After blowing past the ambush set by Viktor and Chernobog, the team quickly made it to the docks where London's contact awaited. Jack, a disheveled looking man, beard stubble, long unkempt curly black hair, wearing a beat up old black leather jacket, does not waste time getting ready for the crossing. He does inform them that he will not be able to transport Jessica. Sean also informs Jason and Max they will have to continue on alone - something important came up he must deal with immediately.

Jason, Max and London thus make the journey to Manhattan. Jack's preferred smuggling route seems to be a Spirit created vortex of air, used as a submarine. An interesting travel experience to say the least. The passage is smooth though, and in no time they enter Manhattan. London has arranged for lodging in a tiny Triad run safehouse near Chinatown. The accommodations are sparse - old mattresses on the floor - but at least they have bought some time. The hitmen will have to make their own way into the city, and will have to pick up their trail from scratch.

After a mediocre night's rest, London explains the situation and the plan. She is not, as one could have imagined, being hunted down because she stole secret corporate files or anything of the sort. The sad truth is she used to go out with an ambitious Horizon marketing exec name Rick Dervis. As much as his P2.0 Horizon score had risen from his association with a hot commodity like London, it has nosedived after she dumped him. His revenge was to have her taken out. The counter-plan, London explained, simply consisted of getting proof he had ordered the hit, and confront him during a busy social event. Instant P2.0 crucifixion.

London's own contacts were able to tell her the hit was arranged through a small Chinatown Yakuza clan. Sources indicated that the Oyabun always had one of his goons tape the meetings with his cyber senses. A video tape of Rick ordering the hit could thus be obtained through the goon.

The two private dicks also had to find out the next suitable social event where they would be able to embarrass the exec. That part was done easily enough with some judicious hacking on Max's part. That out of the way, the two combat-light detectives started cooking up a plan for a way to take down a Yakuza samurai.

Inspiration struck, and the resourceful pair put the plan into motion. Finding the goon was easy enough. As the massive wall of muscle sat alone in a small teahouse, sipping a cup of tea, the two detectives had a sudden doubt about their assault plan. Perhaps a reasonable man could indeed be reasoned with. Taking a seat in front of the Samurai, the two presented him with an offer. Finding out he only spoke Japanese caused a small hitch in the plan, however. Still, if a peaceful solution could be had, the two decided it was worth an effort. Software-as-a-service Linguasots can be rented by the hour through the Matrix. A good idea, but that only works if your fake SINs stand up to inspection. Both of their SINs failing to do so, Max pulled a trick out of his Technomancer bag and summoned a Sprite that would be able to replicate the Linguasoft's ability. The only price of this was, unfortunately, that Max had to decompile the offensive Sprite he had ready, from their previous assault plan, now on ice. This would prove to be a setback in just a few seconds. Max could indeed now speak Japanese, but that just meant he could insult the Yakuza soldier in his own tongue with his lack of diplomatic skills.

Within seconds, things deteriorated. Max rolled his eyes and slumped into a VR comma in order to respond at the speed of thought. Yuudai, the Yakuza goon, took a mean swing at Jason and missed his nose with his massive fist by mere inches. Jason, however, had a spirit ready, and that leveled the playing field. The Yakuza goon did not want to tangle with these fools and their sorcery, so he bolted out the teahouse.

However, fortune favoured the combat-inept duo. Left unmolested, the two were able to unleash a powerful combined digital and magical assault on the fleeing Yakuza, incapacitating him easily. Negotiations still did not yield any success with the now incoherent samurai. A quick finishing punch to the face and the Yakuza went out cold, which enabled Max to spot the soldier's Data Lock. Some skilled hacking and decryption skills gave them the recordings.

Armed with the footage and a triumphant smile on her face, London was able to confront the prick Rick Dervis in front of a table full of clients. The exec quickly discovered that vices are better left hidden, as his P2.0 rating rocketed at an astounding speed into the toilet moments before his commlink indicated he'd been fired.

Exposed, the hit was called off, London stayed alive, and everyone was happy. Especially Sean's Mafia friends...

Sean met Rocko in Central Park. It was annoying that his mobster friend wanted to meet in Manhattan, but he had insisted. Sean nervously eyeing the green "Access Authorized" icon in his AR overlay. That green icon could turn into a red icon at any moment. Rocko lived a few blocks away from the agency, for Murphy's sake. But at least Rocko was on time.

