<<Seattle, July 18 2074, 13:30 hrs>>
It's a rare hot sunny day in Seattle, which of course means that the humidity is through the roof, and nearly everyone in the plex is trying to find ways to beat the heat. It's already hit the mid 30's and the newsies are claiming that the city might be on its way to breaking a 40 year record. The hum of AC units fills the air of Downtown and Bellevue, and even the most buttoned down of wageslaves have ditched their suit jackets, loosened ties, and unbuttoned collars as they rush back to their cubicles from their lunch breaks. There are rolling blackouts through Tacoma and Renton as the power grid struggles to keep up, and of course Redmond and Puyallup are just plain dark, their jury rigged systems and illegal power taps having been overloaded or severed hours ago. Even the gangbangers seem subdued. It's just too damn hot to pick a fight, not when sitting on the corner taking swigs from a lukewarm 40 of syntmalt is so much easier.
You are all going about your business when you receive a short text message.
<<Author: Tinman>>
<<Have job if interested. Meet @ Penumbra 22:00 this evening. Bouncer give directions.>>
There is a VIP invitation attached.
Full Version: A Runners Paradise
<<Federated-Boeing Gated Community, Bellevue Seattle, July 18 2074, 13:30>>
Corporate-mandated socialization time. That time of day on the weekends where the Company children were rounded up by age-group and told to do age-appropriate activities. For the early teens, today it involved a lot of sitting around and bitching amongst themselves about how fragging hot it was, with attempts to play childhood games that most felt they were clearly too cool to play now that they were older. Csilla was seated slightly apart from the rest, putting on the act; lots of eye-rolling, exasperated sighs, and shaking of his head. His 'link vibrated in his pocket; it wasn't the Corporate 'link, a tiny, underpowered Meta Clip that even now was hanging from his neck, but a full commercial-strength 'link purchased with illicit monies, set to hidden. The dwarf pushed to his feet and waved at the rest of the kids, quietly disappearing around the back of one of the houses, pulling the Hermes Ikon out of his pocket and checking its screen. A smile blossomed on his young face at the sight of the message.
<<Null sheen, chummer. I'll be there.>>
Tucking the 'link away into a pocket concealed into another pocket, he tugged the Meta Clip off his throat and sent a message out into the community's darknet, aimed at Kane.
<<Time, place as usual. Wiz. 5%.>>
Putting the Meta back around his neck, and feeling a great deal happier about the murderously hot day, he returned to the group of his contemporaries in much better spirits, even managing to participate a little and being quite a bit more animated. If only they knew, right?
<<Federated-Boeing Gated Community, Bellevue Seattle, July 18 2074, 19:54>>
All good little Corporate drones were in their homes, enjoying air conditioning that was managing to work with the reduced heat; the group had separated after the mandated socialization time, and thus nobody would be looking for him; he hoped. Double-checking that he had everything he needed; the dark explorer jumpsuit clinging to his body, helmet securely in place, goggles over his eyes, respirator firmly affixed. Meta Clip left in his room so Kane could work his magic on it. Two hours to race north out of Bellevue, through Snohomish, and into Everett, get clothes and his gun, and make it to the meet Downtown.
Null sheen. Chronometer in the lower right corner of his goggles, overlay of Seattle Map and streets - edited by him, after reviewing recorded footage of his free-runs, to include alternate pathways - in the opposite corner. Ten seconds. Kane would be shutting down the tiny bit of this gate in three... two... one...
A low buzzing ran through the gate, and then the electrified humming ceased in a one-meter area, while the gate continued to hum to either side of the quieted gate. Csilla remained in the bush; Paws-in-Shadows raced out from it, leaped, caught the top of the fence and hauled his ass over it. Cat purred in his mind, stretching out as his feet hit the ground and he took off, breathing firmly through his respirator as his legs pumped. FREEDOM! Frag the Company!
<<Downtown, Club Penumbra, 21:58>>
PAN: Broadcasting, as per Downtown's rules, Active SIN: Leonidas Kael
Professional punk garb; that's how he referred to it. Black jacket over slogan tee - this one white with a red Neo-@ symbol with the words 'Frag the System' under it - black khakis, two-tone stockings, blue and red, rising out of rugged sneakers. Gold gleamed in his ears, faux golden ring earrings tugging on his lobes, as he surveyed the outside of the Club. His goggles were still affixed to his head, but rested above his forehead, two-tone hair arranged around the goggles. Head tilted to one side, cracking his neck, as he approached the door, reassured by the weight of the Predator on the inside pocket of the jacket - not the best place for it, but he'd yet to really have a need to purchase a holster. The Mook - sorry, Grinder - would probably berate him for that.
The young Dwarf approached the doorman, tucking his hands into his pockets, one wrapping around his 'link. "I've got an invite. I was told I could get directions from you," he said, sounding every bit as young as he was, but ready to flash the VIP invitation if asked for it.
Corporate-mandated socialization time. That time of day on the weekends where the Company children were rounded up by age-group and told to do age-appropriate activities. For the early teens, today it involved a lot of sitting around and bitching amongst themselves about how fragging hot it was, with attempts to play childhood games that most felt they were clearly too cool to play now that they were older. Csilla was seated slightly apart from the rest, putting on the act; lots of eye-rolling, exasperated sighs, and shaking of his head. His 'link vibrated in his pocket; it wasn't the Corporate 'link, a tiny, underpowered Meta Clip that even now was hanging from his neck, but a full commercial-strength 'link purchased with illicit monies, set to hidden. The dwarf pushed to his feet and waved at the rest of the kids, quietly disappearing around the back of one of the houses, pulling the Hermes Ikon out of his pocket and checking its screen. A smile blossomed on his young face at the sight of the message.
<<Null sheen, chummer. I'll be there.>>
Tucking the 'link away into a pocket concealed into another pocket, he tugged the Meta Clip off his throat and sent a message out into the community's darknet, aimed at Kane.
<<Time, place as usual. Wiz. 5%.>>
Putting the Meta back around his neck, and feeling a great deal happier about the murderously hot day, he returned to the group of his contemporaries in much better spirits, even managing to participate a little and being quite a bit more animated. If only they knew, right?
<<Federated-Boeing Gated Community, Bellevue Seattle, July 18 2074, 19:54>>
All good little Corporate drones were in their homes, enjoying air conditioning that was managing to work with the reduced heat; the group had separated after the mandated socialization time, and thus nobody would be looking for him; he hoped. Double-checking that he had everything he needed; the dark explorer jumpsuit clinging to his body, helmet securely in place, goggles over his eyes, respirator firmly affixed. Meta Clip left in his room so Kane could work his magic on it. Two hours to race north out of Bellevue, through Snohomish, and into Everett, get clothes and his gun, and make it to the meet Downtown.
Null sheen. Chronometer in the lower right corner of his goggles, overlay of Seattle Map and streets - edited by him, after reviewing recorded footage of his free-runs, to include alternate pathways - in the opposite corner. Ten seconds. Kane would be shutting down the tiny bit of this gate in three... two... one...
A low buzzing ran through the gate, and then the electrified humming ceased in a one-meter area, while the gate continued to hum to either side of the quieted gate. Csilla remained in the bush; Paws-in-Shadows raced out from it, leaped, caught the top of the fence and hauled his ass over it. Cat purred in his mind, stretching out as his feet hit the ground and he took off, breathing firmly through his respirator as his legs pumped. FREEDOM! Frag the Company!
<<Downtown, Club Penumbra, 21:58>>
PAN: Broadcasting, as per Downtown's rules, Active SIN: Leonidas Kael
Professional punk garb; that's how he referred to it. Black jacket over slogan tee - this one white with a red Neo-@ symbol with the words 'Frag the System' under it - black khakis, two-tone stockings, blue and red, rising out of rugged sneakers. Gold gleamed in his ears, faux golden ring earrings tugging on his lobes, as he surveyed the outside of the Club. His goggles were still affixed to his head, but rested above his forehead, two-tone hair arranged around the goggles. Head tilted to one side, cracking his neck, as he approached the door, reassured by the weight of the Predator on the inside pocket of the jacket - not the best place for it, but he'd yet to really have a need to purchase a holster. The Mook - sorry, Grinder - would probably berate him for that.
The young Dwarf approached the doorman, tucking his hands into his pockets, one wrapping around his 'link. "I've got an invite. I was told I could get directions from you," he said, sounding every bit as young as he was, but ready to flash the VIP invitation if asked for it.
<<Kobe Terrace Park, Downtown Seattle July 18 2074, 13:30>>
PAN: Broadcasting Active SIN:Tadashi Susumu
The ping in Jengo's mind for an incoming message was a welcome distraction. He still couldn't believe this actually expected him to be interested in her work on this community garden thing she had going on....as if. She was a good lay and all, but he had just arrived a few minutes ago. He'd finally realized she was serious about it and not just wanting to get her freak on in the shaded woods of the park. Her loss.
Nodding along to her beaming explanation of planting tomato seeds and growing them herself, he mentally diverted his mind to the message from Tinman. Sweet. Some work is exactly what I need, he thought to himself.
He quickly sends off a reply:
<<Author: Jengo>>
<<Am interested. Thanks for great efforts. I always know you find the best jobs>>
Turning back to the girl (what was her name again...Cindy or something, right?, Jengo turns on his patented radiant smile. Bending down to brush the hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear, he let his fingers linger on her neck. He could feel her pulse speed up at his touch. See her nostrils flare a little bit as their proximity let her catch a strong whiff of his pheromones. He knew he had her full attention as her speech trailed off mid-sentence. "Hey Beautiful. I hate to do this, but I just got a call from the office. Somebody screwed up and they need me to come save the day with one of our biggest clients. You understand, don't you?"
The disappointment hardly even showed on her face she was so enthralled. She quietly nodded "You're so wonderful. Thanks hon."
He quickly turned to leave striding off with a purposeful gait. "Call me," the girl, Cynthia, yelled after him. He just glanced over his shoulder with a smile and a wave, not committing to anything. His mind was already thinking about preparations for tonight. Club Penumbra wasn't too far from his apartment, but he would still want to take a cab. Was his good green shirt back from the cleaners yet? No, but his commlink told him it was ready for pickup....
