@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:07:40 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Damn, talk abut leaving out little details in the briefing, like her being a mage and...

Didn't want to hurt you or scare you or anything, it's just this guy's, he's, well he's you know and my friend he's bleeding and I had no time to, like wait

Listen to yourself, what are you talking about, to her of all people, run..

... wait while you two were going at it, oh I'm sorry, I'm sure you two...

What's wrong with you, run, kill her and it - whatever it is - at least plead for your live you worthless idiot!

Didn't want to imply anything. Please don't turn me into a toad or anything!

Forgot your orders? Don't kill unless someone's interfering. Unless interfering, guess that counts! But, I can't, I gotta explain. That was so rude and uncalled for and... I gotta explain! I gotta? Why you got to?

@E:PL/Chi Town / Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:15 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Your words seem to light a fire under this small community and they go into a frenzy of activity. Standing out of the way is the best you can do at this stage whilst they make what ever preparations they intend to before leaving. Jon and Katie stand bemused while various people come over and wish them goodbye...it is clear that nobody else seems likely to take up your offer of a way out, crazy bastards might actually like living down here...

In the distance you hear a muffled whomp and a sudden change in air pressure makes your ears pop. People look about in alarm as the lights dim and flicker, flare back to full brightness and then with unnerving finality drop out alltogether plunging you into almost complete darkness, the only light coming from handheld 'links or other electronics...

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:35:49, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Scratch began to see red again but fought to keep her cool...when she spoke her voice hissed through her teeth

"Do I remember the Scire?! I grew up there you useless slot, I was in there when the machines came, I remember the blood and the screams, I remember running every day just to stay ahead of them…I…” she drew a deep shuddering breath "I can’t dredge all that up again now. Look, Col, you’re a fixer right, or you wannabe one? I need you to fix this somehow! I’ve got to know where Summer is. Maybe we can do something with mojo? Get a mage to sniff her out…I know the trids are full of crap but there must be some truth in it right? I’ll walk in there myself if I have to but we don’t even really know if that’s where she is. I can’t just clutch at straws…you know people who can help right?”

@E:PL / UK
[May 19th, 2072, 14:13:32, Guesthouse, North Oxford]

Apart from dodging the hordes of corper tourists flashing their ‘links at everything in sight the walk up to north oxford is pleasant enough in the spring sunshine. The crowds thin as you leave the centre but you aren't conspicuous in your meander. You are concious that your faces are being monitored by the various CCTV systems in place but it's no worse than upperclass parts of other 'plexes and you (as far as you know) haven't done anything to arouse suspicion. Some basic precautions such as keeping your faces angled away from likely camera sources should be sufficient. Even Monsieur Collot seems to have picked up some of these basic survival instincts from somewhere, or perhaps he can sense the cameras somehow...?

The guest house is a large and very very old building on the main street. You are greeted at the door by an elderly human lady in starched uniform with a perfunctory smile. "The Professor said you would be coming. Right this way please, your suites are waiting for you" and she leads you into a dim tiled hallway that smells of beeswax and musty age. You are lead through a door to a basement stair and you suspect out of the building above to an adjacent one - they weren't kidding when they said this catered to 'special client needs' and the cost of this place must be astronomical. Hopefully Argent will be footing the bill...

@E:PL / UK
[May 19th, 2072, 14:13:32, Guesthouse, North Oxford]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

Mordred whistles. It was a shame, really. The place was too nice to be used as a hideout. As soon as everyone is inside, the adept locks the door and begins drawing the window blinds shut. He then notes the available exits. Mordred talks while he works. "We need to establish a watch schedule. Say, with two of us awake at a time while the other two sleep." The next step is to search for any surveillance equipment. You couldn't be too careful. Or trust anyone too much. "If at all possible, we should avoid leaving the house." The adept places a chair at an angle to the door. Everything else is moved away from any windows. "And Mr. Collot? If things get dangerous, take cover in the bathtub and lock the door. Wait for one of us to come for you. You'll know it's a friend when we text the following word to you."

The adept sends everyone a message containing a single word. "Flight."

@E:PL/Chi Town / Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:15 PM; CZ, Chicago]

"Wat da frag?" mumbles Copperhead as she blinks her eyes to adjust to the gloom. One of the many benefits of turning into a troll was her heat sight. Bodies appear out of the darkness, milling around and fumbling for light sources. She snaps her goggles back into place, the faint green of the goggles low-light merging with her own thermal sight to turn everything a muddy brown.

She reaches out with her left hand and hisses at her two charges, "Ssst, take my hand."

She then herds them towards Jess and hands them over to her.

"Keep dem safe. Get out if ya can."

She scans frantically around for Ælias, Requiem and Stitch. When she doesn't immediately see them she tries to ping them, only then remembering she had switched her commlink's signal range to zero.

Frag, frag, frag!

She closes her eyes, mentally commanding the device to switch its wireless back to normal. Then she unslings her gun and keeping low moves carefully back towards the heavy door.

<<@Ælias: I need intel. Find Franks and find out what's going down. If we gots incoming, we might all need to evac. Da kids is with Jess so gets to her and den get out. Stick close to Requiem and Stitch if ya can finds em.>>

<<@Requiem, Stitch: I'm gonna see if ah can find out wats happening. Meets up with my team if ya can and gets da frag outta here.>>

Snapshot
[Tuesday June 14th, 2072; Meridian Ave E - Heading South, Seattle]

Requiem watched Bale as he healed the group, marvelling again at the ease with which the magic sorted their ills. Of course magic had been known to cause them too and whilst he wasn’t one of those who wished it had never come back, he was a bloody elf after all, he could have done without it.

He looked briefly over at Silk and resisted the impulse to comfort her. The sight of blood on her lithe body made him feel uncomfortable and he regretted again that their relationship had changed the dynamic between them. He was old enough to be her father, he certainly felt old enough right now, but outwardly his heritage meant that she hadn’t seen him that way and he had been grateful for the attention.

He pushed the thoughts aside. He was a professional and he would not let things cloud his judgement. Time to focus on the present and the completion of this run. The diagnostics floating across his vision told him that his ‘ware was in working order, guns were reloaded and ready to go, all in all things were smoother than might be expected given the opposition they had faced.

***

Riptide finished his sweep of the dense web of signals surrounding them and was satisfied that there was nothing out of the ordinary out there. The grid was thinning out as they approached the barrens and the affluent downtown areas were left behind. Leaving an agent monitoring signal traffic he mentally waved off the AR images and rubbed his tired eyes.

There was no denying the fact that they had been lucky this evening. The system had detected his meddling far faster than he might have expected and there were clearly bigger backers to Sintec than their initial research had suggested. There had always been that risk in the back of his mind, it would have been unusual for such a relatively small enterprise to have the balls to snatch technos of the street; that was usually the hallmark of the megas.

