Saturday January 27th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

It is raining as usual in Seattle, though not quite as badly as it could be. The rain comes in small streaks, a minor drizzle when compared to what usually comes off the Sound. A storm is brewing off the Sound, small bolts of lightning playing off the bay, moving slowly inward towards the city. Most people have moved inside to stay out of the mess, but some people still roam the streets, whether because they have nowhere else to go or because their jobs demand it. Or because they are there for a purpose. With the streets bare as they are the local syndicates have taken this as sign to move, a silent group of Yakuza moving in from the northern piers, the Vory from the south, and the Mafia from the west. Central Tacoma has been contested territory between the three for a long time and they are tired of waiting for the others to lay down their claims. The local gangs are moving as well, running late night strikes against their rivals, taking out whoever they can to secure a better territory against the coming syndicates, striking against foes and borderline allies alike. Tonight is a night of blood, but it isn't going to end with this storm, it is just the start of something more.

Watcher


Deadeye


Wild Kitten


Leon


Joe


Randall


Sunday January 28th 2070 07:30, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

The rain has finally cleared up and gunfire has stopped for at least an hour. The first signs of sirens can be heard coming into the district now, finally showing up almost 12 hours after this whole mess began. It is a new day and everything has changed in Tacoma.

Saturday January 27th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS; Office of Sean Patrick O'Malley, Private Eye

Sean arrived back early tonight, the gang violence had caused Shay's Pub to close up at 7:30. Who ever heard of closing a frelling pub at 7:30 in the evening?! His patience was growing extremely weak with lack of police enforcement in Tacoma. He wanted to say 'This would never happen when I was on the beat', but knew it wasn't quite true. What was true however, was that the ogranized crime and gang violence were getting worse each year. On that fateful day five year ago, it have just been an unaffiliated group of thugs.

As with each night before, he locked up all the entrances and placed his drones and cameras around the building and the office running different levels of motion sensors and record algorithms to enable his homegrown security network. Gonna have to get in touch with Randall in a few days. Something not quite right in the algorithm on the cameras in the hall. It keeps recording Mrs O'Tooles' cat walking the halls.. Just what I want, three hours of video of her blooming, nasty, stinking, worthless furball skanking through the halls half the night...

Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS; Office of Sean Patrick O'Malley, Private Eye

Rising early, Sean stumbles to the shower needing the splashing of water across his body to bring him back to life. He hears the first sirens finally coming into the district as he makes his way to his kitchen table, opening todays online edition of the Tacoma Times. For the love of Mary, there was enough shootin' last night to equip a small country's army for a year in bullets.

Grabbing a breakfast burrito he headed for the door and early mass. He didn't have much faith in the church or them there in, but if God would let child molesters be priests he'd surely overlook the few transgressions of well intentioned private eye. Besides going to mass was what good Irish boys from his neighborhood did first thing Sunday mornings.... and he was nothing if not a product of his upbringing...

Spells 'n Stuff, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Sunday 1/28/70 07:30
Katsumi

The calm of the morning was a stark contrast to the hellish battlefield that lay waste to the neighborhood last night. Just outside the small talismonger shop, bodies lay in the streets with fatal wounds that ran the entire gambit from black chard corpses who couldn’t escape the explosive magical flames to bodies that lay in wet pools of sickly red rain water mixed with fresh blood. Even through the masses of bodies, ever once in a while one would groan out in pain or slightly move an arm to reach out for help in vain, though no one was there other than the other injured or freshly dead.
Inside the bricked building which faced right into the carnage of the small war, two lovers clung to each other, both shaking with fear, trying to gain strength from each other’s arms as the huddled behind the counter. The looks of the two elven women were as contrasted as the hell of the last night and the relative calm of the morning. Even with the differences between them, both females were worried to wits end due to the carnage.
Looking down at her younger lover, Felicity felt the head of the smaller woman leaning on her breast. The feeling brought only a slight pang of comfort to know that they had both made it through the night. As she continued to look down, she saw the extreme differences in their dress and it made her hug the smaller elf a little tighter for more comfort. ‘Thank the spirits…’, she thought as she cast a gaze over her lover’s outfit. ‘If that call had come only a half hour later…’

Katsumi was wearing her long lined coat that was modified to have a hood due to the rain. The pure white along with the bright red roses on golden woven stems shone off brightly over the dark grey of her older lover’s lined coat that had its own roses of blue and silver. The younger elf’s unnaturally bright blue hair was done up in an elaborate long braid that also in contrast to the short sandy blond ponytail that Felicity bore. Even with all the differences though, they both were trying their best to keep themselves together.
After about an hour of just sitting there in the silence, they were thankful to finally hear the sirens of emergency vehicles. Even though they relaxed a bit at the comforting sounds of the wailing sirens, the women just kept on hugging each other until one of their stomachs groaned in hunger. Thankful for another interruption in the tension, they both nervously laughed as they slowly stood up with each other’s support.

“I… I’ll start breakfast…”, Katsumi nervously said with a weak smile. “Yes… That’d be… Nice…”, the taller elf replied as she returned the weak smile. With that, the younger elf broke free from the embrace with a slight step back, looked into her lover’s eyes once more and then moved off towards the back room behind the store front to turn on the food processors.

Saturday January 27th 2070, TacNet chat rooms, the matrix.
Tom Bones

<JacK-9> "No, Tom, nothing yet on trains. All eyes are on the streets. If you were smart, you'd have your meat eyes there too. I'll put a flag up for you on my incoming feeds, ok?"
<Tom Bones> "Fine. Thanks. I'm kinda. . busy."
. . . "We're sorry, that commcode does not appear to be online right now. Please try your call again later."
The Luna Crest Apartments security cameras showed an 8 man gang patrol passing by. Checking in with his own network, Tom Bones saw nothing moving around the alleys around the concrete apartment block. Bowser, the small arms Doberman, reported being locked and loaded, AK-97 ready and able and pointed at the front door. Through Bowser's camera feed, Tom saw a photo hanging there in the little alcove by the door. Randall and Laura's wedding photo.

. . . "We're sorry, that commcode does not appear to be online right now. Please try your call again later."

Damnit, woman. . . you should be here by now.

<JacK-9> Tom - is this what you're looking for?
>> * * * TRAVEL BULLETIN ADVISORY * * *
>> 21:03:19:81 -SeaNet News Instant Bulletins. Subscribe today!
>> Your free trial subscription ends in just 89808125 days.
>>
>> Commuter light rail into Tacoma is offline tonight after an explosion
>> rocked evening service from Downtown. **inline video: flaming twisted
>> metal** No casualty reports have been released yet, but it is clear
>> from the destruction that there will be casualties. **video closeup: torn
>> clothing and unidentifiable metahuman limb. Video cuts abruptly
>> to city map.** As an alternate route, GridGuide recommends - -

Quite suddenly, blackness closed in all around Tom Bones, replaced by the heavy solidity of flesh, the smell of mold, a cool wet breze, and spinning walls coming to rest a few meters away. A datacord lay nearby.

"Dad?"

Saturday January 27th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Luna Crest Apartments, #421. The Living Room.
Randall

"Mike. . . what are you - god, don't ever pull the plug like that."
"Dad, it's Randy. . . " The 12 year old ork boy pointed toward the opposite side of the living room where his brother, Randall Tate Jr. stood by the open window, posing stupidly like Neil the Ork Barbarian. Clutched tightly in his hands was Randall's Colt America.

Rage welled up in him. Shaking off the cobwebs, Randall stood up, and his son stopped what he was doing.
"Boy! ...put that thing down. Right. Now."
Randy froze, and did what he was told. Randall picked up the gun, saw that the safety had been turned off, secured it and holstered it back on his ankle. He gave his son such an angry glare that the boy audibly gulped.
"Both of you get back to the bedroom and sit on the floor."
"Where's mom?" asked Randy, when he got his voice back.

