Jamaica in the Shadows

Pier 4, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 1710

The Delivery bumped gently against the wooden dock. Servobot-1 springs into action, clattering onto the metal dock, and quickly the boat is secured.

An hour ago the Delivery was fifteen miles off the coast escorting a salvage operation. It wasn't particularly eventful job, all that was needed was a few warning shots and a stunbolt to keep off the jackals. Just another day on the job.

The sun glitters brilliantly off the gentle ocean and a warm breeze mercifully brushes aside the smell of diesel and motor oil out of the air. Haywire drops to the deck, her clothes cling to her skin from the humidity and her shoes feel like they are stuck to the dock with glue.

McArrister wipes her face dry and tosses the towel in front of Servobot-2 as it picks up the loose equipment from the ship's deck. "Thanks for coming along Haywire," she chucks a partially closed duffel bag of her flak vest and weapons down on the deck, "don't forget, I got another job for you the day after tomorrow. Come to the office at 3 o'clock, usual pay."

She barely looks for acknowledgement before heading below deck.

The day is young, her bills are payed, she even has a bit of cash left and a job coming up, and in the distance Haywire hears the sound of music.

Pier 4, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 1715

Haywire waves at Deanna, more out of habit.

Two days off...

Haywire pushes a strand of hair back from her face and shifts the strap of the bag containing her gear a bit. The thing still cuts into her shoulder some, but it'll do for a bit - long enough to get to her bike, parked in McArrister's warehouse nearby. She walks over to the house, checking if her commlink already got a payment notice.

Ah... there it is.

McArrister is relyable. Unlike her former employers. Bloodsucking corp. Haywire sneers as she straps her bag to the Suzuki Aurora and soon afterwards she's on the streets of Kingston, on the way to her home.

Not much of a home, to be truthful. Her flat is a narrow slice of a larger building, first floor, with a "garage" below that barely fits her bike. But it's close enough to the beach, and the neighbours are not too obnoxious. The maglock is old, but sturdy, and the A/C works well enough.

Haywire needs a shower, the way her combat fatigues cling to her makes her skin crawl. She needs to check her assault rifle too, clean it. But first comes something else. Dropping the bag on the floor of her small bedroom, she walks to the kitchen area of the living room, opens her fridge and grabs a beer can. Haywire empties the can quickly, almost hastily, drops it in the trash bag next to the fridge, then grabs another. That one last for a few minutes of staring out of the balcony, then joins its precedessor in the trash bag, where a dozen more are already waiting to ge recycled.

The problem with work is that you can't get a drink when you want one...

Haywire strips out of her dark combat fatigues - they could almost pass for biking clothes, at least by Jamaican standards and returns to her bedroom to clean her guns. Even a piece of work like an Ares Alpha would not last long at and on the sea without regular maintenance.

Stripping the gun down, cleaning and oiling the parts comes natural to Haywire. Those lessons from basic training stuck. Unlike others. The Ares Crusader gets the same treatment. Then the Alpha is stuck into airthight bag and stashed under her bed, the Crusader in her hip holster thrown on the bed.

A shower and some instant ramen and another beer later, the blonde woman is getting ready for the evening. She's not sure if she's local enough for the Twilight Zone already, and doesn't feel like finding out tonight. Besides, Cool Runnings had the better drinks, and marginally better security.

19:15... bit early, but what the heck. I need a real drink.

After putting on some skimpy tank top and hot pants combo with sneakers, and her Ares Crusader in a hip holster, Haywire heads out towards the club.

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 1925

Haywire heads Downtown just as the nightlife takes swing. The streets are crowded with honking cars and weaving bikes; all kinds of knickknacks, souvenirs, knockoffs, and the occasional real bargains are being hawked on the jammed sidewalks; and with seemingly no notice to the traffic, a crowd of tourists, cops, and every other type there is to be found in Kingston slowly weave their way forward.

She rides into the heart of Downtown at crawling speedy, leaving a trail of catcalls in her wake. As the sun begins to set and the sky turns a blazing orange she sees the brightly lit and dancing AR signs above Cool Runnings. She parks her bike in a spot where its less likely to get stolen and heads towards the entrance.

Haywire hears the sounds of Reggae coming out of the entrance. This isn't a new school club with a choice in what music to listen to in AR, at Cool Runnings, you listen to what the DJ is playing and he hasn't really gotten started yet. Even for Kingston, the night is young and there is no line. She walks past the two bouncers, a simple ¥1 transaction serves as a cover charge and verification of a valid commlink for drinks. They don't care who you are or how old you are here either, they just want to know if you are going to be a paying customer or a bum taking up valuable space.