But luck only got you so far and their training had enabled them to get out moderately unscathed. As a test of their abilities as a team this had pushed them and they would be stronger for it.

***

Bale looked over his charges with a proprietary air. They had been lucky to get through this one intact and he was glad of the training they had put in beforehand that had enabled them to work like a well-oiled team. There were still areas open to improvement, and there always would be, but he was satisfied that no major flaws were evident.

He felt Sirene’s satisfied approval in the back of his mind and not for the first time wondered at her influence over him and, by extension, his team. He didn’t regret the pact that he had made with the spirit as it gave them one more edge over the opposition. Given the stakes that they would be playing for, any edge could make the difference. She had been right about getting Balefire back together, it offered them the best chance of flushing out his brother’s killer and he’d be damned if he would let that one rest.

He winced as Silk tightened the last of the bandages across his abdomen. Whilst normally he might have been expected to comment on everyone’s state of relative undress he was just too damn tired. He had given up on the magical healing for now; he needed a long rest if he wasn’t going to pass out from drain.

He assessed the reactions of the people they had liberated but they seemed to be almost catatonic. Whatever those bastards at Sintec had been doing it would take more than their rescue to put things right. But he was no psychologist and he would be just as glad to get them off his hands and back to their tribe. Pro bono work would be good for their rep but after this little fracas they would need to lay low for a while and that would put a pinch on their resources.

Opium’s normally bouncy voice came across the comm

<<Time to change rides if we are heading into the barrens. I’ve got you lined up with a couple of bone shakers but they will be less conspicuous than the Roadmaster.>>

<<Thanks O. We’re ready to move out when you are. I’ll be glad to be shot of this run.>>

Swinging himself out of the bucket seat he grabbed the stirrup hanging from the ceiling and addressed the others in his best ‘calm in the face of adversity’ voice.

“Ok, we’re ready to switch vehicles and then it’s a short hop to where the tribe have set themselves up. You’ll be safe once you are back with them, they won’t let those corporate bastards close again. We’ve taken all the precautions we can to move undetected but the last stretch will be underground I’m afraid which might be a bit rough going. It’s the best way to shake any last aerial surveillance they might have managed to slip past our sensor watch.”

***

Opium watched through her sensors as the runners piled out of the Roadmaster and made their way over to the two old-model land rovers parked on the forecourt of an abandoned garage. Her diminutive form wilted back against the smart padding of her cocoon and she finally began to allow herself to think this might just end well.

They had thrown considerable resources at this run and it had only just been enough. Her family would have scoffed at her for her materialism but this was about more than that, this was about the opportunity to do something. She briefly missed the physical camaraderie of the clan but recognised that she wasn’t quite ready to reveal herself to Silk and the others just yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, just it was something that would only complicate things and she preferred them to see her skill with her drones rather than her size and the lurking Disney image that seemed to be associated with her kind.

The internal sensors showed the previously flagging runners gather themselves and prepare for the last stage of this endeavour. They should be able to get the technos back to their tribe safely, subject to the vagaries of travel in the barrens, and she didn’t anticipate any further entanglements with Sintec. The combination of the virulent programs that Riptide had seeded through their system and her efforts at blocking external surveillance should put them in the clear.

***

Silk sat in the back of the bumping vehicle and let the back wash of air ruffle her hair and blow the last vestiges of sweat and fear away. She cradled the smartgun in her lap and ranged her vision across their back trail looking for any sign of pursuit. Her augmented senses absorbed the patterns in the ash filled air, in the derelict buildings and the withered trees. There was an ethereal beauty to the Puyallup barrens that wasn’t visible in the desperation of the Redmond equivalent.

About a mile from their final target they pulled over and Silk helped Casie down from the truck, gently supporting her arm as she wobbled. “Nearly there” she whispered, as much to herself as to the shocked girl she was guiding.

Leading the way into an abandoned mall building she followed the AR map projected in front of her. This place had once been a bustling hub of rampant commerce until the ash flows had swept it all away. Inside there was the usual array of gang graffiti but little else that might indicate the place was occupied. Once into the basement area she led them to the storm drain that would eventually take them to the tribe that eagerly awaited them.

***

Silk smiled as they were all swept up in the rapturous greeting. She let the energy of the tribe wash over her, enjoying the feel of peace that came with it. She recognised the tinge of sadness too, these people had suffered recently and nothing more than time would make that okay.

Briefly she considered that their escape might have been too easy but she also knew that the precautions they had taken were by some of the best that she had ever worked with, perhaps even better than the original Balefire team. There was nothing they could do about it now, either Sintec would come after them for the damage they had dealt or they wouldn’t. They would just have to deal with it as it came. For now it was time to rest and lie low and this seemed as good a place as any.

@E:PL/Chi Town / Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:15:30 PM; CZ, Chicago]

As she moved through the confused, panicky mob, Copperhead feels proud of herself at how she handled the situation.

Maybe some of Cutter's endless lessons on running the shadows is finally sinking in. Oh, frag!

She looks around. She didn't remember coming this way when they came in.

Hard to tell in the dark. Maybe it was the other way.

She looks around her, now even uncertain of which way she needed to go to get back to Jess and the kids.

Stupid fragging shit for brains troll...No, keep it together. Think, girl!

<<@Ælias: I'm fragging lost in these fraggin tunnels. Are you with Jess? Can you guide me back?>>

She backs against a wall, trying to make herself small and scanning left and right as the locals mill about in confusion.

Come on, Ælias. I swear if you turn out to be a complete waste of space, I'll shoot you myself! If I ever fragging find you.

It was raining in France on the day she had left, too. The rain that slid down her skin felt similar, but somehow harder and containing an edge. It was why she'd come here, to this city that was half a world away from where she had grown up. She reached her tongue up to catch a falling droplet as it rolled down from her close-cropped electric blue hair. Acidic. The bitterness of the rain brought back memories of dim lights and grimy walls, and of bars. Bars of metal, plastic, or even once rubberized padding. She shivered, pulling the fatigue green jacket around her a little closer. Only the cold, of course, she reminded herself. She turned the corner and saw a Soy-kaf joint, and decided that it would be a good idea to get out of the deluge for a little while. As she approached the counter, she mentally issued a command to the commlink held under her coat, causing it to display the name Jane Todd and a public profile.

"What'll it--wha? Oh...I didn't see you down there. Do your parents let you drink this stuff?"

There was always a smartass, she thought, as she looked up, affecting the best "puppy dog" expression she could.
"Only if I promise to do my homework here, before I go home. Three sugars please?"

It wasn't his fault. The barista wasn't familiar with her, or anyone like her, and when presented with something incongruous, he went to the most obvious response. Her ID, the idea of Jane Todd, was that of a young girl, perhaps fifth or sixth grade. She had also customized the profile to display links to various charities (all dummied up) for those with conditions like hers. Those who would "never grow to their full height, and always remained locked in a state of youthful stature and appearance." All a load of drek, but boy did it work. Every now and then she'd even hear the chirp of someone sliding a few nuyen into the account. She smiled up sweetly as the barista handed her the cup.

