As the coins continue to flow, Flash begins to consider the effect on his rep if he taught these women respect ghetto-style. He takes the chip and connects it to his PAN then shares over TeamNet.

<<@Team [Flash] Problem number 1: Where ever they are getting the 4-1-1 about our rep, its not good. I'd #2: Now that our bad rep is being busted, we're being paid better for the attempt than success. I need this for both the cash and boost to the rep, but I gotta wonder if we are being played.>>

Flash decides to push the envelope. His adrenaline level increases with the risk of the job... and the negotiations. He smiles and continues, "So, he has the best security you've ever seen. We were supposed to be a crew of bumbling boobs and now you are boosting the pay for the attempt." He looks each of them over trying to figure out how a super cool negotiator would fill the pause. "I think we should be clear upfront about this bonus. It would go a long ways towards swaying a team about to walk away."

A thick, dark headed young man steps over and sits down behind the two girls. He pipes up, "You guys seem OK to me. But, I wouldn't mess with these girls too much. They bite." They give him a sweet, deadly smile while he grins. He then continues, "I'll pay the bonus. Another five 'K' if you keep it quiet. Unless I failed math again ..." He laughs at his own joke. "That makes it ten up front and five plus five on the back end for a total of twenty."

<<<@Flash{MITN[ I'm in.>>>


Already MITnick is poring over any and all technical information; where the server is located, where the building is at, what specs they have on the system, if any, and any identifying information on the "project" so he knows what to steal without having to physically going in an take out the hard components.



Knowledge is power boys. Time to amp up, black hat style .


....Did I just loose my internal monologue again...? I always do that when I keep a group chat open.



MITnick checks the chat log to see if he's thinking to himself or talking to everyone.

The newcomer gets an annoyed look from the elf. If he notices it, he doesn't seem to pay attention. "What say you?"

Flash whips out his *we just made a deal* smile, "We're in."

<<@Team [Flash] Looks like its time to go to work.>>

<<<@Flash[MITN] Great. Get the upfront cred and let's get movin' b'fore the kid has a psychotic episode. Or I do.>>>

"Sounds good. Here, please take a picnic basket with you. I believe that you will find everything to your liking inside. My number's on the napkin. Call me for drinks in say ... two weeks. Have a nice day, y'all."

He passes over the basket while the young women scoop up their picnic as well. It becomes obvious that the gathering was far larger than originally thought as a gaggle of people (between 10 and 15) begin walking away as the bag changes hands.

Soooo tempting. Must ... not ... shoot.. alll... will is strong! Little brats, travelin' in packs!




<<<<@Team[MITN} Let's load up and get the hell outta here. And someone run a tag eraser over that damn basket if you're bringin' it in the van! Come on, I wanna go get a sandwich. Puttin' up with jack asses is hungry work!


MITNick gets the van ready to roll, taking a scan around quickly to make sure that no one else is watching, while bemoaning not having the cred to do something really whiz like put on photovoltaic paint or a morphing license plate.

Maybe we'll hit it big with this job and be able to move where the action really is! Like Seattle! Or Hoboken!

With the meet over <MITNick loads everyone up and heads out, taking care to go through a couple areas of town that would lend themselves well to detecting a tail. It pays to be paranoid, after all. After driving through some of the more disreputable parts of town, he stops near a familiar corner bar, as this is the part of town he frequents, and stops the van.

Hay, someone run a bug scanner and a tag eraser over that drek they gave us 'fore we go anywhere.

Flash scoops up the bag in one hand while sliding the tag eraser from his pocket into the basket with the other. After giving the contents, and the basket itself, a sustained shot from the device, he withdraws a sandwich while heading towards the van.

<<@Team [Flash] Time to figure out how in the Sam hell we are gonna do this run...>>

MITNick waits until everyone is in and they're away.
Start with the basics. I'll see what we can find about the place. I'll see if this places is registered as an S-K site , which I doubt, but it'll tell us what kind of security we might be looking at. I'd love to find out what kind of system they're using as well. I doubt their mainframe is going to be online, btu its worth a look.

Check iy out physically, see who the3 sec provider is, and check out response time, and get someone to check out this kid. I say we leave roughing him up to last. No reason to tip anyone off early.

As the team is sitting there, the bar window explodes with two bodies flying out of it. The elf is still wailing on the ork. The ork is wearing gang colors while the elf doesn't seem to be wearing more than a pair of ragged pants.