Inside the front bar is fairly crowded with what look like a mix of tourists, some hoods, some expats and other miscellanea. The dinning room tables are still out and there are quite a few already on the dance floor. As Haywire scrolls through a menu of the available drinks she catches a glimpse of Secoiya at a table with a very large man. Within a split second her eyes adjust to the conditions and enhance his face. He is a white, blond and with a very square jaw and from Sec's wild, animated gestures she is either having an intense argument with him or telling a crazy story.

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

Haywire frowns slightly, trying to guess if Sec's in an argument or not. Ordering a Screwdriver at the bar, she moves a step to the side so she has a better view of the man.

Damn tall... huge. Sec's better not be picking a fight...

Haywire waits until her drink gets served, paying through her commlink, adding a generous tip - it paid to keep bartenders happy - then took a sip and slipped her perceptions to the astral.

I don't like doing this, but...

The astral space inside the club was filled with light. Good thing the club was not yet packed, but even so, it was overwhelming for a second. People everywhere, their astral impressions shining. Emotions of all kinds were "leaking", and it was hard to push them out, hard to focus on anything specific. Haywire's drink didn't help, of course.

Let's take a look at who Sec's talking with.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

The bartender nods in appreciation for your generous tip.

Haywire manages to make out only the barest hints of what she is looking for because of all the ambient noise. Secoiya's aura is excited and you don't sense any residue of fear or tension. You can't really make out anything useful from her companion's aura.

You see a perky waitress go over to their table and Sec gets close to presumably order a drink. A drunk patron - who looks like one of the local hoods - nearly stumbles into you jerking your attention back to your body.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

Stupid idiot, I almost spilled my drink.

Haywire frowns at the drunk, but backs away, and focuses on the physical world again, shutting the astral and its sensations out.

That was helpful...at least I know Sec's not in trouble... or if she is, she doesn't know it.

Haywire takes another swig from her drink, debating whether or not she should walk over.

Why not?

Drink in hand, the blonde woman walks over to the table Sec's sitting at, mustering the man she's talking to on the way, looking for weapons or anything else of importance.



With a drink in her hand, a few beers and half the drink in her blood, and her attention on Secoiya and the man, she almost walks into a waitress. Evading the girl, she bumps into someone with her back.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

The man is dressed in a short sleeved linen shirt and a pair of loose faded jeans with a wide belt and a large belt buckle. You notice as he leans in closer to the table and his shirt pulls up that he has a heavy pistol in a holster in the back of his pants and a knife clipped in his front pockedt. That's not that unusual though around here, and you'd think Sec's probably armed too.

As you walk towards your table, barely evading a waitress you bump into a drunk tourist girl, spilling her drink on her skirt.

"Aw come on lady! What the frag's your problem?"

Before you have a chance to say anything you hear Sec yelling over the music, "Haywire, that you?" She kicks a chair at her table back and gestures for you to sit, "Get your ass over here, we gotta do some shots."

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

Haywire mumbles some excuse to the tourist, and continues toward Sec's table.

Should have finished her drink, instead of nursing it.

"Hi Sec."

Haywire nods at the man in greeting, sitting down on the offered chair, smiling politely at the man.

"Hello."

She looks at Secoiya, waiting for an introduction, and trying to get a feel for whether Secoiya's interested in the man or not.

Shots? Pictures, or drinks?

Either sounds interesting, in Haywire's opinion - she's here to have some fun.

Picture

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

You hear the pissed off tourist muttering something as she drunkenly stumbles back to her friends. Secoiya gestures to the stranger at her table, "Haywire, this is BigMac. BigMac, this is Haywire."

He gives Haywire a flashy grin as he reaches out to shake your hand. Secoiya intrudes, "Careful now Mac, she's liable to blink your head off if you give her a look she don't like."

Haywire notices him hesitate for a split second as she reaches out to shake his hand. The hesitation doesn't last and he shakes her hand with a firm, rough grip. He again flashes his cocky grin, recovering his composure, "BigMac's just for formal occasions, my friend's call me Mac." He finishes the last of his beer and tosses the bottle over another table of customers into a nearby recycling bin, "so how is it you come to know a disreputable character like Sec?"

Before you have a chance to answer a waitress comes by and sets a bottle of Green Label Patron, a tall stack of shot glasses and a half dozen Red Stripes on the table.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

"Lies, all lies. I don't do that kind of stuff just for giving me looks."

Oh, those kind of shots.

Haywire grins. That's her kind of fun.