They greeted each other, their breath making white mist in the cold winter air. Rocko was exuberant, very pleased. Sean nodded his head and accepted his friend’s allegorical praises. Sean waited for a pause in the thanks. "So... the money?"

Rocko smiled and nodded. "Just in a minute, Seamy..." Rocko said, nodding his head in direction behind Sean.

Sean turned around, and saw men in black longcoats approaching. Sean knew these men. He'd only met them once, but that was enough to last a lifetime. Don Castelli and his jerk bodyguards. Sean whipped around and looked at Rocko, feeling betrayed. "Don't worry Seamy, he wants to thank you personally. You did good for us my friend".

Okay, so the mobsters weren't going to "thank" him with a bullet to the back of the head like they did in the Trids. A step up, but Sean still wasn't sure if he liked this.

Don Castelli walked the last few meters to Sean with a warm smile on his face and his arms open in embrace.

"Mister O'Malley, my good friend..." he called out. The Mafioso then nodded to Rocko. "Where'd you find this guy, Rocko, huh? A regular superman, hah hah!". All cheers and pleasantry. Sean nodded and smiled politely.

Castelli let his laughter die, and returned his gaze to Sean. A piercing gaze, with way too much intelligence behind the eyes, Sean thought. "Well, I don't want to take up too much of your time, Mister O'Malley". The don took out a tick envelope. He opened the corner of it and slid out a few credsticks. "A little old fashion, but untraceable" Castelli handed the enveloppe to one of his unpleasant bodyguards, who brought it to Sean. The thug eyed Sean maliciously as he handed him the envelope, but said nothing. Sean met his stare.

"The thirty thousand agreed upon, plus a little extra for your troubles. You help me out, I help you out. As we agreed, is it not, Mister O'Malley?"

The don nodded his head and headed away. Rocko walked past Sean, following the don. "Thanks Sean, you really helped me out here. I won't forget it buddy" he thanked Sean one last time as he passed him.

Sean watched the men leave. It was hard to see the Mob's angle here, despite London's explanations. The "debt" she owed the Mafia seemed pretty abstract for the amount Castelli paid them. Sean slid out the credsticks and counted the money on all the digital displays. Forty thousand Nuyen. Not bad.

You've got Mail!

First message - VOICE:
Hey guy's it's London. Thanks for helping me out till the end. I've confirmed the Yaks cancelled the contract. Seems Prick Dervis' bank accounts sucked out dry when he lost his job. He owed money to a lot of people. Without his salary, he can't manage the liquid fifty grand he put on me. Besides, with the files Max gave me, the Yak's are gonna make a move on me. I made a deal with them. They let this go, and no one needs to know about the recordings. Anyway, I'd like to say I'll be seeing you, but I've relocated, so I won't. But here's are some membership creds to the Stock Exchange. You need to know something, you drop by, 'kay? I owe you some good discounts. Don't eat too much pasta Sean. See ya.

Next message - EMAIL
NEW AWAKENED PLAN MAKES YOUR DICK BIGGER AND GLOW IN THE DARK FOR HER PLEASURE BUY [SPAM DELETED]

Next Message - VOICE:
Hi Sean, it's Rita. Thanks for taking care of me at the hospital. Had a bad turn, you know. You're a good friend.

Next Message - EMAIL
So... I guess I could use a permanent potition with you guys, but only if it's this much fun, right? Could use the distraction, I suppose...
Dr. Cordell

Next Message - EMAIL
Till next time
- Viktor

The virtual clock in his pan displayed "12:13". The lack of light streaming into the room around the curtains told him that would be just after midnight. A moment of panic sent shivers down his spine and goosebumps across his arms when he thought for a moment he might be alone in the house. Jumping upright, he had taken two steps before he heard someone sleeping somewhere in the house. Probably Jason.

He looked down at his bruised knuckles and reflected the night several nights earlier in the week. He remembered the three goons in the doorway of London's apartment; That ork took pounding before going down. He remembered extracting London and making their way to the docks.

Finally he looked at what awoke him from his slumber in the first place: Monica was dealing with a mother, children and an abusive father. He had been to the shelter twice tonight; The Star said they would dispatch when they were able to.