Finding a seat in the kafe was no problem, but sitting in it was another story entirely. She sat down and began to lean back, but the bulge below her coat was never quite comfortable. She knew that she would have to get back to her apartment soon or else she'd be cramping up all night. She pulled her commlink from underneath her coat and set it on the table. A piece of paper fell out with it, knocked from her inner (hand sewn) pockets. She scrambled with a frantic motion to grab the piece of paper, feeling the comforting texture of it once again in her hand. She didn't need to look at it again, or read it to know what it said. She'd memorized it, and ran it through more Matrix searches than she could recall. Now she held it with an air of reverence. A pair of names, and names she'd been arrested for, once upon a time. It took her getting arrested to meet the man who could get her what she was looking for.

A new life. The pair of names - Pixel and Argent - were going to be her escape from a world of being hunted. She'd tracked them down to here, in Seattle. She could pass along what she had found in that datastore, get their help with it, and then...well, and then anything. Her life would be her own again.

Her attention once more turned to her commlink with a smile. It read like a history of matrix ne'er-do-wells and folk heroes. There were Jackpoint logos, the names of famous hackers of old, and a myriad of other stickers emblazoning the thick and oversized body of the commlink. Perhaps showing her fetish for history the most was the fact that the commlink had straps which could be hung around her neck like a guitar, holding the commlink in place while she worked. Like a decker of old. Of course, the 'link was also functional and as she ran her fingers along the thick reinforced body, she remembered the times that the armoured commlink had been able to act as a shield for her.

Business. Right. That's what she'd come here for. Now that she'd gotten herself settled in Seattle, it was time to find some work. The right jobs, the right edge in the world of the runners and she could meet the people she had so desparately sought. She opened the commlink and began to very quickly perform the motions that would get her to where she wanted. She manipulated the expanse of the matrix lithely, her commitment to detail and mechanical excellence showing as she checked for anyone watching her node, linked in to a variety of different bounces and trace-blockers, and finally settled into the ShadowSEA network.

<< Welcome, Faetalist - ShadowSEA Network >>

She smiled and took a drink. Time to get to work.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:07:45 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

His internal torrent of confusion was cut short as the lady broke the silence with a quiet laugh that seemed to not at all reflect the dire surroundings and pushed the cooling and clotting body off the bed. "I would not be so afraid my friend." If anything, her perfect no-accent English scared Mark even more than the nonchalance over blood and killing, "You have completed an objective that saved both your employer and myself a good bit of time and unfortunate misunderstandings. I assume you are from the gentleman that this.... man... dealt with tonight? In any case, consider the deal null and void and the terms to be reinstated at the original price requested by Johny. This filth was cutting the extra off the top and misrepresenting our organization."

Shit! She knows more than I thought.... Who the hell is this woman?! As if she had read his mind she added, "Tell your boss that Snow Leopard of the 88's thanks him for his understanding stance towards the new business arrangement. You may go..."

@E:PL / UK
[May 19th, 2072, 14:13:32, Guesthouse, North Oxford]
PAN=Active; SIN:Nina Okada

The smell of old walls doesn't surprise Tsubaki at first. When she stops with the others at the staircase that leads into the basement, Tsubaki decides to be concerned. A little bit. So, just as the others lead her down, through the basement floor, and then very curiously up another staircase, the shadowrunner arrives at surroundings that take a complete 180 degree turn from where last remembers being at just five minutes ago. Like night and day. Everything is very shiny! There goes the silver-haired woman sneaking off into the kitchen. There's a kitchen, right? Ohh, it's shiny in here, too!

Anyway, before Tsubaki attracts more or less any attention to herself, she recalls that the situation at hand would require at least three days for everything to settle. Three whole days... What is Tsubaki to do with all that time? Hole herself up in a house with a cigarette smoking Frenchman, an unfriendly mage, a suit who is more interested in other things (which is too bad) such as turning the house into a bunker, and one wanted technomancer and his noisy toddler? Well, the least she could do is find something for Mr. Collot and his little boy to eat or drink. Safeguarding persons didn't mean without being a good host to said persons. It's the professional thing to do, isn't it? Tsubaki inspects the fridge of it's contents. What can 2 year olds eat, anyway...?

Tsubaki offers Mr. Collot a cup of coffee and the fruit juice for little Collot. And, with that, she plans steps outside of house for a peek into astral space, if no one else stops her, otherwise. Are there any friendly spirits in Oxford for Tsubaki to play with~?

@E:PL/Chi Town / Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:18:22; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Another muffled thump redoubles the levels of tension and frenetic activity as the mob blunders around in the near pitch dark. There is a distinct smell of smoke in the air now that mingles with the fear sweat to heighten the feelings of panic.

<<@Copperhead: Ælias: I don’t know what’s going on, I got separated from the others in this mess. Here’s a map to my location, I’m trying to pinpoint Jess’s ‘link signal but it’s confusing down here and the structure is interfering with the signal>>

Suddenly the emergency lights blink back on in a wash of bloody colour that casts a grim light over the dust covered faces and reveals the extent of the wafting fumes that are accumulating at ceiling level. It’s like the scene from a B movie vision of hell. It’s difficult to tell exactly what is going on over the shouting but to your trained ear the sound of gunfire in the distance is unmistakable…

@Korrie
[July 8th, 2072, 17:23:17; Coffee Xtreme, University District, Downtown Seattle]

You feel safe enough here, and more or less comfortable enough, to risk the full immersion in VR that you will need to sleeze the IC on the ShadowSEA servers. You are glad to see they don’t let just anyone in, it takes a degree of skill, or the right codes, to bypass the watchdogs and enter the vast sea of digital data that make up this shadow node. Browse routines at the ready you begin the painfully slow process (at least by matrix standards) of winnowing out the chaff to find the real paydata.

About twenty minutes later you allow yourself to surface and shake off the lure of the matrix. A quick check on your ‘links camera file tells you that nobody has paid you the slightest bit of notice in the last few minutes and the booth you are nestled in is still clear. Presumably most of the students are back home for the holidays and the evening crowd hasn’t had time to pick up yet.

And you have gold, a contact for Argent and some anecdotal evidence of her recent history as a fixer of some repute here in Seattle…

@Aria / Korrie
[July 8th, 2072, 17:23:17; Coffee Xtreme, University District, Downtown Seattle]
It felt good to be back in the Matrix, fully submerged into VR and not having some life-or-death business weighing upon her. Too often in the past months she had needed to access the familiar pathways of the Matrix to sort out this bill, or that bill, or to ensure that her identities would stand up under the newer spotlights that she had now found stateside. She flicked through what amounted to reams of data - sorting postings from runs successfully completed, fragments of commlink chatter that got tied to various reports, and countless other things until she finally found what she had been looking for - data on the fixer named Argent.

