Failing to keep a satifisfied grin from momentarily lighting up his face, Claymore looks over at his companions before turning to summon one of the harried waitresses to the table, disdaining the usual AR system set up for that purpose. He'd had quite enough of that for one day already.

The waitress doesn't respond for some minutes. Apparently she doesn't understand why you would want to waive her over without placing a drink order.

After a minute, Binary opens her eyes again.
Well there was drek all on this link. I've been combing through a couple of numbers that called this phone in the last couple of hours. You said you were hit by a group of spikes, so I went through their Friends Circle, and put together a group number. Got a few that look like they were all together, hooked up to this guys commlink.

A trid display of the SPike leader appears in the air over the table. The troll seems in a good mood at the party at which the pic was taken, winking at the camera with a manic grin and a big thumbs up.

This trog's 'link is either powered off completely, or it's toast, because I'm not able to pull it up anywhere. Either that or it's shileded somewhere, but I doubt that. Much easier to just turn the thing off. Last location I show it at though is in Puyallup. Really, some people should learn that if the thing isn't in private, they might as well leave a road map.

Anyway, they were in contact with each other, this pair, plus four more, all at the same place in Puyallup. I'm guessing where you ran into them, since a few of the 'links diverge from there. Probably scavengers picking the bodies clean. Either way, there's no way to link his commlink. But every 'link has a service provider, even if it's just an illegal dummy account that some hacker changes from month to month. That's what this guy was using, a gray market provider. Now, cell call records don't get logged into the system for billing and viewing for 48 hours. But, they are logged through the routers. Here's the number that started everything rolling.

She again gestures, and the grinning troll is replaced by an account persona and number, both nondescript and bland.

Nothing to it though. Just another dummy account, probably a disposable link. I can look through it though, see if it's something someone hacked together, which might leave some fingerprints, or if it's a legitimate temporary. If it's legit, it might have some clues to it as well. But I'll have to see.

She sits back, giving the group time to mul it over.

Despite their weird artificial sparkle, Claymore's eyes seem to glaze over before the hacker gets even halfway through her monologue. He is actually caught by surprise when Binary falls silent and sits back. He looks over at the other Ancients, hopeful that one of them knows what to do next.

This is not Tain's forte, nor his favorite place, nor his usual social circle. All that aside, he does know hunting, and recognizes, purely from the tone of the last bit, that this woman may have caught a scent. There's no reason, then, not to let the hound follow it.

"I can't think of any reason not to investigate that persona more fully." His eyebrows raise slightly, questioningly. His glance isn't only directed at the other two Ancients at the table, but also the Binary woman. The only reason he can think of she'd stop and explain her position -- rather than complete the investigation -- would be because she was expected some sort of payment.

Which was, of course, distasteful but understandable. This was Seattle, not the Tir, and the hired help had very different ideas about how worker/employee relationships were to be handled.

Listening through the hacker's speech is enlightening in a way, touching on things about hacking he understood and then heading off into the hardcore hacker's realm. His glance at the other two gangers confirmed his impression that this was out of the group's normal range.

Unsurprising there's nothing helpful on the 'link.... Glad she could slice through the providers to get the trail, outta my league.... The only way to tie Vixen to the hit would be to get her to follow the trail.... if Claymore's contact is up for it....

Assuming your up for it, and I'm sure you are. and smiles to her trying to soften any possible insult to her ability I think the only way to find who sent the Spikes would be to follow the data trail and hope it doesn't fall off into an electronic abyss

It'll be more than just a bit of decking work as I'll have to look into details of how it's done and maybe talk to a few people, but it's something I should be able to take care of given an hour or two.

She pauses again, the sometimes uncomfortable manner of payment hanging between friends. Binary isn't particularly demanding, but some compensation for her time and efforts is always appreciated.

"I just knew I had the right person."

Claymore pauses, grinning at the slightly uncomfortable look on the hacker's face.

"Don't sweat it. I ain't askin' for no freebee. You got some kinda price in mind?"