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly as he ran a few errands, but mostly relaxed away the hours before the meet.
<<Club Penumbra, Downtown Seattle July 18 2074, 21:37>>
PAN: Broadcasting Active SIN:Tadashi Susumu
Stepping out of the cab, Jengo wiped at imaginary fuzz on his shoulders. Ah Club Penumbra was a sight to see as usual. He knew from experience what awaited him inside. Personally, he felt Dante's Inferno was a better experience, but Club Penumbra certainly has its good points too.
Bypassing the line to get in, he headed straight towards the familiar looking bouncer. He let his digital imprint lead the way as he sent a copy of the invite to the bouncer's device for confirmation. "I'm expected inside," he said with confidence.
PAN: Broadcasting Active SIN:Tadashi Susumu
The ping in Jengo's mind for an incoming message was a welcome distraction. He still couldn't believe this actually expected him to be interested in her work on this community garden thing she had going on....as if. She was a good lay and all, but he had just arrived a few minutes ago. He'd finally realized she was serious about it and not just wanting to get her freak on in the shaded woods of the park. Her loss.
Nodding along to her beaming explanation of planting tomato seeds and growing them herself, he mentally diverted his mind to the message from Tinman. Sweet. Some work is exactly what I need, he thought to himself.
He quickly sends off a reply:
<<Author: Jengo>>
<<Am interested. Thanks for great efforts. I always know you find the best jobs>>
Turning back to the girl (what was her name again...Cindy or something, right?, Jengo turns on his patented radiant smile. Bending down to brush the hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear, he let his fingers linger on her neck. He could feel her pulse speed up at his touch. See her nostrils flare a little bit as their proximity let her catch a strong whiff of his pheromones. He knew he had her full attention as her speech trailed off mid-sentence. "Hey Beautiful. I hate to do this, but I just got a call from the office. Somebody screwed up and they need me to come save the day with one of our biggest clients. You understand, don't you?"
The disappointment hardly even showed on her face she was so enthralled. She quietly nodded "You're so wonderful. Thanks hon."
He quickly turned to leave striding off with a purposeful gait. "Call me," the girl, Cynthia, yelled after him. He just glanced over his shoulder with a smile and a wave, not committing to anything. His mind was already thinking about preparations for tonight. Club Penumbra wasn't too far from his apartment, but he would still want to take a cab. Was his good green shirt back from the cleaners yet? No, but his commlink told him it was ready for pickup....
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly as he ran a few errands, but mostly relaxed away the hours before the meet.
<<Club Penumbra, Downtown Seattle July 18 2074, 21:37>>
PAN: Broadcasting Active SIN:Tadashi Susumu
Stepping out of the cab, Jengo wiped at imaginary fuzz on his shoulders. Ah Club Penumbra was a sight to see as usual. He knew from experience what awaited him inside. Personally, he felt Dante's Inferno was a better experience, but Club Penumbra certainly has its good points too.
Bypassing the line to get in, he headed straight towards the familiar looking bouncer. He let his digital imprint lead the way as he sent a copy of the invite to the bouncer's device for confirmation. "I'm expected inside," he said with confidence.
<<Breaker's Body Shop, Redmond July 18 2074 1340>>
It was far too hot for this work. Breaker poked his head inside the large grey box one more time and replaced the belt. Standing back he used a few mental commands to shut the electrical disconnect inside the building, and with a spectacular whirling his the AC unit spun up and immediately tripped out in a small cloud of smoke and coolant. Breaker gritted his teeth, and sat down on the tar roof under a make shift canopy that he had set up. He thumbed through the emails when he came to one of interest.
Club Penumbra? That was the space thing wasn't it? Do actual astronauts hang out there? It would be so wiz to actually meet one. Hmm.... No cars in the shop to barrow, looks like i'm taking the work horse.
<<Breaker's Body Shop July 18 2074 2112>>
Breaker hoped into the step van, throwing his lined coat in the back over the combat drone that dominated his cargo space. A silk shirt and white pants. Appropriate enough as he figured. He had 45 minutes to make it to the club and not get pulled over. Sounded like a challenge.
<<Club Penumbra Parking lot July 18 2074 2156>>
Breaker squeezed into the mini sedan parking space and did a final mirror check, wiped the front of his teeth with his finger and realized that his hands were still covered in grease. He took some industrial hand cleaner out of the glove box, and took a swig of Evo-tech non-organic mouthwash. with no were to spit it he swallowed the minty green liquid and quickly realized that his doors where blocked in. Breaker scurried over the jacket covered steel lynx and popped out the double doors from the back of the van. He shut them, straitened out his shirt, and approached the door just in time to see a familiar dwarf talking to the door man.
With his usual grin Breaker looked up in awe at the laser lights. It was going to be a good night.
It was far too hot for this work. Breaker poked his head inside the large grey box one more time and replaced the belt. Standing back he used a few mental commands to shut the electrical disconnect inside the building, and with a spectacular whirling his the AC unit spun up and immediately tripped out in a small cloud of smoke and coolant. Breaker gritted his teeth, and sat down on the tar roof under a make shift canopy that he had set up. He thumbed through the emails when he came to one of interest.
Club Penumbra? That was the space thing wasn't it? Do actual astronauts hang out there? It would be so wiz to actually meet one. Hmm.... No cars in the shop to barrow, looks like i'm taking the work horse.
<<Breaker's Body Shop July 18 2074 2112>>
Breaker hoped into the step van, throwing his lined coat in the back over the combat drone that dominated his cargo space. A silk shirt and white pants. Appropriate enough as he figured. He had 45 minutes to make it to the club and not get pulled over. Sounded like a challenge.
<<Club Penumbra Parking lot July 18 2074 2156>>
Breaker squeezed into the mini sedan parking space and did a final mirror check, wiped the front of his teeth with his finger and realized that his hands were still covered in grease. He took some industrial hand cleaner out of the glove box, and took a swig of Evo-tech non-organic mouthwash. with no were to spit it he swallowed the minty green liquid and quickly realized that his doors where blocked in. Breaker scurried over the jacket covered steel lynx and popped out the double doors from the back of the van. He shut them, straitened out his shirt, and approached the door just in time to see a familiar dwarf talking to the door man.
With his usual grin Breaker looked up in awe at the laser lights. It was going to be a good night.
<<International District, Downtown Seattle July 18 2074 13:20>>
Bit Lee rolled out of bed and onto the (relatively) cool floor of the apartment. She didn't mind the heat so much as the humidity. She'd been asleep for about ten hours, after a largely fruitless night of making sure she was seen in the right places...no work popped up, no adventures worth remembering. Picking herself up off the floor, she crossed the room and picked her jacket up off the floor. Emptying the pockets, she found herself holding onto the cure for the deathly boredom she'd been suffering for the past week. A small chip, a bonus from her last job. Of course she didn't slot it immediately; that would have looked unprofessional, and she already felt that people were starting to think she had a problem.
Which was ridiculous, of course. She hardly ever used them, and then only as a distraction...Simsense was everywhere; who doesn't use it? And why not try something a bit stronger?
The chip was unlabeled, which only made it more attractive to her. Who knows what's on it? Was it a TripChip? P-Fix? Snuff? She hadn't even showered or eaten breakfast yet, but the chip was already half-inserted into her datajack when she heard the tone of an incoming call. Reluctantly, she put the chip down on the breakfast nook. Business always comes first.
<<Author: Bit Lee>>
<<About time. I was dying of boredom over here. See you tonight>>
Bit Lee sighed, her eyes drifting over to the chip. She still had more than 8 hours before the meeting...should be enough time to chip and clean herself up...but no. She was still new in Seattle, and had to keep her rep up...she couldn't have a repeat of Las Vegas. Besides, work was inevitably more fun than chips. Filled with new energy despite the oppressive heat, she bounded over to the shower stall, mentally tabbing through her closet to decide what to wear.
<<Club Penumbra, Downtown Seattle July 18 21:55>>
Bit Lee had been in the club for about half an hour. The place looked clean, no obvious setups, but she liked to check anyway. She'd been sitting in a booth with some greasy corp and his rented friends for the past 20 minutes, partaking in a little of his free booze while she waited. She had better things on her plate tonight, however. She slide out of the booth, acting far more intoxicated than she actually was, mumbling about visiting the bathroom. When she was out of sight, she straightened up and made a beeline for the front door, and the bouncer.
"Hoi, sorry I didn't bother you about this earlier, but I'm looking for my friends...I think they left a message with you about where I can find them?"
Bit Lee rolled out of bed and onto the (relatively) cool floor of the apartment. She didn't mind the heat so much as the humidity. She'd been asleep for about ten hours, after a largely fruitless night of making sure she was seen in the right places...no work popped up, no adventures worth remembering. Picking herself up off the floor, she crossed the room and picked her jacket up off the floor. Emptying the pockets, she found herself holding onto the cure for the deathly boredom she'd been suffering for the past week. A small chip, a bonus from her last job. Of course she didn't slot it immediately; that would have looked unprofessional, and she already felt that people were starting to think she had a problem.
Which was ridiculous, of course. She hardly ever used them, and then only as a distraction...Simsense was everywhere; who doesn't use it? And why not try something a bit stronger?
The chip was unlabeled, which only made it more attractive to her. Who knows what's on it? Was it a TripChip? P-Fix? Snuff? She hadn't even showered or eaten breakfast yet, but the chip was already half-inserted into her datajack when she heard the tone of an incoming call. Reluctantly, she put the chip down on the breakfast nook. Business always comes first.
<<Author: Bit Lee>>
<<About time. I was dying of boredom over here. See you tonight>>
Bit Lee sighed, her eyes drifting over to the chip. She still had more than 8 hours before the meeting...should be enough time to chip and clean herself up...but no. She was still new in Seattle, and had to keep her rep up...she couldn't have a repeat of Las Vegas. Besides, work was inevitably more fun than chips. Filled with new energy despite the oppressive heat, she bounded over to the shower stall, mentally tabbing through her closet to decide what to wear.