Coming out of the Matrix she sat once more in the too-slow world of reality. It was getting late here, at least, later than would be expected of a person with the cover identity she had carefully striven to construct. She mentally cued the files she had acquired while in France, and read through them in AR once more. She'd done so a hundred times, but this time she knew that they were getting closer to being out of her hands. She closed it with a thought, and with another called up her messenger program. The client winked into existence, and she paused for a moment before configuring her security settings. She smiled as she began to configure the settings, making sure that they were as "beefed up" as they possibly could be. The road to respect in this new place would start now, and she was going to make sure that she was taken seriously.

In the middle of crafting a message to send on the Matrix, her father's voice entered her mind. His voice deep for what he was, he had been very traditional. He was one of the few who referred to her kind as "the fey" and delighted in teaching her the "rules" as he called them. "You enter another's home, child, and you bring a gift. It doesn't matter whether they deserve it, or they need it. You do it because you're there, and the place is theirs. Hospitality is key, and when you're in a position to be hospitable, you'll be the one getting the gifts. Respect the domain of others, to ensure they respect yours."

<<Message to Argent: I have some information that you may be interested in. I am new to Seattle, and wish to present this gift. Please meet me in the node that will follow this transmission and we can discuss more>>

She picked up her gear, making sure that it was stored and slinging her backpack once more over her cramping wings. It was definitely time to get home, though she knew that the time she intended to spend "stretching out" would really be spent in anticipation of a response to her message.

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 22:18:22; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead breathes a sigh of relief as she pulls up Ælias' map on her goggles. Then the lights come back on. The goggles adjust quickly but she still blinks her eyes a few times to adjust to the brightness.

<<@Ælias: Thanks chummer, I is on my way to you. Find Jess and da kids and stick with em. See if you can find out what da frag is going down and if dere is another way out. I think I heard shootin, so be careful.>>

Maybe I was too hard on the kid. Well, at least now I don't have to shoot him myself, just try and stop whoever's down here from shooting us all.

A long steel arm snakes out and clamps around the arm of one of the Clearwater deckers; hard enough to elicit a yelp of pain.

"Calm down ya nancy boy data sniffer, I is one of da good guys. Looks like we all maybe gonna have to gets outta here after all. Is dere any other ways out than da big door we came in?"

She listens carefully to his response and feeds the information through to Ælias.

"Okay, now go find yer boss or grab yer gear and gets out.

She loosens her grip of the pale human and stands up as tall as she can. She settles her respirator in place, rolls and unslings the Enfield.

@E:PL / UK
[May 19th, 2072, 16:24:32, Guesthouse, North Oxford]

You have been provided with an airy suite of rooms that share a central sitting area which currently is playing host to a chortling toddler as little Collot charges around on wobbly feet and his father vainly tries to stop him destroying lamps, vases and otherwise causing too much mayhem.

An AR display has informed you that a meal will be served at 18:00 if you want to stay here to eat and you have secure access to matrix services through an anonymous proxy server. This place is comfortable and clearly equipped to deal with this sort of situation – and must correspondingly be costing Argent a fortune! You can settle in for the wait with confidence that your needs will be met.

[May21st, 2072, 08:49:27, Guesthouse, North Oxford]

Fingernails are a little shorter and tempers are a little quicker but you have waited out the Professor’s deadline and now waiting outside in a side street there is a plush seven seated Range Rover looking like it has just rolled of the production line. Your host has assured you that it has been swept clean of RIFD tags, apart from the ones required to confirm its identity as the vehicle carrying a research team down to the West Country…

Your preparations are made and you have the gear that you’ve identified for your trip…is there any reason to delay further?

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:18:22; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

The quivering human gave you a semi coherent description of the main entrance you came in and a couple of bolt hole exits that are less used but more out of the way. It is some relief when Ælias is able to turn this info into a useful glowing ARO in your peripheral vision.

You can see from the flow of the herd that people are beginning to make for the main exit, hastily clutching an assorted range of items, some of which might even be useful for survival on the surface. The explosion when it comes is almost inevitable and you can feel the wash of heat and the compression wave in the air. People are flung to the ground and only your size allows you to keep your feet.

And then the news gets better; your mental map gets a ping of Jess’ location, in the tunnel ahead of you and the likely blast zone…and then the lights finally give up the ghost once more plunging you back into a flickering hell of smoke and flying embers from incinerated clothing and other flammables.

A quick look down the tunnel reveals a scene out of appalling horror. Not far from the entrance, amidst the lingering fumes, you can see Jess’ twisted form. Under her blistered body you can see Jon struggling to breathe. From a dimly made out pile of bodies a form heaves itself upwards and you see the lithe armoured form of Requiem rise like a demon from the pit. Stich is struggling into the tunnel from the far end and also seems to avoided the brunt of the blast thanks to his enhanced armour covering…of Katie and the other team’s package there is no sign…

@ Korrie
[July 8th, 2072, 19:47:37; Home, Seattle]

You are settled in safe at home when you get Argent’s reply flit across your field of view

<<@Faetalist [Argent]: I am sure you will understand my reticence to meet a stranger in an unknown node without taking some additional precautions. I would be happy to meet with you but on assured neutral territory. I suggest a ShadowSEA virtual meeting room would offer us both the needed level of anonymity and security?>>

@E:PL/UK
[May21st, 2072, 08:55:32, Outside the Guesthouse, North Oxford]

As you settle yourselves into the plush interior of the Range Rover you are greeted by an AR projection of the Professor

“We’ve had a stroke of luck. A contact of mine has come through and you’ve got a chartered zeppelin flight from Oxford to Exeter air ports. It’ll be a bit slower but you’ll be much harder to intercept than if you travel by road. Us Brits no longer favour the infernal combustion engine so there was always a small risk that the police, in their infinite concern for our social well being, might have decided to pull you over just for that. Once you’re at Exeter I can arrange ongoing transport again. I trust that’s ok?”

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:18:22; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

"Frag!" announces Copperhead to no-one in particular.

There is a long moment after the explosion when she just stands there taking in the carnage. Her eyes fall on Jess' body and it doesn't take astral sight to realise that she is dead. But it is the coughing boy that finally gets her moving.

She stomps quickly through the carnage and kneels beside the boy, catching Requiem's rise from the ashes and Stitch's less dramatic return to the living out of the corner of her eye. One hand goes under Jon's head, while the other checks Jess for a pulse, just like Dr. Ted had shown her, just to be sure.

She then eases the boy out from under the runner's body and still crouched down scoops him up into her arms.

"Jon, take it easy kid. I gots ya. Jon, can ya hear me? Was Katie wit ya?"