In AR, a voice chirped in Randall's head, "... We're sorry, that commcode does not appear to be online right now. Please try your call again later."

Spells 'n Stuff, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Sunday 1/28/70 07:35
Katsumi

As Katsumi moved into the backroom which served as the small kitchen and dining room, the elf felt pangs of uneasiness as she thought about the start of last night. She had just finished getting ready for a night of work at the ‘Dancing Bare’ when the owner, Jessica, had called her up. Somehow, Jessica had gotten wind of what would be happening overnight and warned all her girls to stay home and stay safe. ‘I hope everyone made it through the night ok…’, the blue eyed elf thought to herself with a shiver, even though she knew that not all the girls were as lucky to live in an important place such as her and Felicity.
Moving over to the small countertop that held the generic food processing unit, she started selecting the options on what to make and set up the bowls and glasses where indicated under it. ‘Maple sugar oatmeal with two glasses of orange juice… That should be good.’, she thought to herself even though she knew that it was just soy and artificial flavoring along with just flavored water. After the machine started to process the orders, Katsumi’s mind was free to worry once more about the past night and what today would bring.

The blue haired woman hugged herself as she stood in small back room by herself. Thoughts of Jessica, Raquel, Tasha and all the other people she knew were floating through her head as she tried to decide what to do next. Behind her, Katsumi heard soft footsteps approach and long slender arms wrapped around her as she felt Felicity’s body press against her. Leaning into her lover's embrace, she leaned her head back against the older elf’s shoulder and turned it a bit to look into her partner’s blue eyes.
“What are we going to do? What’s going to happen to us?”, the younger elf asked up to the sandy blond female. “I don’t know… Hope our friends made it through this alright and try to make it through ourselves, I guess.”, Felicity replied as they just stood there, gaining comfort from each other’s presence. It wasn’t long before both the women heard the food processor beep to notify the completion of its task and Felicity spoke up again. “For now, let’s get something to eat. Then we can try to contact our friends to see if they are ok.”, the taller woman said as she released Katsumi from her embrace and they both picked up their finished meals, sat down at the small table and started to slowly eat.

Saturday January 27th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS; Tasha's Apartment

Tasha watches the fire from her window, broodingly. Definitely a bad night to be out. Especially for a small-time freelancer likely to draw fire from anyone out there. As her virtual pet, an arctic fox, whines and nuzzles her hand, she absently reaches out to pet it.

It's going to be a long night. Her rather spartan apartment isn't a place she normally spends much time in - it's merely a place to crash. She absently runs through a set of calisthenics while tracking the ongoing news of the night's violence. Ah well, one night's break from her usual hectic club-hopping won't kill her.

But she gets bored more easily now, now that she can watch her two favorite trid shows at the same time and not miss anything, now that she can crash for three hours and wake up feeling like she had a good night's sleep. She is awed by her magic, the mojo that lifted her out of her desperate circumstances. But sometimes... it frightens her, just a little.


Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS; Tasha's Apartment

Morning, although she's been up for hours, and it looks like the gunfire has finally stopped, at least for a bit. She stretches, catlike, as she steps out of the tiny shower cubicle. As she dries herself off, and contemplates which industrial band-emblazoned black half-tee will complete her usual punk attire, she considers calling Katsumi.

"Nah. I should wait a bit. If she was working last night, she probably won't be up until later." She does check in with Renald, though, thanking him for the heads up last night and exchanging a few pleasantries. Then she heads out the door. She grins as she starts up her racing bike. Nothing like taking a quick spin on a fast set of wheels to clear your head.

Saturday January 27th 2070 ~6pm, Under Tacoma, UCAS

Leonardo DiPietro got the last message to get hidden an hour and a half ago when he was delivering some ex-ex to Kiwi. The Skraacha needed some last minute munitions and payed well for them. All the other gangs probably had runners getting last minute materials too. Now Leon was probably right under where most of the fighting would be had but thanks to where entrances were located he was an effective 15 blocks from where the bullets would be flying. This still isn't a safe place, magic can do wierd things and he needed to be further from the fighting. As it is he is probably only a dozen meters from where powerballs will be exploding in a few ho-- A pipe full of fiberoptics split not 20 meters behind him. The fighting must have already started. Just my luck they choose to fight right over my apartment.

The brawl above is probably just some antsy gangers, no way the syndicates would have started this early. He grabs his duffle bag with all his essentials and quickly leaves just barely remembering to lock up behind himself. Tonight, will be spent at his fixer's place. He is much further away and it wouldn't take much for the fight to go spit side. Another pipe breaks, this one filled with sewage. Several explitives come to mind but only one seems appropriate. Tonight will be spent at home and without sleep.

Sunday January 28th 2070 7am, Under Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

The fighting has stopped long enough to venture out. The first thing to do is figure out who won, who died, and where they lived. He'll have to get a hacker to look things up for him, Cerial Killers would probably do it in return for whatever comm gear he finds, but Randall might do it for only some of the comm gear.

He goes about his regular morning routine of getting caffinated with some good tea, his only natural food, and some Egg Food™. Part way through heating the Egg some water drips on his head. He looks up and sees the crack. How didn't I feel that? Another drip this time on his cheek, he wipes it off with a rag and checks the floor. More water, but it's red. Water isn't red, brown maybe... but red? That's when he remembered some of the noises from last night, he must have dozed off. The fight had spilled down here, well, a floor up. This was his neighboor dripping on him. He mentally went through rooms on the floor above. Jenny... rumor was she belonged to the Mafia. If rumors can kill a politician, why not anyone else. He tossed the Egg in the trash, got dressed and went out the door.

Leon had to step over a body on the stairs up. He took a magazine full of .32s out of his hand. Small, probably to one of those Streetlines. He found Jennys apartment open. Looters had already been here, or they were the ones who opened it. Nope, not looters, it looked like a grenade went off in here destroying anything of value. The place was shapped just line his own so he knew where to find Jenny. She was face up in the kitchen. Her skin was pale and blood covered the linoleum around her, but had found a seam where it was apparently leaking through to that crack. He found a couple of towels and dropped them over the blood. That's why I don't get involved with the syndicates. Time to go to work...

Sunday January 28th 2070, 7:40am; Tacoma, Seattle, ucas; Hanover Building

The Hanover building is a five story building with professional offices on the first floor, apartments on all the upper floors and two sublevels with parking for the tenants. In years past it had been home to upscale tenants, now just middle-class folk in a neighborhood quickly turning low-rent. Sean's apartment on the second floor is directly above his office and today, like most days Sean moved between the two using the attic ladder he'd installed in closet of his office that came up into the bedroom closet of his apartment.

He then replaced the drop ceiling tile to hide the ladder and walked into his office, his various camera displaying in AR windows. Entering the office proper he could now see out into the street.. a body right there in street in front of his building. That'll be real good for business!

Noticing the bullet hole in the plexi-glass sheets now serving as windows, grrrr. These bloody thugs. At least I got rid'a the real glass last year.

His external camera showing the street clear of movement, he opens the front door and moves out. The one body outside his window had company. Stepping back inside, he locks the door. Going to his desk, he retrieves his extra clips for his pistol and checks both of them in their concealed holsters under his arms. He checks the time and heads down to the garage. Now that the Star has finally made it in the district it should be safe to take the bike.

He straps himself onto his Mirage with a rigger's harness and starts the bike. Rolling towards the exit, he jumps in and feels the powerful engine as if it were his own heart. As he moves out onto the street heading for Sacred Heart, he gives Tina a quick call....

Sunday January 28th 2070 07:30, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS; Old Parking Gargage.

As the sounds of combat outside begin to waver, it is slowly replaced with sounds of movement from inside the garage. Everyone who earlier was to afraid to even move, now slowly begins to shuffle around to ease the pain of holding still for so long. Joe relaxes his grip from the handle of his gun as be begins to calm slightly. He has now been up for several hours, barely getting much sleep. His eyes are trained on what is considered the door.