"Disreputable character? He does know you, Sec."

Haywire smiles, to take the edge of the words, even though she feels the slightest bit irked at Secoiya mentioning her being a mage.

On the other hand, I'd be irked even more if she did not tell me about someone being a mage...

Haywire then grins at Mac, stretching her legs out under the table to slump a bit in her chair.

"We're coworkers. And how do you know such a disreputable character?"

Haywire's still trying to read the two, wondering if they are or were a couple.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

"We..." he puts his hand on Sec's thigh for a second before she smacks it away, "know each other by way of me trying to recruit her."

"Try and fail," she says smarting a bit from smacking his hand.

"Try and die is more like it," he uncorks the bottle, lines the shot glasses up and fills them to the brim. "This woman's hard. She don't come over easy."

"And he has tried pretty hard," she laughs a bit drunkenly as she picks up her shot.

He twists the caps off the bottles of beer with his bare palm and picks up a shot glass. "To new co-workers and persistent recruiters, cheers!"

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2000

Augmented bones? No matter. But he seems not just professionally interested in Sec. And she hasn't shot him yet, so she probably likes him at least somewhat.

Haywire picks another shot glass, and returns the toast, smiling at that thought.

"Cheers!"

Downing the glass at once, the alcohol hits Haywire's system soon aftwards. She's now definelty a bit buzzed, just as she likes her evenings.

"So... what kind of work are you trying to recruit Sec here for, Mac? Can't be house work."

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2005

From the way the two are acting, Haywire is pretty sure they are at least somewhat "familiar" with each other but she is pretty sure they aren't here as a couple.

Mac smacks the shot glass down on the wooden table and instantly pours another round of shots. He puts the Patron down on the table and grabs the bottle of beer and takes a long pull from it. "No not house work. I'm pretty sure she sucks at that."

Sec laughs and sways as she picks up her second shot, carefully balancing the full glass. "I got drones for that shit man. You know me, I don't like to get my hands dirty around the house."

He puts the beer down and picks up his second shot, "No, what I do is like her line of work, except we do things on the other side of the law."

He takes down the shot and slams it on the table, "Here thar be pirates! Arrr!" Sec downs her shot and nearly falls over her chair laughing drunkenly.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2005

Haywire laughs. Sec and house work? Maybe with an apron? Too funny.

A pirate? Hm...

Part of Haywire frowns at that, pirates are criminals, and she shot at a few of them already. But she's also getting buzzed, and with a few shots in her stomach Mac looks less and less like someone to be wary of, and more and more like a good drinking buddy.

Besides, Sec knows him.

"Pirates? Where's your crew then?"

Haywire notices Sec's state. She's not too steady herself, but not that far gone yet.

"Whoa, Sec. You're that drunk already?"

I should have made a bet agaisnt her in a drinking contest...

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2005

He shrugs, "Well, don't have a crew right now per se. I got people I know and when I got something in mind I call the people who fit my needs." He glances meaningfuly at Sec then back at Haywire, "I'm always looking for capable crew to bring along on a permanent basis." He laughs and finishes his beer, "no luck there yet."

Sec waves her hand in the air dismissing your concern while cradling a beer with the other hand, "Nah, it's fine... I've been drinking since noon. The tequilla just reminded me about that." She lightly punches Mac in the shoulder, "and this guy just won't give up."

She takes a long pull of the Red Stripe, "Sides, I gotta get out of here soonish. Have to meet up with family tomorrow early." She winces in anticipation of waking up early.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2010

Since noon? Ok, scratch the bet.

Haywire grins at Secoiya's predictament, even though she feels a bit of a pain herself.

Family...

She hasn't had contact to her corp-loving family since she quit.

Stupid drones.

Another shot helps her getting in the mood again, and she switches her attention to Mac.

"You cold go legit too."

It's not really funny, but Haywire laughs anyway. Mac doesn't look like the type to hold down a honest job. Not that her own work is always that legit.

When the music changes to a new song, a mix of reggae, Haywire stands up, a bit shaky on her feet herself.

"Come on, let's dance!"

