A New Start in Seattle
Seattle, outskirts of the Redmond Barrens, 2000
Jacoby Newsom... no, Billiam now... stands on the dirty concrete, corroded by the acid rain common after the last volcano eruption, that made up an unofficial "bus stop" at the edge of Seattle. The last dirt and dust - mostly volcanic ash - thrown up by the turbines of the T-Bird that had landed earlier was finally settling again, and a light rain has set in. Behind him, the T-Bird is being serviced inside an old warehouse - a warehouse that is far less derelict inside than it looks from the outside. The end of a smuggler route from Denver to Seattle. The start of his new life.
To get him out of a sprawl that had suddenly become too hot, after a run that had turned too ugly, too bloody, that T-Bird Jammer had taken Billiam's last nuyen - at least the man thinks so. Magic is a wonderful gift. Raven would approve.
The city ahead of Billiam looks cold, it's lights half-hidden by the drizzling rain, the moon's light extinct by dark clouds. Suddenly, the cloud cover breaks, and Billiam catches a glimpse of a dark bird on an old crane nearby, staring at him, then cawing, and disappearing in the dark sky.
Raven approves.
Full Version: A New Start in Seattle (IC)
Nods to himself.
"S'oka Jacoby, get a move on," he thinks to himself.
"First things first. Nuyen and shelter."
I should have arranged a place with the smuggler, but I need to distance myself from connection with Denver. The T-bird crew is a loose end, but I'm just going to trust that even if they talk and a connection is made, Seattle is big enough is to get lost in. It sure feels big right now.
I start walking. In no particular direction. Not the best plan it the world, gotta start somewhere.
"S'oka Jacoby, get a move on," he thinks to himself.
"First things first. Nuyen and shelter."
I should have arranged a place with the smuggler, but I need to distance myself from connection with Denver. The T-bird crew is a loose end, but I'm just going to trust that even if they talk and a connection is made, Seattle is big enough is to get lost in. It sure feels big right now.
I start walking. In no particular direction. Not the best plan it the world, gotta start somewhere.
Seattle, Renton, 2000
Billiam walks through the rain, leaving the better sections of the Redmond Barrens, and entering the worse sections of Renton, still suffering from the crash of 2064. But as Raven finds sustenance where others die, this offers opportunities to Billiam. Some of Renton's rich people are not just content with golf clubs and night clubs, but need their entertainment in a more discrete enviroment.
Billiam hears the Club before he turns a corner and sees it. A bar/nightclub, just a bit too clean, and too high-tech to be frequented by locals. A glowing AR sign announces "Renton's Rest", again, better quality than expected. And the two bouncers do look sharp and not on drugs. Caters to rich people slumming.
It smells like money.
Billiam walks through the rain, leaving the better sections of the Redmond Barrens, and entering the worse sections of Renton, still suffering from the crash of 2064. But as Raven finds sustenance where others die, this offers opportunities to Billiam. Some of Renton's rich people are not just content with golf clubs and night clubs, but need their entertainment in a more discrete enviroment.
Billiam hears the Club before he turns a corner and sees it. A bar/nightclub, just a bit too clean, and too high-tech to be frequented by locals. A glowing AR sign announces "Renton's Rest", again, better quality than expected. And the two bouncers do look sharp and not on drugs. Caters to rich people slumming.
It smells like money.
Turning a corner, Billiam sees the bar, and stops.
He looks up and down the street, looking to see how populated it is, not only looking for dangers like gangers, but taking inventory of bums, taxis, wanderers, etc. He uses the mag function of his contacts for a closer look at individuals as well as the club. This opportunity may very well do.
He also looks for (the equivilent of) an ATM near the club.
If there is no one close, he leans on the wall.
If he leans on the wall, he takes a moment and shifts his perception to the astral plane, looking for:
anyone else active in view
anything about the club, as far as wards, spirits, etc.
Basically for anyone that would notice him using magic.
He looks up and down the street, looking to see how populated it is, not only looking for dangers like gangers, but taking inventory of bums, taxis, wanderers, etc. He uses the mag function of his contacts for a closer look at individuals as well as the club. This opportunity may very well do.
He also looks for (the equivilent of) an ATM near the club.
If there is no one close, he leans on the wall.
If he leans on the wall, he takes a moment and shifts his perception to the astral plane, looking for:
anyone else active in view
anything about the club, as far as wards, spirits, etc.
Basically for anyone that would notice him using magic.
Seattle, Renton, 2015
There is no ATM in view, but anyone with enough money to enter the club has most likely wireless access to banks. No gangers or bums are visible near the club either - either paid, or scared off from the club' so the visitors can feel safe. Every few minutes, someone comes or leaves the club, usually with their collars up, and repsirators covering the lower halves of their faces.
Billiam doesn't see any astral activity outside the club, but the club itself is warded - looks like the clientele does not like astral trespassers. Not very strong wards though, for Billiam's standards.