...
Uhh... who picked this bar? 'Cause you're fuckin' fired.

Flash look sternly at Nik for several seconds. He then smiles, "Great place!". He looks to the gang colors to make up his mind if he's serious.

You like it? Cool. You go get us a table. I'll wait here.
Nik puts the van in park, hoping if nothing else to get to see Flash beat somebody up.

Flash exits the van, heading towards the door, keeping an eye on the combatants.

I'll uh .... I'll cover the door ... make sure no one comes in behind you.

MITNick watches from the van, hoping to not actually be expected to do anything. Maybe the kid will go in if there's a problem. Better him do it.

In the mean time, the dwarf scans for active PANS and tries to find one that affords a decent look inside. Maybe he can watch Flash's back after all.

Flash reaches the door, alone. As he reaches out for the handle..
<<@Team [Flash] Last one in buys..>>

Shit! Bastard.
The dwarf hussles his duff out of the van, remotely locking it as he moves, hopefully buying himself a few seconds by locking the other two inside. A quick and undignified jog to the door ensures he'll at least get a drink for his trouble.

Finding a table near the back, with a good view of the door ('cause that's what runners do, ya know?) and sits in to throw back a few.

So Flash, got to work with people this time instead of out in the boonies. Should be interestin'. I say we take a look at the place, see if maybe the wizkid can make us dissapear, and hack the locks.

MITNick remembers himself and their surroundings, hunkers down around his bottle a little more and brings down his voice lower.

Gotta find this kid o' course, but the first part'll be the trickiest.

Other than a rowdy atmosphere and some dirt, the bar is much nicer than the area would seem to indicate. Perhaps the Ares Model 3A crowd-gun over the counter has something to do with that. Today, however, the bartender seems more interested in taking bets on the fight that spilled into the street rather than controlling the crowd.

After a few minutes, the elf and ork walk back in while the ork holds the elf's hand high. Our newest member! he shouts to a great cheer from the crowd in the back corner. Next round's on me!

Soon the server is bringing everyone a pale green liquid that smells strongly of alcohol.

Nick mutters. Well this place is clearly insane. At least we know we won't have anyone listening in on us.

Flash smiles, taking the mug followed by a long draw from it. He looks back to the hacker, "Drink up." Flash makes his way through the crowd to the elf. Once there he slaps the new member on the back, "Congratulations!" before making his way to an empty table.

<<@Team [Flash] We need to try to keep this simple. Frag the files, thump the primary and keep our faces out of it. You know, we could subcontract out the thumping...>>

The scrappy elf seems please with the congratulations. "Thanks, my man."

The bar is quieter but still boisterous. Once things return to what must pass for normal, the server comes through and asks, "Y'all wan anythen to et?"

Nick cheers up at the mention of food.
Wings! I'll have some buff'lo wings. Small bucket. he says with a smile.

He waits until the orders are placed, then turns to Flash once the waiter takes off.
Don't know how much hard ware we're lookin' at, but the easiest way is ta find the servers themselves, figger out which ones are the drives they use for the research drek, and yank 'em. Take 'em back. There's lots o' "ifs" in that way though. Other way is ta get passed whatever wifi blocks they got, which'll prolly just mean inside the office, unless they're a little more hoopin' on the security, and hack into it. Shouldn't be a problem. 'Specially our lil' Tin buddy wants to come out'n play.

Bottom line, you can get me in there, I can get it out. You lemme know what you need to make that happen.

As he returns to the table Flash states, "Black Dogs. We are good in their turf." He considers also mentioning the 25th Avenue Maulers, but decides that's a conversation for another day.

As Nik orders wings Flash adds to it, "Make it a large bucket of wings, a bucket of brews, an onion flower and an order of jalapeno poppers."

"Take 'em and return 'em? Can't you just do your thing while we're in?" He pauses then talks through the rest. "I'm gonna need a drive by on the physical location and then review video: both visual and UV. Can you get the online readout on the site security?"

There's a lot of 'ifs'. Doubt the site is going to be a registered S-K facility. Assuming that's the case, they will have to have their own security provider, if it's an on site bit that comes with the office lease and is basically the guy down stairs, or if they have an off site provider. I should be able to dig that up alright.