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2020

Mac seems to ponder your statement while savoring a newly opened bottle of Red Stripe, “Going legit… that’s a thought.� He offers another round of shots, which Sec refuses, he pours yours out too just incase, “then again, what’s really legit in this world right? But hell, that’s probably just me justifying things. In the end we all got short lives, and what I do pays a lot more than anything I could make legitimately.� He laughs, “that’s why I buy the drinks, ya?�

When the music changes tracks, Sec bounces up at Haywire’s offer, “yeah, let’s get a little bit of a groove on before I got to leave. Work a little of this booze out of my system before I gotta ride.�

Mac stands up, swaying for a second, “who am I to leave two ladies by themselves on the dance floor?�

Sec dances like she has been dancing since she was a year old which is probably the truth. Mac, while clearly not a great dancer is enthusiastic and confident in himself, with a sense of humor on the dance floor and as a result fun to dance with.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2025

Haywire downs the shot - gotta catch up to Sec - then starts dancing. She's not that great a dancer, but, with the help of the shots, doesn't hold herslef back from giving her best.



For a bit, Haywire is lost in the dance, just moving in step with the rhythm, enjoying the moment. Only the weight of the crusader on her hip is a reminder of how she made the money to party tonight. That, and the weapons many of the guests carry.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2025

As you dance the effects of the tequila quickly work their way through your system. Those were some strong shots; then again they were poured to the rim and weren’t watered down by shaking with crushed ice – not an uncommon procedure for light-weight tourists.

Cool Runnings begins to take on a different feel as the sun fully sets and the night life fully springs to action. The lights are brought down everywhere but over the bars and little spotlights hovering over the staff and replaced by a dizzying array of lasers, strobe lights, spot lights and modest AR effects. As the crowd gets thicker the club gets hotter to the point where everyone on the dance floor is glistening in the cacophony of lights.

Time passes fast and before you know it it’s 2130. The bottles of beer on your table are all empty – the original six beers and then some – and the bottle of Patron is kicked. Sec pulls you close so you can hear her over the music – she isn’t really the commlink type – and says, “Hate to run out on you babe, but I really gotta go now. Do you mind me leaving you with Mac or would you rather leave now? He’s really pretty harmless.�

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2135

Haywire doesn't think it over for a long time. If Sec trusts the guy he's probably ok - she knows the scene better than Haywire herself.

Besides, he's a good drinking buddy, at least he keeps up and doesn't try to get me drunk alone, like some tourists...

"Sure, sure, Sec, see you tomorrow, or the day after at McArrister's."

Watching Sec leave, Haywire waves down a waitress for another beer for her and Mac. Feeling mellow, she strikes up a conversation with the big man.

"So, Mac... where are you from?"

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2135

Sec nods to your response and gives you a quick hug and a light pat on the butt. She hugs Mac and gives him a friendly peck on the cheek and says to both of you, “have fun now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

In response to your question Mac motions you off the dance floor and back to the table, “Sorry, have to sit down. The tequila is finally getting to me.� He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the sheen off his face and neck.

He pauses for a moment and takes a swig of his beer, “I’m originally from New Orleans.� When he says that, you can finally place that small hint of a Cajun accent in his voice. “Didn’t stay there for long though. I’ve been on one boat or another in the Caribbean since I was ten and I’ve been calling Kingston home for the last decade.�

He leans back in his seat and takes a deep breath, taking in the pungent smell of ganja that’s spread itself in a haze across the club. He leans forward so he doesn’t have to yell, “Sec ever tell you about her family? They grow awakened weed. You should ask her about them sometime, she’s got a crazy family.�

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2135

Awakened weed? Ah, Deepweed.

Haywire is familiar with that weed, it was used in her crash training in astral perception, a few years ago. Not too fond memories, all in all, with the accelerated training regime and the forced consumption associated with the weed.

"How crazy?"

Houngans?

Haywire shivers a bit, thinking of voodoo. The whole practise is mysterious to her, and the rumors she heard since arriving on Jamaica... Haywire orders another beer.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2135

“Oh pretty crazy,� he takes another swig of his beer, “I guess they call themselves Maroons. Crazy fraggers who escaped the slave plantations into the mountains and have stayed there since.�

A waitress sets another two beers on the table and clears off the empty bottle of tequila and all the other bottles. “Supposedly they’ve had houngans and witch doctors or whatever they call that shit seeing into the future since the 1700s,� he says and from his expression he seems to believe it, not that he would be much of an authority, “and that’s how they stayed one step ahead of the slavers and independent through all those years. Now they just rake in the dough selling awakened weed and shit like that down in Accompong.�

He shrugs and laughs a little, “though you wouldn’t know any of that from looking at her, huh?�

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2140

Haywire dimly remembers something she read in a guide about the maroons. She didn't hear about the voodoo rumors. Improbable anyway, in her opinion, magic did not become possible until the Awakening, yet...

Houngan... who knows what they can do...

"No, I'd not. But then, who'd suspect you were a pirate?"