Frag! I need to treat his injuries, but not here, not now and not with this background count.

She scans the bodies around her, calling out softly "Katie, where are ya girl?"

<<@Ælias, Requiem, Stitch: Jess is down, one of my kids is hurt and the other is...No, not dead, not tilll I'm sure...missing. There are a couple of other exits outta here. Ælias share dem wid da boys. Boys, can youse cover me? I can't carry da kid an shoot da Enfield.>>

@E:PL/UK
[May21st, 2072, 08:55:32, Outside the Guesthouse, North Oxford]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

Was it wrong that he feel somewhat excited about making their escape by zeppelin? The adept smiles thinly. And to think, all that stuff about "seeing the world" as part of your career was usually nonsense. "That would be more than okay. Thank you." Mordred consulted the map. As far as they were told, the job wasn't on a strict time limit. They could afford to take things just a little slower for the sake of remaining undetected.

@E:PL/UK
[May21st, 2072, 08:55:32, Outside the Guesthouse, North Oxford]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux grins at the mention of a zeppelin.

"Ah, how delightfully eclectic," he remarks. The stay in the guesthouse---which was more than adequate for their needs albeit suffering from a distinct lake of French wines---was disappointing to say the least. During the walk, he had eyed many a woman whose company he would have enjoyed. However, the call for professionalism prevented him from acting upon his impulses. Instead, he was resigned to sulk and endure this hardship.

This mode de transport at least offers a chance to travel in style.

"I can only speak for myself, but I welcome the chance to fly in unique fashion."

At the very least, it should be better than the damn cargo plane...

@Fortune's Forecast
Saint
[Tuesday, April 19th, 2072, 13:16:48; Tacoma; Saint's doss]

Strange what a world in the Matrix can superimpose on one's dreams. Yet it was comfortable, the brain was just a center for chemical and electrical stimuli. She was sitting in a parlor, nameless personas sat to the left and right of her, couches and chairs set elegantly as only the Matrix could afford someone of her salary. At least it felt like her "home."

She stood up, out of impulse to do so or partly her own will, but there was a tear she could see in the wallpaper. Slight, it was almost imperceptible, except to her. All the personas around her turned their heads in unison to follow her. This was a creepy ass dream. She could feel the berber carpet under her bare feet with every step that brought her towards it. It shimmered, like static and blue sparks, it was a flaw in the program. She could fix it, especially considering how embarrassing it was to have her friends there, such a distasteful oversight.

The artifact disruption became more and more definitive, circle-shaped, rimmed in a red gel or some other liquid base. The Matrix had odd ways to translate stimuli, it smelled coppery, like blood. She turned back, without her knowing, her guests or "friends" as the dream identified had stood up. Miming movement, but stuck in place like mannequins. Very creepy dream.

She turned again, the hole was inset above a dresser, where a mirror might hang. It had gotten larger as well. The gel, or blood, had started oozing around the edges, and a wall was visible at some distance through the artifact. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, or partly due to the dream's urging, she stuck her head through the opening. The world seemed much larger outside, while the wall and the gutter she could see was normal, the immediate landscape around her was foreign. She was surrounded by fabric, stained red. And then she knew. The shimmering hadn't been signals passing through cyberspace, it had been water refraction of headlights passing in a puddle. The proper mirror to the one replaced by the faulty code. It was her face, ashen and lifeless, laying in a back alley.

"No!!" She screamed, pulling herself back through the entry wound. Only to be enveloped in the embrace of mannequin personas that engulfed her.

Saint woke with a start, covered in cold sweat. It was official, she needed to take a break from sleeping, this was getting old. Her house began its rudimentary morning activities. Thankfully, she'd worked out a program that started brewing soykaf, but she was still working on the rest. Too damn lazy, like the Saedder-Krupp morning message hardwired into her cybereyes. She kept telling herself she'd have it removed one of these days, but now she kind of liked it. It made her feel thought of, accepted, even if it was speedily replaced by any daily deals they were offering on even more replacements of flesh. The ads at least gave her the time and the expected forecast, that had to be worth something.

She made her way to the kitchen, only to realize halfway that she still had a few minutes until the soykaf was done. She took up Saeder-Krupp's ad listing as a worthwhile time-waster. She also needed to consider wearing clothes to bed, her thermostat still wasn't working properly.

She decided that today was a workday, and leaving Tomiko hanging had been a bad idea. The whole Jessica situation didn't look to be much in the ways of getting solved without some resources to help her figure out anything involved. It also didn't pan out for cash, another big sidelining feature. Saint pulled up Tomiko's dropbox and "dropped" a message inside.

<I'm in if it still needs doing.>

A thought crossed her mind as she finished the procedure, and pulled back to reality vision from the AR overlay. Why the hell were they mannequins?

@ Aria
[July 8th, 2072, 19:47:37; Home, Seattle]

<Faetalist to Argent: Perfect. I'll be on, any time tonight. Thank you>

She switched over into AR mode, knowing that she wouldn't truly need the full expression of VR until the meeting began. There were a few housekeeping things to be done this evening, before the meeting occurred, and she set up a notification on her 'link to tell her when someone else entered the Virtual Network. She kept the notification window in the upper left field of her vision as she set about to do some coding.

Nothing was sticking tonight. The characters and the sculpting was just not coming along correctly. She chalked it up to excitement, the prospect of entering the world she wanted. Putting aside the code she was working on, she opened up the news feed, looking for things that had recently happened in Seattle. Best to be aware of the things that were going on, she thought.

She turned on one of her AR games, a shooter, and began to blow away carefully rendered soldiers until she received word from her notification script.

@ Korrie
[July 8th, 2072, 20:13:31; ShadowSEA Node]

Flitting into the matrix you glide past the ShadowSEA firewalls with ease and make your way to the appointed meeting node. The agent stationed at the door verifies your access code, you might have considered testing your skills against it but word on the ‘trix suggests that might not be a bright move, and you are in.

The meeting room node is sculpted to look like an old fashioned eatery with comfortable booths and the quiet hum of indistinct conversation. It’s all a sham of course, there aren’t any other active icons in here other than yourself.

When Argent appears you can see immediately that her icon is an off the shelf model that no self-respecting hacker would be seen dead in! It’s not a cheap one, but it’s just so impersonal!

“Faetalist…?”

@E:PL/UK
[May21st, 2072, 09:15:33, Oxford Airport, North Oxford]

The trip out of Oxford is pleasant in the morning sunshine and you are almost able to forget the fact that you are ahead of some unknown threat that is presumably still trying to track the Collots. This is all helped by little Collot burbling away to himself in an infectious manner, pointing out the electric trams with great jubilation.