<<Club Penumbra, Downtown Seattle July 18 21:55>>
Bit Lee had been in the club for about half an hour. The place looked clean, no obvious setups, but she liked to check anyway. She'd been sitting in a booth with some greasy corp and his rented friends for the past 20 minutes, partaking in a little of his free booze while she waited. She had better things on her plate tonight, however. She slide out of the booth, acting far more intoxicated than she actually was, mumbling about visiting the bathroom. When she was out of sight, she straightened up and made a beeline for the front door, and the bouncer.
"Hoi, sorry I didn't bother you about this earlier, but I'm looking for my friends...I think they left a message with you about where I can find them?"
<<Downtown Seattle, katsu's house July 18 13:35>>
Ignoring the crushing heat today In his house's training area Katsu works on his techniques with his katana going into fluid motions of sweeps, cuts, dips, and stabs. By the end of the workout he is sweating up a storm. He sheaths his katana, downs a bottle of water and sits down, going into a meditative trance for around 30 minutes to cool down. After walking back into the houses main area he responds to the message.
<<To Tinman: Hai, Will be there, sir.>>
After showering and grabbing some gear he heads out into the hot street. Showing no outward signs of frustration at the intense heat. *I Despise this city, hot, full of drek, and worse, almost everyone I meet are Bakka. He finds some public transport to hitch a ride to the closest area to the club, another problem he needed to cure.
<Club Penumbra, 21:00>
After doing a round around the place checking everything, how many people, the size, exits and entrances the works. He walks up to the bouncer stating that he is here to meet with a man and that he is expected.
Ignoring the crushing heat today In his house's training area Katsu works on his techniques with his katana going into fluid motions of sweeps, cuts, dips, and stabs. By the end of the workout he is sweating up a storm. He sheaths his katana, downs a bottle of water and sits down, going into a meditative trance for around 30 minutes to cool down. After walking back into the houses main area he responds to the message.
<<To Tinman: Hai, Will be there, sir.>>
After showering and grabbing some gear he heads out into the hot street. Showing no outward signs of frustration at the intense heat. *I Despise this city, hot, full of drek, and worse, almost everyone I meet are Bakka. He finds some public transport to hitch a ride to the closest area to the club, another problem he needed to cure.
<Club Penumbra, 21:00>
After doing a round around the place checking everything, how many people, the size, exits and entrances the works. He walks up to the bouncer stating that he is here to meet with a man and that he is expected.
<<Renton, Seattle, July 18 2074, 7:30 hrs>>
The night had been long and the sleep short. George had tossed and turned, what little cover there was sticking to his sweaty chest. The sole AC unit of the cramped Earnest household had been plugged in George's room. With the gruelling heat of the summer turning the house into a microwave, and with all the heat wave warning the grid, there was simply no way around it. Each summer, very old and very young would die of heat stroke or dehydration. Lying there, watching the fan spin over his head, George felt like he was going to melt down to his augmented bones. Estrella was sound asleep, like any other day. Maybe he already hot aztlandeer blood kept the heat at bay. When George finally began to snore, he dreamt of fires and the DC riots.
The din of pots and pants was the first thing that woke George up. Then it was his own children arguing over something, which was quickly settled by some rapid fired Spanish from his wife. Odds were, the kitchen was already overflowing with his family, lunches, backpack and last minute homework. In the Earnest household, the morning were always a chaotic affair. Breakfast had to be made, lunches packed, backpacks doubled check. Rosalina was at a moment in time where eating in the morning was out of the question. She maintained, quite strongly, that it was “making her fat”. Gustavo was usually already glued to his commlink and shovelling cereals into his mouth at lightspeed. Eventually, Rosalina and Gustavo would start fighting over... something. Tomas would simply sit at his place and look around, quietly.
The door to the bedroom was ajar, and over the cacophony, George could smell Estrella's cooking. Even when she hurried, it smelled heavenly. At least to him. He usually had to coax his father for half an hour to get him to eat his wife's cooking. Some days, the old bird wouldn't give in until George fixed him a ham sandwich instead. Hopefully, when he grew old like his dad, George wouldn't grow as bitter. But then again, you never knew...
Most of the day dragged on endlessly. The heat made him feel sluggish. The humidity made him feel... well... wet. After taking the kids to school, still half into a daze, George had gone grocery shopping, by the order of the queen of the castle. Half of what they needed felt overpriced. Even with Rosalina on her self imposed diet, the kids ate like an army of starved wolverines. George couldn't really blame them; after all, they probably just took after him.
After that, it had been the dry cleaning where he had argued for 10 minutes over a stain that apparently wouldn't go but would still be charged. He'd yelled in English, then in Spanish, whereas he had been insulted in Korean and Russian. The metroplexe was a wonderful melting pot.
Back home, he had washed his father, dressed him, stuck a baseball cap on his head and wheeled him to the backyard, so he could watch after him, impose some air and sun and mow their dying lawn. The neighbours had one of those small inflatable pool out, and George wondered how much it would cost them, in water ration, to fill.
Hours later, Estrella woke him up on the couch with a kiss and an almost cold beer. She offered one to her father in law and the grunt that came out of him was enough to turn her back. She sat on the couch next to her husband and propped feet with pink painted toes on the short living room table. The nws on the trid felt like reruns.
“How are we settled for next month?”
George threw the beer back.
“We're gonna be okay babe, don't worry.”
“I'm not worried. I'm concerned.”
“Isn't that kinda the same thing?”
She frowned at him.
“I'm tellin' you, we're fine.”
They stared at the trid in silence for a while.
“Gustavo might need braces you know.”
Again, there was a long pause.
“Yea... I know... Like I said, don't worry about it. I've got things covered. We ain't gonna be missing anything.”
Estrella sighed briefly and slid on the couch, resting her head on George's shoulder.
“The neighbours got a pool.”
“Yea, I saw it when I was out back with dad. I hope the kids don't notice it.”
“How much do you think it costs them to fill it?”
“Too much. Probably too much.”
<<Renton, Seattle, July 18 2074, 13:30 hrs>>
On his second nap of the day, it was the buzzing of the commlink in his skull that woke George. Just under the lazy fan, spinning over his head, text glided across his field of vision. Penumbra. Tonight. Well, at least, they would probably have AC there. And cold beer. Penumbra was one of the rare places George had almost never been to, both on and off the job. Their security was amongst the best, and they usually hired guys that could take care of some ridiculously rough customer.
Hopefully, by tonight, downtown wouldn't be hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk. When the time came, and the kids were stashed away in their bedrooms, George locked himself in the garage. He had told Estrella about the meeting and she had grown uncharacteristically quiet. She had washed the dishes without saying a word and kissed him quickly before disappearing behind their bedroom's door. As always, she was worried, and she dealt with the worry by avoiding him.
<Club Penumbra, 21:40>
Finding parking turned out to be a bitch. The streets were packed, and the parking garages were asking for one of his kidney in order to watch over the beaten up Americar. He had finally sandwiched the sedan between a delivery van with too many tags to count and one of those new electric shaver three wheels looking cars. Plus, neither his front of back bumpers had scrapped that much paint off. It was an alright job.
Readjusting his heavy kevlar jacket, George made quick work of the short walk to the club. It was time to put the game face on.
The night had been long and the sleep short. George had tossed and turned, what little cover there was sticking to his sweaty chest. The sole AC unit of the cramped Earnest household had been plugged in George's room. With the gruelling heat of the summer turning the house into a microwave, and with all the heat wave warning the grid, there was simply no way around it. Each summer, very old and very young would die of heat stroke or dehydration. Lying there, watching the fan spin over his head, George felt like he was going to melt down to his augmented bones. Estrella was sound asleep, like any other day. Maybe he already hot aztlandeer blood kept the heat at bay. When George finally began to snore, he dreamt of fires and the DC riots.
The din of pots and pants was the first thing that woke George up. Then it was his own children arguing over something, which was quickly settled by some rapid fired Spanish from his wife. Odds were, the kitchen was already overflowing with his family, lunches, backpack and last minute homework. In the Earnest household, the morning were always a chaotic affair. Breakfast had to be made, lunches packed, backpacks doubled check. Rosalina was at a moment in time where eating in the morning was out of the question. She maintained, quite strongly, that it was “making her fat”. Gustavo was usually already glued to his commlink and shovelling cereals into his mouth at lightspeed. Eventually, Rosalina and Gustavo would start fighting over... something. Tomas would simply sit at his place and look around, quietly.
The door to the bedroom was ajar, and over the cacophony, George could smell Estrella's cooking. Even when she hurried, it smelled heavenly. At least to him. He usually had to coax his father for half an hour to get him to eat his wife's cooking. Some days, the old bird wouldn't give in until George fixed him a ham sandwich instead. Hopefully, when he grew old like his dad, George wouldn't grow as bitter. But then again, you never knew...
Most of the day dragged on endlessly. The heat made him feel sluggish. The humidity made him feel... well... wet. After taking the kids to school, still half into a daze, George had gone grocery shopping, by the order of the queen of the castle. Half of what they needed felt overpriced. Even with Rosalina on her self imposed diet, the kids ate like an army of starved wolverines. George couldn't really blame them; after all, they probably just took after him.
After that, it had been the dry cleaning where he had argued for 10 minutes over a stain that apparently wouldn't go but would still be charged. He'd yelled in English, then in Spanish, whereas he had been insulted in Korean and Russian. The metroplexe was a wonderful melting pot.
Back home, he had washed his father, dressed him, stuck a baseball cap on his head and wheeled him to the backyard, so he could watch after him, impose some air and sun and mow their dying lawn. The neighbours had one of those small inflatable pool out, and George wondered how much it would cost them, in water ration, to fill.
Hours later, Estrella woke him up on the couch with a kiss and an almost cold beer. She offered one to her father in law and the grunt that came out of him was enough to turn her back. She sat on the couch next to her husband and propped feet with pink painted toes on the short living room table. The nws on the trid felt like reruns.
“How are we settled for next month?”
George threw the beer back.
“We're gonna be okay babe, don't worry.”