Haywire smiles at Mac, raising her glass to cover up her slight nervousity, and trying to change the subject. Usually, a man would get points with her for not preferring to talk about himself, but in this situation...

Figures...

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2145

"I don't know honestly," he wipes his brow again, "I kinda wonder now what people think I do."

Cool Runnings is seemingly in 3rd gear. The place is crowded now and the dance floor is packed with people of all sorts.

He finishes off the bottle and puts it down on the table, "So, what do you have planned for the night anyhow? I recon I'm gonna have to eat soon, I haven't eat since noon."

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2150

Food... wouldn't hurt, with all the booze... and how can he stand still, with all that alcohol, and nothing solid in his stomach?

"I could go for some food myself, I think. What do you have in mind?"

Haywire looks around the club, taking the masses in.

"Maybe some place with less tourists?"

Not that Haywire minds the tourists that much, even if most are corporation citizens - in the Caribbean, most are looking for fun, and letting their hair down, so to speak, and don't act too much like a cog in the corp wheel. But where tourists dine, prices are higher, and there's usually less tolerance for weapons.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 – 2150

Mac seems to be really perking up again now that you are talking about food. “I was thinking this soul food place, Pig Pickers, right on the edge of Hope Pastures,� he says.

You vaguely recall being told about that district. It’s one of the man areas outside of the central Kingston area that aren’t patrolled by the cops and pretty much run by the Posses.

He shrugs, “to be honest the place is in a pretty bad neighborhood.� He looks around and laughs, “I guess I don’t think about that drek much but I suppose you’d have to be more careful. We can go someplace nearby. Most places to eat outside of here right now would be closed anyway. It’s only Monday.�

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 – 2150

Haywire shrugs as well.

"It's your decision, you know the best spots in town. Although does that mean I'd not be safe in your company?"

She grins at Mac, her attitude partly caused by the alcohol in her bloodstream, partly by some unconscious and probably undeserved resentment at his reasoning, and partly by some thrill-seeking impulse.

I faced down bugs that could rip entire squads to shreds, who does he think I am, a tourist?

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 – 2200

“No, no, nothing like that,� he laughs. “It’s not me you have to be worried about. I’m harmless. It’s the homeys down there you have to be worried about.�

He flexes his hands and cracks his knuckles, “I’m not the type of person people frag with just because they can, but I’ve never gone into that hood with an untagged lovely like yourself.�

You are pretty sure by untagged he means not marked as the property of a posse. While you aren’t terribly familiar with Kingston, you have definitely been told about the posses. They are a power like that mafia was in small towns in old Italy. They are the police, the arbiters of disputes, the source of illegal goods and generally the powers that be in their areas where the cops don’t step foot in.

“Mind you the food is totally worth it if you like BBQ, but you gotta be able to handle more than just spicy food to go there.�

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 – 2202

Lovely? I see he hasn't lost that Cajun charm...

Haywire smiles at the compliment. She pats the grip of her Ares Crusader. The weapon looks deceptively small on her hip, but it's a machine pistol, not a light pistol.

"I can handle more than spicy food, trust me."

Haywire activates her "Muay Thai Mark III" program, followed by her "Shadow Mark III", then shows off a combo, punching the air. It still feels weird, having your body move through skillwires. It's just not her, in her mind. Like chipping an action sim, in some way. But she smiles at Mac, confidence bolstered with alcohol.

And if all else fails, I can zap'em.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 – 2205

Mac smiles at your display of martial prowess, “that’s not bad actually and that’s actually a pretty good gun for a quick getaway.� He laughs and pats you on the back as you begin to walk out of the club, “though I really hope we don’t have to do that!�

On the way out you see Mac greeting various bouncers and a few waitresses on the way out with quick thug hugs, fist bumps and complicated multi-step handshakes. He is clearly a usual here.

Cool Runnings, Kingston - 06/09/2070 – 2205

Haywire smiles at the display, following the man outside. The cooler air makes her shiver a bit, but the chill soon passes - it's still warm, if not hot outside.

"So, got a ride? I got a bike myself."

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2210

"Yeah I got myself a bike too," he motions with his thumb towards the alley next to the club, "got me a sweet parking spot in the back."

Mac leans far back with his fists against the small of his back and you hear a series of cracking and popping sounds. "well we got two options. We can double up on one bike and only have one bike to watch and none to ride home if it should get stolen. Or we make a little motorcade and have to bikes to watch and we'd have to get both stolen before we have to walk home."

