Optronics lab, 1700 hours, November 10th 2063
Kyle walked slowly through the security scanner, trying his best not to look scared, or nervous. The wage slave guard gave him the once over before going back to his book. Well, that was certainly easier than I thought. Kyle unconsciously scratched his head as he left the four story building on the western edge of downtown. It was a short walk to the underground garage, and his waiting Ford Americar. The edgy scientist carefully pulled out into traffic and started his way home. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Three weeks of planning to this point. three weeks to gather all the data, plant the SK provided virus in the mainframe, and sabotage the working laser. Three weeks. I can't belive I'm doing this, he thought.
His home was a complex in West Seattle, certainly not nice, but not bad for his taste. A moving van was parked outside, the Novatech logo emblazoned on the side. Just a coincidence his brain filtered to him.
It wasn't.
The door to his apartment was open, and men were packing up his goods. Two people stood outside his door, a human with the corp look all over him, and a very, very large troll.
"Kyle," the human said with a big grin, "good to see you!" Kyle was sure he hadn't met the man before. "Yo... you are?"
"Dave, Dave Weslake, we met yesterday afternoon, good things are happening Kyle." he said in an overly cheerful tone. Kyle still had no recollection of the mans name.
"The higher ups have taken an interest in your work, were moving you to a secure housing facility in Auburn, and you will be working out of the Auburn facility starting Tuesday, the movers are packing you now, your going to like your new place."
Kyle tried not to let the dejection show on his face, he was stunned. Not now, he thought, oh drek not now. There was nothing to work on, and when he reassembled the project Tuesday morning, they would know who sabotaged it. What else could go wrong.
"Now we understand that this promotion comes with increased benefits, it also comes with increased risks. So we are providing one of the companies Bodyguards for you, he will act as your driver, and aid until the completion of the project."
Read: Watchdog, Kyle thought.
Full Version: IC: Threat and Favor
Jessie reaches under the table and passes Zoe the credstick and then picks up the small package left for her there.
“You’re a dear, Zoe. Thanks for the quick hookup. I gotta run, but enjoy your drinks.”
She blows the fixer a kiss, slides off the barstool, and turns to head out the door. She makes her way across the parking lot, glad to see that the rain has finally started to clear up. Whistling a little tune to herself, she climbs into her black Americar and heads for home.
The ride home is smooth sailing and relaxing. Jessie always loves times like this, having just come down from a job. She revels in the satisfaction of a job well done. In the back of her mind she wondered how Jason was doing, but was sure his father was taking good care of him. It had been a while since Jessie had had any contact with someone from Salish, it reminded her a little too much of her heritage. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just one she wasn’t used to thinking about. She smiles to herself as she pulls into the parking garage of her apartment building. The world is a big place and I’m just a little ant trying to get by… and this little ant wants a hot bath.
“You’re a dear, Zoe. Thanks for the quick hookup. I gotta run, but enjoy your drinks.”
She blows the fixer a kiss, slides off the barstool, and turns to head out the door. She makes her way across the parking lot, glad to see that the rain has finally started to clear up. Whistling a little tune to herself, she climbs into her black Americar and heads for home.
The ride home is smooth sailing and relaxing. Jessie always loves times like this, having just come down from a job. She revels in the satisfaction of a job well done. In the back of her mind she wondered how Jason was doing, but was sure his father was taking good care of him. It had been a while since Jessie had had any contact with someone from Salish, it reminded her a little too much of her heritage. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just one she wasn’t used to thinking about. She smiles to herself as she pulls into the parking garage of her apartment building. The world is a big place and I’m just a little ant trying to get by… and this little ant wants a hot bath.
1804 hours Thursday, November 10th 2063
"...plans have changed, Mr. Werner, their on to me I think, they moved me to a secure location and even assigned me a body guard, I think were going to have to can.." A cold stair from the calculating elf shot down that line of thought. "Listen closely heir Morgan. The operation will not change, Da? There will be no departure from our plan. You will just have to trust that we can get you out, call it a leap of faith." Werner glared hard at the tridee, "we have gone to great expense on the promise of good faith, Heir Morgan, I do not wish to see anything happen that would jeopardize so valuable a asset. "
The emphasis on asset made Kyle's blood run cold. That's all he was, a asset, to be used, and neutralized if necessary. "Yessir," he mumbled quietly, "the plan will continue."
Werner smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "Now permission to use corp assets was denied, so I will be using local talent, expect them this weekend. Goodbye, Heir Morgan." The line went dead. Werner leaned back in his power chair and rested his eyes for moment. He despised talking in English. German was the only true language for his taste. He triggered the blinds on his controller, and basked in the fading sun. The op had been planned down to the detail, it had to happen this weekend. The four day break provided enough time to extract the asset, sabotage the work, and have it out of the country by Tuesday.