When Sean made it to the shelter, all was quiet. What ever had went on appeared long since over. He entered through the side door that Monica had left unlocked for him. He went down the short hall from the fire escape to the main room. The shelter had been a grocery store in its past life. Now days the majority of the main area was rows of cots, each with a body sleeping there in.

A dim light was visible from the room constructed to be a nursery and also from the room that served as Monica's office. As he approached Monica's office, a young man sat up from a nearby chair with a table leg in his hand. "Who are you?"

"Sean. Monica called me."

The young man stood suspicious, clutching the leg tightly. A moment later, Monica emerged from her office, "Donny, he's fine." The young man watched Sean closely as he and Monica went into the office.

"There is definitely something to being that naive." Sean commented quietly after they crossed into the office.

"He's actually a lot like you."

"Poor kid" is Sean's only reply, before seeing the other three people sleeping in her office.

A woman, perhaps thirty, is laying on the couch with her arms draped across a young girl, maybe six years of age. The woman's face is tear streaked and her eye's tentatively open to spy the scene. She attempts to play possum as she sees Sean looking her direction. Sean locks his gaze when he notices the swelling of the girl's eye. He dwells a few moments there before focusing on the final person. A teenage boy with his arm in a sling. He is laying on the floor, his face towards the couch, but Sean can imagine how it must look.

His anger growing, Sean whispers to Monica. "Why am I here?" He half knew the answer already. It takes a monster to deal with a monster.

"The father is at Rollo's Tavern getting lit after smacking them around. The bartender is a good gal. She called to warn that he's talking about coming down here."

By now he's snapping at Monica. "So call the Star, that's their job... right?" He knew she was trapped: Either save the family by unleashing Sean on the father or remain quiet and potentially deal with a rampaging drunk. Neither appealed to her. One is less appealing than the other.

Knowing Sean for quite some time, she realizes that his anger is not directed at her. She answers in a comforting tone, "They are SINless."

Sean knew that mean they were told to file a report online. He knew that meant that they went to be the bottom of the list. He knew that meant sometime tomorrow an officer might actually follow up, but only if the coroner didn't follow up first.

"He won't be coming here tonight." Sean said as he stalked out of the room. Timing being what it is for Sean, he no more than crossed into the commons than the banging began on the front door. His first thought was to exit back the way he entered and come around behind the guy, but the shotgun blast told him he didn't have that kind of time.

Once the shotgun destroyed the door knob and latch, the rest swung open easily. Now awake, the various homeless began clearing a path. Sean had to grab Donny by the collar, else the kid would have made the foolish decision of taking a club to a gun fight. "Go into the office." Donny obviously didn't like it, but he did as he was told.

Sean considered just just pulling out his predator and capping the bastard. Of course that would cause a number of questions for Monica as well as the fact that no kid like to be there when their father, even a worthless piece-of-shit father, gets whacked.

For the moment, Sean blended with the scared crowd creating an opening. The man strolling through the shelter is a beast of a man. Aren't they always.. Watching him from the corner of his eye to avoid direct eye contact, Sean got an opening when an ancient whiff of a little old woman stepped up to verbally assault the man. "What do you think you're doing? Do you think we're scared of you?"

The drunk growled back, "Do you see this gun grandma?"

She started to reply, but simply stood mouth agape as Sean closed the distance. Reflexes dulled from liqueur, the man realized he needed to turn around and did so in time to have the shotgun plucked from him grasp, though not before discharging it. Luckily, no one was caught in the line of fire.

His weapon gone, Sean settles back. "I've got a full five minutes before the Star arrives to rescue you... at least." In response, the drunk lunged. Sean side stepped and smacked him in the jaw, with an open hand.

Infuriated, the man's attention went fully to Sean. His anger fueling adrenaline into his body, Sean snaked a left jab right into the right eye. The lumbering ox stopped for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief before sending back a flurry of wild swings. Sean allowed the blitz to go unchecked, stepping out of reach and guiding the fight so as to stay in the middle of the room.

Sean carried this on for nearly half a minute, switching between smacks, full defense and an occasional jab to keep the man enraged. Finally, Monica had had enough. "Sean stop this."