There is no ATM in view, but anyone with enough money to enter the club has most likely wireless access to banks. No gangers or bums are visible near the club either - either paid, or scared off from the club' so the visitors can feel safe. Every few minutes, someone comes or leaves the club, usually with their collars up, and repsirators covering the lower halves of their faces.
[ Spoiler ]
Billiam doesn't see any astral activity outside the club, but the club itself is warded - looks like the clientele does not like astral trespassers. Not very strong wards though, for Billiam's standards.
Billiam takes notes the bouncers.
Are people coming and going in cabs, limo's, walking up? Is security visible in front of the club?
Are people coming and going in cabs, limo's, walking up? Is security visible in front of the club?
Seattle, Renton, 2016
Most guests walk away on foot, entering waiting cabs at the next corner - not many seem to want to leave electronic records of entering a cab in front of the club.
Billiam doesn't see any other security outside the club apart from the two bouncers. There are probably cameras, but he doesn't spot any. As he is wtaching the entrance, another man steps out, collar flipped up, and starts to wlak toward his side of the road. Unlike others who hurry this man is almost strolling. Expensive clothes too.
As the man is getting closer to Billiam's position - and away from the field of view of the two bouncers, the raven shaman suddenly hears some loud sobbing outside coming from the side of the club. A glance reveals a figure huddled there, in the rain, next to the back entrance, shoulders trembling under a plastic hood/poncho combination.
Most guests walk away on foot, entering waiting cabs at the next corner - not many seem to want to leave electronic records of entering a cab in front of the club.
[ Spoiler ]
Billiam doesn't see any other security outside the club apart from the two bouncers. There are probably cameras, but he doesn't spot any. As he is wtaching the entrance, another man steps out, collar flipped up, and starts to wlak toward his side of the road. Unlike others who hurry this man is almost strolling. Expensive clothes too.
[ Spoiler ]
As the man is getting closer to Billiam's position - and away from the field of view of the two bouncers, the raven shaman suddenly hears some loud sobbing outside coming from the side of the club. A glance reveals a figure huddled there, in the rain, next to the back entrance, shoulders trembling under a plastic hood/poncho combination.
Billiam/Raven notices a touch of excitement, at the conflux of variables that the walking man and huddled figure represent.
He holds his position on the wall, and touches into astral perception again. If there is nothing magically active again, he resumes normal vision and zooms in on the huddled figure (keeping awareness of how close the man is)
He holds his position on the wall, and touches into astral perception again. If there is nothing magically active again, he resumes normal vision and zooms in on the huddled figure (keeping awareness of how close the man is)
[ Spoiler ]
Seattle, Renton, 2016
In the astral plane, both figures are lit up by their auras. The man is confident, and happy - although some hint of danger colors his impression. The other figure is a woman, and crying. Her aura shows desperation, and shame. She starts to shuffle off away from the main street and the corner Billiam is at just as the man is about to pass his position, now half a block away from the entrance. A zoom reveals a short skirt - much too short for the temperature outside, beneath the poncho. A closer view of the man reveals an expensive necklace.
[ Spoiler ]
In the astral plane, both figures are lit up by their auras. The man is confident, and happy - although some hint of danger colors his impression. The other figure is a woman, and crying. Her aura shows desperation, and shame. She starts to shuffle off away from the main street and the corner Billiam is at just as the man is about to pass his position, now half a block away from the entrance. A zoom reveals a short skirt - much too short for the temperature outside, beneath the poncho. A closer view of the man reveals an expensive necklace.
[ Spoiler ]
Seattle, Renton, 2016
Billiam spots the two mundanes, with opposite emotional states. Satisfaction in the male, despair in the woman... and they are moving away from each other... opportunity, or opportunities, are here and now.
Billiam spots the two mundanes, with opposite emotional states. Satisfaction in the male, despair in the woman... and they are moving away from each other... opportunity, or opportunities, are here and now.
Billiam frowns slightly to himself and considers the likelihood of possibilities.
He chooses one.
He watches the man approach (assuming the man goes about his merry way) and lets him pass. Making sure the man does in fact continue on his merry way, Billiam waits several moments and then makes towards the shirt skirted girl.
While Raven is capable of direct attack, patience is often the path to greater value.
(If the man does something other than pass on by, B will respond accordingly.)
He chooses one.
He watches the man approach (assuming the man goes about his merry way) and lets him pass. Making sure the man does in fact continue on his merry way, Billiam waits several moments and then makes towards the shirt skirted girl.
While Raven is capable of direct attack, patience is often the path to greater value.
(If the man does something other than pass on by, B will respond accordingly.)
Seattle, Renton, 2016
The just spares Billiam a glance, frowning, then walks a bit faster away, to a waiting cab. The shaman follows the woman now. She's walking slowly, with a slight limp, and still sobs from time to time, barely audible through the drizzling rain. Up close, and as she's moving, Billiam can see that her skirt is part of a waitress uniform - she's wearing pantyhose too, torn over her knee. She doesn't seem to have noticed Billiam yet, walking - limping - through a side alley.