Novatech may have just realized what an amazing thing they had at Optronics, but Werner had realized it 6 months before. He had been preparing this since, from the extraction to the black mail. Kyle was a good company man; under his own influence he would have never have betrayed Optronics. But given the correct influence, like pictures of him and a sixteen year old girl, he would do much. Werner made it easy for him, larger paycheck, better benefits, nicer labs, all the dominoes fell, and Kyle Morgan, phd, was theirs. It would be a nice feather in his cap, maybe even enough to get back to the home office.
"Julia," Werner called for his secretary, she was young and pretty, but hated him and he knew it. He expected her to be there when he was, and he was there all the time.
The young girl came in quickly, pda in hand and plugged into her jack. "Yes sir?" She said in English. He gave her a stern look, and she corrected herself. "Ja sir." He smiled, he would not hear English in his presence unless absolutely unavoidable, the fact that he mad her pay for her own chips added to her hatred of him. The thought made him smile.
*"Erhalten Sie mir jemand lokal, ein Fixer würde tun. Ich benötige lokales Talent und ich muß sie gut sein."
She nodded, he knew she was recording his speech and would translate it later, "and be quick," he snapped. She left his office and he leaned back again, now it would just be a matter of time.
*Get me someone local, a fixer would do. I need local talent, and I need them to be good.
"...plans have changed, Mr. Werner, their on to me I think, they moved me to a secure location and even assigned me a body guard, I think were going to have to can.." A cold stair from the calculating elf shot down that line of thought. "Listen closely heir Morgan. The operation will not change, Da? There will be no departure from our plan. You will just have to trust that we can get you out, call it a leap of faith." Werner glared hard at the tridee, "we have gone to great expense on the promise of good faith, Heir Morgan, I do not wish to see anything happen that would jeopardize so valuable a asset. "
The emphasis on asset made Kyle's blood run cold. That's all he was, a asset, to be used, and neutralized if necessary. "Yessir," he mumbled quietly, "the plan will continue."
Werner smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "Now permission to use corp assets was denied, so I will be using local talent, expect them this weekend. Goodbye, Heir Morgan." The line went dead. Werner leaned back in his power chair and rested his eyes for moment. He despised talking in English. German was the only true language for his taste. He triggered the blinds on his controller, and basked in the fading sun. The op had been planned down to the detail, it had to happen this weekend. The four day break provided enough time to extract the asset, sabotage the work, and have it out of the country by Tuesday.
Novatech may have just realized what an amazing thing they had at Optronics, but Werner had realized it 6 months before. He had been preparing this since, from the extraction to the black mail. Kyle was a good company man; under his own influence he would have never have betrayed Optronics. But given the correct influence, like pictures of him and a sixteen year old girl, he would do much. Werner made it easy for him, larger paycheck, better benefits, nicer labs, all the dominoes fell, and Kyle Morgan, phd, was theirs. It would be a nice feather in his cap, maybe even enough to get back to the home office.
"Julia," Werner called for his secretary, she was young and pretty, but hated him and he knew it. He expected her to be there when he was, and he was there all the time.
The young girl came in quickly, pda in hand and plugged into her jack. "Yes sir?" She said in English. He gave her a stern look, and she corrected herself. "Ja sir." He smiled, he would not hear English in his presence unless absolutely unavoidable, the fact that he mad her pay for her own chips added to her hatred of him. The thought made him smile.
*"Erhalten Sie mir jemand lokal, ein Fixer würde tun. Ich benötige lokales Talent und ich muß sie gut sein."
She nodded, he knew she was recording his speech and would translate it later, "and be quick," he snapped. She left his office and he leaned back again, now it would just be a matter of time.
*Get me someone local, a fixer would do. I need local talent, and I need them to be good.
Ghost Dragon sits in his apartment, the noise of the trid screen and laundry washing machine filling his flat. Concentrating nonetheless, Ghost Dragon practices a few of his martial arts moves, visualizing people he never liked as imaginary opponents before him, and defeating them one by one in the middle of his living room area.
When the washer is done, he hangs up what needs to be hung out to dry, which is nearly everything, and then throws the rest into the drier. After the drier is done, Ghost Dragon sits down in his hermetic circle to meditate, in preparation for going to sleep.
When the washer is done, he hangs up what needs to be hung out to dry, which is nearly everything, and then throws the rest into the drier. After the drier is done, Ghost Dragon sits down in his hermetic circle to meditate, in preparation for going to sleep.
[Sink]
"Hey get out from under there there you big ugly Trog" Lava shouted. "Come on, I have to lock up. I got a date tonight."
"Just a sec, I'm about done" the Troll replied. He pulled himself out from under the Americar and stood up gracefully.
"Whats da rush? She's not gonna go out wit you more dan once anyways." he said as he got behind the wheel. The engine kicked over on the first try, its throaty roar drowning out his friend's obscenity filled reply.