Sean agreed, but his thoughts about ending it were different than his. Sean switched to a vicious blitzing full frontal attack. The man's nose burst into a spray of blood as Sean broke it and the final back fist strike jerked the drunk's head around, sent a tooth or two flying and launched him into the air and off to the side.

Sean walked over and leaned, not sure the man could even hear him. He whispered, "You are now a project of mine. I even hear a rumor you raise a violent hand, I start knocking out teeth and breaking bones." He rose as Monica stepped over.

"That was excessive and uncalled for." She scowled.

He looked her in the eyes, "You knew I'd come. You knew I'd stop him. You may not want to admit it, but a beating is the only thing he understands." Sean took a breath, "For Christ's sake, he brought a gun in here. Other people could have died."

Her face softened, she knew everything he said was right, but that didn't stop her from wanting a world without violence. "You better leave. The gun shots will eventually bring the Star."

Sean nodded and slipped out the side door. He had walked nearly eight city blocks before the sirens went streaking by. "Serve and protect, my ass."

Karma
14 Karma Pool
+8 Mid-run Award (9/6)
+1 End-run Award (9/27)
+1 Story Award (9/30)
[18] Magic from 5 to 6. Power point spent to change increased reflexes from R1 to R2
[06] Unarmed Combat from R2 to R3
-----
00 Karma Pool

Cash
3,920 Previous Balance
300 Sold info to the Doctor
4,500 Reimburse for lifestyle
6,900 Payment for London Run
--------
14,120 Ending Balance

Sean watched the mobsters leave Central Park and stood for a few minutes, the scene having been almost surreal to him. He turned and left the park, meeting Jason up the street before climbing into Jessica's ride. He considered keeping all the money, then considered keeping most of it. In the end, he considered what would be fair. He pulled the run and business expenses off the top as well as reimbursing himself and Jason for the current expenses. He considered the involvement of each team member in the run and sliced out a full share for himself, Jason and Max and a half share for Jessica. Finally satisfied that he couldn't make it any fairer in his mind, he divided out the nuyen.

40000 London run payoff
[2700] Expenses
[4500] Reimburse Sean for Lifestyle: 1/15-2/15
[1500] Reimburse Jason for Lifestyle: 1/15-2/15
[7200] Lifestyle 2/15-3/15
[6900] Sean for London run
[6900] Jason for London run
[6900] Max for London run
[3400] Jessica for London run

<<@London [Sean] Glad to hear it all worked out. Thanks for the membership, I'll sure we'll see you around.>>

<<@Doctor [Sean] Thanks for you help with our last job. Glad to say it all worked out in the end. We located London and was able to deal with her complications. She's back in business now and doing well.>>

<<Dr Cordell [Sean] Glad to hear it. Your expertise was a good fit. Jobs like this come few and far between. Attached is a stipend for your services, including a bonus for the threat. [Attached: 3,400 ] >>

Thursday, February 5th, 2071
Last night Sean had been to the homeless shelter to assist Monica. The morning found him sleeping in the living room recliner. As Max & Jason began moving around the place, Sean made a vain attempt to get a little more sleep but to no avail. Finally, nearly lunchtime he wandered off.

The day passed in moments for Sean. He was caught up in what he was doing and what he was becoming. This was not the first such event and he struggled with it. One part of him wanted to seek help. To stop. Another part of him was justified. They deserved it just like his father had. Finally, he ended up in a dilapidated building where a number of homeless had shacked up. There he slept.

Friday, February 6th, 2071
Sean wandered into a rough neighborhoods in the Bronx. He'd stumbled into an abandoned parking garage by evening where the idle rich had mixed with the rough poor. He saw the cars and heard the racket and changed his appearance as he approached. When he got close enough he saw the ring and the bare fisted fighters.

He was ushered in and given a number. He fought three fights, winning all three; Two by knock out. He was given a card, invited to a more organized fight the next night. Offered money if he showed. He took the card and stumbled off into the night. Eventually he fell asleep.

Saturday February 7th 2071
The sun woke him mid morning. He was famished and half frozen. He had ended up taking refuge in a storm drain in card board boxes abandoned by a previous occupant. He strolled into a Quicky Mart loaded up a sack of food and headed down the street, stopping to eat on a park bench.