“I'm not worried. I'm concerned.”
“Isn't that kinda the same thing?”
She frowned at him.
“I'm tellin' you, we're fine.”
They stared at the trid in silence for a while.
“Gustavo might need braces you know.”
Again, there was a long pause.
“Yea... I know... Like I said, don't worry about it. I've got things covered. We ain't gonna be missing anything.”
Estrella sighed briefly and slid on the couch, resting her head on George's shoulder.
“The neighbours got a pool.”
“Yea, I saw it when I was out back with dad. I hope the kids don't notice it.”
“How much do you think it costs them to fill it?”
“Too much. Probably too much.”
<<Renton, Seattle, July 18 2074, 13:30 hrs>>
On his second nap of the day, it was the buzzing of the commlink in his skull that woke George. Just under the lazy fan, spinning over his head, text glided across his field of vision. Penumbra. Tonight. Well, at least, they would probably have AC there. And cold beer. Penumbra was one of the rare places George had almost never been to, both on and off the job. Their security was amongst the best, and they usually hired guys that could take care of some ridiculously rough customer.
Hopefully, by tonight, downtown wouldn't be hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk. When the time came, and the kids were stashed away in their bedrooms, George locked himself in the garage. He had told Estrella about the meeting and she had grown uncharacteristically quiet. She had washed the dishes without saying a word and kissed him quickly before disappearing behind their bedroom's door. As always, she was worried, and she dealt with the worry by avoiding him.
<Club Penumbra, 21:40>
Finding parking turned out to be a bitch. The streets were packed, and the parking garages were asking for one of his kidney in order to watch over the beaten up Americar. He had finally sandwiched the sedan between a delivery van with too many tags to count and one of those new electric shaver three wheels looking cars. Plus, neither his front of back bumpers had scrapped that much paint off. It was an alright job.
Readjusting his heavy kevlar jacket, George made quick work of the short walk to the club. It was time to put the game face on.
<<Club Penumbra VIP Lounge July 18 2074 22:00>>
As the afternoon wore on into early evening clouds began forming off the Pacific and a brisk, though still hot wind picked up. By the time it is starting to get dark the sun has been completely blotted out by a more familiar grey, though the temperature has, if anything gotten even more humid and unbearable. The local newsies have issued a severe thunderstorm watch for the overnight hours. By the time you arrive at Club Penumbra a few fat drops are already beginning to fall, splattering against the sidewalk, and forcing the slags waiting in line to cram together under the awnings outside Penumbra's front door.
After receiving the invite from your PAN's The heavily augmented Orc bouncer waves everyone through directing you towards the VIP lounge suspended above the main dance floor. That is at least with the notable exception of Csilla who he scrutinizes closely, his eyes narrowing at the obviously underage dwarf standing in front of him as they flitted back and forth between staring at Csilla and reading whatever was displayed in his ARO. He mumbles something subvocally and pauses for a moment to listen for a response. The pause is just long and awkward enough to be nerve wracking before the big Ork aside and Csilla through.
Inside the club the temperature was a bit lower than outside, but the press of bodies made it tough to notice. It's 50's night, and some song that was famous like 20 years ago is blasting over the sound system complete with an AR display of the band on the stage. A good chunk of the club goers are decked out in the old Street Merc and Neo-Tribal fashions that were popular back in the 50's and AR posters of Maria Murcurial, Dark Angel and other old rock stars cover the walls.
Upon making your way up to the lounge dampners lower the volume of the music to a more reasonable decibel level while still keeping it loud enough to muffle conversations while the one way glass separating the lounge from the main dance floor and signal jammers provide an additional level of protection. It doesn't take you long to pick Tinman out of the crowd of wageslaves gone wild. He's the only person sitting alone with a bottle of clear liquor on the table beside him.
Tinman greets everyone as they arrive, and offers to buy drinks for the table. Once everyone is present he clears his throat and says:
"So... I am Johnson for this job, and I cut to chase. You are all knowing about the factories in Redmond that are making drek there to avoid being worry about little details like health and safety, toxic drek, or paying good salary right? Is normal thing in barrens da?" He pauses for a moment.
"Anyhow, is one new factory, opening six month ago. Is very bad factory. Scientist friend says it is causing of cancer, mutanting babies, and making many babies being born dead. Dis is report he is producing on what he is finding." a file is sent over to your PAN's. It looks like a lot of techno babble and far beyond the ability of any of you to understand, but there are at least a half dozen unpronouncable chemical names that are flagged as being highly poisonous, toxic, radioactive, or all three. You recognize some obvious ones like murcury, arsnic, and radium, but there are a whole lot of others too. "Spellslinger friend saying astral is all kinds of fragged up too.
At any rate, what is being there is not why you are here. You are here to be finding out who is putting it there. The factory is 'owned' by shell company calling "Green Earth Waste Disposal". The owner of dis 'green earth' is not being real person... Just a SIN. I be needing you to find out who is real person, or people who is owning it... I be needing proof that this is real person. Someone more than just SIN. Someone who making real money from this. Someone who can..."
The more that Tinman talked about the factory the lower and more ominous his voice became. There was a hard edge to it and he trailed off towards the end, almost as though he wanted to say something else but caught himself. After pausing for a moment, he pulls a battered, half smoked cigar out of a jacket pocket. Lighting it, he chews on the nub for a moment before taking a healthy pull from the bottle beside him. When he begins speaking again, his voice is back to normal.
"As for facility itself... Is no name. City records say it is "Facility TK-421". Security is crap provided by Wolverine. Physical security is terrible. Walls, razorwire, cameras, maybe a couple drones and low rent goons to scare the locals and fight off thrill gangs. Goons will still shoot dead though. "Green Earth" not rated but no-one gives a drek if barrens rats bite it. Might have rigger off site to jump in, but wizkids... Working dere as awakened would melt your fragging brain 'cording to my friend...
So... Payment. The best part of da job yah! You get five thousand nuyen up in the front. You get twenty gees when you can be proving to me who is owner. I also give bonus of one thousand for each customer or client that you prove is in bed with "Green Earth.
How you are doing this is up to you, but... if you doing some B&E... Be careful with trigger fingers. Explosion and chemical fire would be ruining everybody's day... Including mine.
If you are having questions, now would be being good time to asking."
As the afternoon wore on into early evening clouds began forming off the Pacific and a brisk, though still hot wind picked up. By the time it is starting to get dark the sun has been completely blotted out by a more familiar grey, though the temperature has, if anything gotten even more humid and unbearable. The local newsies have issued a severe thunderstorm watch for the overnight hours. By the time you arrive at Club Penumbra a few fat drops are already beginning to fall, splattering against the sidewalk, and forcing the slags waiting in line to cram together under the awnings outside Penumbra's front door.
After receiving the invite from your PAN's The heavily augmented Orc bouncer waves everyone through directing you towards the VIP lounge suspended above the main dance floor. That is at least with the notable exception of Csilla who he scrutinizes closely, his eyes narrowing at the obviously underage dwarf standing in front of him as they flitted back and forth between staring at Csilla and reading whatever was displayed in his ARO. He mumbles something subvocally and pauses for a moment to listen for a response. The pause is just long and awkward enough to be nerve wracking before the big Ork aside and Csilla through.
Inside the club the temperature was a bit lower than outside, but the press of bodies made it tough to notice. It's 50's night, and some song that was famous like 20 years ago is blasting over the sound system complete with an AR display of the band on the stage. A good chunk of the club goers are decked out in the old Street Merc and Neo-Tribal fashions that were popular back in the 50's and AR posters of Maria Murcurial, Dark Angel and other old rock stars cover the walls.
Upon making your way up to the lounge dampners lower the volume of the music to a more reasonable decibel level while still keeping it loud enough to muffle conversations while the one way glass separating the lounge from the main dance floor and signal jammers provide an additional level of protection. It doesn't take you long to pick Tinman out of the crowd of wageslaves gone wild. He's the only person sitting alone with a bottle of clear liquor on the table beside him.
Tinman greets everyone as they arrive, and offers to buy drinks for the table. Once everyone is present he clears his throat and says:
"So... I am Johnson for this job, and I cut to chase. You are all knowing about the factories in Redmond that are making drek there to avoid being worry about little details like health and safety, toxic drek, or paying good salary right? Is normal thing in barrens da?" He pauses for a moment.
"Anyhow, is one new factory, opening six month ago. Is very bad factory. Scientist friend says it is causing of cancer, mutanting babies, and making many babies being born dead. Dis is report he is producing on what he is finding." a file is sent over to your PAN's. It looks like a lot of techno babble and far beyond the ability of any of you to understand, but there are at least a half dozen unpronouncable chemical names that are flagged as being highly poisonous, toxic, radioactive, or all three. You recognize some obvious ones like murcury, arsnic, and radium, but there are a whole lot of others too. "Spellslinger friend saying astral is all kinds of fragged up too.
At any rate, what is being there is not why you are here. You are here to be finding out who is putting it there. The factory is 'owned' by shell company calling "Green Earth Waste Disposal". The owner of dis 'green earth' is not being real person... Just a SIN. I be needing you to find out who is real person, or people who is owning it... I be needing proof that this is real person. Someone more than just SIN. Someone who making real money from this. Someone who can..."
The more that Tinman talked about the factory the lower and more ominous his voice became. There was a hard edge to it and he trailed off towards the end, almost as though he wanted to say something else but caught himself. After pausing for a moment, he pulls a battered, half smoked cigar out of a jacket pocket. Lighting it, he chews on the nub for a moment before taking a healthy pull from the bottle beside him. When he begins speaking again, his voice is back to normal.
"As for facility itself... Is no name. City records say it is "Facility TK-421". Security is crap provided by Wolverine. Physical security is terrible. Walls, razorwire, cameras, maybe a couple drones and low rent goons to scare the locals and fight off thrill gangs. Goons will still shoot dead though. "Green Earth" not rated but no-one gives a drek if barrens rats bite it. Might have rigger off site to jump in, but wizkids... Working dere as awakened would melt your fragging brain 'cording to my friend...