During the night he had only moved every once in a while either when a sound caught his attention or something else just made him nervous. He would then scan around the area with his eyes and gun to investigate the disturbance. He managed a few hours of sleep careful to only doze off when it sounded safe enough.

Objects start gaining more depth as light creeps its way into the old garage. Joe slowly let out a deep breath and then silently moves towards the door. He ignores the silent cries written on the faces of the terrified homeless, begging him to stay. They can only watch as he moves across the way, to afraid to do anything else. But instinct drives him forward.

Never does he question his body’s movements. How many times had he done this before? It mattered not. Joe moves his gun to a raised position as he slowly approaches the entrance. This being the only area currently not completely closed off. This gives Joe a decent view of the seen while staying relatively hidden.

From his vantage he can see nothing but death. Corpses line the street. From what he can, see it seems many of them died from many different forms of combat. Yet Joe’s expression remains one of complete lack of emotion. His eyes only stop briefly on each body only long enough to surmise the damage and any chance they might have to survive. But as he begins to venture further, he stops dead in his tracts. He cannot move. Sweat forms on his forehead and he quickly pull himself to a safe place as he sits there waiting to regain his composure.

Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS 07:30
Luna Crest Apartments, #421. The Living Room.
Randall

A DozeRite implant made Randall the ork he was today. Those marathon hack sessions, late night studying, juggling a family, a job, and his "side business" would be impossible for mere mortal orks. But Randall was Super Ork. He had time for everything, thanks to that little sleep regulator. It was his family's ticket to a better life. But as he sat on the living room floor, staring out across the room and through the window, he couldn't help but think that black column of smoke rising in the distance, and that pungent burning oil smell was the flaming corpse of their better life. Twisted and charred like that rail car. Severed, amputated, like. . . oh, he couldn't stop thinking. Randall wanted nothing more right now than to sleep. All the terrible things going through his head would vanish, and when he woke up, he could pretend the last 12 hours were a terrible nightmare. But he couldn't. . . thanks to his stupid DozeRite.

The blinking red light in the corner of his vision meant there was still no word on Laura. A good 8 hours ago he'd been running around the matrix searching for clues. She was nothing if not punctual. She'd clocked out of work right at 8. She must've been on that train. It was her usual. She would've called by now. Her commlink must have been destroyed, whether or not she was still alive, which means any hospital she was taken to would have listed her as a Jane Ork.

It's not like he could go down to the hospital and find out yet. . . the fighting was over but now the star was here in force, and they might be doing their own street sweeps. Randall knew the neighborhood so well that he could probably get out of town without being seen, but it wasn't safe to leave the kids here and he couldn't very well take them with him.

For the next few hours, at least, it was best to stay here, and keep his ears to the airwaves. Before making any kind of move, he had to know what the new political map of Tacoma was.

Spells 'n Stuff, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Sunday 1/28/70 07:45
Katsumi

As she and Felicity slowly ate their meager breakfast, Katsumi quietly thought of what she needed to do next, though with the current turmoil that had just transpired just outside her home, it made this hard to do. By the time both women finished, the blue braided elf set down on a plan that made sense to her. 'I need to make sure all my friends are ok before I can do anything else... I hope nothing happened to any of them.', she thought to herself as her shoulders dropped and she gave a slight sigh.
"Are you ok, love?", the elder woman across the table asked in concern. "I guess...", Katsumi replied in a low voice before shaking her head. "No... No, not really. I keep worrying about everyone we know and if they made it through last night like we did... It scares me to think about it but I need to know.", she continued as she let it all out while hugging her body with her arms.
"Kat...", the blond started up with sorrow in her voice. "I'm just as worried as you...", Felicity continued in a soft voice as she slowly reached across the small table towards the younger elf. "Why dont you call Jessica. We owe it to Jess to see if she is alright since she warned us in the first place. I dont know what would have happened to you if she hadn't called and that scares the hell out of me...", Felicity said in a voice of concern and fear as Katsumi reached over and clutched her outstretched hand.

With a slow silent nod, the younger elf kept a hold of Felicity's hand for a few seconds longer before letting it go and picking the commlink off her belt. With her other hand, Katsumi pulled a pair of glasses out of a pocket inside of the coat she was wearing and put them on. Using the glasses, she then selected the club owner's commcode and sent out the call. She then held the commlink up to her ear and listened to the ringing as a 'Requesting Connection’ window opened in her augmented vision.
It didn’t take long before the window changed to a view of a forty something human woman who looked worse for the wear. Her brown but graying hair was disheveled as she wore deep lines of worry and signs of fatigue on her face. Surprised by the look of her part time employer, though still thankful that she was able to make contact; Katsumi asked, “Jessica, this is Katsumi. Are you ok? How is everyone else?”
The graying haired human woman gave a small sigh of relieve before resuming a pose of concern and worry, “Thank god, Kat! You’re another that made it though this. I’ve been at my house worried to wits end about you girls.” Jessica gave a small smile but it was short lived as she continued,” I’ve been trying to call all the girls but so far I’ve only been able to reach less than half of them. To make it worse, I don’t even know what happened to my club…”
Katsumi was a little shocked to hear the news from the human woman. ‘Less than half? That… That cant be right…’, elf thought to herself as she just sat there at the small table with a look of surprise on her face. “I… I’m sure everything will be ok.”, she said to both Jess and herself, half in denial, half in hope. “Yes… You’re right. Everything will be ok.”, the club owner replied as she tried to hand on to any hope, fake or not. “I need to continue calling the other girls…”the woman finished. There was a following exchange of ‘Take care’ and ‘Stay safe’ before the connection closed out.

The blue haired elf just sat there at the small table and clasped her hands in her lap, thinking about what was going on. Felicity, hearing only half the conversation and seeing her lover’s reaction afterwards, spoke up in a concerned voice, “Kat? What did she say?” The younger elf replied in a low voice by telling Felicity what she learned. After Katsumi finished, silence filled the room for a long while until it was broken by the younger elf. “I… I need to try and call Tasha and see if she made it through this…”, she absently said as she started pressing buttons on her commlink once more.

Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS; Highway 16; 07:50 AM

Tasha leans into the curve of the road, zipping by a trundling military transport from Fort Worth and quickly leaving it behind. The wind against her face is the feeling of freedom, clearing her mind. The one upside to all of last night's carnage is that traffic is light, and Tacoma's beleauguered Lone Star contingent is too busy to worry about speeders right now. When she stopped by Sabot's shop earlier, she noted that the fortress-like police station nearby was a beehive of activity.

Her commlink chimes with an incoming call. Most people would either ignore it or pull to the side of the road, but Tasha has no problem devoting complete attention to the call while still racing her bike at full throttle.

"Hello?" she drawls into the subvocal mic.

"Tasha? It's Kat! Thank the spirits... Are you ok?", Katsumi asks, with clear concern in her voice, although there is also a slight tone of relief mixed in.

"Yeah, had a quiet night - good night to stay in, with all of that trouble. How about you? I figured you were still asleep, or did you wind up staying home too?"

"I'm fine, and so is Felicity. We were lucky to get a warning from Jess and stayed home.", Katsumi replies with a tone of gratitude. "What's going on? What happened last night?", she asks, obviously confused about why all of those firefights raged over the past half day.

"It's the big boys, kiddo. The syndicates are finally moving in and making their plays. Who'll come out on top is anyone's guess, but I'm afraid last night was only the beginning. I'd advise keeping your head down. They'll mostly be gunning for each other, so you should be all right, long as you keep out of the crossfire. I dunno about your boss, though. Anyone with biz is gonna have it rough. People are gonna show up offering protection, and they'll mess up anyone who says no. But once you say yes, then the guys from the other outfits will burn your place down."

Tasha pauses her conversation thoughtfully for a second. "I'll keep an ear on the street, see if I can get you anything more up to date. Things will definitely be changing."