The just spares Billiam a glance, frowning, then walks a bit faster away, to a waiting cab. The shaman follows the woman now. She's walking slowly, with a slight limp, and still sobs from time to time, barely audible through the drizzling rain. Up close, and as she's moving, Billiam can see that her skirt is part of a waitress uniform - she's wearing pantyhose too, torn over her knee. She doesn't seem to have noticed Billiam yet, walking - limping - through a side alley.
Billiam thoroughly look the alley ahead of me over for other occupants. Her aura seemed authentic, so Billiam isn't expecting a trap, but then, he's streetwise enough to always be expecting a trap.
If the coast is clear, or it's just a couple of bums, Billiam speaks out loud enough for the woman to hear, in a friendly enough tone, "Excuse me, my dear, but whatever seems to be the problem?"
I have my hands out at my sides so when/if she turns around she'll be able to see they are empty.
If the coast is clear, or it's just a couple of bums, Billiam speaks out loud enough for the woman to hear, in a friendly enough tone, "Excuse me, my dear, but whatever seems to be the problem?"
I have my hands out at my sides so when/if she turns around she'll be able to see they are empty.
Seattle, Renton, 2016
The woman almost jumps out of her skin when Billiam adresses her, turning around, stumbling over her leg, and steadies herself with a hand on the wall, her breathing speeding up and her eyes darting around for a second before eyeing Billiam. Her face is pretty, even beautiful, but currently marred by bruises, and her make up was ruined by rain - and tears.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
She's afraid, ready to bolt even though she doesn't expect to get away, not with her leg hurting.
The woman almost jumps out of her skin when Billiam adresses her, turning around, stumbling over her leg, and steadies herself with a hand on the wall, her breathing speeding up and her eyes darting around for a second before eyeing Billiam. Her face is pretty, even beautiful, but currently marred by bruises, and her make up was ruined by rain - and tears.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
She's afraid, ready to bolt even though she doesn't expect to get away, not with her leg hurting.
Billiam holds his hands out at his sides in that cliche safe gesture.
Not approaching any further, in a calm, straightforward, non-patronizing voice, Billiam says "My name is Will. I saw you were hurt, perhaps I can help. Plus, I'm new to town, and perhaps you can help me."
Not approaching any further, in a calm, straightforward, non-patronizing voice, Billiam says "My name is Will. I saw you were hurt, perhaps I can help. Plus, I'm new to town, and perhaps you can help me."
Seattle, Renton, 2016
Billiam manages to calm the woman down, and reassure her that he's no threat - no mean feat, given her emotional state, and given where they are. She somehow believes he can help her, even though she does not know how. She almsot starts to sob again, but pulls together.
"What do you want?"
For a moment, her eyes show her life - nothing is ever free. All she seems to be hopeing for is that Billiam doesn't ask for too much.
[ Spoiler ]
Billiam manages to calm the woman down, and reassure her that he's no threat - no mean feat, given her emotional state, and given where they are. She somehow believes he can help her, even though she does not know how. She almsot starts to sob again, but pulls together.
"What do you want?"
For a moment, her eyes show her life - nothing is ever free. All she seems to be hopeing for is that Billiam doesn't ask for too much.
Billiam doesn't change his posture.
He nods and smiles slightly as she pulls herself together.
"Nothing you'll regret. I'm no danger to you."
He continues, "Mostly your knowledge of the area....""
He drops his hands down and looks to her limping leg. "First things first. We should get you somewhere safe." He looks back to meet her gaze.
"Do we have a deal?"
He nods and smiles slightly as she pulls herself together.
"Nothing you'll regret. I'm no danger to you."
He continues, "Mostly your knowledge of the area....""
He drops his hands down and looks to her limping leg. "First things first. We should get you somewhere safe." He looks back to meet her gaze.
"Do we have a deal?"
Seattle, Renton, 2016
It's due to an equal amount of resignation and hope that the woman nods, sounding like someone who has nothing left to lose.
"Deal."
She wipes her eyes, smearing her makeup over her forehead, and sniffles, then continues.
"I live nearby... not far."
She starts to limp on, towards one of the poorer sections of Renton. "Not far" turns into several blocks, then a click. She's taking a few shortcuts, obviously familiar with the area. Soon, gang tags showing a skull and chain cover the walls.
It's due to an equal amount of resignation and hope that the woman nods, sounding like someone who has nothing left to lose.
"Deal."
She wipes her eyes, smearing her makeup over her forehead, and sniffles, then continues.
"I live nearby... not far."
She starts to limp on, towards one of the poorer sections of Renton. "Not far" turns into several blocks, then a click. She's taking a few shortcuts, obviously familiar with the area. Soon, gang tags showing a skull and chain cover the walls.
I was going to cast heal on her, but she seems happy enough to walk. Women are tough, I remind myself.
I walk by her side, keeping a look out. As soon as I see gang sign I raise a protective web of spell defense. "Who does the skull and chain belong to?"
I walk by her side, keeping a look out. As soon as I see gang sign I raise a protective web of spell defense. "Who does the skull and chain belong to?"