So... Payment. The best part of da job yah! You get five thousand nuyen up in the front. You get twenty gees when you can be proving to me who is owner. I also give bonus of one thousand for each customer or client that you prove is in bed with "Green Earth.
How you are doing this is up to you, but... if you doing some B&E... Be careful with trigger fingers. Explosion and chemical fire would be ruining everybody's day... Including mine.
If you are having questions, now would be being good time to asking."
Breaker takes his eyes of the go-gang costumed elf that he had been scoping since he walked in. This was biz. He quickly sent an email to Jimbo his junk yard owning buddy. Could know something about the place.
<<Jimbo, ever heard of this company called Green Earth Waste Disposal? Some one says they are a good company to invest with, was wondering what you thought? I hear they have a facility down in Redmond.>>
Breaker downs a shot, and does some math in his head. 25,000 divided six ways... carry the three... 4100 and some change. (4166.666 to be exact)That's not even enough to cover my apartment, let alone the shop. This better not take too long....
Well lets get down to the nitty gritty, Tinman. He paused. Breaker always thought that was such a wiz hot street name, and gave it a metric ass load of respect. Sure their security might be dreck, but do you have any floor plans? Do they have a closed circuit matrix? Do you know who they do business with?
Breaker lets the questions hang for a bit, and looks to see what his team is thinks so far. He figured the easiest way to find who owns it would be some where on the premises. There has to be something there that would give them a link. Assuming Bit couldn't just do a supper data search and conjure the name out of the air. But if it was that easy, why would the Tinman be hiring them.
<<Jimbo, ever heard of this company called Green Earth Waste Disposal? Some one says they are a good company to invest with, was wondering what you thought? I hear they have a facility down in Redmond.>>
Breaker downs a shot, and does some math in his head. 25,000 divided six ways... carry the three... 4100 and some change. (4166.666 to be exact)That's not even enough to cover my apartment, let alone the shop. This better not take too long....
Well lets get down to the nitty gritty, Tinman. He paused. Breaker always thought that was such a wiz hot street name, and gave it a metric ass load of respect. Sure their security might be dreck, but do you have any floor plans? Do they have a closed circuit matrix? Do you know who they do business with?
Breaker lets the questions hang for a bit, and looks to see what his team is thinks so far. He figured the easiest way to find who owns it would be some where on the premises. There has to be something there that would give them a link. Assuming Bit couldn't just do a supper data search and conjure the name out of the air. But if it was that easy, why would the Tinman be hiring them.
[ Spoiler ]
Paws is not disturbed in the least by the extra scrutiny he's given; a person gets used to it, when they're this young and working the shadows. Still, he certainly hopes the bouncer doesn't try to give him a hard time; it wouldn't be good for anyone involved. Giving a quick nod towards the bouncer once he's permitted in, flashing a quick smile of brilliant white teeth towards the ork. Not without at least some charm. Cat merely chuckled at him inside his mind, and a little grimace went through him as he felt its claws sink into his head, wordlessly chastising him for not making it at least a little hard on the ork.
Inside, the tight press of bodies immediately swallowed the diminutive dwarf, who was not in the least impressed with the music pulsing through the club. People actually listen to this drek? Ugh. Navigating his way through the crush of bodies towards the VIP lounge, he's amongst the last of them to arrive, and he takes a quick look around, noting familiar faces but showing no signs of recognition. The fastest way to get the Johnson against them would be to show any real sense of camaraderie - or so he believed, at least from trids, a belief that had yet to be shaken. Instead, he pulls his tiny ass up into a seat and gives his full attention to Tinman, unable to keep a little shock of surprise that their Fixer for this job was also the Johnson.
The mention of how fragged the astral around the place is makes him wince. Doubt there's any way to do this job without going near the place. One hand in his jacket pocket, the other tugging his goggles down, he's already manipulating his 'link, pulling up his maps of Seattle and beginning to map out the area surrounding the facility over the image link while racking his brain about courier runs that could have taken him near the place. He is otherwise silent, letting people who actually liked haggling deal with the price; it wasn't about the money for him, save for how much he needed to sustain a life outside Company bounds, which this job quite handily took care of already. Any more was just gravy - and the experience was what mattered.
Inside, the tight press of bodies immediately swallowed the diminutive dwarf, who was not in the least impressed with the music pulsing through the club. People actually listen to this drek? Ugh. Navigating his way through the crush of bodies towards the VIP lounge, he's amongst the last of them to arrive, and he takes a quick look around, noting familiar faces but showing no signs of recognition. The fastest way to get the Johnson against them would be to show any real sense of camaraderie - or so he believed, at least from trids, a belief that had yet to be shaken. Instead, he pulls his tiny ass up into a seat and gives his full attention to Tinman, unable to keep a little shock of surprise that their Fixer for this job was also the Johnson.
The mention of how fragged the astral around the place is makes him wince. Doubt there's any way to do this job without going near the place. One hand in his jacket pocket, the other tugging his goggles down, he's already manipulating his 'link, pulling up his maps of Seattle and beginning to map out the area surrounding the facility over the image link while racking his brain about courier runs that could have taken him near the place. He is otherwise silent, letting people who actually liked haggling deal with the price; it wasn't about the money for him, save for how much he needed to sustain a life outside Company bounds, which this job quite handily took care of already. Any more was just gravy - and the experience was what mattered.
[ Spoiler ]
<<Club Penumbra VIP Lounge July 18 2074 22:00>>
Jengo listens calmly to Tinman's monologue about the run. On the surface, it seems simple enough, but the vagueries of finding proof of ownership on a facility in the barrens could easily complicate matters. When the man was finished with the offer, Jengo took a moment to take a sip of his glass of Tir Wine. 2043, a good year.
His fellow runner, Breaker, broke the silence with a very valid question.
"Hai. What sort of details can you give us on the facility itself? You've obviously done extensive research on your own regarding this place. No need for us to duplicate work you've already done. Regarding the payment, there certainly seems to be some high risk factors, especially to those magically inclined members of our team. I'm not quite sure your offer has adequately taken this into account."
Jengo listens calmly to Tinman's monologue about the run. On the surface, it seems simple enough, but the vagueries of finding proof of ownership on a facility in the barrens could easily complicate matters. When the man was finished with the offer, Jengo took a moment to take a sip of his glass of Tir Wine. 2043, a good year.
His fellow runner, Breaker, broke the silence with a very valid question.
"Hai. What sort of details can you give us on the facility itself? You've obviously done extensive research on your own regarding this place. No need for us to duplicate work you've already done. Regarding the payment, there certainly seems to be some high risk factors, especially to those magically inclined members of our team. I'm not quite sure your offer has adequately taken this into account."
[ Spoiler ]
QUOTE (Slide @ Jul 22 2013, 09:04 PM) 
Well lets get down to the nitty gritty, Tinman. He paused. Breaker always thought that was such a wiz hot street name, and gave it a metric ass load of respect. Sure their security might be dreck, but do you have any floor plans? Do they have a closed circuit matrix? Do you know who they do business with?
Tinman rubs his chin for a moment and begins responding to your questions, ticking them off on his fingers as he goes.
"No, I am not having any floor plans. Redmond not most well planned place in world. Only official records simply list as 'light industrial', just under one hundred thousand feet square. Is covering maybe three blocks. Only single entrance from street with vehicle barriers and crap. Wall about 15 feet high made of cinderblock and rebar. Cameras every dozens of feet or so. Maybe check old storm sewers... Not sure on condition, or how easy it being to get in that way, but devil rats may be easier to deal with than security.
As for matrix. I no chip head, but I am understanding it is not to be found from outside. I am suspecting it is, what you said, closed matrix.
As for who they are doing business with... Is part of what I paying you for remember? one thousand nuyen bonus for each client da?
Bit Lee:
It's going to take about an hour or so for anything to come up on your datasearch.
That said, The mix of chemicals is pretty nasty. One that catches your eye is a radioactive coltan isotope that is a byproduct of superconductor manufacturing used in everything from comlinks to cyberlimbs. You remember it because you went through a phase a few years ago where some collage kid you were dating had you convinced that the modern electronics industry was destroying the planet. After a few months of trying to live 'low tech' though you got bored and dumped him. That said though, when you were into it you read a lot of Terra First pamphlets, and one was a huge rant about the evils of coltan mining. That at least suggests that the crap they are pumping out has something to do with high end cybernetic manufacturing.
Paws:
You do remember a run to a place a couple blocks away from the facility, but you never got too close. Cat didn't like the way it smelled, so you circled around it. Didn't think much of it at the time, Cat's instincts are pretty good at keeping you away from places where the astral is gross.
QUOTE (Slacker @ Jul 24 2013, 07:39 AM)
His fellow runner, Breaker, broke the silence with a very valid question.
"Hai. What sort of details can you give us on the facility itself? You've obviously done extensive research on your own regarding this place. No need for us to duplicate work you've already done. Regarding the payment, there certainly seems to be some high risk factors, especially to those magically inclined members of our team. I'm not quite sure your offer has adequately taken this into account."
"Hai. What sort of details can you give us on the facility itself? You've obviously done extensive research on your own regarding this place. No need for us to duplicate work you've already done. Regarding the payment, there certainly seems to be some high risk factors, especially to those magically inclined members of our team. I'm not quite sure your offer has adequately taken this into account."
[ Spoiler ]
Turning to Jango Tinman shrugs.
"Unfortunatly I am not knowing much more than have already said. Decker friend hacked Redmond records and got name of company and how facility is zoned but that is it. Facility matrix is not accessible from outside which is where most interesting bits will be...
As for pay... What if we make pay like risk, more risk, more pay. Say you find client list. If client is one of big ten, then I pay extra fifteen thousand. If is double A, then ten, if A then one thousand for each, and if unrated I pay five hundred. If you are finding link to a syndicate then we treat like a double A. Seeming fair? I cannot be doing much about magical background, is known factor, and simply part of job... Also not being responsible if you are getting cancer twenty years from now either."
Bit Lee stares off into space for a while, drumming her fingers on the table while Tinman talks. After a few minutes, she finally speaks up.