As he ate, a little old man from some eastern country slowly worked his Tai Chi. Sean watched, mesmerized. Once his food was done, Sean walked over near the man and began mimicking his movements. At first the old man ignored him, but after an hour he stopped and simply held a deep horse-riding stance. Not sure what else to do, Sean did the same. In minutes his legs were burning. In 15 he had begun to sweat. By 30, he could feel the sweat running down his body. After an hour his clothes were soaked. He had no idea why he was doing this. He began to try to stand up.

The old man turned his head, "Your Chi is powerful. Do not fail your Chi by allowing your mind to be weak. Continue. Breath deep. Focus your mind. Grow your inner strength."

Sean wanted to quit. His body screamed out 'no more', but he fought on. Ninety minutes after he started the old man rose, bowed to Sean and began to shuffle off. Sean's legs were nearly atrophied. He tried to move, but they would only make the smallest of movements. "Wait. What's wrong with me? What happened?"

The old man shuffled around to face Sean. "This is normal. Walk it off. Get some food and water. Then run five miles."

"What?!!" was Sean's only response. The old man shuffled off. Eventually blood flood properly in Sean's legs again. He was able to walk. He was soaked with sweat and the temperature was freezing. He made his way to a small diner up the street and sat for a few hours nourishing with some water and food till they kicked him out.

He then jogged all the way to the City Union Mission. With the cold outside, lots of people were mulling around inside staying warm. Sean was able to take a shower and rub down his sore legs. Something invigorated him in the work out. He was tired, exhausted. But he felt better connected. His chi was in fact more in balance.

Sean walked back into the office that evening as if he'd only begin gone a few hours. Truth is, he'd not been back since he'd left on Thursday. His shirt was caked with blood and his face bruised, his lips swollen, his left eye blackened. He shrugged off questions about where he'd been and what happened. Truth is, he wasn't quite sure himself.

Monday, February 8th 2071
"Luke. I need a piece of specialize gear. I'm looking for a chameleon suit."

"That's a serious piece of gear kid... With a serious price tag."

"I know. I felt into a little yen recently. Here is a good faith payment. And I need a resident pass for the Island. What will one of those run me?" Sean transferred several thousand nuyen to signify the seriousness of his inquiry.

"Well, you are serious. Ok then. I'll let you know what I find out... on both"

Sitting in the recliner in the living room, Sean mused for a moment. He had lounged around the office the entire previous day and didn't feel like another day of doing nothing. A quick shower and he was out the door.

The afternoon found him in a Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden in Brooklyn. People came and went throughout the day, some speaking in English, others in Japanese. By dark, he completed his quest for the day. Pieces of the conversation were beginning to make sense.

Tuesday, February 9th 2071
Sean awoke in a shelter in Brooklyn. Everyone was being ushered out for the day. He headed south into the Bronx, eventually ending up in the little park where he met the man doing Tai Chi only days earlier. He repeated the Kiba-Dachi drill and run the old man had set him upon returning to the office, mid-afternoon.

February 10th-11th 2071
The rest of the week came and went. No word from Luke and nothing eventful. Sean kept close to the office, hoping for a job, but nothing came. He was bound to either find something to do or something find him....

Friday, February 12th 2071
Sean awoke midmorning as usual. What was unusual was that Luke was calling.
"Seany-boy. This is your lucky day. I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy who just stumbled upon one of those suits you are looking for. Gonna take 8,800 to get it to you."

Sean winced at the amount, but new that arguing was probably futile at this point. It was a hard to find item and if the price wasn't paid, it would probably go back into a closet until someone did meet the price. He transfered the requested amount. "When will you have it?"

"Later today. I'll call you."

The rest of the day passed without fanfare for Sean. By evening he had picked up the suit and brought it back to the office. Then it was off to Mikey's Pub and an evening of drinks with Rocko.

Saturday, February 13th 2071
When Sean 'came to', the sun had been up for a long time. According to the time on is com, he'd missed conventional lunch time. His head pounding from the abuse he'd imbibed the night before, he really didn't care.

Three raw eggs, a glass of tomato juice and a handful of aspirin later, Sean wondered why he'd even bothered with the first two and not just settled on the aspirin. He didn't spend long dwelling on it though; Thinking hurt too much.