"What's dat? I can't hear you." he added with a grin, reving the engine a bit. Satisfied that the engine was running better he shut it down and got out.
Lava grinned back at the Troll, who went by the handle Sink. "What I was trying to say was that at least I got a first date. You're always looking in the wrong places. I can't believe you talked me into going to the 'Twisted Pair' last week. You ever heard of guys like us meeting women at a decker bar?"
Sink looked over at Lava with a bit of a wounded look on his face. "But dat's where Erica hangs out." To hide his embarasment he bent down and began to pick up the tools he'd used to fix the car. "You'll see, she'll go out wit me yet." Lava knew how far he could push him, and decided he could get away with needling him a bit further. "What would a woman of Erica the Red's obvious charm and sophistication see in you? She's a decker you dumb Trog. I think she's even been to college. You never made it past junior high."
Sink grinned. "I know, but she's da sweetest looking Troll I've ever seen. 'Sides, we don't have ta talk about decking. I know she don't take me seriously yet, but dat'll change, you'll see."
He got into his car before Lava could give him any more grief and started it up. He stuck his head out of the window and said "See ya later. Good luck wit Melanie tonight. She seems nice." He rolled up the window and drove out of the garage, heading for home.
"Hey get out from under there there you big ugly Trog" Lava shouted. "Come on, I have to lock up. I got a date tonight."
"Just a sec, I'm about done" the Troll replied. He pulled himself out from under the Americar and stood up gracefully.
"Whats da rush? She's not gonna go out wit you more dan once anyways." he said as he got behind the wheel. The engine kicked over on the first try, its throaty roar drowning out his friend's obscenity filled reply.
"What's dat? I can't hear you." he added with a grin, reving the engine a bit. Satisfied that the engine was running better he shut it down and got out.
Lava grinned back at the Troll, who went by the handle Sink. "What I was trying to say was that at least I got a first date. You're always looking in the wrong places. I can't believe you talked me into going to the 'Twisted Pair' last week. You ever heard of guys like us meeting women at a decker bar?"
Sink looked over at Lava with a bit of a wounded look on his face. "But dat's where Erica hangs out." To hide his embarasment he bent down and began to pick up the tools he'd used to fix the car. "You'll see, she'll go out wit me yet." Lava knew how far he could push him, and decided he could get away with needling him a bit further. "What would a woman of Erica the Red's obvious charm and sophistication see in you? She's a decker you dumb Trog. I think she's even been to college. You never made it past junior high."
Sink grinned. "I know, but she's da sweetest looking Troll I've ever seen. 'Sides, we don't have ta talk about decking. I know she don't take me seriously yet, but dat'll change, you'll see."
He got into his car before Lava could give him any more grief and started it up. He stuck his head out of the window and said "See ya later. Good luck wit Melanie tonight. She seems nice." He rolled up the window and drove out of the garage, heading for home.
Warpath
The tin buzz of the apartment's central computer sounded and brought the hulking human to wakefulness. As he rose from unconciounsess, he imagined a whirring rezz noise over the awakening of his dormant systems. The sound was all imaginary, of course, the cybernetic systems doing their job in utter silence. Still, imagining the rezzing noise helped him forget a bit of what he'd become and almost pretend that his electronics might be something other than internal. They were not, of course, and the inky green layout of his safehouse soon appeared on his optical display, showing his location in minute detail, as well as the rest of the apartment.
He yawned, his vat grown muscles rippling as he did so. The safehouse was always a bit of a disappointment to him, after all. Unlike his better pad, this place offered more privacy though worse accomodations. From the outside, it was just a basement apartment in one of the moderately bad parts of Everett. From the inside it was... well, pretty much the same thing. The only thing that he'd taken the time to upgrade was the security system.
As wakefulness finished returning, he released his grip on the assault rifle he had been cradling like a child. Ever since the last job, he'd been on edge. No one had come to strike back at him, but he knew that taking a chance was deadly. So he'd retreated here. He groped to the side of the bed and found his pocket secretary.
The thing lit up as he touched it, but he ignored the screen and unreeled the jack cable from the side. Plugging in, he got a tortise connection to the Matrix and began scrolling throught the rentals. He needed a new place by the end of the month, and a new safehouse if he could find it as well.
After a while, he rose and showered, taking the time to run through a few combat forms. Sitting idle, he was getting rusty, he feared. He grabbed a few things, mainly his walking around weapons and his long coat and vest, and headed out the door. His link to the pocket secretary still established, he gave Ziggy a call.
"Hoi, chummer," he recieved as greeting. The armorer on the other end of the line sounded a bit groggy.
"Hoi, Zig. Got those batteries in?"
"Yeah. Fraggin' early to be needin' 'em though."