"Those chemicals could come from almost anything electronic. Sounds like e-waste recycling to me, rather than a factory. That means they should have a steady stream of stuff coming in; if we can get some IDs on the delivery sources we might be able to figure this out without going on-site."
"Those chemicals could come from almost anything electronic. Sounds like e-waste recycling to me, rather than a factory. That means they should have a steady stream of stuff coming in; if we can get some IDs on the delivery sources we might be able to figure this out without going on-site."
QUOTE (JonathanC @ Jul 24 2013, 12:05 PM)
Bit Lee stares off into space for a while, drumming her fingers on the table while Tinman talks. After a few minutes, she finally speaks up.
"Those chemicals could come from almost anything electronic. Sounds like e-waste recycling to me, rather than a factory. That means they should have a steady stream of stuff coming in; if we can get some IDs on the delivery sources we might be able to figure this out without going on-site."
"Those chemicals could come from almost anything electronic. Sounds like e-waste recycling to me, rather than a factory. That means they should have a steady stream of stuff coming in; if we can get some IDs on the delivery sources we might be able to figure this out without going on-site."
Tinman nods.
"Probably not bad idea. During daytime are many trucks in and out... Not sure if it will tell you who is owning, Green Earth, but maybe good way to be finding clients."
"Come on, lets not bore Tinman with too many details. Now if you don't mind, I'll be taking that..." Breaker grabs the bottle of vodka and two empty glasses, smiles widely while leaving a virtual tip on the table from his Com and heads off to go talk to that Go-ganger looking elf. He struck up a conversation, shared some drinks, but either she just wasn't interested or Breaker was too busy thinking about work to be an effective nightclub player.
Bit was probably right, they could figure out a lot about the company just by who the ins and outs were. A bit of surveillance by his flyspies could probably do wonders. But that really gave breaker an uneasy feeling. That seemed to simple. Why wouldn't Tinman of done this himself then? He checked the status of his micro drones, and seeing they were good to go, started making plans. It wouldn't be just delivery trucks he was looking at, but the people. The security guards, the managerial staff, the blue collared workers like Breaker himself. Who they are, what they drive, all information that he could feed over to Mrs Chiphead and start working their way in from the edges of this company. There is always more than one way to get information.
After two drinks with the disinterested elf, Breaker smiles, puts his hand on top of her head to ruffle her short hair, and rushes back to the VIP booth with the bottle of vodka without a further word.
When the time comes to actually discuss the job, he lets the group know what he's thinking. Then he turns to Bit and ask, "You know, biz has been slow at the body shop lately. Anyways you can see if they are hiring over there? I could really use a job interview."
Bit was probably right, they could figure out a lot about the company just by who the ins and outs were. A bit of surveillance by his flyspies could probably do wonders. But that really gave breaker an uneasy feeling. That seemed to simple. Why wouldn't Tinman of done this himself then? He checked the status of his micro drones, and seeing they were good to go, started making plans. It wouldn't be just delivery trucks he was looking at, but the people. The security guards, the managerial staff, the blue collared workers like Breaker himself. Who they are, what they drive, all information that he could feed over to Mrs Chiphead and start working their way in from the edges of this company. There is always more than one way to get information.
After two drinks with the disinterested elf, Breaker smiles, puts his hand on top of her head to ruffle her short hair, and rushes back to the VIP booth with the bottle of vodka without a further word.
When the time comes to actually discuss the job, he lets the group know what he's thinking. Then he turns to Bit and ask, "You know, biz has been slow at the body shop lately. Anyways you can see if they are hiring over there? I could really use a job interview."
George's beer had already formed a small wet pool on the table. He had ordered it mostly for appearance. Sure, he was going to down it... at some point. But at this very moment in time, his attention was directed at the task at hand. George had never been the smartest or the most clever man. His father had told him many times, and George was an honest enough person to know where his limits lay. And so, he did what he usually did best during meetings: he kept quiet and listened. The others knew what they were doing. Jengo did his usual thing and, with his unique combination of words and flair, got them more cred.
Across from him, George could already see the gears turning inside Breaker's head. For all the aloofness and sometimes unpredictability he could display, you could never blame Breaker of being idle. George was ready to bet most of is savings his old partner in crime (literally) already half something of a plan. It was probably going to be horribly dangerous, but then again, they had always gone home in almost one piece. Almost.
George had been about to ask a few questions himself but by the time his ideas had been put into words he could push out between his tusks, his fellow runners had done the talking.
The ork gave a slow look around the table. He studied everyone's faces, looking for signs of hesitation or doubt. Apparently, everyone looked like they were at least partially on board. Plus, now that Jengo had struck the price nail straight on it's head...
George leaned forward and extend a monster sized hand at Tinman.
“Thanks a bunch for the offer.” said George in his trademark deep voice. “You can count on us. We'll get it done.”
His handshake was firm. At least, he hoped it was.
“The offer's generous.” continued George, hoping he sounded genuine. “If there's anything we need along the way, can we contact you at the usual number?”
Across from him, George could already see the gears turning inside Breaker's head. For all the aloofness and sometimes unpredictability he could display, you could never blame Breaker of being idle. George was ready to bet most of is savings his old partner in crime (literally) already half something of a plan. It was probably going to be horribly dangerous, but then again, they had always gone home in almost one piece. Almost.
George had been about to ask a few questions himself but by the time his ideas had been put into words he could push out between his tusks, his fellow runners had done the talking.
The ork gave a slow look around the table. He studied everyone's faces, looking for signs of hesitation or doubt. Apparently, everyone looked like they were at least partially on board. Plus, now that Jengo had struck the price nail straight on it's head...
George leaned forward and extend a monster sized hand at Tinman.
“Thanks a bunch for the offer.” said George in his trademark deep voice. “You can count on us. We'll get it done.”
His handshake was firm. At least, he hoped it was.
“The offer's generous.” continued George, hoping he sounded genuine. “If there's anything we need along the way, can we contact you at the usual number?”
Jengo nods appreciably to the additional payments according to who it ends up being that they are going up against. It certainly sounds like a reasonable offer.
"I believe your offer is acceptable to my companions and I," Jengo looks around at the others to verify. "I guess we will be in touch when we have some intel for you."
"Oh and is there any particular time constraints we need to be considering?"
"I believe your offer is acceptable to my companions and I," Jengo looks around at the others to verify. "I guess we will be in touch when we have some intel for you."
"Oh and is there any particular time constraints we need to be considering?"
Tinman raised and eyebrow when Breaker took his bottle, but otherwise showed no signs of irritation.
"Is good then." The cold metal of his hand pressed against George's flesh as they shook hands.
"Da, please be calling me if needed. Oh, and..." he glances towards Paws in Shadows and Bit Lee and suddenly his voice comes over your comlink as he speaks subvocally "Be trying to keep them safe. I not knowing they were so young when I was agreeing to meet. Dead kids on conscience making it difficult to sleep... I am suspecting for both of us." Speaking out loud again he says. "I am not worrying too much about timing... Sometimes these things are going quick, sometimes not so quick... A few weeks breathing cancer crap won't be making difference one way or other... And please, enjoy night. Tab is on me."
With that, he stands up, nods to everyone present at the table, and makes for the stairs down.
"Is good then." The cold metal of his hand pressed against George's flesh as they shook hands.
"Da, please be calling me if needed. Oh, and..." he glances towards Paws in Shadows and Bit Lee and suddenly his voice comes over your comlink as he speaks subvocally "Be trying to keep them safe. I not knowing they were so young when I was agreeing to meet. Dead kids on conscience making it difficult to sleep... I am suspecting for both of us." Speaking out loud again he says. "I am not worrying too much about timing... Sometimes these things are going quick, sometimes not so quick... A few weeks breathing cancer crap won't be making difference one way or other... And please, enjoy night. Tab is on me."
With that, he stands up, nods to everyone present at the table, and makes for the stairs down.
[ Spoiler ]
Paws looks up as Tinman starts making his farewells, head tilting slightly to one side as he considered what had been discussed, sliding his goggles back up to the top of his head so he was no longer distracted by the AR overlays. He pushed himself out of the seat, hopping down from the height of the chair, glancing around at the group, some of them with familiar faces and others unfamiliar. Glancing at Tinman, a little frown creasing his lips as he thinks the man might be saying something he couldn't hear.
Then looking back to the group, nodding towards the unfamiliar faces. "Name's Paws-in-Shadows," the dwarf says after a moment, aiming the comment towards those he didn't know. "I'm a stealth and exploration specialist, guided by the whispers of the city. Looking forward to working with you guys."
[ Spoiler ]
Then looking back to the group, nodding towards the unfamiliar faces. "Name's Paws-in-Shadows," the dwarf says after a moment, aiming the comment towards those he didn't know. "I'm a stealth and exploration specialist, guided by the whispers of the city. Looking forward to working with you guys."
"Nice to meet ya, Paws." Bit Lee said with a lopsided grin. "Well gentlemen, we've got a free tab and a lot of work to plan. Let's get some booze in here and get down to work."
Responding to Breaker, she says "Well...I was going to poke around the place a bit anyway, might as well see if I can find you a side gig...hell, I might even be able to put you on the rolls as a driver without them noticing."
Leaning back in her seat, Bit Lee stretches out comfortably and waits for her Matrix search to complete, idly sipping a Long Island Iced Tea.
Responding to Breaker, she says "Well...I was going to poke around the place a bit anyway, might as well see if I can find you a side gig...hell, I might even be able to put you on the rolls as a driver without them noticing."
Leaning back in her seat, Bit Lee stretches out comfortably and waits for her Matrix search to complete, idly sipping a Long Island Iced Tea.
When Tinman left the newly formed team to discuss the particulars of the job, George gave a look around the table. Leaning his large frame forward, he hunched his shoulder as if he was trying to fit into some small space. Two giant and calloused hands wrapped around the beer bottle, he sniffed once like someone holding back a sneeze. As far as George could tell, they had lucked out on this particular team. The shadows usually attracted all sorts of characters, but you did have a tendency to find a lot of overly paranoid, alpha wolf prima donas: people who didn't work well with others and who thought being an asshole was the same thing as being professional.