He laughs at what he is about to say as seems to be his habbit, "course I gotta warn you, when you ride through the bad parts of town you need to keep up a decent speed no matter the conditions, traffic or anything else. Ride on the sidewalks if you have to. You slow down enough in some neighborgoods you'll get jumped on and taken down by beggar kids and stripped of everything you got or worse. And never fall for the hurt kid crying on the corner trick no matter how badly hurt he looks."

He smiles broadly again as if was giving you advice on how to dress for the local weather and spins his keys around his finger, "so what will it be? Door number one or number two?"

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2210

Haywire looks the big man over.

He doesn't look too drunk... at least not drunker than I am... and he knows the way, and the town, better than I do.

"Door number two, big one. But with a twist. Let me get my bike home first."

The drive back to her flat doesn't take long, even though Haywire drives a bit slower than usual - she is a bit tipsy. Big Mac waits while she parks her bike, probably checking the area out.

"Now you also know where to drop me, afterwards."

Haywire grins, and mounts the bike behind Big Mac, wrapping her arms around the tall man.

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2230

Mac laughs and fires up the engine on the Ducati Multistrada. A moment later the tires squeal and you leave a trail of a tiremark and black smoke for fifty yards behind you.

He takes you through the backroads avoiding the constantly gridlocked downtown area and soon the city changes drastically. Within a few blocks the AR advertising, signs and sounds are replaced by elaborate tagging of the local posses. The storefronts are barred up for the nights and the walls are covered with graffiti. On top of that every building seems at least a hundred years old and covered with rust and all kinds of patchwork to keep them up.

The streets are much less crowded but far from deserted. There are no tourists here though, but you see plenty of toughs, street rats, hooker of both sexes, drug peddlers, the homeless and the insane. Everyone else knows better than to be out on the streets at this hour and most people in this neighborhood who work legitmately to support themselves couldn't afford to be out on a Monday night either.

After about twenty minutes you see a few working streetlights up ahead and signs of life. You see the lights of open storefronts, the sound of people and music and the smell of good food. And oh the smell. He slows down the bike and pulls up into a row of bikes infront of Pig Pickers. The place is packed, with diners and you hear the sounds of a jazz and hip-hop mix coming from the restaurant. Though the sound is easily overpowered by the hardcore hip-hop from what looks like a club next door.

There are definitely no tourists here and it looks like a pretty tough crowd. The fashion in the area seems to run red and cammo green almost exclusively amongst the men and some of the women and the style seems to be as little on top as possible and cargo shorts and clean white sneakers - a fashion that hasn't died for a century.

He turns off the bike and waits for you to get off before he does. Seemingly unphased by a number of people - not everyone mind you or even the majority but still a good number - staring openly he says, "so, what do you think of the place? Smells good as mama's cooking. Hell, who am I kidding, it's smells a lot better!"

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2255

I hope the food tastes as good as it smells...

Haywire laughs, and looks the whole place over - hopefully not in a challenging manner. Tough crowd. Similar clothes to her own though. Armed too. She considers taking Mac's arm, but that might make her look too much like some stupid tourist slumming with a local.

I am a local now, even if a new one. At least I am not overdressed.

Grinning, and pushing her right hip - where she wears her Crusader - out just a little bit in response to the stares, Haywire tries to project a confident "I fit in" attitude.

"Oh, yes. Can't wait to taste it."

Haywire licks her lips, and shifts her perceptions to the astral plane again, to get a better feel for the joint.


I wonder if I should summon a watcher to keep an eye on Mac's bike... better not, probably too much of an intrusion...

From all spirits, Haywire prefers watchers.They seem less like individuals, less complicated, more straightforward. Dumb as a post, and not quite as sturdy, but they have their uses, and she doesn't feel she has to watch her back with them, contrary to other spirits, who always seem like they have an agenda. But summoning one here might be taken as a challenge by a local magician.

She steps up to Mac, looking at him sideways.

"So... done showing me off, or is there act 2 coming up inside?"

Haywire grins, to show she doesn't mind.

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2300

He laughs again, “oh I don’t need to show you off, you manage just fine just standing around. Place is pretty crowded though but you can always find a seat.� He puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close and whispers close to your ear, “don’t mind me now. Just don’t want nobody to think you are available, might complicate things when we are just looking for some good eating. Unless you’d rather otherwise…�

He leads you into the place through a crowd lounging near the door. You see people eyeing you – some resentfully, others indifferently and some appreciating what they see – as you walk through the door.

The place is loud and smells heavily. You hear the clatter of dishes, the sounds of loud boisterous conversation, the sound of music and laughter. The place is packed pretty tightly, the seating is bench style at tables long enough to seat eight comfortably or even more if you are comfortable with your friends and the entire wall on the street is a dusty plate glass window conveniently looking at the row of bikes parked outside.