It took Sean the rest of the afternoon to recover. Once he did, he was out the door again. Today's wanderings brought Sean to a club called The Green Cube. By midnight he was in the arms of an attractive clubber named Kalyna. A little idle conversation had yielded that she is a secretary with some financial firm. What had attracted Sean to her was the fact that she was talking in a language he didn't understand with her girlfriends. When they spoke in Russian to another guy he found an in. He flirted with them using English and a little broken Russian while the girls spoke in another language about him all evening. By midnight, he was speaking a smattering of Ukrainian... and that was his in.

Sunday, February 14th 2071
Sean awoke as Kalyna was getting ready to go. Rather than create an awkward situation he got dress as well. He kissed her goodbye and left his LTG with her. He figured she could make the decision to call again.. or not. The rest of the day was spent training his Chi. He could swear he was getting faster.

Late afternoon, while jogging, he observed a small group of guys free running. He was mesmerized. He tried to keep up but was simply not skilled enough. As he made it back to the office, he was more talkative than normal, telling Jason and Max about the free runners.
---------------------
Charisma(5) + Negotiation(3) + Connection Rating(2) -> Locate Gear(10,2 days) [3,4,5,5,5,2,4,5,6,2] = (5); [5,6,1,5,4,6,4,1,1,5] = (5) = 4 days

Will be using Max's 5+3 Karma to learn new complex forms, with registered rating 3 sprites gives me 13 dice for learning new forms (15 if full VR bonus counts). Either way, test is 5, 1 day extended, should take no more than 8 days out of the 16 to learn 4 new forms and use up my karma, let me know if you feel otherwise. Want to learn Scan 1, Attack 1, Decrypt 1, Track 1.

February 15-18th 2071
Sean awoke early each day, before his teammates, and started his exercise routine. He met Rocko for drinks at Mikey's pub several nights, but resisted the urge to tie one on. Free running had caught his attention and his increase in speed was motivating him. Several days he spent some time at the Korean market eaves dropping on conversations, buying misc food items to keep from being driven off. Each evening he brought the odd purchases back to the office and deposited them in the pantry. By Thursday, he had picked up a little of the language and was getting bored with it. His attention span for the languages seemed to be short, constantly moving to a new one.

Friday, February 19th, 2071
Like each previous day of the week, Sean awoke early and headed out to where the free runners made their way, practicing their abilities....

Max took the small cylinder, clicking the backlight, the display revealed a sum of 6,900. Thanking Sean, and declining the offer to crash at the office, He made his way back toward New Jersey, thoughts far from the recent job, or the cred.

Following a couple stops to pick up some more booze and long haul, Max pulls into the parking lot of his apartment. He finally takes time to reflect on the past few days, pulling out the commlink, he thinks, Almost blew that, forgot about bagging this thing for a minute, waste of nuyen anyway, "guaranteed to get you through Manhattan', what a joke, I don't know how much longer this ID will be clean.

Touching the case of the Commlink seems to trigger more memories, and, nightmares, I can remember using laptop terminals that were five times the size of this thing, seems a lifetime ago, it was a lifetime, if you think about it. My old lifetime, before things changed. I was working for a security firm, not as a programmer, oddly enough, in that life, I was only slightly more matrix savvy than the next guy. I was subcontracted as a consultant...

Her name was Lynda, she was a programmer, pretty, long brown hair, it smelled of something, some sort of fruit, I think. We were celebrating a new contract, along with a yuletide celebration. We weren't looking for a relationship, or even a friendship, but we had an on and off affair over the following year...

I often conducted business on the matrix, no need for face to face meetings when you are a subcontractor, most of the time, the client doesn't even know about the consultants used. I was online, when it happened...

I remember thinking, or I don't remember, I don't know anymore. It's too real to be a dream, but too impossible to be real. Thousands of people, from around the world are trapped in the Matrix, We all tend to virtually huddle together, when we can find each other.

It showed up from out of the data stream, a clawing, ravening, buzzsaw of code death. Some call it Artificial Intelligence, some now say, in virtual whispers, that it's not artificial, just something that we awoke, living in the matrix.

Lynda was there, I actually wasn't meeting with her, strange to see her, here now, wherever, whenever here and now is. It should have been her avatar, a cartoonish anime creature, but it was her. I never could figure out what that avatar was supposed to be.