Sunday January 28th, 2070 08:00-Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

The world in tacoma had changed drastically overnight, buildings and people that had been there for ages disappearing in the dark of the night. Sirens blared weakly around the district, DocWagon working furiously to get to the survivors in the war zone that Tacoma had become overnight.

Sean


Kat


Randall


Leon


Joe


Tasha

Sunday January 28th, 2070 08:25-Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

The quick jump to voicemail was frustrating, but not fully unexpected. He left her the voicemail and rode on. The streets were mostly deserted, also not unexpected after the night before. He always prefered to ride jacked in and fully rigged, something about being the bike.

Reaching the church, the light attendance also did not surprise him. He proceeded in and sat in a pew in the back, head bowed, seeking to make sense of the chaos. It was not a surprise though that, like every other day, he got no response.

After twenty minutes, Sean grew weary of the prattle from behind the alter. He rose, made the sign of the cross, said a Hail Mary and headed out the door. Yea, mama. I went. I stayed as long as I could.

Standing on the steps of the church he looks out towards the smog and the growing daylight. Looking at the bike, he considers riding off into the distance instead of dealing with the coming storm. In the end, he elects to stay. This is after all his neighborhood.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 08:00-Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Leon, now on the surface, heads down the street doing his best to ignore the smell of dead bodies. Soon enough a building seems to stand out. It smells the same as the street, blood, gunpowder, burnt drywall paper, but it shouldn't. One of the syndicates must have cleared it out. With everything going on last night they wouldn't have taken the time to loot but they sure took the time to massacre an entire building. Must have been Vory or Yakuza as the Mafia is the one that uses this place.

There's two reasons for living in a place like this. First is to work for the Mafia. Their bottom rung guys might live here for free as incentive to join, but their higher ranks would live in their own apartments. The other is if you are poor and a mafia tenament is the only place you can afford. The first group is likely dead on the street and won't be missing their new BTLs. The second group is likely what Leon is smelling now and likely won't have anything of value. Actually there is a third group: those in hiding. Hiding from a gang, another syndicate, the Star. They will probably have the good stuff, but that means he has to check the places that have bodies in them.

I may as well look around, I'm right here afterall. Besides, there might be someone still alive that needs help. He absently nudges the medkit on his hip. It's there attached to his camo suit underneath his clothes and coat. Of course it's right next to the pouch with the sequencer and autopicker. Given the state of the building running in acting like you know someone who lives there is probably the most inconspicuous way to get in without being noticed. So that's what he does.

Suprisingly there aren't any bodies in the main hall, the locals were probably all hiding in their kitchens.. like Jenny.

Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Tasha wanders aimlessly downtown, where sirens occasionally blare as a Citymaster rumbles by, and people skulk around with furtive looks. Everyone seems jittery, and the usual daytime crowds have thinned. It's only the regular lowlifes - squatters, BTL dealers drifting down from the Hilltop area, and other people who are still here because they have nowhere else to go. The occasional bullet marks pocking the walls, or body still lying in an alley, are mute testimony to last night's violence.

She shakes her head, half-amusedly and half contemtuously. "Damn. I get out of Loveland, and here I am in another war zone."

Most people are either quiet - some sullen, others wide-eyed with shock; or talking animatedly, sometimes to the empty space around them. From the latter, and observations of her own, she begins to piece together what seems to have been only the first phase of a three-way turf war between the Yaks, the Mafia, and the Vory. Not going to be pretty, this one. She wonders if she should move, but she'll be damned if she's going to crawl back to Puyallup with her tail between her legs.

She wanders into Sabot's shop, which looks relatively untouched (not too surprising, considering its proximity to the Lone Star headquarters in Tacoma). She is hoping to talk some shop with him, but he is a busy man when she walks in. People are bringing in all kinds of pieces, and he is sending most of them down the street to the pawn shop. Sabot is a craftsman, scrupulous about what he buys as well as what he sells. He is still doing a brisk business, though, so instead of talking shop, she simply asks about some prior requests of hers.

The thin, sour-faced dwarf grunts without looking up. "If you're still looking for that EX-explosive ammo, forget it. Plenty of regular ammo, but all of the special stuff is jumping off the shelves. Except stick-n-shock, no one seems to want any of that. The Colt you're looking for, though, keep checking back. I thought I wasn't getting any new ones for three weeks, but with all of these used guns people are bringing by, I could get one any time. You'll want me to put a new barrel on it, though - anything I get will probably be pretty hot."

After leaving the shop, she gets another call from Renald, updating her on the general situation, and warning her to be careful with any job offers. Taking a job in the current situation might equate to picking a side, and if she does that, she can kiss her independent status goodbye. She had figured as much, but thanks him anyways, and gives him a few things that she has been hearing.

She has a few messages, mostly cancellations of various social plans. People seem to be moving their parties elsewhere, not that she can blame them. She calls Kat to update her on the situation.

"Hey Kat, Tasha. Yeah, I've had my ear to the ground. It looks pretty bad. Mafia in Yak territory, Vory in Mafia territory, but both of them spread thin, and the Yaks gettin' ready to head down South with more guys. Honestly, if you have anywhere else you can stay for awhile, I would seriously consider it. Me? Nah, I'll be all right. I'm always packin', and I can deal with any street trash. Gonna put a real crimp in my partying, though."

Spells 'n Stuff, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Sunday 1/28/70 08:10
Katsumi

”Thanks. That would help us out a lot. Take care of yourself while you’re out there.”, Katsumi replied as the two women started closing out their conversation. As the connection cut, the she slowly placed the commlink down on the table. Holding it between her hands, the blue eyed elf looked down at it, thinking about what Tasha had said. ‘Things are going to change…’, she repeated in her head.
Looking across the table, Felicity also had her commlink out. From the sounds of the older elf’s conversations, she was receiving nearly the same information Kat just got from Tasha. The entire situation troubled and worried the young woman as she tried to wrap her head around everything that had happened. She didn’t have long to think about it though as a pounding at the front door shook her from her thoughts.

The person pounding on the door seemed pretty urgent as whoever it was kept hitting it hard causing a rarely heard echo though the store. Both of the women sitting in the back room were still for a second as they just looked at each other, no words being shared, though they both thought the worst. “Ladies, we need to talk to you!”, a decidedly male voice rang through with a slightly familiar tone.
Hearing the voice, both of the women quickly stood up, Katsumi clipping her commlink to her belt while Felicity quickly finished her call and followed the same action. As they started to move through the front room of the store, the knocking started up yet again, though they reached the door just before it stopped. Taking one last look at each other, they opened the door to come face to face with someone familiar, though not entirely friendly.

There standing on the small sidewalk in front of the small talismonger store stood a moderately well dressed human man. His cloths could easily tell you that he was someone, just from looking at him, but it still said ‘I’m from the Barrens’ when you saw them. The black boots, dark grey synth-leather pants and jacket with red lighting rippling through them clearly displayed who he was with also.
“Can we help you, Cyan?”, Katsumi asked with a hint of venom, pulling the name out of her memory after looking at the man’s face and hair. She remembered him from not two weeks ago when she walked downstairs into the tail end of a conversation he and Felicity were having. Though Felicity obviously wasn’t happy about what they were talking about, Cyan kept up a wide smile, the same one he wore now.
The human man only chuckled to himself a bit as he ran a fingerless glove through his bleached white hair, the tips of which were dyed the same color as his name. As he looked from one elf to the other through his dark mirrored goggled, the smile on his face never wavered. “Ladies, I think you have it wrong. It’s more of a question of ‘How can we help you?'”, the leader of the ‘Crimson Thunderbolts’ asked with an arrogant air about him as he raised his arms to indicate the few similarly dressed people behind him.