Just as Binary is about to respond, the waitress finally manages to arrive with the drink order. She graces the green-and-black-clad elves with a sour, petulant look, but doesn't dare glance askance in the hacker's direction. Eventually she ambles away, and the gangers all return their expectant gazes toward the elven female.

Make it four hundred, enough for a girl to walk around on and still grease some of the wheels of society as needed. Until then, you boys can feel free to enjoy the club... she takes a moment to take in the sour expressions on Claymore and Tain's faces... ... or I could contact you when I'm through. What ever works for you chummer.

In no mood to argue over a little nuyen, Claymore nods in agreement to the figure.

"Four is frosty."

He looks over at his two companions before continuing.

"Thing is, clock's kinda key if we's t' know what's brewin'. You got a time frame in mind?"

Depends on which way this thing goes; hacked or legitimate. One takes less time than the other, assuming I recognize the work. I know the scan, 'time of the essence' and all. The sooner I get started chummer.... She smiles, not trying to ruffle any feathers, but apparently ready to get to work.

Claymore smiles, his eyes twinkling brighter.

"We'll leave it with you then."

With a thought he activates the account currently attached to the commlink, transferring the agreed-upon funds to Binary's control. With a small grunt, he pushes himself from the booth before glancing inquiringly at the others.

Tain nods at nothing in particular -- just a gesture to show he's satisfied with how the conversation-slash-negotiation turned out -- and stands from his spot at the table. He really doesn't have any idea how all this works, and seems content to follow Claymore's lead, at least until they're out of this reality-defiant den of misanthropes and computer geeks.

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:20 - Tarislar/The Squat

Killing the engine inside the Squat's garage, Haven got a wave from most of the Ancients presence. They mght not all be 'busom buds' , but he'd likely serviced half the vehicles in here at one time or another. Like the smiths of the ancient world, the warriors of today relied on people with certain skills, skills like Haven had. It earned him a certain amount of respect and leeway, and more often than not a free beer.

Vixen, Sting's unofficial lieutenant, but general go-to girl had asked him to meet her here, 22:30. It was pretty rare that Haven got called in, especially with little notice, and by someone that could probably service their own bike, so he'd arrived a few minutes early to make a good impression. Besides, the pink haired, imp horned sportin' little minx was something to look at, so getting in early had other advantages too. He couldn't help but wonder what she'd want with him though.

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:21 - Tarislar/The Squat

Hopping off his bike, Haven winces as he comes down hard on his right leg, sore from where he slammed into an engine block in his haste to get out of his shop and over here a few minutes early. Checking the statistics his bikes dog-brain logged for him into his spreadsheet, Haven curses under his breath as he notes that his latest tweaks have reduced the power output of his engine by at least 0.6%. Grumbling. Haven brushes the grit off his racing leathers while surreptitiously checking for oil stains and holds back a sigh as he notices the streak left by the block he had stumbled over. So much for looking nice... oh well, guess I'll have to fall back on charm...*sigh* I'm fragged. Unobtrusively scanning the room for Vixen, Haven sees a friend and a bike he knows almost as well as his own in the form of Rook and his growler. Shot to pieces out from under his by the Spikes, Rook barely managed to limp himself and his bike back into the safety of Ancient territory before passing out. He had Haven rebuild it from its working pieces and other ones that he took off of the bikes of Spikes that he killed. A job with several interesting size problems, there has never been an uglier bike in the Ancients.

Approaching Rook as he rummages through his satchel on his patchwork bike, Haven calls out "Hey, man. How are things running? Bike treating you well?"

Rook returns with "Haven! What a rarefied occasion! Something actually brought the mad scientist out of his lab, I am intrigued. Yeah, the bike is doing fine, that coupling you welded the other day fixed that burnout problem I was having, but the damn thing still shakes more'n my granpa and he's got palsy." Rook smiles evilly "Picked up a ton of spare parts over the last week or so though, I need to have you scrounge through them and see if there is anything that might fit my girl here better or if you need the parts- you know I've got good prices. Anyways, what brings you out and about?"