A quick matrix search has told you that the airport serves private corp flights on internal flights so you are not too concerned about red tape. Exeter might be a different story but for now you can continue enjoying the relaxation you’ve finally allowed yourselves staying at the guest house. It is almost hard to believe that it was only a couple of days ago that you were fighting a special tactics police unit for possession of the Collots! Why they were there, where they are now, and why they didn’t call for support are all questions that have so far gone unanswered.

The zeppelin waiting for you is a majestic sight in its almost antique looking splendour. It’s not one of the big commercial haulers you occasionally see but one clearly dedicated to comfortable travel. You begin to suspect that you might enjoy this trip!

@E:PL / UK
[May 21st, 2072, 09:15:33, Oxford Airport, North Oxford]
PAN=Active; SIN:Nina Okada

Well, what exactly is everyone else waiting for? And besides, it's not like she has to be joined at the hip to her fellow shadowrunners, does she? They're all big boys and they can manage things on their own for a little bit, right? The first thing Tsubaki interests herself to is scoping out the zeppelin residents~! Starting from persons most important-looking to persons barely being a blip on the radar. And maybe by danger level, too...

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:21:57; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Requiem shrugs at you and then slams the side of his helmet…that obviously doesn’t have the desired effect as he peels it off to reveal his slightly sweaty but still devastatingly attractive elven profile

"Sorry, couldn’t hear you and comms seem to be fragged! What the bloody hell is going on here? These have been set demolitions not an attack, at least that’s what the blast patterns look like. I can’t see these nice folk rigging the place to blow up around their heads can you?"

without waiting for you to reply he abruptly approaches the still gasping Jon "Ok lad, I know this is rough but I need you to show us the way out of this place now. Your friends are dead, forget them for now, focus” the last bit in a decidedly militaristic bark

"She was asking that, she knows the way out…Katie, where is she? She wasn’t with us, we got split up…”

"Right then, Copperhead right? You take him, doesn’t look like he’s up to walking far on his own. I’ll take point and Stitch’s on rear guard. We find who we can and we leave before more of this place gets flash fried”

@E:PL/UK
[May21st, 2072, 09:15:33, Oxford Airport, North Oxford]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

"Ah, qu'est-ce d'une manière délicieusement anachronique de voler," remarks Gemeaux. He sets his luggage down and takes in the sight of the airship.

<<[Gemeaux]: Vivienne, my dear, I may have to ask you to take pictures.>>

<<[Vivienne]: Of course, Damien. Just tell me when.>>

He looks to the others.

"This is my favorite mode of transportation: in style. Ladies and families first, yes? Or shall I perform the part of the garde du corps noble and secure the ship?"

@ Paranimal Consulting and Supplies, Tacoma, WA, UCAS

[[17 July 2072, 8.51 am : 2106 96th St South, Tacoma WA]]

Pan = Active, SIN = Jorge Ramilles

Waving his credstick over the shopfitting contractor's datapad, Jorge Ramilles formally takes legal responsibility for his new shopfront - 'Paranimal Consulting and Supplies'.

'Well, here is to new beginnings' he says, sipping his morning cup of strong Amazonian.

'Before I move stock in, I'll need some better security, an accountant and a lawyer'.

On his datapad, he lists the following as to-do

1. Contract additional security, beyond the C-class he has
2. Put dodgy lawyer on retainer, to help clients get paperwork for their paranimals
3. Drop in to Zalensky's Electronics to find a Matrix Security contact
4. Put dodgy accountant on retainer
5. Sponsor Devil Rat awareness sessions
6. Put the word on the street that he is buying Talismongering materials
7. Put the word on the street that he is available for advice on Awakened critters
8. Attend the local Catholic Church and be a minor sponsor a childrens soccer team

@E:PL/Chi Town/Aria
[July 8th, 2072, 22:21:57; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead glances up to her right. The ominous words <NO SERVICE> float in her vision. At least the map was still running, arrows indicating the way to the other exits.

"Frag. No signal. We being jammed? Ælias sent me da coords to da exits and a plan of da complex. I tink ah can get us out assuming dey ain't been blowed up too."

She focuses on her link for a second pinging out a message to the ork.

<<@Ælias: Someone blowed up da main entrance. If ya gets dis message, get yer hoop and any survivors outta here. Keep an eye out fer Katie. We lost track of her in da 'splosion.>>

She scoops Jon up in her arms, the servos flexing them in strange ways under her armor as she adjusts their armor plating to best protect him. She nods to Requiem.

"Dat way. Let's go!”

As they move out she lowers her voice and whispers to Jon.

"Lissen kid, I ain't planning on leavin yer girlfriend behind. But we needs to find her. Dey say you can see da matrix without a commlink, right? Then, you finds her and takes us to her.”

She amps up the gain on her goggles' low-light vision, scanning around in the hope of spotting the girl, the ork or any trouble.

@E:PL/UK
[May21st, 2072, 09:15:33, Oxford Airport, North Oxford]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

"We can share that job, I think..." It was almost a shame they couldn't just kick back and have some fun with the zeppelin ride. They still had the Collots to watch. Well, at any rate, he wouldn't relax. Traveling by zeppelin meant there was the possibility they could get trapped in a very confined space with the opposition. A space that was miles above the ground, no less. Still, even if he would be playing the role of the bodyguard the whole time, it was nice to experience something different for once. Something that was dull, grey and dingy like the city he called home.

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:35:21, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]

Tsubaki

This is clearly a private flight and you’ve no idea how the Professor managed to wangle this one. The branding is subtle but you suspect this is a NeoNet blimp run for their executives, and it is clearly too late to back out now for a more anonymous route. Hopefully your new identities will hold up to corp scrutiny.

There are a couple of other passengers of note; the first is a young girl whose projected ID says she is Lady deBathayre. She looks to be in her late teens or early twenties but moves with an assurance and grace that belies that. Dressed in woefully impractical clothes she spends most of the time obviously interacting with an AR interface – although she does give you all a careful look as you board. She is accompanied by an almost lifelike Avatar drone and two hulking black guys that move like the wired muscle they clearly are. The second is a small family, again excessively wealthy, and their daughter, of about five, is instantly besotted with the junior Collot who takes the attention with the aplomb of a toddler used to such things. Otherwise there are some inconspicuous security that give you all the once over as you board and the calm and efficient crew that are clearly prepared to see to your every whim…

Mordred

You sit nervously through the early stages of the flight, constantly aware of the potential dangers around you. Despite yourself though the ambience of the luxurious flight settles your nerves. If the crew were any threat it would have happened by now and you can see nothing else particular that is likely to cause concern…

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:21:57; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Jon is now shaking his head and clutching at his ears in signs of obvious distress. “I can’t feel it, it’s there on the edge of my mind but I can’t break through the static…”

Requiem comes up beside you “This feels all wrong to me. Jamming internally and set explosives, if it’s an attack it’s coming from inside not out! You’ve got the map so we’ll follow you to the exit. This mission is blown, we’ll get out who we can but I’m not sure how many we can babysit out there, the zone isn’t the safest place. If we get clear of this rats nest perhaps Mrs A can buy us passage out but I wouldn’t count on it.”