As the two elven women looked on into the morning light at the people flanking the leader of the wizgang, they both noticed that all of them wearing at least one article of clothing bearing red lightning bolts. Katsumi had a bad feeling about all this due to what Tasha had said, but it was only amplified when Felicity replied to the smiling man. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you are implying.”, the taller elf of the two replied with a straight face which Kat saw as she glanced over to her partner.
After hearing the blond woman’s statement, Cyan let out a slight frown which was uncharacteristic of him. “I’m a little disappointed, Ms Freewind. I figured after our chat last week, you would have thought it over some.”, he replied in a mockingly disappointed voice. His demeanor changed quickly back to normal as he continued to talk, “Still, I think it’ll be in your mind a bit more after last night.”
“As you can see”, Cyan continued as he and his followers moved to allow the two females a view of the street and buildings, “a war is starting up.” He paused for a few seconds to let the scene soak in along with what he just said. There were more gang members wandering the street, some bent over bodies trying to treat injuries while others tried to strip them of anything valuable. The whole place was a mess, with bullet holes in buildings and scorch marks everywhere. It seemed that only the building they were standing in was untouched.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to know that nothing would happen to your precious store? We protected it last night, but as you can see, it’s an expensive and dangerous task. I wont force you to make a decision right now, but I will have one by the end of the day.”, the gang leader finished with a tone of finality before he turned and walked away from the women.

As Katsumi watched Cyan walk out into the street along with the people that flanked him, she changed her sight quickly to the astral plane and saw a multitude of spirits, watchers and other types, flying around the area. There seemed to be at least two strong spirits that followed the gang leader around wherever he went.
They both watched the scene a while longer before Felicity closed the door just as the younger elf’s commlink started to ring. When she looked into her AR glasses, Katsumi saw Tasha’s ID as the caller and accepted the call with a few button presses. After hearing the biker's update on the whole situation and a bit of advice, the blue haired elf’s shoulders dropped in minor defeat though she couldn’t help but grin for a second after hearing Tasha complain about her night life.
“I wish we could leave, but I don’t think there is anywhere we could go and we cant abandon the shop. We just had Cyan, leader of the Crimson Thunderbolts, come up to us with poorly disguised offer of protection. I don’t know what we are going to do about that, but I still don’t like it. I wish there was something we could do other than just waiting.”, Katsumi replied to her biker friend.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 08:50-Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Sean Patrick "Watcher" O'Malley

Sean stood several long minutes on the steps of the church. Off in the distance he could hear the sirens of emergency vehicles. They should'a started comin' twelve hours ago. This isn't right.

Sean is preoccupied as he walks down the steps a mixture of emotions tearing at his soul. Mounting the late model Mirage, he gives the church a long stare thinking back to a time when thinks were much simpler:

"Sean Patrick O'Malley! You get yourself up here!" The short woman called at the boy playing with his toy cars off to the side of the steps.

He picks up the toys and stuffs them into his pocket as he runs towards her, "I was getting the bad guys mama. Taking them to jail!"

"You can catch the bad guys later. It's time for church now." she said with a stern look. She couldn't help but smile at the boy and run a hand through his hair as he passed into the church.

She had always been strict with him, but she was a firm and loving woman. He missed her a lot. Perhaps he had been a mama's boy. Didn't much matter now...

As he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street he had resolved himself to do as he had for years, keep his head low and keep to himself. He had long since given up sticking his neck out for others.

The ride home was as uneventful as the ride to the church. He passed a number of emegency vehicles. More to collect the dead than to save the living though.

He stopped a block away from the Hanover Building when he saw the ork body. Not fully sure why he stopped, he did anyway. Something about it seemed familiar. Something peaked his curiousity.
When he was close enough to see the ork's face, he realized why he looked familiar. Old Tom. He wouldn't hurt a soul. There he lay, sleeping in the street. Sleeping the last sleep, four bullets a prescription sleep aid.
Sean got off the bike and walked up to Old Tom. Placing his hand on the old ork's eyes, he tried to close them. Too many hours had passed. Tom must have been caught on the way home.
He looked down the street towards the building, remembering. Old Tom set up live traps to catch the rodents cause he couldn't bear to poison them or kill them in other traps. Looking back to the ork, Sean stepped backwards.
How long can I simply watch? How much more must we endure?

As he mounted the bike and rode the last block home, he knew they'd be coming. Didn't know who they'd be, just that they'd be coming. After securing the bike in the underground garage next to his sedan he strolled towards his office. The anger welling up, he saw his mama's face.. Old Tom's face... Countless others... How much more? How much more?

Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Tasha sounds thoughtful, which is unusual for her. "Crimson Thunderbolts... that almost sounds familiar, like I've heard the name once or twice. Protection, huh. Pretty common, but I'm surprised they got the balls to be doing that now. They gonna 'protect' you from the Yaks?" She laughs. "I'd pay to see that."

Her voice gets a bit more intense. "Now, I need some details ta work with. They lookin' for a bit of cred, or they trying to bleed you dry? Any chance it's legit protection? Not real common, but a few of 'em do. Most of them just lean on people for beer money, and could give a rat's keister. Now, me and some of the other people in my flat, some of them scary fraggers like me, we still pay a bit of scrip to the local gang. Keep them from buggin' us, and sometimes we get a heads-up if something's going down. But they don't ask for much. I don't know about your guys."

She continues grimly. "If it's real bad, like threats, and protection money you don't have, then let me know. I'll cap a few of them. But I might wanna check 'em out first. If they're fronting for one of the syndicates, then you got real trouble."

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:30 -Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Luna Crest Apartments, #421. The Living Room.
Randall Tate

After an hour and a half of keeping his ear to the Net, Randall's assessment of the territory situation in Tacoma wasn't much better. He was used to the instant nature of online information, and the painstakingly slow speed events were happening in frustrated him to no end.
However, he knew that at some point today he had to leave the apartment and find Laura, which meant the kids had to be moved.

"Dad?" The vidphone came up on his father, John, an aging ork whose hair was in the process of migrating away from his head and onto other strange places. He smiled, accentuating the deep crow's feet.
"Randall... good to see you. How did you make out last night?"
Randall made sure none of the kids were overhearing the conversation. In a softer tone, he said, "Dad, Laura's train crashed on its way home last night. It's pretty bad."
"Oh my god... is she ok?"
"No, Dad. Probably not. It's really bad."
"Oh my god... I'm so sorry, Randall." John looked down. The Tates were familiar with death. Randall had lost two siblings, an aunt, and two uncles in violent ways over the years. Gangs and crime syndicates seemed to take special interest in Tates. They were a strong, tough lot. Poor, of course. Born with a chip on their shoulder. They made good muscle. Randall guessed that made them good targets, too.
"Dad, I have to find Laura. If she's alive, I need to be with her. . . and if she didn't make it, then they'll need me to identify her. Can you watch the kids for today?"
"Randall, you know it's not safe to be out today. You best lie low for now."
Randall shook his head. "Dad, this can't wait till tomorrow. It has to be today. And that means I have to move them now while everyone's licking their wounds."
John sighed, but agreed. "Sure. Bring them over to my place. We can talk more there. And Randall. . . be careful, alright? Your kids are gonna need you more now than ever."

Randall nodded, and disconnected. This was something he hadn't thought of. If Laura was dead, he was all the kids had now. If something happened to him, their fates were set. They would grow up angry and alone, continuing to feed into the street violence in Tacoma. They'd end up one of the corpses on the street tonight. Same fight, another night.

Randall crossed into the bedroom where his three boys and two girls were sitting, watching the trid. They had gotten bored of the news and were watching reruns.

"Get packed. We're going to grandpa's."

Sunday January 28th, 2070 08:30 -Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Mafia Teneament, first floor
Leonardo "Leon" DeiPietro

Searching through the first few rooms Leon finds that there are several families living here. Were living here. Squatters might move in soon, but for now everyone in their right mind is staying where they are or getting out of Tacoma. Then what am I doing here? Must be a couple rounds short Leon. Thats right, a couple rounds short and I need to stock up, thats what I'm doing here.