“Now, some of you know me well, others... not so well. So lemme introduce myself. Name's George, but people like Breaker and Paws here tend to just go with Grinder. I'll let you figure that one out.”
He gave them a toothy grin. Literally.
“Breaker and Paws” he continued, making the pair sound like the name of a shady pet shop “will tell you am the kind of guy who likes it when people speak their minds. I sure as hell ain't going to keep to myself. So what I'm saying is this: you got an idea, a doubt or a fraggin' bone to pick, speak up, soka? This is how well get things done.”
He took a swig from his beer and set it down. His eyes had a certain excited twinkle in them.
“I think it's fair to say that what we first thing we gotta get done is our intel gathering. Odds are, we're gonna have to get into that place. The advantages we have on our side are time and surprise. We control the initiative, which means we are free to act at a moment of our choice. We've got the initiative. So, what we gotta do, is start surveillance on the place. Watch it, listen to it, get a feel for it. I'm sure you all got twice as many friends as I have, so find those your trust and ask 'em if they got anything to share.”
George leaned back into his seat and readjusted his jacket. He did his best to make eye contact with everyone around the table, but it was obvious he wasn't quite used to this much attention. He cleared his throat.
“If at any point, you guys need iron or brass, I can hook you up. Same goes for maintenance. Now, we each got our specialities, so you guys should all feel free to speak up concerning what you think we might or should do about the job. We're probably going to need some sort of temporary FOB, so unless one of you has some real estate in Redmond, we should probably get a hold of some space near the objective. A place we can sit and watch, eat some chow and stage up from.”
He leaned forward again, and his face grew a little more tense.
“I'll have a more to bring to the table once we know when and how we're hopping the fence. In the mean time, I'll help out however I can.”
“Now, some of you know me well, others... not so well. So lemme introduce myself. Name's George, but people like Breaker and Paws here tend to just go with Grinder. I'll let you figure that one out.”
He gave them a toothy grin. Literally.
“Breaker and Paws” he continued, making the pair sound like the name of a shady pet shop “will tell you am the kind of guy who likes it when people speak their minds. I sure as hell ain't going to keep to myself. So what I'm saying is this: you got an idea, a doubt or a fraggin' bone to pick, speak up, soka? This is how well get things done.”
He took a swig from his beer and set it down. His eyes had a certain excited twinkle in them.
“I think it's fair to say that what we first thing we gotta get done is our intel gathering. Odds are, we're gonna have to get into that place. The advantages we have on our side are time and surprise. We control the initiative, which means we are free to act at a moment of our choice. We've got the initiative. So, what we gotta do, is start surveillance on the place. Watch it, listen to it, get a feel for it. I'm sure you all got twice as many friends as I have, so find those your trust and ask 'em if they got anything to share.”
George leaned back into his seat and readjusted his jacket. He did his best to make eye contact with everyone around the table, but it was obvious he wasn't quite used to this much attention. He cleared his throat.
“If at any point, you guys need iron or brass, I can hook you up. Same goes for maintenance. Now, we each got our specialities, so you guys should all feel free to speak up concerning what you think we might or should do about the job. We're probably going to need some sort of temporary FOB, so unless one of you has some real estate in Redmond, we should probably get a hold of some space near the objective. A place we can sit and watch, eat some chow and stage up from.”
He leaned forward again, and his face grew a little more tense.
“I'll have a more to bring to the table once we know when and how we're hopping the fence. In the mean time, I'll help out however I can.”
After going over the initial surveillance plans, Breaker started looking over the new comers. They were both Japanese, but that Katsu one had barely said two words since they came in here and as far as Breaker could tell was unarmed. Meanwhile Jengo seemed to be partially in love with his own voice, and was defiantly packing heat. Nice odd couple they have here. Hmm... I wonder if that Elf is still around. What was her name? Auroa, Allana? Aaaaa.. Breaker tried to not let his mind wander like that. This is biz, but he didn't see the point in going over more planning when they had so little info to go on. It's like master baiting after three times a day. It gave you something to do but there just wasn't a point?
Its not like Tinman, leaving us with so little to go on. Well guess he's just become a bit busy lately. Must be nice to move up to the managerial point of your career. He's got some serious hardware though. I should really learn how to fix up cyber some day. I wonder what he's got hidden under all that chrome. Maybe he would let me take a look at it some time. Might be good for training.
He looked at the time. It was already well past midnight. Another shot of vodka, a few hand shakes and Breaker was out the door. He even stopped in the club when he ran into that Go-gang punk elf. She was now talking to some ork who was dressed up to look half as tough as Grinder eating cold cereal in the morning. Breaker smiled at her and apologized profusely swearing that "that" had never happened before. And then it was bye-bye space club.
Taking a look at the address "Green Earth" was only a few miles from the shop. The van took the long way home tonight, driving past the front gate, Breaker stayed in his meat body to ensure he didn't miss a detail on his one drive by. What type of gate was it? was there a guard? Two? What sorta heat did they pack? How was the lighting? A block down the road the passenger window rolled down and two fly spies exited the van. Time to get an aerial view. He left them to the dog brains and told them to come back to the shop in the morning. Breaker could go over the info from the first night then. Mainly he just wanted to know the basic lay out. They could figure out who the ins and outs are in a few days.
Its not like Tinman, leaving us with so little to go on. Well guess he's just become a bit busy lately. Must be nice to move up to the managerial point of your career. He's got some serious hardware though. I should really learn how to fix up cyber some day. I wonder what he's got hidden under all that chrome. Maybe he would let me take a look at it some time. Might be good for training.
He looked at the time. It was already well past midnight. Another shot of vodka, a few hand shakes and Breaker was out the door. He even stopped in the club when he ran into that Go-gang punk elf. She was now talking to some ork who was dressed up to look half as tough as Grinder eating cold cereal in the morning. Breaker smiled at her and apologized profusely swearing that "that" had never happened before. And then it was bye-bye space club.
Taking a look at the address "Green Earth" was only a few miles from the shop. The van took the long way home tonight, driving past the front gate, Breaker stayed in his meat body to ensure he didn't miss a detail on his one drive by. What type of gate was it? was there a guard? Two? What sorta heat did they pack? How was the lighting? A block down the road the passenger window rolled down and two fly spies exited the van. Time to get an aerial view. He left them to the dog brains and told them to come back to the shop in the morning. Breaker could go over the info from the first night then. Mainly he just wanted to know the basic lay out. They could figure out who the ins and outs are in a few days.
[ Spoiler ]
Breaker:
As you drive around the facility the first thing that you notice is the strong odour, it's tough to place, a sort of sticky sweet smell that sticks to the back of your throat and makes you want to cough. Like Tinman said the outer perimiter is protected by a 3 or 4 meter high wall with spools of razor wire along the top. The only entrance is a 5 meter wide gate made of chainlink but there are a number of retractable vehicle barriers in front of it. The security guard on duty is armed with a rifle, and wearing an armoured jacket sporting the wolverine security logo. He also has a chemical mask obscuring his face. As you drive b,y his gaze follows the van, and he moves to find partial cover behind a concrete barrier pitted with a few bullet holes.
As you drive around the facility the first thing that you notice is the strong odour, it's tough to place, a sort of sticky sweet smell that sticks to the back of your throat and makes you want to cough. Like Tinman said the outer perimiter is protected by a 3 or 4 meter high wall with spools of razor wire along the top. The only entrance is a 5 meter wide gate made of chainlink but there are a number of retractable vehicle barriers in front of it. The security guard on duty is armed with a rifle, and wearing an armoured jacket sporting the wolverine security logo. He also has a chemical mask obscuring his face. As you drive b,y his gaze follows the van, and he moves to find partial cover behind a concrete barrier pitted with a few bullet holes.
<<Seattle, July 19th 2074>>
Bit Lee: Your data search completed overnight, but unfortunately it didn't turn up much more than what Tinman had already told you. You think you might be able to get more paydata if you actually hacked the Redmond city records database, but for that you'd need to get access to Redmond's district hall.
Breaker: Your flyspies managed to get a good aerial view of the compound. It looks like it is completely surrounded by walls, though that much was already obvious. Inside, the bulk of the real estate is taken up by a dozen or so large chemical holding tanks with a spiderweb of catwalks and pipes connecting them. There are 3 buildings on the site as well. It looks like one is a security station near the main gate, one appears to be a site office beside a parking lot to the left of the gate, and the third (and largest), is nestled among the holding tanks. You manage to tag 6 metahuman security guards, two of which patrol with dogs.
You also get an email from Jimbo
<<neg chummer, ain't never hear of em before. What you talkin' bout wit this 'investing?' you got some extra scratch? Lost big when the Aztech Jaguars choked last night. Need to pay some people back. You know I'm good for it man, I only need about a G. Besides, the Capital City Crushers are going to fragging dominate tomorrow it'll all be gravy then.">>
Bit Lee: Your data search completed overnight, but unfortunately it didn't turn up much more than what Tinman had already told you. You think you might be able to get more paydata if you actually hacked the Redmond city records database, but for that you'd need to get access to Redmond's district hall.
Breaker: Your flyspies managed to get a good aerial view of the compound. It looks like it is completely surrounded by walls, though that much was already obvious. Inside, the bulk of the real estate is taken up by a dozen or so large chemical holding tanks with a spiderweb of catwalks and pipes connecting them. There are 3 buildings on the site as well. It looks like one is a security station near the main gate, one appears to be a site office beside a parking lot to the left of the gate, and the third (and largest), is nestled among the holding tanks. You manage to tag 6 metahuman security guards, two of which patrol with dogs.
You also get an email from Jimbo
<<neg chummer, ain't never hear of em before. What you talkin' bout wit this 'investing?' you got some extra scratch? Lost big when the Aztech Jaguars choked last night. Need to pay some people back. You know I'm good for it man, I only need about a G. Besides, the Capital City Crushers are going to fragging dominate tomorrow it'll all be gravy then.">>
Bit Lee woke up relatively early the next day, and was showered and enjoying her soykaf by mid-morning. It felt good to have a job to keep her busy. Sorting through the results of her search, she frowned.