From there I can check out the site its self, maybe get a fly spy in once I can see how open the wifi is there. But since its an office building with multiple sites and companies, they can't lock down very hard. It's possible they could use somethin like a spider , but it'd usually be wireless, which means it could be hacked. Even if they use hard lines, city power or records offices should have intel on power requirements abd junctino boxes, which means tap points.

If I can get within range, I should be able to hack it. 'Specially with a couple of days to prep. I'll check the place otu through the matrix of course, on the off chance that its actually permeable enough to hack it from off site. That'd sure make this a lot easier.

Hell, might even be able to find whether or not the plae is wifi inhibited. If it's not, we might even be able to piggy back in on someone's comm, a little modern day trojan. Let's take a look and see where we're at, then make some more concrete plans.

The waitress comes back with the food after a few more minutes of discussion. "Here y'all are. Eat up!"

A member of the same group that was throwing each other out the window comes over with a ball cap in hand. "Spare a little change to replace the window?"

The waitress arrives before Flash can reply, so he waits, smiling. "Thank you sweetie... and keep the beers coming."

He watches her sashay away, but is again interrupted before he can reply. He looks at the gangers, tossing in a pair of one nuyen chips. "You bet."

After the kids move on, he begins. "Undoubtedly it will be unregistered..... and that will be what will give us our in." He scarfs down a chuck of onion pedal and a pair of poppers before continuing. "So lets find out who is there that we can infiltrate. And if you can't get a bug drone in, how about one of those Roombas? You know, the vacuum drones?"

He scoops up several wings, sucking the meat off the bone. "And what about a repeater? I worked with this guy who had this millipede drone with extend-able antenna. He once breached a wifi protected are with a small hole in the wall and the bug sitting in the hole, an antenna going both ways."

He takes a long draw off of his beer and smiles. "Then we can get a little patty-cake on his face." He then finishes his beer and reaches for more poppers.

Thought about that. Long enough line, a fly might be able to take it up a pipe or somethin.' Hell we could even go more old school and just drill a hole from the next door office. Nead to get the layout still, but that shouldn't be too hard.

Nick ignores the gangers, figuring he'll probabl say just the right thing to start another brawl with them at the center. Then the kid wuold burn the place down, and they'd have to go talk elsewhere. Like the E.R. . Better to let Flash Gordon do the talking.

Upside to doin' it that way is that I won't have to rush the hack so much. Shouldn't rush art. Could hack the cleanin' drones too. Go all out an bury a sprite into one. Rather handle things myself though. If there's a window 'round somewhere, could mess around with a Line-o'-sight laser link too. MITNick shrugs, trying to look non-chalant, but he's "secretly" drooling at the idea of being able to play with all sorts of new toys on a vicious hack. Somewhere in the back of his head, he figurse they're probably over complicating, but that just makes it more fun.

Two more wings, a hand full of poppers and the rest of his beer while Nick talks. "Ok. So we gotta find the punk, scope his escorts and tune him up. That parts easy to me. So where exactly is the pay data you gotta swipe?"

He turns and waves for the waitress, gesturing for another beer. He turns to Nick, "You need another?"

Nick grins Always.

Most o' what I need I can find on the 'trix. Just takes time and some know how. Need you to go have a look at the place, then compare notes. Sound good? Finish the beer and the snacks first though. Let's not get nuts.
MITNick munches.

Steve looks up from his self imposed snit. "Suppose if we want in it should be middlin' easy, just need to look for somethin' routine enough to get in. Janitors, plumbers some shit like that. I can scam something along those lines. Prolly some basic IDs too. Drop yer bugs around and then we jest flush em out the toilet."

He smiles broadly. "B&E's a hobby."

Nick nods My man. Scope the place a bit with ol'Flash, maybe see if you can take a look on the inside, huh? I'll go climb into my ma's basement and do the geek thing. Nick winks, munching on the wings and enjoying the 'fruits' of the hacker stereotype. Too bad his Ma's dead. She'd probably have a nice basement.

The new beers show up and the waitress drops a chip on the table with an AR payment kiosk.

Steve waits for the waitress to depart before continuing. "Nice ass." he comments.

He turns back towards his fellow runners "We need to find something routine thou' or this won't work. Corp boys tend to get pissy about people jes wanderin' around their place. You think you kin find somethin', Nick?"

"Why, thank ya, sugah!" She touches her finger to her posterior while she winks at Steve.