After checking through the first couple of rooms he quickly finds the empty safes. Either they were looted or these poor suckers didn't have any use for them. Either way the most valuble thing to be found here is the odd BTL. Several bodies disturb what should be a simple job. It takes considerable effort to ignore them. A couple of children break his concentration forcing him to cut his search of this apartment short. He does a quick search of the remaining apartments before moving onto the next floor where some safes might have been left intact.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:30-Hanover Building, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Sean Patrick O'Malley, Private Eye
Sean had been staring at that sign for the better part of an hour, sitting behind his desk nursing a bourbon and coke. He had limited himself to one drink to keep his edge. He had placed one of his pistols in the holster under his desk and the Ingram in the drawer expecting trouble. So far, the most threatening thing he'd seen was a spider.

Yesterday the Italians had been running his neighborhood. The Vory had been eyeing the neighborhood, but the Irish much preferred the Italians to the Russians. Didn't much matter though, if they came in with the big guns the people of this neighborhood wouldn't be able to put up much resistance.

Sean Patrick O'Malley, Private Eye
The sign reminded him of how he wasn't earning the rent money. Reminded him of how tough times were getting. Stepping up to the window and looking out, the bodies still in the street reminded him that it wasn't gonna get any better.

He went, got a bed sheet, headed out the door and walked down the street to where Old Tom lie. Carefully covering the body with the sheet he made the sign of the cross and said a prayer invoking the Arch-Angel Michael, patron saint of policemen and warriors.

As he walked back to his office, he was confused. Why didn't I call to Isodore? I am not a policeman and there is no law here..

Opening the door he looks at the whiskey bottle, No, that's not the solution today.. He considers calling Fingers, No. Jimmy sold out.. He does make three calls. Each of them go to voicemail. Not a good sign.

Getting a little frantic he calls one of his last contacts; The guy who taught him a little hacking: Randall...

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:31 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Luna Crest Apartments, #421. The Toilet.
Randall

Satisfied that the kids were busy enough, loading their things into grocery sacks, Randall closed the door to the bathroom. He was glad to see Watcher's call. That dwarf may have been a cop and all, but on a day like today he might be a good friend. He was definitely streetwise, and might know more about what was going on than him. But something occurred to him, and Randall hestitated.
A guy like O'Malley was likely to have made some enemies in the underworld. Last night would have been a good time for reprisals. Watcher might be calling for help, a place to lie low, or a job offer... any one of which could put his family in the line of fire.
Randall decided to take the call. There was no harm in that. O'Malley didn't have to know his kids were nearby, and he certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to pull any hacker tricks on him. Randall kept both his agents running, just in case.

"Watcher, good to hear from you. How'd you fare last night?"

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:31-Hanover Building, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Sean breaths a sigh of relief that someone, anyone, answered their coms. <[Watcher] Randall me friend, I'm glad to hear your voice. I haven't heard a hoot, nor a holler from anyone today. I was beginin' ta think no one I knew made it through the night.>

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:31 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Luna Crest Apartments, #421. The Toilet.
Randall

"Still breathing over here. . . nothin' valuable enough in my building to warrant a hit. What about you, did the hammer fall down at the Hanover? I haven't been able to get a clear picture of who owns what yet. How about you?"

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:32-Hanover Building
Sean [i]aka[/b] Watcher; PAN mode hidden

Sean sits down in his chair, kicks his feet up and continues his conversation while watching the camera right outside his door in another AR window.
<[Watcher] Tom, our 'andyman, got caught on the street last night. Poor ol' Tom, he didn' stand a chance. Sacred Heart is open dis mornin' and the die-hard little ol' ladies made it to mass. No visit from the winners of the fight for the block yet though. The streets are very quiet, 'cept for the occasional city vehicle. Even those are far too few. Glad to hear you and yours made it through ok.>

Spells 'n Stuff, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Sunday 1/28/70 08:15
Katsumi

Katsumi listened intently on what Tasha was telling her over the open commline. Each sentence was more grim that the last and it defiantly had an effect on the young elven woman as she soaked it all in. Brushing a few loose strands of bright blue hair behind a pointed ear, she let out a slight sigh. “So from bad to worse then…”, she replied over the commlink with a defeated tone.
Just after she said that, Katsumi looked over at Felicity and tried to strengthen her resolve some before continuing. “Even so, this is our place and we aren’t going to leave! We worked too hard on our home to just give it up without a fight.”, the elf said while thinking about the past five to six years of her life. ‘This is the first true home I can remember. I’m not going to lose it!’, she continued to think to herself to build up her resistance to the hardships she would probably face in the near future.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but… But, I don’t want to just give up.”, she half repeated as she saw Felicity nod her own head with a grim look on her own face. “That said, we would really appreciate any info you pick up out there. You seem to know more about what’s going on right now than I do, and we could use all the help we can get.”, she said to the biker woman. “Right now Felicity and I are going to have to figure out exactly how we’re going to do this. Tasha, you keep yourself safe out there and we will try to do the same here. Stay in touch.”, Katsumi finished as she dropped the commlink from her ear and closed the connection.
There was a moment of silence before the sounds of sirens cut through it as Doc Wagon moved it’s way through the Tacoma battlefield. “So…”, Katsumi started in an unsure voice, “What exactly are we going to do?” Both of the women thought for a while until the older one spoke up.

“Well, if we are going to weather this thing, we need to stock up on some supplies. We don’t know when the power or water might get shut off due to those idiots fighting.”, Felicity said with a hand raised to her chin. Lowering her hand, she crossed her arms in front of her before turning her head towards the front door and continuing, “I don’t know how long things are going to stay like this, but while it’s relatively quiet could you head on down to the Stuffer or whatever place is open to get some stuff? One of us needs to stay here and guard the house.”
“Yeah… I guess…”, the smaller woman replied as she nervously crossed her arms in front of her, obviously not too keen of walking outside where just last night bullets and mojo were slung with abandon. Seeing this, Felicity took a few steps towards the younger elf and enveloped her in a hug.
“It’s going to be ok. Just keep your eyes open and keep safe.”, she comforted Katsumi and then kissed her lightly on her forehead. “It’s going to be ok…”, she repeated though the older woman wasn’t totally sure, but for right now, that’s what both of them needed to hear.

“Yeah… Yeah. We’ll be fine.”, Katsumi replied as she looked up at the taller elf with a small smile. Breaking from the embrace, she put her hand on the doorknob and looked back for a second to say, “I’ll be back in a bit.” With that, the door opened for the second time that day to the scene of a battlefield, only this time Katsumi stepped through it. ‘We can do this… I hope…’, she thought as she slowly made her way down the street, looking at the damage and carnage.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:32 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Luna Crest Apartments, #421. The Toilet.
Randall

"Well, actually not al- - " Randall choked for a second; a hard lump had formed there in his throat. He coughed to clear it, and continued. "Actually, Watcher, we didn't all make it through ok. . . listen, there's something I need to take care of right now, but when I'm done I'll give you a call back, alright?"

Damnit. It looked like Randall was going to be the one asking for help after all. . .

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:35-Hanover Building
Sean aka Watcher; PAN mode hidden

Sean listened to Randall's voice crack. He knew Randall's family had it rough and there had been several deaths, but he didn't know Randall well enough to know the specific people or circumstances. Doesn't Randall have kids?
<[Watcher] Sure. Listen - If you need some help, let me know. Talk to you later.>

After the call ends, Sean sits for a few minutes pondering the situation. Alright Damn it! Time to find out how the landscape sits.. He dials the number to Jimmy "Fingers"....

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:00 -Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Mafia Teneament, stairwell
Leonardo "Leon" DeiPietro

On his way up stairs Leon stops mid stride. Suddenly he had the thought that half the city had already had, processed, reacted to, and started panicing from, Who died? It wasn't that Leon doesn't care, but that he was distracted by the unattended shiny objects that just had to be in this building. There you go Leon, acting before thinking. It's gonna get you killed, or at least poor.