He spots a couple getting up from a bench in the corner and he hurries you to their now empty spot before it’s taken. The conversation dims noticeably at the table and you see a few of the people at your table looking at you with expressions that read, “what the frag?�

A few moments later a very young waitress, no older than thirteen, in a red halter-top, camo green shorts, and flip-flops and her hair in neat beaded cornrows and a face heavily decorated in gold piercing comes to your table. She says something fast and completely incomprehensible in what you recognize as Jamaican patois and you hear a couple chuckles from people around you.

The chuckling is cut off near instantly by Mac’s reply to the girl in fluent patois. With an amused smirk she hands you two a pair of slightly greasy menus, says something else incomprehensible and goes to another table. The conversation quickly picks back up at your table.

You still see and feel a lot of eyes looking on you but a lot of the tenseness in the atmosphere seems to have been released.

He opens your menu and points to a couple items, “I’d recommend the blackened cajun shrimp and pulled pork, but really anything is good here.� He clearly already knows what he is going to get.

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2300

Note to myself: Get a Patois chip.

"Shrimp sounds good."

Haywire trusted Mac in picking the location, so there's no reason she should not trust him with the menu too - after all, he has good taste in aclohol, and company. And the food does smell really good.

While Mac orders, the blonde woman looks around, smiling at the rest of the people at their table, then lets her eyes roam through the room, trying to spot posse members. She still feels like an outsider, but at least some of the attention is flattering rather than worrying. Even so it feels odd to be the "exotic" one just because of her looks, and not because she is awakened. Then she leans closer to Mac, almost whispering in his ear.

"So, how long did it take you to learn patois? And what did they say?"

Hope he isn't the type to leave angry and/or jealous ex-girlfriends all over the place.

Downtown, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2300

“Yeah, the shrimps’ definitely good,� he says. He continued without even bothering to look at the menu, “I think I’m gonna go with the burnt crawfish and crab and the seafood gumbo myself.�

He can’t help but laugh at Haywire’s question. He whispers back, “She asked me if I was here to sell you and I said she was lucky she didn’t ask in English cause you’d have given her a good scar to remember you by! Then I asked for a pair of menus.�

He looks into your eyes for a mere moment – something he doesn’t seem to do much at all – with a look of concern, “I hope you don’t mind. It’s just if you take shit from anyone you are telling everyone you’re a bitch and here to be fragged.�

Pig Pickers, Downtown Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2305

It's times like these I wish I learned the transform spell...

"Of course not."

Haywire laughs, even though that little bit of information reminds here that for all the nice food, and positive impression the place gives, they are surrounded by some of the most dangerous criminals of the town. Definetly not a tourist trap - or if so, then a literal tourist trap. And some of the attention she's getting doesn't feel as flattering anymore. Haywire shifts a bit, so her weapon is more visible.

"But you bring up a good point - what's the "protocoll" here? When do the weapons come out, and when does it get lethal?"

I'd rather not shoot or zap someone when all that's expected is some "friendly" bar fight.

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2305

He leans close with his arms crosses on the table and speaks just loud enough to be heard, “well, it all depends. My general philosophy is that when I’m on someone else’s turf I don’t escalate a fight. Like if I was walking through a bar, bumped into someone cause I’m drunk and they swing a fist at me I’d probably just mess him up a little bit but I wouldn’t disfigure, maim or kill him.�

He takes another one of his frequent looks out the window, presumably to check on his bike, “now, if I’m attacked with a benign edged weapon. Say like a hunting knife, a switch blade or whatever, I’d stick with my fists since I’m just that kind of a guy, but I’d say it’d be okay to escalate to an edged weapon. But I still wouldn’t whip out a gun or kill the guy.�

“If a fragger pulled a gun on me though I would make sure he wasn’t standing long enough to pull the trigger. The trick is to be faster than the other guy, so when you see him pulling a gun to escalate the fight you can pull your trigger first.�

You can see a few nearby people are probably trying to overhear the conversation. He leans in a bit closer and lowers his voice even more, “mind you, out here, you gotta treat the posses like the cops, cause that’s what they are. They rule the ghettos – no question asked – and most regular people in their neighborhood will be on their side because they are the only authority they even have a sliver of trust for.�

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2310

Haywire nods at Mac's words about fighting. She glances outside as well.

Maybe I should have gotten a watcher...

"Sensible stance. But not always feasible."

Like when I don't have any non-lethal means...

