. >>


... cleanup, guess the clinic has enough biological samples to not worry about some more puke...

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:14:45
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Angel was polite enough to keep the vomit off both his shoes and the van. It was a pleasant surprise after a messy morning.

Fortunao stepped over to the young codeslinger while she was dry heaving onto the street and grabbed her shoulder. She looked like she was going to puke herself onto the street if someone didn't hold on to her.

He spoke softly and patted her on the back, "That's alright, you'll feel better when you're done ..." When the stream of breakfast had stopped he asked, "Rough morning?"

Receiving a weak nod in response he continued "I was shaky as hell the first time I was in a fight, what counts is that you can pull it together if you need to. You've gotten this far today, it shows that you're tough enough to keep going." He paused for a second, " When you're ready, the team could really use some kind of access to the drone though."

He hoped what he'd said was comforting, becasue he really couldn't relate. Being nervous while lead was flying was one thing, but vomiting after the fact was alien to him. He'd never been squeamish around blood and seeing people, strangers at least, hurt had never bothered him. He'd once seen his psych profile and it classified this odditiy as a mild sociopathy. He'd learned to deal with it though -- it simply required that he realize that some people would be disturbed at seeing a man having his skin taken off and others wouldn't.

"So, what do you think kiddo? You got more breakfast to decorate the street with?

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:14:55
Mr. Smith - Face
PAN - Hidden

Seeing that Fortunato was stepping up to handle the Angel situation, Johnson nodded at him and smiled at Angel before continuing on to the driver's seat. He wasn't sure Fortunato was the best guy to make a little girl feel better, but the team needed to get out of here quickly, and it would take him a few seconds to get plugged into the machine again.

Once in the seat, with trodes on his head, he looked back in the rear-view mirror and waited. As soon as everyone was back inside the bus, he slipped into VR and began to start moving again. As he did, he took a moment while the vehicle was gaining speed to verify that Sledge was following him (though his rear cameras) and that he was following the route - which he projected into the 3D space of his "vision". Confidant that Sledge's bike could gain speed faster than the van, he wasted no time in gaining speed for the collision he was scheduled to have shortly.

His voice came on over the team's matrix channel, in a fake-pilot-voice:
<<@Team:: "Ladies and Gentlemen, please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and be sure to strap your seatbelts, we'll be experiencing a little turbulence, shortly - but it is nothing to worry about. Please take this time to start planning where exactly you'd like me to take you, once we lose the mob. The mission has officially begun.">>

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:15:00
Angel – Technomancer - Hidden
PAN – Hidden

After sticking her head out the back door to the van, Caittie felt her stomach give out to a huge lurch that seemed to completely empty itself of any contents it had once held. With that, all the feelings of nausea gave way as if they weren’t there in the first place, only the mess on the ground and the need to cough out anything left in her throat. ‘Uhg… I don’t think I have anything left to hurl…’, the teenager thought to herself grimly.
As she coughed her throat clear, the green eyed elf could hear some someone speaking behind her. For a second the voice reminded her of her father, but that feeling passed quickly as she recognized it for what it was. Fortunato had his hand on her shoulder, trying to steady her smaller frame while saying what should have been words of encouragement and praise, but to her mind it seemed odd. She just couldn’t place why, though.
"So, what do you think kiddo? You got more breakfast to decorate the street with?”, she heard the bearded man behind her ask. In response, the red haired girl let out a last small cough and took a deep breath. She saw Johnson walking past and gave a little nod to him while moving back inside the van and closing the back door. “I’m… I’m fine… I don’t think I have anything left to hurl.”, she finally said with a small sigh.

As she moved back to her seat on the bench, she felt the ex-CIA agent pull his hand from her. Sitting down, she weakly smiled at him as she ran a hand along her head, brushing one of her long pink bangs. “I’ll be ok now. I… I’m just not used to this…”, the teenager said. ‘I hope I never do…’, she continued, if only to herself.
Turning to the giant muscled man beside her, the elven technomancer looked up and smiled weakly again. “Um… It looks like they need me in the Matrix again. Could you keep my body steady so I don’t fall over if things go crazy?”, Caittie asked up at Rocky. She knew it would be an easy task for the huge man, and though she didn’t fully trust all of these people, it was better than having her limp body flying around the van.
Seeing Rocky give a slight nod, the elf leaned against his side and immediately felt the world shift around her. Like jumping forward at light speed then screeching to a halt, she found herself inside the six winged angel body that she drew her call sign from. ‘My other self that’s also me…’, she cryptically thought to herself with a wry grin.

As she looked around the node she landed in, she noticed the black suited faceless man that Johnson had as an avatar. He seemed to be setting himself up in a fake driver cockpit thing that looked similar to the van’s driver setup only with more displays. Not wanting to bother him, but taking a queue from his actions, Angel reached out with her hands and windows and menus opened all around her.
‘Van checklist: Status, check; Menu, check; Camera’s, check.’, she mentally went through the windows and menus. ‘Drone checklist: Status, check; Menu, check; Camera, check; Weapon…’, the pink winged Angel continued to go through them before stalling on the last one.
Her mental block was broken by Johnson’s fake pilot speech, which caused Angel to giggle on the virtual plane at the start before she regained her composure. The last bit of his message carried a serious tone even through the fake pilot facade and she used that to continue through her check. ‘Weapon, check.’, she completed.
With that last bit, she sent a command to the drone, which halted it mid rotation. It then moved from it’s position directly overhead the clinic where she acquired it, to flying over the van. The cameras mounted on the drone gave everyone on the team an aerial view of what lay ahead of them and the knowledge that they had some support.

<<@Team :: “Angel online and ready. Drone ready for aerial support…”>>, her voice went over the team’s comm net, though her voice wasn’t as confident as either Johnson or Sledge’s were. ‘Please… Let us get through this…’, she prayed to anything that might be out there.

Paloma Drive, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:15:05
Sledge - Riding Drag
PAN - Hidden

The Love Machine was slow, but her hog wasn't that fast either, though it did have some other advantages. Trailing in the van's wake didn't take that much attention. Which was good, since Sledge had other things to do to keep the crews mind on the job.

<<@team:; Good to have you back Angel. It's opening day, and the you're the ace. Fastballs down the middle is the call. Clear the way for us. Pull the trigger.>>

She pulled the hog a bit to the left so she could see ahead with her own eyes past the Love Machine.