Worryingly there is no word from Ælias…

Moving away from the explosion and resulting fires near the main door you are chased by increasingly thickening smoke as whatever ventilation they had down here seems to be breaking down. It is a pain having to update your location constantly on your AR map, without the mesh to link to your commlink is unable to plot its own location and GPS is a dim dream down here. Still, you are grateful that Ælias was able to give you at least this much before you lost touch with him.

Moving through into the debris that was formally the hydroponics bays you can see the patterns of destruction – whoever has done this has ensured this place is no longer a viable refuge. There are still scattered inhabitants around that are moving sluggishly around, some even uninjured but all in a state of shock. At Requiem’s urging they fall in somewhere behind you, glad of someone to follow. Perhaps this isn’t the wisest choice but it beats letting them stay here to rot…

Of danger there is no apparent sign more than the thickening of the air and the wounded trailing you…

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:35:21, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Once aboard the zeppelin Gemeaux makes his rounds, doing his best to walk casually while soaking up the details of the airship. When he is satisfied that he has done everything he can, he takes his seat and allows himself to wallow in the indulgences of the luxury vessel. He orders a glass of their best wine, settles into his chair, and then begins surveying the passengers for a damsel whose company he can enjoy during the course of the flight.

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:35:21, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

From his coat pocket, the adept produces a pair of goggles. Mordred puts them on and looks out the window, acting as if he were taking in the sights. Periodically, he glances back at the passengers. The adept guessed the others were doing what they were pretending to. Enjoying the ride under heavy guard. Mordred allows himself to slump in his seat, feeling the past few days weigh down on him. The problem was he didn't know what to do with himself.

Though, his current surroundings weren't the reason. Truth be told, Mordred had been experiencing this restlessness and boredom more often lately. After a job, he had little to look forward to beyond his lonely apartment and the wait for the next one. Perhaps the adept would run through his martial arts routines, or practice the violin. Mordred watched the ground move past as he mused. He had devoted so much time to mastering the skills of his trade that he didn't know how to do (or be) much else.

Mordred stretched, pocketed the goggles, and walked over to one of the other passengers. This was as good a time as any to learn, so long as he didn't leave the Collots unguarded while doing so. "What brings you to Exeter?"

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:21:57; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead cradles the boy in her arms. “Easy kid, seems like someone don't want us calling fer help and is jamming da signals. Just keep trying, okay?”

She moves through the warren of tunnels, glad for Ælias' map. She pauses at each turn to update it, glancing back at the growing group of shocked and injured inhabitants trailing after them.

Frag, me and my big mouth. Looks like we are going to try and get all the survivors out after all. Just hope Ælias and Katie are amongst them.

As they get close to the nearest exit, she stops and lays Jon down on the ground. She pulls out her medkit and starts attaching the sensors to the boy. While she waits for the diagnostics to complete, she signals to Requiem and Stitch to join her.

Keeping her voice low, she outlines her plan.

"Dere is a way out down dere." she begins, nodding her head in the direction of the exit. "But we don't have any intel on what's out dere. Stitch you mind babysitting da locals while me and Requiem go check it's clear? Stay sharp, if someone on da inside did all this, dey could be one o' da peeps we is trying to rescue."

She returns here attention to the medkit hooked up to the boy, making sure that she done what she can for him for now.

Not going to try healing him down here Mama, but I need your help to get these people out safely.

She rocks back and forth, humming to herself as she draws on what little power she can still muster in this tainted place.

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:35:21, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

"Might I be of assistance, my lady?" Gemeaux asks the Lady deBathayre, as he nonchalantly leans against a row of empty seats. He stays a respectable distance away from the bodyguards, hoping to avoid an undesirable encounter with them. He tosses her a lighthearted grin, and resists the urge to draw and strike a cigarette.

"My own device gives me trouble from time to time. Perhaps my past muddling might help you through your troubles?"

<<[Vivienne]: I beg your pardon, Damien!>>

<<[Gemeaux]: Please, my dear, can't you see I am attempting to help this poor woman?>>

<<[Vivienne]: More like you are trying to help yourself.>> He can detect the program's distaste at throwing it under the proverbial bus in order to scratch an itch, but Vivienne abstains from any further commentary---almost as if it is waiting for him to trip up and chide him just like its predecessor would...

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:21:57; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

The spirit you summon in this tainted place is a pathetic mewling thing about the size, and probably intelligence, of your pinky. At your command it whisks of and just as rapidly comes back to you and wriggles into the gap between your shoulder armour and throat. Almost purring it whispers into your ear ~No peoplesss there~

As you and Requiem proceed forward cautiously towards the exit your spell doesn’t read any hostile intent towards you and you are consequently surprised when Requiem yanks on your arm and runs back down the corridor “Frag, run, it’s on a proximity sensor…”

When you catch up with him round the corner he is barely breathing hard despite his speed. “Nasty fragger that set that was clearly after more people otherwise we’d be barbequed. I’m not keen to go back there and find out just how many people need to be in the radius though before it blows…you? You said there was a last way out right? Guess whoever is doing this would have left themselves an exit?"

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 11:17:53, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]

Mordred

"What brings you to Exeter?" The gentleman smiles benignly at his daughter as she laughingly chases the rogue toddler around your feet and then turns his attention to you.

“A family break. Some walking in the hills perhaps. I am told the West Country is particularly beautiful at this time of the year and I was fortunate to secure travel documents so… How about yourself?” He jumps back to avoid the barrelling children “You have your hands full I see, they don’t get any easier but at least you can watch them a little less… I’m Alistair Burch, NeoNet, Emerging Futures”

Gemeaux

“Might I be of assistance, my lady? My own device gives me trouble from time to time. Perhaps my past muddling might help you through your troubles?" She raises an eyebrow and then goes slightly misty eyed as she traces something in the air between you “Monsieur Danton…” her French accent is perfect although you could have sworn she wasn’t French herself “no, no, do not trouble yourself.” She waves the guard back “Please excuse us Lee,” and almost before you realise it she has taken you by the arm and is steering you towards the viewing deck at the front of the zep.

“There, it is quieter in here, non?” Her self-assurance seems much greater than you would expect from one of her age, even a noble born (if that’s what she is…) pampered brat, and you’ve met a few, would probably have some reservations about whisking you away.

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:21:57; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead runs after the elf as quick as she can. She huffs as she catches up to him, her words a growl.

"Whoever is doing dis is one nasty buncha fraggers. Sure is a pity dat way was trapped. Dere was no-one outside. Let's hope da last exit is da same."

Returning to the group of dejected technomancers, she checks Jon and scans vainly for Ælias or Katie. She packs up her medkit and scoops the boy back up into her arms.