Seattle, Renton, 2016
The woman turns her head, then realizes what Billiam means.
"The deadheads. The local gang. They won't make any trouble, not in this rain, not at this time. Should be slotting their chips around now."
The woman continues toward a tall appartment building. The house is not in the best state of repair, but the windows are mostly whole, and the doors have working maglocks - old fashioned they may be. A faded sign announces "Forest Appartment Complex", sporting several bullet holes and stains.
She enters a code, opening the door, and then walks to the elevator, checking if it is working. A bit later Billiam enters her appartment - one and a half rooms, small bathroom with a shower instead of a bath, and a kitchen corner. The walls and the floor show the sign of neglect that happens when AR overlays remove all incentive to clean too much, but it doesn't smell at least. According to the name on the door bell, she's called Christine Anderson. A few toys - toddler toys - are gathering dust in a corner.
Christine all but falls on her couch/bed, and drags out a battered medkit. She grabs some ointment, then looks at Billiam.
"Do you have some pills against the pain?"
The woman turns her head, then realizes what Billiam means.
"The deadheads. The local gang. They won't make any trouble, not in this rain, not at this time. Should be slotting their chips around now."
The woman continues toward a tall appartment building. The house is not in the best state of repair, but the windows are mostly whole, and the doors have working maglocks - old fashioned they may be. A faded sign announces "Forest Appartment Complex", sporting several bullet holes and stains.
She enters a code, opening the door, and then walks to the elevator, checking if it is working. A bit later Billiam enters her appartment - one and a half rooms, small bathroom with a shower instead of a bath, and a kitchen corner. The walls and the floor show the sign of neglect that happens when AR overlays remove all incentive to clean too much, but it doesn't smell at least. According to the name on the door bell, she's called Christine Anderson. A few toys - toddler toys - are gathering dust in a corner.
Christine all but falls on her couch/bed, and drags out a battered medkit. She grabs some ointment, then looks at Billiam.
"Do you have some pills against the pain?"
Billiam makes a casual circle of the place, seeing what there is to see.
She asks for pills, and he moves towards her, and pulls a chair or foot rest over to sit and face her, body language indicating attention towards the leg.
"No. Better than pills." Billiam turns to meet her gaze.
"Two questions first." He holds up one finger and asks, "Whose are those?" moving the single digit towards the toys in the corner.
She asks for pills, and he moves towards her, and pulls a chair or foot rest over to sit and face her, body language indicating attention towards the leg.
"No. Better than pills." Billiam turns to meet her gaze.
"Two questions first." He holds up one finger and asks, "Whose are those?" moving the single digit towards the toys in the corner.
Seattle, Renton, 2016
Christine tenses up at the question. Her mouth opens, then closes. She looks down, away from Billiam, and starts speaking in a low voice.
"Those belong to James. My son."
The woman's eyes get misty, and she wipes them with the back of her hand. There are no signs that a kid lives in the appartment, other than the dusty toys. She shows Billiam a picture of a young human boy, about 5 years old.
"They said I get him back if I can keep a job. If I stay clean."
Christine closes her eyes, pressing her jaws together. Her right eyebrow is faintly twitching. She continues to talk, half to herself, half to Billiam. As it turns out, "they" are the childcare services, or her parents. As she explains, over the next few minutes, she had James with 16, after an affair with another teenager - an Ork. Her parents disapproved - disapproved very much, and Christine ran away from home. James was taken from her and placed in a foster home. Before or after she started taking drugs and chips remains unclear - she jumps back and forth when telling the story. Christine accumulated a string of arrests, a few sentences, but says she's been clean since a year, since she was released.
"I just need to hold down a job for a year, to prove I have a steady income, and a stable life... I've been saving my money, to get a better home..."
Her bruises look like the result of a beating - but not from an "expert" at it. Too randomly placed, not like someone had been trying to cause maximum damage or pain, or to teach a lesson without lasting damage.
Christine tenses up at the question. Her mouth opens, then closes. She looks down, away from Billiam, and starts speaking in a low voice.
"Those belong to James. My son."
The woman's eyes get misty, and she wipes them with the back of her hand. There are no signs that a kid lives in the appartment, other than the dusty toys. She shows Billiam a picture of a young human boy, about 5 years old.
"They said I get him back if I can keep a job. If I stay clean."
Christine closes her eyes, pressing her jaws together. Her right eyebrow is faintly twitching. She continues to talk, half to herself, half to Billiam. As it turns out, "they" are the childcare services, or her parents. As she explains, over the next few minutes, she had James with 16, after an affair with another teenager - an Ork. Her parents disapproved - disapproved very much, and Christine ran away from home. James was taken from her and placed in a foster home. Before or after she started taking drugs and chips remains unclear - she jumps back and forth when telling the story. Christine accumulated a string of arrests, a few sentences, but says she's been clean since a year, since she was released.
"I just need to hold down a job for a year, to prove I have a steady income, and a stable life... I've been saving my money, to get a better home..."