While checking the second floor Leon tries calling his fences and friends. Joseph, Sharp, Kiwk, and Tweak, his fences around town, Tweak doubling as a hacker for hire, Randall, another hacker but not one of his regular fences, and Cowboy, probably the only real friend of the bunch who acts as a fixer for SINless across the sprawl. Except for Tweak he doesn't hold out much hope for the fences to reply, they are all gangers. The only thing that would save them is that their gangs aren't big enough to warrent much attention from the syndicates.

Why didn't I check to see who made it out alive? Greed alone isn't an excuse it's a reason. Leon had a good couple weeks with the price of weapons and ammo going through the roof. They'll plumet after last night though, maybe not ammo, but there were plently of free guns on the street for whoever was stupid enough to gab them last night. I'll call them while looking around, I can do both.

Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS 08:20 AM
Tasha

Tasha chews her lip thoughtfully as the connection closes. Katsumi didn't exactly answer her question. But she imagines the young elf is feeling pretty frazzled right now, and it's probably a good idea for her to give it some serious thought before doing anything that could escalate into a confrontation with the Crimson Thunderbolts. She snorts to herself.

"Ganger trash. Nothin' but maggots lookin' for the next bloated corpse to burrow into."

Even as she thinks it, a trio of punks walk by. Black jackets with crimson bandannas tied to the left arms, and matching lightning bolt tattoos on the left sides of their faces. Something about gang tattoos really arouses her contempt. It's blasphemy - taking something that should be an expression of individuality, and turning it into a mark of conformity. She almost hopes they start something. They look too distracted, though - even people who deal in violence and intimidation every day can't help but be shaken by last night's battles. One of them does nudge another of them, and both give brief leers as they pass.

"Dammit! Why the hell doesn't anyone ever sense the badass vibes of death and violence that I should be giving off?"

Her petty frustrations distract her, but not enough. As she wanders through the wake of the warzone, she feels a growing anger. All of those scumbags turning everyone else's lives into hell over their damn playground squabbles. Someone should shoot the whole lot of them. She smiles a lopsided, bitter smile, one that leaves her eyes cold.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 08:00-Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Old Garage
Joe snapped too all at once. The jungle speed from his mind. His breath was rapid. It took him a second to calm himself. He had moved to the other side of the hallway. His clip was empty... What. Had. He. Done…

He quickly took in the sight of the old garage. The homeless where across the way from him. Completely Terrified. The wall was wreaked full of bullet holes. Empty shells across the floor. He lets out a long sigh.

It had happened again. It had been many months, he had hoped that it had passed completely. Everything had become clear again. NO! Now wasn’t the time to dwell. Looking back inside it is obvious that no one inside looked uninjured. It seems he didn’t fire at them. Thank god. He decided to move outside.

Outside is a completely different story. There had defiantly been a fight out here. Though it hadn’t bleed into his squat it had come dam close. Bodies everywhere. At first he starts to reach for his medkit but then he realizes that must wait. No. Must get some recon first. This area isn’t safe. Dam its hard to be your own squad. Joe then curses under his breath as he stealthfully prowls the area. If only Ghost Wolf was here. Oh well. Must press on!

Saterday January 28th, 2070 all night-Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Old Garage.

Old bobby had been staying at this squat for a few weeks now. It wasn’t the worst one he had been in but it had stuck around because he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Plus it was nice and spacious. Recently though it had become a bit of a safe haven. This Joe fellow had showed up. He wasn’t you average run of the mill kind of guy. Gangers had come here once. Just to beat up on them. No one could really stop them. No one except Joe. He didn’t say anything. Just walked up as they held one of the homeless. They didn’t see him at first. In fact the first guy never saw him at all. All he felt was the gun against the back of his head before it all went dark. His friend didn’t do much better. Didn’t even get to his gun before he was staring at Joe’s barrel. Ever since that day none of them had come back. Not sure if it was fear or that we hid the bodies really well. Probably the later. Unfortunately it had become a bit crowded since then. Especially tonight.

Joe had turned the garage into quite the fort. He had blocked off everything save for one entrance. Trash filled all the crevasses. It would take quite some time to dig into here.
Though most people considered safety of more and more of a concern lately as the streets had become worse and worse, Joe seemed even to more so than others. No matter what anyone would say, with Joe around this was about as safe as one could be squatting.

Thank God he was there with them last night. The fighting seemed to go on all night. It was worse than old Bobby had ever seen it. And he had seen gang wars before. But old Joe just stayed at his post all night. He had put up a small stack of trash near the door. There he sat watching the door.

Though it had been bad nothing had tried there fort. As morning came Joe had first looked like he was going for the door. But then he stopped. It looked like Joe clutched his gun to his chest. He then dropped to the floor. He didn’t seem to move for 20 or 30 minutes like that. Finally he yelled something to all the homeless and jumped across the door. He then fired randomly into the wall near were he had just left. He quickly empted the clip. Bobby couldn’t move. He was completely frozen is shock. He more felt than saw the panicked homeless flood past him. Joe continued to squeeze the trigger on his empty gun. Finally he dropped down again. There he stayed. Sometimes shouting again, sometimes completely quite. He didn’t more for at least an hour.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 09:50 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
City Streets
Randall

"I said keep your heads down. And your voices."
Randall laid face up and prone behind a cold, damp, stony dirt mound in the abandoned lot behind a squatters' village. Down below, on the lee side of the hill, were a few dozen tents, shacks, and lean-to's made of all the scrap this neighborhood wallowed in. Behind him, his five kids were hiding on the other side of a gray pvc fence.
It was safer going this way to his dad's place than walk the open streets. Only pasing this squatter's den posed any risk. It seemed to grow a bit each year, creeping farther up the hill.
Randall's skimmer drone was scouting ahead. With its low profile, it could at least get the drop on any metahuman it encountered. It showed a dead body ahead on the path, one Randall didn't recognize and figured probably came from the squatter's village. The skimmer he left with his kids reported all clear. Randall moved ahead.
The body was a human woman, maybe 30 or 40, and dead more than a day by the looks of her. Her clothes were still on, and a bullet hole was in her forehead. The ground beneath her was stained darkly. Unfortunately, Randall had nothing to cover her with, and he couldn't stomach moving her. That meant the kids would have to see her. Risk 2: kids going nuts. He returned to the fence.

"Ok. . . if your mother were here, she's probably have something really smart, kind, and comforting to say. But I don't know what that would be so I'm just going to tell you. There's a dead body up ahead and we have to pass right by it."

"She'd probably just tell us to shut up, hold our breath, and keep moving," Chrissy, mute until now, submitted, "if we didn't want to get smacked."
Randall's grim expression broke, and some weight was lifted off his shoulders. She probably would. Thank god for daughters.

Gathering himself up, Randall said, "Your mom's gonna be alright. I just want you all to know that. After we get to grandpa's I'm going out to the hospital to find her. I'll call as soon as I get there."

The kids picked up their packs, and held their breath.


continued. . .

Sunday January 28th, 2070 10:05 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
John Tate's Apartment.
Randall

John's place smelled of motor grease and rotten food. Randall was getting a headache just standing in the doorway. The old codger had all but lost his sense of smell, and no one was cleaning up after him anymore.
But hey, he was Dad.


John was a tough leather-skinned old ork with a mechanic's iron grip, and gave his son a firm handshake followed by a strong hug.

"Thanks for watching them, Dad. It's good to see you."

"Anytime, boy."

"So, what happened down here last night? That tenement across the street has a wide open door and bullet ridden windows."

"Oh, heck yeah, they came through here last night by god. Tearin' up the place. I don't know what they wanted in there, but they're gone now so they must've gotten it. Hell, I don't even know who "they" are. Just someone's damn hit squad. Beer?"

"Thanks." Randall sipped at it; he'd always hated his dad's beer. "So do you think that's it? Think it's over?"