Useless drek. No surprise, if it'd been easy to gather data on these guys they wouldn't have hired me in the first place.
Placing the mug down on the table, Bit Lee retrieved her deck and walked over to her bed. Climbing on top of the sheets, she shifted her weight until she found a comfortable spot and stared at the ceiling, willing herself into the Matrix. Just before departing her deck's node for the local grid, she remembered to close her eyes. Wouldn't want them to dry out, after all.
Moving through Seattle's grid at the speed of thought, she paused briefly at the edge of virtual Redmond. The coverage was spotty there, and she'd need to be much more careful if she was going to safely reach the city records database...
Useless drek. No surprise, if it'd been easy to gather data on these guys they wouldn't have hired me in the first place.
Placing the mug down on the table, Bit Lee retrieved her deck and walked over to her bed. Climbing on top of the sheets, she shifted her weight until she found a comfortable spot and stared at the ceiling, willing herself into the Matrix. Just before departing her deck's node for the local grid, she remembered to close her eyes. Wouldn't want them to dry out, after all.
Moving through Seattle's grid at the speed of thought, she paused briefly at the edge of virtual Redmond. The coverage was spotty there, and she'd need to be much more careful if she was going to safely reach the city records database...
<<Extra scratch? Since when do I ever have anything but blood sweat and tears toinvest? Besides The Crrushers are a wash. They haven't been able to pull their load since Darel Two Shot had his leg replaced.>>
Breaker knew that would start a nice long sports debate that would end in a yelling match at some dive of a bar. Hopefully it would be enough to keep Jumbo from remembering anything about money. Doubtful but worth a shot.
Pulling up the file that had an outline of the facility as seen by the drones Breaker sent out another email to the group.
<<So I did a drive by last night. Security is in gas mask (might be a good idea) and a bit parinoid. Guy was itching to light up my van. Walls are about what you would expect. Here is a bird's eye view. I think we should discuss anything further in person. Any good eateries?>>
Breaker knew that would start a nice long sports debate that would end in a yelling match at some dive of a bar. Hopefully it would be enough to keep Jumbo from remembering anything about money. Doubtful but worth a shot.
Pulling up the file that had an outline of the facility as seen by the drones Breaker sent out another email to the group.
<<So I did a drive by last night. Security is in gas mask (might be a good idea) and a bit parinoid. Guy was itching to light up my van. Walls are about what you would expect. Here is a bird's eye view. I think we should discuss anything further in person. Any good eateries?>>
@Bit Lee: You're able to pick your way through the static in Redmond and find the district hall without too much trouble. A classic case of completely uninspired matrix design the district hall is a large grey cube with "City of Redmond" hovering above it like an old file designation. The entire node flickers in and out of existence periodically (just like everything else here) as the ancient matrix architecture struggles to keep up with the demand. It's a bit disorienting, but you've seen (hell you've slotted) worse.
The front door is public access, giving people access to the city ordinances, such as they are, a complaints department and a means to pay things like property taxes and parking tickets. Of course it's pretty barren, the only places that are going to give two dreks about what the Redmond District Council thinks about anything are a handful of business' operating out of touristville. On the far side of the entrance hall you see a second door marked "employees only". Standing in front of that is a blank faced humanoid, stuck deep in the uncanny valley its eyes unblinking and fixed forward with its hand held out as though it wants you to put an identification card in it.
The front door is public access, giving people access to the city ordinances, such as they are, a complaints department and a means to pay things like property taxes and parking tickets. Of course it's pretty barren, the only places that are going to give two dreks about what the Redmond District Council thinks about anything are a handful of business' operating out of touristville. On the far side of the entrance hall you see a second door marked "employees only". Standing in front of that is a blank faced humanoid, stuck deep in the uncanny valley its eyes unblinking and fixed forward with its hand held out as though it wants you to put an identification card in it.
[ Spoiler ]
Knowing he's stick out like nobody's business with his sharp suit in the Barrens, Jengo left the preliminary work to the rest of the team. Hopefully his skills would come in handy down the road somewhere.
When he received Breaker's message to the team, he thought about it for a minute. He hadn't slummed in Redmond for a while, but there was a place he used to go to a few years back.
<<@Team: Jengo - How does meeting up for lunch at the Hai Fuk Noodle House sound? Great atmosphere and the waitstaff know how to give you privacy when you need it. We can discuss plans there.>>
When he received Breaker's message to the team, he thought about it for a minute. He hadn't slummed in Redmond for a while, but there was a place he used to go to a few years back.
<<@Team: Jengo - How does meeting up for lunch at the Hai Fuk Noodle House sound? Great atmosphere and the waitstaff know how to give you privacy when you need it. We can discuss plans there.>>
Breaker bit into his danish as he read Jengo's email. Noodles? why not? He continued to look over the file paying careful attention to any weak points in the fence. Crumbling walls, stress points, unusual cracks. Might be important in getting out of the place in a hurry. He began to think that maybe he should have a bit of demolition gear. I mean who didn't like explosions? He would contact Mr. Rehab latter.
After finishing the danish, Breaker sipped his coffee and examined the rest of the facility. He pays close attention to anything marking the tanks, hoping for some sort of Hazardous Material Communications on the sides, and to weather or not they have containment dikes set up.
A ding at the front door lets him know that the first customer of the day just walked in. Downing the rest of his coffee, Breaker turns off the images. He would come back latter to look for any extra guards and what sort of security system the office buildings seemed to have. All problems that he could find solutions to. Almost as an after thought he replies to Jengo's Email.
After finishing the danish, Breaker sipped his coffee and examined the rest of the facility. He pays close attention to anything marking the tanks, hoping for some sort of Hazardous Material Communications on the sides, and to weather or not they have containment dikes set up.
A ding at the front door lets him know that the first customer of the day just walked in. Downing the rest of his coffee, Breaker turns off the images. He would come back latter to look for any extra guards and what sort of security system the office buildings seemed to have. All problems that he could find solutions to. Almost as an after thought he replies to Jengo's Email.
[ Spoiler ]
Breaker: It looks like you could probably take the walls down with some explosives. They're about 2.5 meters high, made of concrete with a base that is about 3 feet thick, narrowing to 1 foot at the top. Probably have rebar or some other re-enforcment in them as well.
As for warning signs on the tanks themselves... Three of the tanks have signs labeling them as poisonous, one of the poisonous ones also has a pressurized gas warning on it, two are labeled as toxic, and a small one is labeled as reactive, explosive, and toxic. Your drones weren't able to get a good angle on the other tanks so you don't know what sort of warnings might be on them.
As for warning signs on the tanks themselves... Three of the tanks have signs labeling them as poisonous, one of the poisonous ones also has a pressurized gas warning on it, two are labeled as toxic, and a small one is labeled as reactive, explosive, and toxic. Your drones weren't able to get a good angle on the other tanks so you don't know what sort of warnings might be on them.
probably for the best. and just so i'm clear there were no actual labels or chemical numbers on the tanks that I could see?
<<Seattle, Redmond Barrens Hai Fuk Noodle House>>
Hai Fuk is something of a fixture within Redmond. It's not 100 percent clear how it manages to stay in business, though the going theory is that it's a front for a Triad money laundering operation. Either way it's a signficant hub for fixers, and small time criminals within the Chinese expat community in Redmond. The food is decent, and ranges in quality from cardboard flavoured soy-noodles in a broth consisting of salt, and a hint of beef flavor for the locals all the way up to dishes made from the fins of exotic awakened shark species if you know what to ask for.
As you arrive you are able to get seated at a table in a back room. It's dark, and reeks of old smoke but you have it to yourselves.
Hai Fuk is something of a fixture within Redmond. It's not 100 percent clear how it manages to stay in business, though the going theory is that it's a front for a Triad money laundering operation. Either way it's a signficant hub for fixers, and small time criminals within the Chinese expat community in Redmond. The food is decent, and ranges in quality from cardboard flavoured soy-noodles in a broth consisting of salt, and a hint of beef flavor for the locals all the way up to dishes made from the fins of exotic awakened shark species if you know what to ask for.
As you arrive you are able to get seated at a table in a back room. It's dark, and reeks of old smoke but you have it to yourselves.
Jengo settles into the comfortable seat with a smile for the geisha serving as their hostess this afternoon. "A bottle of the Green Dragon Sake, please," he requests in a quiet voice and a bow of his head. "And the calamari special."
The geisha politely takes his order and that of the others at the table, then steps back to quietly slide the door shut giving the team privacy.
"So what have you fellows discovered so far?"
The geisha politely takes his order and that of the others at the table, then steps back to quietly slide the door shut giving the team privacy.
"So what have you fellows discovered so far?"
Breaker came threw the door in a stumble, obviously getting distracted by the good time oldies he was listening to. He saw Jengo and sauntered over to the table, his hands still dirty along with his work pants, in stark contrast to his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. "Yo, suits. Whats good?" Breaker listened to Jengo's suggestions and attempts to be polite about his some what stand offish appearance and looked over the menu carefully, making sure to double check all the items against his "peanut death" list. Its seemed they were the first ones there. He really wanted to talk to the chip head girl to see what she had found out. Maybe it was still to early.
He began to relay to Jengo about what his drones saw. Even started talking about possibly blowing down one of the walls if they had to get out of their in a rush. "The way I see it," Breaker said looking over the bowl of Udon noodles, "If we can't get what we need off the matrix then we should have sort of cover going in there. Its far easier for a corp to blow off petty theft over espionage. Hey umm..." Breaker looked around the restaurant suddenly almost nervous. "Do you got one of them white noise generators? You never know who might be listening."
He began to relay to Jengo about what his drones saw. Even started talking about possibly blowing down one of the walls if they had to get out of their in a rush. "The way I see it," Breaker said looking over the bowl of Udon noodles, "If we can't get what we need off the matrix then we should have sort of cover going in there. Its far easier for a corp to blow off petty theft over espionage. Hey umm..." Breaker looked around the restaurant suddenly almost nervous. "Do you got one of them white noise generators? You never know who might be listening."
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