Her bruises look like the result of a beating - but not from an "expert" at it. Too randomly placed, not like someone had been trying to cause maximum damage or pain, or to teach a lesson without lasting damage.
Billiam listens patiently and takes that all in.
He nods when she is done and holds up two fingers. Then points to the leg, and bruises. "Question number two. What exactly caused all this?"
He nods when she is done and holds up two fingers. Then points to the leg, and bruises. "Question number two. What exactly caused all this?"
Seattle, Renton, 2035
Christine looks even more vulnerable as she answers.
"Mr. Franklin, a regular guest at the club, got drunk... and got angry at me."
She sounds not more desperate than angry herself - she seems more concerned about losing her job than getting beaten.
"Just a few more months in the club, and I have enough money to move..."
Christine looks even more vulnerable as she answers.
"Mr. Franklin, a regular guest at the club, got drunk... and got angry at me."
She sounds not more desperate than angry herself - she seems more concerned about losing her job than getting beaten.
"Just a few more months in the club, and I have enough money to move..."
Billiam makes a noise of acknowledgment, with implication of knowing that's not the whole story.
"I'm going to put my hands on your hurt leg, to fell how bad it's hurt, and how best to help it." Billiam waits for her response before doing so.
"I'm going to put my hands on your hurt leg, to fell how bad it's hurt, and how best to help it." Billiam waits for her response before doing so.
Seattle, Renton, 2040
Christine nods, and moves her leg a bit forward, not saying anything, but she's tense - she must expect to feel pain once Billiam starts to check her leg.
Christine nods, and moves her leg a bit forward, not saying anything, but she's tense - she must expect to feel pain once Billiam starts to check her leg.
QUOTE (Fuchs @ Nov 25 2008, 04:34 PM) 
Seattle, Renton, 2040
Christine nods, and moves her leg a bit forward, not saying anything, but she's tense - she must expect to feel pain once Billiam starts to check her leg.
Christine nods, and moves her leg a bit forward, not saying anything, but she's tense - she must expect to feel pain once Billiam starts to check her leg.
Billiam gently places both hands on either side of her knee, and closes his eyes in concentration. He shirts to astral perception and takes a close feel of her injuries, checking her aura to feel if she was raped, or just beaten. He watches her to see how she is watching him.
He prepares the making of a healing spell, pre-attuning the energies to her needs.
Seattle, Renton, 2040
Judging from her aura, there was "just" a beating. She is biting her lower lip as Billiam touches her, stiffling a gasp, and obviously making an effort not to flinch. She doesn't seem to notice Billiam's preparations, or his assensing.
Judging from her aura, there was "just" a beating. She is biting her lower lip as Billiam touches her, stiffling a gasp, and obviously making an effort not to flinch. She doesn't seem to notice Billiam's preparations, or his assensing.
QUOTE (Fuchs @ Nov 26 2008, 01:49 PM)
Seattle, Renton, 2040
Judging from her aura, there was "just" a beating. She is biting her lower lip as Billiam touches her, stiffling a gasp, and obviously making an effort not to flinch. She doesn't seem to notice Billiam's preparations, or his assensing.
Judging from her aura, there was "just" a beating. She is biting her lower lip as Billiam touches her, stiffling a gasp, and obviously making an effort not to flinch. She doesn't seem to notice Billiam's preparations, or his assensing.
Billiam starts humming a healing song, sending healthy ether into her damaged tissue, slowly, gently, in no hurry. He feels into her, feeling for old damage, old trauma from using drugs, etc. I make sure her bruises are taken care of, and the cause of her limp gone.
Billiam isn't worried about drain, so while he uses his spell full strength, he moves it into her slolwy so there will be no shock.
Seattle, Renton, 2040
Christine gapes, speechless, as the magic flows into her. A mixture of awe, relief, and some fear flashes over her face while her bruises fade, and wounds not visible to the eye, but still hurting, start to heal beneath her skin.
She starts twice to ask, but falls silent, until she finds the courage to finish her question:
"Are you a mage... a magician?"
On the astral plane, her aura is changing, darker tones giving way to brighter colors as her emptions turn more positive, hope replacing fear, awe and wonder replacing fatalism and despair, and it seems as if even the whole room gains some more light.
Christine gapes, speechless, as the magic flows into her. A mixture of awe, relief, and some fear flashes over her face while her bruises fade, and wounds not visible to the eye, but still hurting, start to heal beneath her skin.
She starts twice to ask, but falls silent, until she finds the courage to finish her question:
"Are you a mage... a magician?"
On the astral plane, her aura is changing, darker tones giving way to brighter colors as her emptions turn more positive, hope replacing fear, awe and wonder replacing fatalism and despair, and it seems as if even the whole room gains some more light.
I continue humming the healing song. When all has mended as well as it will, I remove my hands to rest on my thighs, close my astral senses, open my eyes to look her over, then meet her eyes and say with a matter of fact smile, "Yes."