Haven, sadly, preens slightly and responds in as nonchalant a manner as he can muster "Oh, Vixen wants to see me, but I got here a couple of minutes early so I figured I would see what you were up to while I waited for her." Still looking around the room for Vixen and keeping a constant eye on the chronometer in the corner of his vision, Haven waits like a suitor at the junior high prom, only in this case he hopes not to get fragged later tonight.

Even with his AR interface switched off, Claymore's tolerance was wearing thin. The presence of so many people swimming in the Virtual Reality swamp was overpowering, the mere thought was almost enough to set him scratching imaginary itches, and that only served to irritate the elf even more.

Claymore turns to make his excuses to Binary, only to find her already slumped back in the booth, eyes closed and a faint, wry smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

Shrugging, he casts one last inquiring glance at the pair of Ancients before turning and making a bee-line to the exit, striding deliberately through the crowd via the shortest route possible.

Claymore/Aero/Tain - Tues, April 1st - 22:30 - Puyallyp - The Bar Code

Many grunts, shoves, and insults later, the trio emerge from the literal underground club to the 'fresh air' of Seattle. Aero watches,perhaps with a bit of amusement, as both Tain and Claymore seem to shake themselves to get off the feel of the altered-reality club.
Breathing in the sharp sea air mixed with toxic pollutants, it's the best smell Claymore can remember smelling in a long time. Anything is better than another minute inside there.

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:21 - Tarislar/The Squat

Vixen? Really.Well ain't you the popular one. Well you won't find 'her highny-ness' skulkin''round down here chummer.Try the fourth floor,west side. Her doss is there. Rook throws a wink. If she ain't there,you can try where ever Sting's at, or the lounge on the third.
Rook leans in conspiratorily

'Tween me and you ... unless you're ready for one wild ride, I'd hope for the lounge.
He grins again and laughs.
[/color]

Slowly stretching his limbs, his muscles cramped with tension, Claymore ignores the others for a moment as he lights a cigarette and inhales deeply. Another drag and then he shakes his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream and starts toward the bikes.

"So, we got a plan other'n just headin' back t' the Squat an' frontin' up t' Vixen?"

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:23 - Tarislar/The Squat
Haven grins conspiritorially "Well, Rook, you know me, I have never been one to be able to resist the challenge of riding something new. Anyway, nice chatting with you, but I guess I should head out looking for her so I won't be late. Been standing here jawing long enough. Nice seeing you again, you make sure to bring that stuff around sometime and I'll give you a nice trade on some installs."

Half-waving to Rook, Haven decides to head on up and swing by the lounge, if Vixen isn't there he figures he can probably catch her going from her room to the lounge or vice versa. Still confused by just what the hell he is doing here, Haven wanders past the rest of the Ancients deep in thought, responding only half-heartedly with waves and hellos as he ponders his situation- half of him hoping he has somehow managed to catch Vixen's eye and the other half- you know the half with a brain in it- just hoping he will be able to walk away whole from the meet.

Hell, Dar'ian, you know you never were very good at figuring out elven behavior... too damn many variables and people don't talk to you like vehicles do. Just quit worrying and get it over with.

"Not especially." Tain rolls his shoulders, scowling in the general direction of the club they'd just left. "But I'm hesitant to do that while we're still waiting on your friend to finish her work. I wish she'd been better able to give us an idea of how long to wait."

He sighs. He's ill-suited to the waiting game, and knows it. When there's a direct plan of action, a straight-on threat or target, he's at his best. When enemies are shadowy and vague at best, supposed allies at worst, he's prone to stumble and falter.

Claymore nods in acknowledgment of the other elf's words, an odd gesture in light of his subsequent disagreement.

"Way I'm seein' it though, the slitch might not be on to the fact that we suspect her yet. But the longer we stall 'fore hookin' up, the more suspicious she's likely t' get." The ganger shrugs. "So do we go with the one Ace in hand, or wait on a draw an' maybe lose out to a pair of Sixes?"