After finishing their food the team finds themselves back on the road and heading out of that section of town.

Being with current company, Flash belches. "Ah... Good eats."

Money in his pocket Flash says, "I need a suit. Something more proper to be nosing around downtown. Time for a trip to a Men's Warehouse."

With the food consumed and contact information exchanged, the crew moves out. They leave the parking lot as a T-MAP cruiser pulls in. The thick ork gives them a quick look over then steps over the glass and into the door.

A few minutes later the team finds themselves getting close to the downtown area. Shops and a holdover micro-brewery from some 70 plus years ago greet them.

As Nick works the 'trix he is able to find a wealth of information on the young man. It flies across in bright colors and easy to follow data trails. On a second examination he sees that most of these trails lead nowhere. Only some of them seem to bear any hope of finding what he wants. After some effort he is able to find a simple path leading into a digital wood. This area of the 'trix completely overwhelms Nick's reality filter replacing it with what looks like a take on Grimm's fairy tales.

What appears to be a castle surrounded with a hedge maze correlates to the 13th floor of the bank building downtown. There are so many copies of gingerbread houses that no conclusion can be drawn as to which one is his actual home.

As he watches, Nick sees a pigeon try to fly over the hedge maze. Out of the blue a hawk swoops down and snatches the tiny bird out of the sky.

The hawk devours the pigeon and something falls to the ground.

With some quick edits to his persona, not bothering rewriting the whole thing, but putting a little paint over it. Once he has a suitable looking Rumple Stilskin look, complete with floppy red cap, he glides forward, running a analyze first on the system, looking for lurking IC, and on the data packet. Sometimes its the trash that has the best digs. Or it might just be a fallen Spam attempt. Either way, could potentialy be some good paydata.



Hiding behind some bushes, not wanting to rile anything until there's a reason, MITNick takes a long look.
Maybe I'll get lucky, find someone wants somethin' spun inta gold...
Chicks like a guy with a kid. Whole single parent thing .. .sympathy. ... focus Nick focus!

When the dust settled there were only two. The run had gone horribly pear shaped for reasons still unknown. The best guess MITNick was able to piece together after the fact still was full of holes. Apparently the target got wind of the impending attack and then let his ass get kicked. Then the big boys in full High Threat Loadout showed up at the payoff and wasted the Johnsons and part of the team.

The local scream sheets reported that several University students were brutally murdered in a drug deal gone wrong. Unsurprisingly, the remnants of the team were named as the dealers. Even though the leaked autopsies showed the official line to be demonstrably false, none of the politicos allowed the facts to cloud clear judgment and voted through new powers to T-MAP.

Surprising, the surviving members were never mentioned. In fact, their involvement seems to be something of a secret. The most disturbing thing for the survivors is perhaps the matrix note that read simply:

<<Sometimes the fox gets away. When that happens, the fox should be thankful. You owe me. I know who and where you are.>>

That was six months ago.

Saturday, May 2nd, 2071; 09:44:22; Mel's loft, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Raven; PAN = Passive [Skinlink]; SIN = Melanie Mitchels (not broadcast)

Mel wakes up as her comm beeps annoyingly loud. "SILENCE!!!" Her voice is actually quite weak still.
And of course, the comm doesn't listen. Luckily, it's just a text message, so the noise is soon over.

"Uhh... how late is it? Must be way too early to get up."

She was on shift during the night and still feels her feet aching. Damn heels. Why won't they allow sneakers? Ok, she knew why. Of course.
Working hours were from nine to five, just not the typical nine to five. And, luckily, not every day.
It takes a moment for her to figure out, that she had about four hours of sleep. The mental exertion does help to get awake, however.

"Mmmhh... coffee."

Stumbling over to the kitchen, dodging the various pieces of her dress from last night, not that there is a whole lot of that, Mel manages to give some simple orders to her kitchen drone, and it starts whizzing around, preparing her breakfast.

She sighs, as she watches, slowly realizing, that she is still au naturel. No big deal, though, as she is alone. And it's too early for Tom to be up yet.
After she got dressed in some comfy clothes, the smell of fresh coffee lures her back to the kitchen.

"Mmmmmhh... well done, chef."