She looks around, imaging how many posse members and friends might be around. Sobering thought. A sip mouthful from her beer helps with that.

"Yeah, that I got. Don't mess with a posse unless you're a pirate king."

And hope they act a bit more like cops than as criminals...

"What about magic?"

Haywire inches a bit closer to Mac. That's a sensitive topic for her.

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2315

He laughs and smacks his hand on his thigh, "you know, even a pirate king would be hardpressed to mess with a posse boss in the ghettos. Pirates are creatures of the sea."

The moment Haywire mentions magic his expression changes. She is not quite sure but she thinks he looks a little more pale than a second ago and he shows some hesitation before speaking. He whispers, "Well... I don't know much about that. They got their houngans and voodoo priests and all kinds of other drek I don't like to tangle with. I mean I understand normal magic and all, you know, like it's a science or something. I can get that. But that other wierd drek, gives me the heebee-jeebees."

Haywire gets the feeling that if he hadn't drunk so much recently he probably wouldn't be telling her this. Before she has a chance to speak she is interrupted by the sassy waitress. Another burst of incomprehensible patois later and Haywire is pretty sure he ordered her the shrimp dish she wanted and what sounded like two Cokes. Haywire definitely needs to get that patois chip.

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2320

Yeah... scary shit, Voodoo.

Haywire shivers a bit. Other magical traditions were not really high up on her training priorities as set up by Ares, so she's not too knowledgable about them. And the whole Shedim plague didn't exactly make houngans more popular, resulting in them becoming even more secretive. Nothing should be scarier than giant insect spirits laying eggs in people and feeding on them, but zombies and loa and stuff are at times.

Focus, girl. You're here for some good food, not to worry about dark magic. Let's change the subject.

"So... what made you become a pirate?"

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2325

He smirks, “the pirate’s booty of course!�

“But no, really, it was just how I was raised,� he shrugs, “I lost my parents when I was real young and I stayed with my uncle who introduced me to the business. Said I had a knack for it and it’s not like I could go get a job working for Aztech or something.�

“Not that I would even if I could.� He looks out the window at high bike again. You can see and hear a crowd gathering in the street outside. It’s hard to tell what’s going on in the dark through the crowd but it looks like there’s a fight.

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2325

Nice family... but who am I to talk.

Upon noticing the commotion, Haywire tries to see what's happening outside, but even with low-light vision there's nothing to see but the backs of the gathering people.

A fight? Two people settling something, or something involving more?

Stray bullets were a danger Haywire's familiar with, remembering a particularly unlucky private that caught one once right in the head. The blonde woman looks at Mac, trying to gauge if he's concerned, or if this is just business as usual. She also runs her right hand over the grip of her gun, updating the the gun information through her skinlink. Just in case.

Loaded and ready. Just in case.

"What do you make of this?"

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2325

He shrugs and laughs, “it’s probably just posturing or jockeying for between two thugs for a girl. Wouldn’t want to get in the middle of it honestly, some might think we are trying to mess around with posse affairs.�

“Sides,� he says as a young orc bus-boy arrives with your steaming plates and a pair of Cokes, “our food is here!�

The food is indeed as good as he made it out to be and maybe even a little better. Mac seems to be a quiet but very quick eater, quickly and expertly disassembling his shelled food and getting to the meat of the matter. It’s definitely hard to keep her hands clean while eating.

As Haywire eats the commotion outside gets a little louder and a little more crowded. There’s definitely a scuffle. A lot of the people inside are looking outside at least every once in a while to catch the action but they don’t seem that concerned.

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 - 2325

Haywire nods, and concentrates on her food as well.

Yummy. So, it is true, tourists get rolled in the food area, they pay more for worse food.

She keeps glancing outside too, out of habit. Things could get out of hand, even though most locals act unconcerned.

Pig Pickers, Kingston - 06/09/2070 – 2325

The food is definitely cheaper than the prices downtown. After a few more minutes her food is done and Mac has discarded the remains of his crab and crawfish and is working on the last half of his gumbo with an expression of thorough satisfaction on his face that only good food can achieve.

Suddenly the scuffle outside seems to get a little louder and you see a large man shoved through the crowd and he smacks – back first – into the plate glass window. Another man, a bit shorter but much thicker smacks into his chest with his lowered shoulder and starts to punch him repeatedly on the left side of his stomach. They are both dressed in the colors of Born Fi Dead.

This seems to be more than enough to convince about half the patrons that they should be appreciating the fight properly from outside and there is a rush out the door. Mac looks at you then back outside and again back at you and grins, “wanna go watch?