"Hell you both knkow I'm one for leapin' before lookin', but startin' trouble in the squat without some proof to someone of the slitch's standin'? Could go bad fast.... Other hand we could head back and play it as though we ain't suspious of her at all, she'll probably not try anything in the doss unless she's fragged us up and down the strip, but then we hosed regardless. 'course, dunno how good your 'link is Claymore but you might not wanna receive a call incriminating Vixen in the doss, there's probably someone on her pay that could hack it who might be watchin' us.... Damn I'm gettin' paranoid" and gives a wry grin.

"I'd say go for the bluff and head back and play it as a random hit while we wait fer the scope, but hey either way's risky, but I'll do my best ta cover yo asses" and grins good humouredly.

Claymore shakes his head in response to Aero.

"Don't get me wrong. I ain't sayin' we should be confrontin' the slitch at the Squat. At least not without proof. I just meant we should show up for the meet an' play it by ear." He casts a quick glance at the NeoNET Watchman strapped to his left wrist, holding it up and winking as he continues. "As for my 'link, 'twas Binary herself that set it up, so I'm countin' on her t' work things out on her end."

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:26 - Tarislar/The Squat

Haven wanders up a couple of levels, feeling more in place as he meanders through the halls. Familiar faces nod heads and waive as he passes, most looking a little surprised to see him out of his cave, but welcoming none the less (as welcoming as sober sprawl gangers get anyway). A few minutes later, he strides into the third floor lounge. In previous years, this was probably a large meeting room. Haven had heard rumors that there used to be a decent AV display setup in here, but such things rarely last without constant replacement parts around this rowdy crowd. The floor is still carpeted, although the auditorium styled seating had long since been removed, replaced with a mish mash of couches, coffee soybeer tables, and beat up recliners, much of it looking second hand, with the occasional synthleather LazzyBoy that fell off the back of a truck thrown in for spice. Ancients congregate in areas like this throughout the Squat, sitting, chatting, throwing knives at boards, although Miracle Shooter has ben ruled out since some are too drunk to differentiate at times.

Through the chatter and bobbing heads of a score or so Ancients, Haven spots a spiky pink head with two small horns poking from the brow. As he moves towards Vixen, sitting around a table with a half dozen other Ancients, laughing and chatting, one of them points to him, and Vixen's head pops up. A smile crosses her face as she rises, excusing herself as she leaves the group, and crosses the room to Haven.

Haven... glad you could make it. Right on time too. You've been away too long omae, you should come by a bit more often. You have a few minutes to talk?
Vixen's voice is smooth and pleasant, very relaxing as she smiles up at the slightly taller Haven. She smiles as she takes his arm, surreptiously leading him from the room.

Both relieved and disappointed at finding Vixen here rather than in her quarters, Haven starts slightly as she takes his arm and lets himself be lead rather docilely from the room. Lost in the sound of her voice, it takes him a minute to realize there was a question in there and respond to it

Ah, you know me, Vixen, I just get lost in my work sometimes. I do miss the Squat sometimes, though, I do need to come around more, but it is a full time job keeping Farhaven, Inc. afloat what with most of my business coming from the family. Realizing he probably sounds either haughty or impatient he quickly adds Not that I'm busy right now, or ever too busy for you for that matter. Sure, I've got however much time you need. What is it you want to talk about?

Way to go idiot, first you sound impatient, then you sound ingratiating. Next thing you know, you will spit in her face and run away crying to top it all off. Get a hold on yourself! This isn't a big deal! She probably just needs help on a mod or a job or something. Quit freaking out! Damn... she is hot.

"Yeah." Tain sighs, thumbs hooking in his belt, like his hands are itching to touch his weapons. "We go meet her. Get eyes on her, see how she's acting and wait for the call from Binary."

There's always the chance Vixen wasn't behind the attack, after all, and she was their superior -- in the gang -- and might have a valid reason to want to talk to them. Tain swings a leg over his bike, mounting up and getting ready.

"Right let's book it over there then and see what we see, actually chill a nano shoulda set this up earlier." The end tailing off to almost a grumble at himself as he concentrates on shaping the mana around him self.