John shrugged. Maybe, maybe not. But. . . " he swished his beer around, already half empty, ". . . smart nuyen's on 'not'. I don't think they decided anything last night. Them damn Mafias. . . Vories. . . Yakuzies. . . they was all making noise last night, but not one of them won. I think they'll be back."

He doesn't know anything, Randall thought to himself. By this time tomorrow, the new map of Tacoma would be laid out and things could get back to normal. Last night was the most violent it'd been, true, but this neighborhood was no stranger to violence. Sometimes innocents got pinched. That's just bad luck. Randall just had to keep his head down, and find Laura.

"You're probably right. Well, thanks again Dad. I need to meet up with a friend now. I'll call once I find out where Laura's at. Thanks for the beer." He set the can down.

"Son, please. . . don't do anything stupid. This family needs you. When I'm gone, you're gonna be the big pop around here. Your kids need their dad to show them right from wrong. They need you to look up to, or they're gonna start looking up to those kids in the street that're killing each other for drugs and money. You gotta be the one to break the chain, son."

Randall looked his dad in the eyes. He couldn't tell if it was alcohol or what making them glassy. His headache was much worse now, pounding on his right temple. He couldn't maintain the eye contact. "Dad, I know. Believe me, I know. Jesus, Dad. I fucking know. Now I really got to go."

John just watched him walk away.
"And Dad," said Randall, halfway out the door, "would it kill you to clean up this place?"

Sunday January 28th, 2070 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Randall


Leon


Sean


Katsumi


Joe


Tasha

Sunday January 28th, 2070 10:10-Hanover Building
Sean Patrick O'Malley aka Watcher; PAN=Hidden[LTG]; SIN=Sean Patrick O'Malley[Not Broadcast]

Sean sighed as Jimmy began to ramble and was momentary relieved at the chance to end the call after getting the details he sought from Jimmy. He sat behind his desk and pulled up the reviews of last night's Urban Brawl games. None in Seattle, but the Steelers had gotten stomped last night. He was watching the highlights the cameras and his improvised building security altered him of one or more visitors.

He subconciously took inventory of his guns: Pred IV holstered under his left arm, Pred IV with silencer holstered above his knees under the desk, Ingram with suppressor in the filing cabinet resting in its mount in the middle drawer. He had placed two holes in the cabinet as well. One for the muzzle and the other for the smartgun camera. A poor man's remote gun and it faced right towards the doorway. He had placed the coat rack in such a way as to have the heart of someone standing in the doorway right in the cross hairs. With the Pred holstered under the desk pointing directly at the seat across from his desk, he had done the best he could do to set up a defense on his meager budget.

Looking back to the external cameras... I sure hope its Mrs O'Toole or her daughter.. But surely they are not so crazy as to be out today? What about Mr Flanigan in 2C? That old man never leaves his home since his wife was killed by gangers two years ago... .. The mystery will be revealed soon enough...

Sunday January 28th 2070, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS 10:15 AM
Tasha

Tasha feels slightly better once she's on her bike again. Zipping along the nearly deserted streets, she has an illusion of control again, as if she's flying miles above the pedestrians milling about confusedly. As she goes by a street with several bars, one of them still smouldering from a recent fire, she sees a hulking troll in Spikes colors stagger out of a doorway, ignoring an elf in Ancients colors sitting disconsolately by the curb as he wanders down the sidewalk. It's surreal seeing so many different gangers around without any violent clashes, but they all seem subdued. Like they've been reminded that they're just minnows, sharing a pool with sharks.

Suddenly, she spots a few gangers with the distinctive markings of the Crimson Thunderbolts. They seem a bit cockier than the other street trash, a bit more purposeful in their movements. Have they picked a side, hoping that it's the right one, and that they'll be able to hitch a ride to better things? Or are they simply confident that they can use the chaos to their advantage, and cut a deal with the winner?

Either way, their appearance triggers some nagging memories.

"Frag, those guys are those wiz-gang spooks. Not the fraggin' Merlins or anything, but they gotta be good if I even heard of them once or twice. Damn, hope they're not leaning on Katsumi too hard, 'cause if they are, they might be too much even for me to handle."

She frowns as she takes an off-ramp to I-5, zipping around a few jagged potholes with practiced ease. She doesn't want to keep bugging Renald about every little thing, so she pulls up a few of the blogs from the locals, the ones she makes a habit of following, to see if there are a few anecdotes about the wizzer-gang.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 – 08:32:54
Streets of Tacoma, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Katsumi Freewind

While she walked down the war torn streets towards the nearest Stuffer, Katsumi tried to think about what she and Felicity were going to do. As the blue haired elf made her way down the sidewalk though, she quickly realized that trying to concentrate on that problem would quickly land her in another when she noticed some of the other people wandering the streets. Gangers wearing red, green or grey were just loitering around on some of the corners as she continued walking.
Skirting around a small group of elves in green jackets, some of them also sporting dyed green hair, Katsumi noticed something odd about the gangers. Continuing on down the road, she thought about it and tried to make sense of the odd situation and the weird looks the Ancients were giving each other. ‘Is something about to go down soon?’, she nervously asked herself as she walked. Giving a quick glance across the street to a group of Cutters, she shook her head slightly. ‘No… They look nervous, but it’s weird… It doesn’t look like they are ready to fight or anything. It’s almost like they’re afraid of something else…’, the elf thought to herself as she pondered the situation.

She tried to think of anything that the major gangs in the area would be this nervous about, but gave up after a few more intersections. ‘I just don’t know… I’m not into this stuff as much as Tasha is. I’ll try to ask her about it later, but I know she’ll just get into it way deeper than I care to know…’, Katsumi admitted to herself. ‘Still, I guess knowing is better than not knowing right now…’, she conceded.
As a Doc Wagon ambulance drove by, with sirens and lights blaring, Kat was shaken out of her thoughts and kept out as she then noticed how close she was to her destination. Seeing the Stuffer sign hanging off the roof of a worn down building, Katsumi sighed to herself in relief that she didn’t have to walk any farther. Moving up in front of the store, the elf blanched a bit as she saw people shoving and pushing each other inside though the barred windows. “Oh my god… It’s a riot in there…”, she whispered to herself as she felt herself not wanting to enter the mob of shoppers.

Luckily, or unluckily, before the dancer could even make it to the door, a shot rang out from inside the crowded building. For a second Katsumi thought she was hearing things, but an instant later the screams of a panicked crowd inside told her that it really had happened. A split second later, the young elf had to jump away from the door as it slammed open and a wave of stampeding meta-humans stormed out of the Stuffer in a freakish screaming mob, bent on getting the hell out of there.
As people started swarming around her, Kat quickly found herself going with the flow and not bothering to stop. ‘If someone wants that stuff so badly that they’d shoot someone, they can have it!’, she thought as she continued running to keep from being run over.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 - 08:57:13
Streets of Tacoma, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Katsumi Freewind

After what seemed like forever, the crowd started to thin out as people fell back or stopped running, the woman in white also slowed down to a walk, while panting heavily. Looking around at the few other people who were now walking in odd directions to wherever they wanted to be next, Kat let out a long sigh and headed towards the nearest train station. ‘Maybe I’ll have better luck if I get outside of Tacoma to shop…’, she thought to herself as she made her way down the road again.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 10:10 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Outside the Mafia Tenement
Randall

Randall watches as the wounded mafia soldiers exit their cars and make their way into the battered building. Ducking behind a low block wall off the street, Randall scans the area, looking for nodes to jump into at the tenement. A microskimmer is set up to watch over his position. The opportunity to get a scoop on the mafia's situation after last night had just presented itself, and he was not going to let it go.

Sunday January 28th, 2070 10:10 - Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS
Top floor of Mafia Tenament
Leon

Err, that's not good. Leon's first thought is if there is any hand holds outside the window to climb on to the roof. Whether there is or not the thought of the roof leads to simply trying to remember if the stairs lead to the roof.