Turning to the group, she lets them see her shamanic mask as she addresses them sternly.

"Dat way was booby-trapped too. Lucky Requiem here spotted it in time or we'd be a few warm bodies less. I know of one more way out. If'n any of youse know of other ways den you best lets me know now."

She pauses for a moment, then turns on her heel and moves cautiously towards the one remaining way out.

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:35:21, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Now THIS is more like it, Gemeaux thinks to himself.

"Indeed it is, my dear Lady," he replies in French, "and I must admit your French as divine as this view. Forgive me for being such a tourist, but could you indulge me and tell me about the view? Perhaps over drinks, yes? Is there a particular vintage of wine you prefer?"

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:35:21, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

"Spencer Lovett." Mordred offers his hand, and in a slight imitation of the man, "Oxford scholar." He smiles. "On a related note, my colleagues and I are here for business rather than pleasure. Research on some historically significant sites in Glastonbury, to be precise."

He casts a watchful eye on the children. It was strangely comforting how normal the scene was. A salaryman on vacation with his family. The kids playing. Who would suspect that some of the passengers were career criminals transporting a fugitive?

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:25:14; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

As you search the group of bewildered looking residents you finally spot Ælias dragging another battered soul into the cavern where you are waiting. At least there’s one bit of good in all this, there’s no sign of Katie…

Suddenly your diminutive snake spirit hisses an incoherent warning in your mind as stepping out of a wall you see a gut wrenching site. The chitin is so dark it almost seems to absorb the light, although not the spray of blood as a foreleg reaches out and snaps an unfortunate orc in two

“Ant, fragging ant!!! Get the fuck out of here!

And they begin to scatter like sheep, some of them heedlessly running towards the bolt hole you and Requiem have just vacated…

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:25:14; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead's relief at seeing Ælias turns to horror as the bug manifests and shreds one of the technomancers. She backs away towards the remaining exit, screaming at the top of her voice.

“Not that way you idiots. It's trapped. Dis way. Move it! Req, Stitch shoot it fer frag's sake! Ælias get over here and take da boy."

Mama, did that thing find us through the spirit?

The tiny spirit twists in the air, folding into itself. It disappears with a pop but not before hissing a last message into her mind.

Knowledge iss never free. Sssome lessonss musst be learned the hard way. I hope the price of thiss one iss not too high, my daughter.

She dumps Jon unceremoniously into the decker's arms and grabs for her gun. She releases her hold on her sustained spell. It's pretty clear where the enemy is for now.

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:39:48, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]

Gemeaux

"Oh, we have not come far, you can easily see Oxford off to our left, over there through the clouds. This is not a fast mode of transport for this hectic modern world but I prefer it for that. You see, out there, the modern world fades away and nature has moved back in to reclaim the land…” and indeed you can see seemingly endless forest beneath you "As magic returned so did the land return to its natural state, more or less anyway. This part of England doesn’t have the blight that mars some of its other regions.

Wine, yes, that would be most acceptable. I suggest a new world grape if it doesn’t offend your sensibilities too much? I find them more refreshing than the French offerings and better suited to this time of the morning. It is a shame that there’s no Keesris but there’s no use wishing for the impossible.

So, what brings you on our little trip into the wilds of Somerset?”

Mordred

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Lovett, or can I call you Spencer? Yes, I’m looking forward to my holiday, although your research sounds fascinating. I have always had an interest in the older parts of this land. You must have some influence to get permission to study on the Tor…?" and he leaves the question hanging, inviting you to tell him more…

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:25:14; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

You watch in almost paralysed amazement as the bug rips through the crowd as it makes its way towards you, spitting bubbling ichor from its jaws and flailing with vicious mandibles and hooked legs at the unfortunates in its way.

You try to stop yourself flinching as a severed arm slaps into your leg…Requiem seems to be stunned by its appearance and Stitch is battling his way against the flow to try and engage the monstrosity.

You bring your shotgun to bear and the muzzle flare reflects back eerily in the faceted eyes. It screams in rage as the bullets rip into its carapace and it decapitates another shocked girl, thankfully not Katie, before it makes a final lunge to close the distance between you…you notice almost inconsequentially the lovely red colour of her hair in the apocalyptic light of the cavern

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:25:14; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead grunts as the big gun roars but the burst strikes true through the chaos.

My fault, she chides herself, as the ant spirit tears the head off a young girl, red blood and red hair sparkling in the gloom.

She can smell the acid tang of the thing's breath as it closes the last meters between them, pincers reaching for her.

Sssome lessonss musst be learned the hard way.

She hears the clunk of the big gun as it hits the ground near her feet. A tiny part of her mind is glad that Cutter showed her how to set it up so the safety would activate if she wasn't holding it.

Power surges through her and her shamanic mask flares over her face. Her serpentlike face hisses with anger, frustration and loss. Razors snap into place, servos humming as her hands rotate and arms draw back. She slashes out at the creature, pouring all her will and emotions into the attack.

@E:PL/UK
[May 21st, 2072, 10:35:21, NeoNet Zepplin bound for Exeter]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

"Spencer, please." Mordred couldn't help playing his cards close to the chest, even if he was making an attempt to be sociable. "Some faculty member does, more like," he said carelessly. "I don't know how they managed it, but I'm not complaining." Then he changed the subject. According to his mentor spirit, conversations implied a certain amount of civility. Burch could push back on his secrecy, but not without appearing rude. "...As I do have a bit of a mania for Arthurian lore. So, I'm looking forward to seeing what some believe to be Avalon itself, and perhaps get some new ideas on the site's peculiar appearance."

@E:PL/Chi Town/Copperhead
[July 8th, 2072, 22:25:14; Blackwater, CZ, Chicago]

Copperhead's hand punches clean through the ant spirit, powered not by the artificial muscles in her arm but the sheer force of her will. The room seems to brighten for a moment, a faint green glow surrounding the troll shaman. Then, with an almost audible pop, the bug spirit simply disappears.

Raw mana surges through her. For an infinite moment, she can see beyond the veil. Knowledge, power, wisdom are there for the taking. Snake hisses triumphantly in her mind.

Then, reality returns. Her mask flickers and fades as she collapses to her knees. She tears off her respirator and vomits in a most unladylike fashion over one of the ant's victims.

As her heaving subsides, she glances around at the carnage. She wipes drool from her chin and croaks at the elf samurai.

"Req! Requiem! It's gone. We need to gather da survivors and get da frag out of here before more turn up. It was a fraggin' ant! Dey ain't exactly loners."

She takes a quick drink from her water flask and spits. She scoops up the gun <20 rds APDS remaining : BF mode selected : Safety OFF> and replaces her respirator. With a last, sorrowful glance at the dead and dying, she wobbles off towards the remaining exit.