Feeling the spell take hold and the thread holding it get pulled and held by his ring, he refocuses on the others and nods to them. "Right, good to go, should make me a bit more helpful in a fight.... not that I think we'll have one, and I can always say I forgot it was up." and smiles as swings a leg over his bike. The action of which switches the smile for a wince as it pulls on his side.

Fraggin' trogs! Better not be trouble it'll be a right drag. I need a beer.... or three.... hmmm or a beetle....

Rolls

Mounting the Scorpion, Claymore reluctantly reactivates his minimalist AR interface as he revs the engine, then with a glance at the others to see if they are ready, he kicks the big bike into gear and pulls out of the parking lot.

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:27 - Tarislar/The Squat

Vixen leads Haven through the third level, into one of the meeting rooms that still serves this purpose. Inside is a long table of some darkwood, and looks to be natural instead of synth. Probably cost a small fortune even in the days when such things were common, as the 3 meter table seems to be one solid piece. Could be just good craftsmanship, but either way it makes the impression that it's intended to; seriousness, power, influence.

Vixen slides into one of the chairs at the side, furniture that would fit in at any corporate office. The maglock she keyed open at the door speaks volumes of who the level of access needed for the posh conference room. Vixen eases back in her chair, sliding back her synthleather jacket. She leans back, putting her feet up on, looking quite comfortable with her combat boots kicked back on the 60,000 desk.

Private conversation. DT's eyes only.

Tain - Tues, April 1st - 22:35 - Puyallup -en route to the Squat

Tain glances with mild surprise at the number displayed on his helmet's visor. It wasn't often he got unusual calls, he'd long since had his commlink set up to block out your average Seattleite's unwanted spam. If he wanted a troll-sized cock or felt like helping African princesses with their orichalcum mines, he would have long ago gone about either project without the help of random messages from strangers.

And besides, most spammers came through as unlisted, not just as a tridset number he didn't recognize. Which meant it was definitely something else. The elf throttles back a bit, letting Aero and Claymore cruise in front of him. He taps twice at the side of his helmet as he drops behind them, patching the call through to the earpiece and microphone built into his headgear.

"Hello?"

Doing his best to relax in an environment that is somewhat more opulent than he is normally used to, Haven leans back in one of the chairs across from Vixen, unzips his leathers revealing a worn t-shirt with the equally worn "There are only 10 types of people in the world" joke on it, and listens attentively to what she has to say. As he leans back, he notices that he wasn't paying attention and made the mistake of rubbing his oil streak on the chair, freezing in place he responds to Vixen and just hopes she doesn't notice his stain.

Responding to Fisty- Nya Nya, I'm having a private conversation. I'm special.

Mounting his racing bike and pulling out between the heavier bikes, he stretches out his focus to cover the other two gangers, only for Tain to drop back out of his sight breaking the link.

Drek! Meh, was being too paranoid anyway

Calming himself and concentrating on the road he heads back with the others.

Tain - Tues, April 1st - 22:35 - Puyallup -en route to the Squat

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:27 - Tarislar/The Squat
Vixen's eye brow goes up a bit at being called 'Vix' looking more amused than anything else. Her small grin widens a bit as Haven rambles on.

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:28 - Tarislar/The Squat

Haven realizes he just gave Vixen a nickname and not a particularly appropriate one at that, and sighs on the inside.

Ye gods! I get so stupid around pretty girls.



Haven spreads his hands in front of him and sits up strait putting all hints of flirting and nervousness aside. A hint of the old madness flickering in his eyes, he is ready to get down to business.

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:28 - Tarislar/The Squat

Vixen smiles and nods, sitting up and setting her hands on the desk, apparently 'getting down to business' as well.

Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:29 - Tarislar/The Squat

Haven looks lost in thought for a moment and then speaks up.


Haven looks expectantly at Vixen, hoping she can answer at least a few of his many questions.

Tain - Tues, April 1st - 22:35 - Puyallup -en route to the Squat

Super. Behind his chrome-reflective helmet, the adept makes a sour face. Like his night wasn't busy enough. Ah, the obligations and tribulations of an up-and-coming Ancient...