Seattle, Renton, 2041
Christine is still tense, her thighs almost twitch under his touch. Her lower lip trembles, and she needs a few moments before she speaks again. Her wounds are completely healed - at least the phyiscal ones.
"Ah... thank you, sir... why, I mean, what are you doing... here?"
Her gesture encompasses the room, but she's talking about the area. She probably only knows magicians from the media, where they are portrayed in often clichee ways - and often live glamorous lives.
On the astral plane, her aura shows slight confusion, but no fear.
Christine is still tense, her thighs almost twitch under his touch. Her lower lip trembles, and she needs a few moments before she speaks again. Her wounds are completely healed - at least the phyiscal ones.
"Ah... thank you, sir... why, I mean, what are you doing... here?"
Her gesture encompasses the room, but she's talking about the area. She probably only knows magicians from the media, where they are portrayed in often clichee ways - and often live glamorous lives.
On the astral plane, her aura shows slight confusion, but no fear.
Billiam returns his senses to the physical plane, and focuses on her.
"You're welcome." He notices her gesture, and takes a moment to consider.
"I've taken flight to seattle and it's all new to me. I just landed, and came across you. It seemed fitting that we could be of service to each other. For your end of our deal, you will help me become familiar with the area with greater speed than I could do alone." He smiles. "And while I won't force it if you don't agree, I would enjoy having a spot on the floor and a roof over my head tonight."
"Once our deal is fulfilled, perhaps we can then negotiate a new one."
"You're welcome." He notices her gesture, and takes a moment to consider.
"I've taken flight to seattle and it's all new to me. I just landed, and came across you. It seemed fitting that we could be of service to each other. For your end of our deal, you will help me become familiar with the area with greater speed than I could do alone." He smiles. "And while I won't force it if you don't agree, I would enjoy having a spot on the floor and a roof over my head tonight."
"Once our deal is fulfilled, perhaps we can then negotiate a new one."
Seattle, Renton, 2041
"Of course you can stay, sir, as long as you need. And I'll help you as best I can, it's the least I could do. Do you need, I mean want something to eat?"
Christine stands up, finding some calm in being a host, then gets embarassed when she realizes that she has just soy food in the fridge.
"Ah... I just have... I mean, I can go and buy something better..."
Christine trails off, looking timid. Her aura shows her embarassement. She obviously doesn't want to offend the mighty mage - or refuse him.
"Of course you can stay, sir, as long as you need. And I'll help you as best I can, it's the least I could do. Do you need, I mean want something to eat?"
Christine stands up, finding some calm in being a host, then gets embarassed when she realizes that she has just soy food in the fridge.
"Ah... I just have... I mean, I can go and buy something better..."
Christine trails off, looking timid. Her aura shows her embarassement. She obviously doesn't want to offend the mighty mage - or refuse him.
"I appreciate that." Billiam says to her in response to the offer to stay. "I'll take you up on that for no more than a few days."
Billiam holds up a hand to the offer of food. "What I could use right now is to get familiar with my surroundings. Local news, maps, business listings....and your personal knowledge, like gangs, big names in the area, etc."
"I can get what I can get off my commlink, but what's in your head will be most helpful for me."
Billiam holds up a hand to the offer of food. "What I could use right now is to get familiar with my surroundings. Local news, maps, business listings....and your personal knowledge, like gangs, big names in the area, etc."
"I can get what I can get off my commlink, but what's in your head will be most helpful for me."
Seattle, Renton, 2042
Christine nods several times, understanding. She takes a few seconds, her eyes losing focus - probably thinking about what she knows - then starts talking.
"Ah. The local gang here are the Deadheads. That's their tag on the walls, the skull and chains. Ah, I think I already said that, didn't I? Their leader is called Ferris, but I've never seen him, I only saw his Lieutenant, Hank. He's a scary man - tall, lean, and always showing his teeth when he smiles - he has metal teeth, pointy ones."
Christine shudders a bit when she tells this, she's clearly afraid of that man.
"The Deadheads aren't that bad a gang, compared to others I have heard of, like the Night Hunters. Just sometimes they get a bad batch of chips, and then you have to avoid them for a while. Once though it was really funny - someone must have slipped them a hacked chip, or one of them must have made a big mistake, or something, they all acted like Maloney for a day!"
Christine giggles as she tells this story. Given that Maloney is a character from a sitcom, an exceedingly neat and proper accountant with a flair for flaming fashion who serves as the straight man in the series, this must have been a sight.
"Lately, they have started to beat up metas. They say it's in response to attacks by the rusted stilettos. Oh, and never ever mistake the Deadheads for that other gang with skulls on their faces, Dissassemblers, they really hate that. Cynthia told me those are ghouls and ghoul friends who capture people to eat alive. Cynthia is a deadhead too. But those ghouls are not in Renton."
Christine grows serious again.
"The Night Hunters are the other important local gang. There are lots of them, but they usually are moving in small groups. They hate metas, and they're all freaks, full of cyber and drugs and stuff. Some say half of them are drones gone rogue in disguise."
Christine shudders again.