Her job definitely had some downsides, but it had a few upsides as well. Her professional-grade coffee machine was one of them. The club had replaced it with a newer model a few months ago, but it's still working like a charm. Also, that she could get ahold of some high class supplies for real cheap. Otherwise she could never afford the quality food she was becoming used to. Her paycheck was alright, but certainly not that big.
And while the Concrete Beach wasn't the most classy place, it certainly wasn't complete drek either. The typical crowd was endurable, at least.
Most of the time, anyways.

Sitting on the couch, that didn't quite manage to dominate the main room, Mel watches the gray sky out of the window front. A plane takes off in the distance.

Back to the noise.

About half an hour later, Mel finally takes a look at her comm and reads the message from JJ, while taking her amplifying earbuds out and switching them off.

Yeah, just like the old times, JJ... not quite.

Saturday, May 2nd, 2071; 08:15; Wilderness around Tuscaloosa, Alabama

Waving to Johnny Elk Crosses the Meadow as he sped off in his Gopher, William watched with fondness as his friend disappeared back down the dirt road. He stood there for a few moments reflecting on his friendship. He realized he had a long day ahead of him, but he didn't feel like he was wasting time, just standing there. He knew he had time enough, no need to hurry. He enjoyed being away from the city, feeling the freedom of the open air around him. Just dirt and trees and rocks. A task is done when it is done, no sooner.

Finally feeling that the time was appropriate, William dug into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a folded sheet of thin plastic, such a small thing in his huge hands. Walking over to a convenient rock, he carefully unfolded the plastic and smoothed it flat. The plastic came to life, images and lines lighting up the surface. This technology never failed to amaze him - how something so small could be so powerful. He carefully applied his thumb to the upper-right corner.

<<<Identity confirmed. Restoring Tuscaloosa Mapsoft, zone 6-A from last session>>>

Text flared briefly to life on the plastic, then faded away to reveal a topographic map. The map had various flags and markings on it, indicating areas that could be accessed for more information or detail. A glowing red dot pulsed gently in the middle. Poring over the map, his thick fingers tracing the lines and whorls of elevations, he finally came to rest on a section of the map with no markings nearby.

Hmmmm. Never checked this section out - it feels like it could be promising. Nice and snug between this valley and this rock face.

Clumisly tracing a path with his over-large finger from the glowing red dot to his desired destination, William watched as the plastic came alive again, text coordinates scrolling along the top of the map along with snaking lines of silver connecting the two points with different routes to choose from. Reading over the various options, William selected one that seemed to take him past some interesting scenery. All other route-lines vanished save one, and text coordinates at the top of the map solidified into a wall of information. He slowly read over all of the details, making sure he took his time and committed each part to memory.

This task accomplished, William folded the plastic back up and put it in his pocket. Johnny was always trying to get him to invest in some glasses or something that would let him use "AR", telling him reading maps was a perfect fit for this technology, but William liked to trust in his own skills and senses. He still retained some of his tribes distrust of technology, even if Johnny had fully embraced it. Taking out a compass and his binoculars, he set them down on the same rock. It was a good rock, solid, probably some sort of granite gneiss or biotite. It would help serve his next purpose. He laid his bare hands on the rock and closed his eyes.

William began to hum in a low, deep bass. It wasn't a tune per-se, just more of a simple persistent tone, like the buzzing of a very very large bee. He could feel the power building, in him, in the rock under his palms, in the air around him, the trees, everywhere. He let his senses slip into the Still World. The area around him jumped into focus, life and energy pulsing all around him. He could see and touch and feel this energy, feel the Still World's rhythm, like a heartbeat. He adjusted his humming to match the rhythm, slowly bringing the two together. If anyone had been present, they would've seen William's skin seem to harden and to take on an even gray hue, seen his facial features turn angular and smooth like stone.

When the two melodies were in sync, his humming and the one present all around him, William slowly coaxed the energy to a more intense state, drawing it into the rhythm he was now orchestrating with his voice. As the rhythms intertwined the energy built in power, growing brighter and brighter, concentrating in the rock underneath his hands. Ultimately deciding that the time was right, he sent out a mental message directed at the energy, forming a request with his mind and channeling it through his body, through his hands into the rock and into the World beyond.

"Rock brother, aid me this day. I wish to find a place of power, and would request your presence and help in this task."