In the other pocket, Max had the pistol, a common streetline special. It always felt heavier than it's size suggested. squeezing his eyes shut, the barrel cold against his temple.

Putting away the comm, and the pistol, Max went inside to pass the time while riding out the long haul trip.

After getting paid Jason grins. He can't help but smile his grotesque little smile seeing the amount of nuyen flashing on the display of his credstick. He can't make up his mind about what he wants to buy first. Clean clothes, some better armor, a nice hot bath, or some new spells. Or maybe all of the above!

First, some new clothes and better armor. He calls up his buddy 609's with the hope that maybe he'll be able to score some leg and arm casings to wear underneath his leather jacket. After getting off the call with him, Jason heads out into the world to buy some less dirty clothes. After buying some nice new clothes (200¥) of assorted cheap shirts, jeans and a new pair of shoes, Jason heads back to the office to grab a quick shower.

That being done, he heads over to akasha's to see if she can get ahold of an agony spell formula for him. And he spends quite some time there with her, doing what he can to help her out, while also practicing to increase his magical ability.



Advancements:
Magic 4->5 (15karma)
Learn Agony 5 karma

10:13:22, Friday, February 6th, 2071

This was one of the bad crashes, I know what is coming, I've seen it...

Lynda was touching my arm, I could feel it, warm, and trembling, it wasn't real, of course, but running hot ASIST makes it feel real. I don't remember going hot, I didn't use it often anyway, more for virtual sex, than any work related tasks.

Something was wrong, very wrong, two other people were in the node with us, arguing about the time. Both claimed to have been keeping a count of the bit rate, passing through this node, but none of us could say for certain, just how long we had been here. It should have been simple to check the time, from any user term, or the UTC from any server clocks, but no one could locate their home terminals, which should be impossible, even now, it sounds wrong to speak it out loud. I laugh, a choking snort, which draws unsteady stares, we've already seen more than one mad man passing from node to node in a panic, or simply remaining in one node, still and unresponsive, yet they must be alive, or else, certainly they, we, anyone who dies, even if we remain here till our bodies starve to death, when you die, you must get dumped. More stares, I realize that I was broadcasting, sharing with the entire node, my private thoughts. No interface was available here, but generally we found that most actions could be controlled by concentrating hard enough.

It showed up from out of the data stream, a clawing, ravening, buzzsaw of code death. It simply ripped a hole in the code, from the other side, and entered the node. We had seen rifts like this appear before, but nothing this... massive had ever come out of one. I thought about the term, massive, it was the first to spring to mind, and it was, not in the traditional sense, it had no "mass" here, but it did have program code, lots of program code. It should have bogged the entire node down to a crawl, possibly even crashing it. The... code creature, monster, AI? whatever it was, it consisted of Terabytes? maybe Petabytes of code, none of it seeming to mesh like it should. It looked like every programmer in the world worked on this thing separately, without ever seeing the others' work, the someone... stitched it all together.

It was being harassed, by several IC programs, that swarmed out of the rift, behind it. I was like watching horseflies try to take down an elephant, every time it would retaliate, the IC program, seemed to be assimilated into the code monster. That must be how is got so bloated with code.

Lynda released my arm, and began to study the thing closer, with a trained programmer's eye, I could tell that she was was even more enthralled with the code than I was.

Suddenly a second wave of IC was launched through the rift into the node where we now the only two other icons present. The code monster lashed out with a massive code shredding attack, and Lynda was studying it, too closely.

It was like watching a horror trid, she was instantly ripped to shreds by the vicious attack, but instead of blood and gore, programming code burst out, and scattered all around the node. Like that, in a microsecond attack, she was gone. I never checked on her after it was all over, there was no point, I knew she was dead, she took the full psychological brunt of that attack, no one could survive it.

I felt sick again, but at least I didn't puke this time. The nightmares were always with me, sometimes worse than others. It might be manageable if I only had to see it once a night, but in my dreams, it happens a digital speeds, and I often see the same thing, perhaps a dozen times in one night. I don't know if the crash makes things better or worse, but at least the Long Haul lets me have a few nights of peace.

I eye the pistol again, sitting on the night stand, I opt for the bottle, and a long shower, screw the rationing policy, I don't use that much water normally, anyway.