"But it's not too bad. If the gangs become too much of a problem, the Finnigans or Humanis do something about it. The gangs fear the Finnigans, and they like Humanis."
Christine looks down again.
"That's why I need to leave with James, once I can have him back... his father was an ork, and if he goblinizes... I don't want him to grow up here, hating metas..."
Christine trails off, taking a few deep breaths.
"Humanis has a lot of offices and stuff here. They run most of the charities, and dominate the politics. They've got the money. And people like them for it. If they're not metas. Then they are afraid of them, or gone. The leader of the Renton chapter is Erol Brown-Watherson."
Christine looks sad again.
"And everyone is afraid of the Finnigans. I heard one man ran over a niece of a Finnigan with his car and they found him in the harbor, drove straight into the sea. People say a hacker did it, and recorded the man's death on a chip for the Finnigan. I don't know who is the leader of them here - they never talk much to outsiders, and we don't ask questions. But they leave you in peace if you don't make them angry, and they are not that anti-meta."
The woman blinks for a second, wrinkling her forehead in thought.
"Other important people... hm... a lot of the clients in the 'Rest are rich, but I don't know if they are all from Renton. My boss, Phil Ballantine, would know. I know just a few of them, but we are not allowed to talk about them."
She looks afraid again.
Christine nods several times, understanding. She takes a few seconds, her eyes losing focus - probably thinking about what she knows - then starts talking.
"Ah. The local gang here are the Deadheads. That's their tag on the walls, the skull and chains. Ah, I think I already said that, didn't I? Their leader is called Ferris, but I've never seen him, I only saw his Lieutenant, Hank. He's a scary man - tall, lean, and always showing his teeth when he smiles - he has metal teeth, pointy ones."
Christine shudders a bit when she tells this, she's clearly afraid of that man.
"The Deadheads aren't that bad a gang, compared to others I have heard of, like the Night Hunters. Just sometimes they get a bad batch of chips, and then you have to avoid them for a while. Once though it was really funny - someone must have slipped them a hacked chip, or one of them must have made a big mistake, or something, they all acted like Maloney for a day!"
Christine giggles as she tells this story. Given that Maloney is a character from a sitcom, an exceedingly neat and proper accountant with a flair for flaming fashion who serves as the straight man in the series, this must have been a sight.
"Lately, they have started to beat up metas. They say it's in response to attacks by the rusted stilettos. Oh, and never ever mistake the Deadheads for that other gang with skulls on their faces, Dissassemblers, they really hate that. Cynthia told me those are ghouls and ghoul friends who capture people to eat alive. Cynthia is a deadhead too. But those ghouls are not in Renton."
Christine grows serious again.
"The Night Hunters are the other important local gang. There are lots of them, but they usually are moving in small groups. They hate metas, and they're all freaks, full of cyber and drugs and stuff. Some say half of them are drones gone rogue in disguise."
Christine shudders again.
"But it's not too bad. If the gangs become too much of a problem, the Finnigans or Humanis do something about it. The gangs fear the Finnigans, and they like Humanis."
Christine looks down again.
"That's why I need to leave with James, once I can have him back... his father was an ork, and if he goblinizes... I don't want him to grow up here, hating metas..."
Christine trails off, taking a few deep breaths.
"Humanis has a lot of offices and stuff here. They run most of the charities, and dominate the politics. They've got the money. And people like them for it. If they're not metas. Then they are afraid of them, or gone. The leader of the Renton chapter is Erol Brown-Watherson."
Christine looks sad again.
"And everyone is afraid of the Finnigans. I heard one man ran over a niece of a Finnigan with his car and they found him in the harbor, drove straight into the sea. People say a hacker did it, and recorded the man's death on a chip for the Finnigan. I don't know who is the leader of them here - they never talk much to outsiders, and we don't ask questions. But they leave you in peace if you don't make them angry, and they are not that anti-meta."
The woman blinks for a second, wrinkling her forehead in thought.
"Other important people... hm... a lot of the clients in the 'Rest are rich, but I don't know if they are all from Renton. My boss, Phil Ballantine, would know. I know just a few of them, but we are not allowed to talk about them."
She looks afraid again.
Billiam takes all that in. Easy enough to remember. He'll get borders, locations, and turfs from her and put in the commlink.
He nods when she is done. "I understand." he says. "You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to."
He nods when she is done. "I understand." he says. "You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to."
Seattle, Renton, Christine's appartment, 2055
Christine smiles, gratefully for not being asked to go against the wishes of either him or her employer. SHe helps with borders, as much as she can, but outside her home and workplace, and especially outside Renton, she's hazy on the details.
"What else do you need to know?"
Christine smiles, gratefully for not being asked to go against the wishes of either him or her employer. SHe helps with borders, as much as she can, but outside her home and workplace, and especially outside Renton, she's hazy on the details.
"What else do you need to know?"
I am silent for a bit of time.
"First, is survival." I indicate the roof and walls.
"Second, is survive."