William could feel the request speed out into the World around him. After a few moments, he could feel some sort of change in the energy, almost like an echo from his request. The glowing power in the rock began to coalesce in front of him, spilling upwards from the hard surface and forming into a vaguely humanoid shape. Two sparkling eyes opened in the head, and although no mouth had formed, William felt the reply as clearly as if it had been spoken to him.

"Greetings, Brother. It is good to see you again. I accept your request gladly. Let us search together!"

Saturday, May 2nd, 2071; 09:25; Rodriguez Home, edge of the Mckinney Warrens, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Flash; PAN=Passive [datajack] SIN=John Simmons

"There's sewage backed up in my based! Who's gonna clean that up?" John stood and listened as he had for the past 17 minutes as Mrs Rodriguez when on about her issues with the sewer. Mrs Rogers recent focus of efforts on the city council for the Mckinney Warrens had been running water and sewage. The sewage problem is almost a metaphor to the state of things; No matter hard they lobbied or even yelled, they were still left standing in shit.

"Mrs Rodriguez, I am just an advocate. We are doing our -"

"Is that like a community organizer? Hmmmff... As worthless now as sixty year ago!" She finally stormed off, leaving John standing alone in her front yard. He took this moment to make his escape. He made the mistake last time she stormed off of hesitating.

As he walked down the block, he logged another complaint with the city sewage department via the internal system. Working in a Councilwoman's office did have a few perks, though the response to internal requests are only slightly better than externally generated requests.

Saturday, May 2nd, 2071; 10:05; Wet Whistle, edge of the Mckinney Warrens, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Flash; PAN=Passive [datajack] SIN=John Simmons

He walked a number of blocks till he reached the Wet Whistle. This bar & grill right off the railroad tracks on the edge of the warrens had become one a home away from home for John since for the last six months. As he approached the door, he again revisited that run.

Chester and Steve were on point for the pickup, but no one expected the hit to come from outside meet. The team expected the Johnson to pull a fast one and planned accordingly. When the first Chester's head exploded like a big red zit on prom night, Flash hit the Johnson's sniper. Seconds later it became too apparent that a third party was in play.

As Steve did his best to take cover from the incoming reign of fire, Flash circled, looking for the real sniper. In seconds, no friendlies were left alive at ground zero and the hostiles were melting back into the shadows. Once Flash met up with Nick they bugged out, the damage done. Nick had been pretty tight lipped about what was going on in cyber-space, but given the hacker's ragged appearance when they met back up, Flash had some ideas.

John rapped on the door, several times in fact until Nina opened the door. "John. We open at eleven......" He just stood there giving his favorite waitress the look. "All right, come in and stay out of the way." John quietly entered. She locked the door back behind them, then got John a draft before she went back to pulling down chairs and setting up for the lunch crowd.

Sipping his beer, he focused on the now; Problem is that the now was shaped by the last six months. Work had been scarce and he was barely keeping up on his payments and he wasn't even touching the principle. As he took a draw from his beer, his leg started itching. Looking over at the waitress, he admired her shape and a new thought took his attention. Slowly rubbing his chin, money woes forgotten, he wondered if they had enough time before the boss got back. Smiling, he got up out of the booth and start walking over to her, a big smile on his face. "Nina. I've been meaning to ask you something...."

???
Step holds up her Colt to the guy's head, grinning down at him as he lies back against the cold ground, water splashing down into his face. "Who's the slitch now?" she asks him in a cool voice "Should think before you open your mouth next time." She squeezes the trigger. The explosion of the bullet rebounds off the nearby walls, leaving a smear of blood and brains on the ground. She raises her gun, blowing the smoke from the barrel. As she does so, her surroundings start to dissolve, leaving her in a vast lobby, surrounded by a dozen or so people.

Well, some of them are people anyway. There is also an angel, and an anthropomorphic dog, a robot, and a few other oddities. Most of the crowd breaks out cheering, but one of the throng quickly shouts "Stupid lag!" to which there is general jeering, and Step responds "Please, no one has believed that for over half a century. Not my problem if you can't handle it."

As she talks with the others, some friends, some rivals, some spectators wanting to see how the 'big dogs' play, her focus becomes split as she receives a commcall. <<Lunch is ready Mistress.>>

Saturday, May 2nd, 2071; 12:00; Step's appartment, Tuscaloosa, Alabama

She sighs a bit as she switches to AR, blinking a moment as she focuses on the 'real' world. She sits up in bed, stretching. A Manservant^tm pulls aside the covers as she slips out of bed, making her way towards the kitchen where another drone has already set the table with what many would consider an exquisite meal, but Step barely considers worth leaving the matrix for. After all, she can eat anything she wants there, and it is never over or undercooked. But her body doesn't get along too well with just virtual food. "I need to find a way to fix that." she muses to herself. The Manservant^tm doesn't respond. "Or maybe not. This world does have some uses after all."

She looks around the room. While nicely decorated, she barely sees any of it, her vision filled with virtual stimuli. Her mind keeping up with the conversation, her eating, and looking over some diagrams of primitive computers. Back when hard drives were only a few hundred gigabytes, memory only a few gigabytes. How did they survive back then? She splits her focus a bit more, ordering her bath to start up. Despite her general dislike of the 'real' world, she knows she has to interact with it some. Something that won't be a total bore tonight...

Saturday, May 02 , 0235
MITNick dodged through traffic, the 71 turbo charged Night Sky blazing through the weaving cars as if they weren't even there. Francesca, that gorgeous blonde in a skirt that was nicely Way To Short was gripping the leather seats, looking at him with a mix of fear and admiration.

Don't worry Babe, I'll get us through this. We'll dodge Salazar's men, grab the diamonds for the MTC building, and be back home in time for Matlock.
She looked confused, but nodded, smiling, trusting in him.

Rounds ricoched off the armored vehicle, the two black sedans chasing them struggling to keep up. Nick smiled, putting on speed.

<<<< Incoming Message - Ms. Crawford - [ Rent Late Again: Late Payment due within 3 Business Days] >>>>End Message

Ahhhh frag it! Again!? I gotta set up that damn autopay. How do I miss the simplest damn things. Pause and save

At a word, the virtual game went into menu mode, the current level saving away for later play. The sleek camaro slipped away, leaving MITNick's chromed icon floating inside the virtual space within the Dream Crafters system. Grand Theft Aultomate might still need a better name, but it was going to be a hell[i] of a game once they finally released it.

Gonna have to get back to installing the porno-hack later. Now [i]that's gonna be an interesting car ride when it gets released and the patch code goes out. *Sigh* time to go pay some bills

MITNick exits out of the system, back to work on some quick and easy hacks. A few hacks into low end virtual stores gets him some purchased items (mostly bunny slippers and adult magazines), followed by order cancellations and refunds to various accounts. Its not pretty, and it isn't a lot, but a half dozen purchases that the system thought payment was received for, and then refunded, gets him enough to pay his humble rent, and power bill. Quickly dumping the account funds into a central account, paying them all out, and putting in a fraud report under the SIN of a kindly old lady who's obit has her passing away a few days ago leaves things a nice mess. Especially when she's from the Peublo on a CAS server. Making sure the numbers stay low enough to not interest GOD, Nick figures he's commited enough matrix crime for one 12 hour period and signs off, leaving the Moonlight Sonata playing on his virtual suite to lull his criminal butt to sleep.

Saturday, May 2nd, 2071; 13:15; Tuscaloosa, Alabama

Angel grimaced as she chugged down the last of her tepid soykaf, flicking the empty styrene cup in the direction of the nearest trash bin. She'd spotted the 'client' moments before and tugging the chip folio oit from inside her jacket she headed forward to make the drop.

One quick brush pass later she was headed back to her Mirage, wondering what all the cloak and dagger stuff was about. Someone's been watching too many spy trids she mused, pulling out her 'link to send a job completed message to Karl. Formalities taken care off she stowed the 'link and pulled on her helmet. Her face safely obscured, a smile played across her lips as her ears lengthened and her features sharpened, an altogether less human appearance than the one she'd just been wearing appearing behind the one-way visor.

Firing up the bike, she pulled out into traffic, slipping between two vans as she cracked the throttle open. Cross town in 11 minutes. Think we can make it baby?

Saturday, May 2nd, 2071; 13:29; Tuscaloosa, Alabama

Ten minutes later, Angel pushed open the The Coffee Pot's frosted glass door and headed inside, helmet in one hand. Waving to Marci she headed over to her usual corner table where MaryLou was waiting along with the welcome sight of two real caramel lattes, nothing like the swill just just endured waiting for the drop.

Setting her helmet down on a spare chair, Angel reached out to embrace her friend. "Hiya Em."