"Third, is thrive." I look Christine in the eye. "I'm not a bad man, but I'm not a saint either. What I'm looking for next is a mark, a target. Theft, yes, but only from...shall we say...deserving targets."
I'm curious what she will do with my honesty. I'm curious how loyal she is to her job and her struggle to get her son back. I'm curious if she will see opportunity for herself.
"First, is survival." I indicate the roof and walls.
"Second, is survive."
"Third, is thrive." I look Christine in the eye. "I'm not a bad man, but I'm not a saint either. What I'm looking for next is a mark, a target. Theft, yes, but only from...shall we say...deserving targets."
I'm curious what she will do with my honesty. I'm curious how loyal she is to her job and her struggle to get her son back. I'm curious if she will see opportunity for herself.
Seattle, Renton, Christine's appartment, 2055
Christine looks unsure, and her aura shows it.
"What do you mean, deserving target?"
Christine looks unsure, and her aura shows it.
"What do you mean, deserving target?"
"For instance, I wouldn't steal from someone like you whether you had money or not....but would have no remorse about taking value from, gangs, criminal organizations, or wealthy individuals with cruel hearts and unsavory demeanors."
I shrug. "It's a harsh world, but we still make our choices, neh?"
I shrug. "It's a harsh world, but we still make our choices, neh?"
Seattle, Renton, Christine's appartment, 2057
Christine hesitates, but as she remains silent for a few moments, her aura shows some changes - some doubts, some fear gives way to determination with a shade of hate.
"Mr. Franklin. Stephen Franklin. He's rich, and cruel."
Christine pauses, then starts to describe this Franklin, speaking quickly, almost a torrent of words.
"He's old, but looks young. He's old 'cause he talk about the days before the crash - the first crash, not the second. But he looks young, full dark hair, short beard, always wears a suit. No label. He lives in Renton, in the old part. Big villa, old as well - really old. He always comes into the Club once or twice a week, always alone, and drinks old whisky, single malt. He drinks a lot, and sometimes gets angry. Violently angry, if he doesn't get what he wants. If he gets what he wants he tips a lot, so many girls don't complain much, not to his face at least. But sometimes he's drunk and in a mood that no matter what you do, it's wrong."
Christine's aura shows her emotions during her speech - old pain, humilation, but anger too, coloring the astral impression of her.
Christine hesitates, but as she remains silent for a few moments, her aura shows some changes - some doubts, some fear gives way to determination with a shade of hate.
"Mr. Franklin. Stephen Franklin. He's rich, and cruel."
Christine pauses, then starts to describe this Franklin, speaking quickly, almost a torrent of words.
"He's old, but looks young. He's old 'cause he talk about the days before the crash - the first crash, not the second. But he looks young, full dark hair, short beard, always wears a suit. No label. He lives in Renton, in the old part. Big villa, old as well - really old. He always comes into the Club once or twice a week, always alone, and drinks old whisky, single malt. He drinks a lot, and sometimes gets angry. Violently angry, if he doesn't get what he wants. If he gets what he wants he tips a lot, so many girls don't complain much, not to his face at least. But sometimes he's drunk and in a mood that no matter what you do, it's wrong."
Christine's aura shows her emotions during her speech - old pain, humilation, but anger too, coloring the astral impression of her.
I repress a smile. "Exactly...." I drawl.
"Tell me more."
"Tell me more."
Seattle, Renton, Christine's appartment, 2102
Christine looks a bit crestfallen.
"I don't know much more - I just see him when he comes to the club."
Christine looks a bit crestfallen.
"I don't know much more - I just see him when he comes to the club."
"That's fine. That's plenty. He sounds like an excellent target, and deserving of some payback."
I ponder for a moment. "Say more about he's old but looks young..."
I ponder for a moment. "Say more about he's old but looks young..."
Seattle, Renton, Christine's appartment, 2102
Christine wrinkles her nose, concentrating.
"He looks like a young man, but he acts older - speaks different, and he talks about the time before the crash, as if he saw it himself. First Crash. And, he moves like a young man, but acts a bit old-fashioned."
Christine wrinkles her nose, concentrating.
"He looks like a young man, but he acts older - speaks different, and he talks about the time before the crash, as if he saw it himself. First Crash. And, he moves like a young man, but acts a bit old-fashioned."
Billiam nods, but has an uneasy feeling about her description. Intuition? Cautiousness? He'll have to look into that. But the man sounds like an excellet mark, on several levels.
"S'oka. Makes me curious what he's using...."
"Does he come to the club by cab or his own car?"
"S'oka. Makes me curious what he's using...."
"Does he come to the club by cab or his own car?"
Seattle, Renton, Christine's appartment, 2102
Christine blinks, trying to remember.
"I think he uses a cab each time. I am not sure though."
Christine blinks, trying to remember.
"I think he uses a cab each time. I am not sure though."
Billiam nods.
"Ok. I'm going to lay down for a bit. Do you think you could pull anything up on him on the net?"
"Ok. I'm going to lay down for a bit. Do you think you could pull anything up on him on the net?"
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