Warpath laughed aloud and the transducer translated it into thought as well, "I'll buy you lunch, meet me at the Pepper in an hour?"
"Jah," Ziggy said and hung up.
For his part, Warpath hopped in his Brumby and started heading for Tacoma.
The tin buzz of the apartment's central computer sounded and brought the hulking human to wakefulness. As he rose from unconciounsess, he imagined a whirring rezz noise over the awakening of his dormant systems. The sound was all imaginary, of course, the cybernetic systems doing their job in utter silence. Still, imagining the rezzing noise helped him forget a bit of what he'd become and almost pretend that his electronics might be something other than internal. They were not, of course, and the inky green layout of his safehouse soon appeared on his optical display, showing his location in minute detail, as well as the rest of the apartment.
He yawned, his vat grown muscles rippling as he did so. The safehouse was always a bit of a disappointment to him, after all. Unlike his better pad, this place offered more privacy though worse accomodations. From the outside, it was just a basement apartment in one of the moderately bad parts of Everett. From the inside it was... well, pretty much the same thing. The only thing that he'd taken the time to upgrade was the security system.
As wakefulness finished returning, he released his grip on the assault rifle he had been cradling like a child. Ever since the last job, he'd been on edge. No one had come to strike back at him, but he knew that taking a chance was deadly. So he'd retreated here. He groped to the side of the bed and found his pocket secretary.
The thing lit up as he touched it, but he ignored the screen and unreeled the jack cable from the side. Plugging in, he got a tortise connection to the Matrix and began scrolling throught the rentals. He needed a new place by the end of the month, and a new safehouse if he could find it as well.
After a while, he rose and showered, taking the time to run through a few combat forms. Sitting idle, he was getting rusty, he feared. He grabbed a few things, mainly his walking around weapons and his long coat and vest, and headed out the door. His link to the pocket secretary still established, he gave Ziggy a call.
"Hoi, chummer," he recieved as greeting. The armorer on the other end of the line sounded a bit groggy.
"Hoi, Zig. Got those batteries in?"
"Yeah. Fraggin' early to be needin' 'em though."
Warpath laughed aloud and the transducer translated it into thought as well, "I'll buy you lunch, meet me at the Pepper in an hour?"
"Jah," Ziggy said and hung up.
For his part, Warpath hopped in his Brumby and started heading for Tacoma.
Ohanzee
Another rainy day in Seattle comes to an end...
Just as the sun creeps around the horizon to hand over its duty to her pale companion the already aging Ford Americar turns into the ramp of the parking garage of a proper looking apartment building in North Tacoma.
The Amerindian who gets out of the car looks tired as he routinely locks the Ford and gets into the elevator. His mind lost in gloomy thoughts he presses the button "5" and 12.7 seconds and a few frowns later he stands in front of the door which reads "M. and J. Crafter"
Swiping the keycard through the reader without looking at it he opens the door to enter. Light, Coat, Shoes, in that order. Even though his implants would allow him to see without light he preferes not to use them if not needed.
The spacious appartment lights up in a warm light, a wide living and sleeping area opening before the tired man. His steps take him into the kitchen and his hands start preparing a cup of strong Darjeeling.
With the steaming cup in his hands he returns to the living room, setting it on a small table next to the couch. As he is taking a seat he is already grabing the remote to switch on the telecom.
3 New Messages.
...adverstising...
...Junk...
wait! "Subject: You're application from the 7th November 63"
Exitement creeps into his yet tired face and his heart beats just a bit faster. He hardly dares pressing the button... open...
"Regarding your application for a position as chief of security in our Seattle facility we regret to have to tell you that..."
He didn't need to read the rest. He had read it often enough in other mails from other companies.
As if that wasn't enough bad news for the day he decided to call Lightning. The decker picked up almost the instant he finished dialing. He didn't save the LTG numbers of business contacts in his adress book for security reasons.
"Hey Johnny-boy, how you doing? Not feeling like using your implants today?", she said with a mild smile. He usually uses his implanted cellphone to make calls. At least she wasn't as cheerful as usual.
"No" he answered drily. It made the last bit of her smile vanish and a more concerned look took hold of her face. Or was it just pity? After all this time he still couldn't tell...
"One of those day again, hm?"
"Do you really need to know?", he said wearily.
"Didn't know it was that bad...", she said, almost a bit annoyed.
"I'm sorry", he tried to excuse for his unfriendliness. He knew that it was unfair that only his friends got to feel his bad moods but he couldn't change it. He tried several times before.
"Well, what is it then?"
"Just wanted to ask whether you found out anything concerning Molly."
"About the operations? I'm afraid not. Most certified clinics are too expensive and I doubt you'll pass their background check. They'll want to know how somebody like you got all the money for such an operation. You've been officially unemployed for over a year, remember?"
"And you don't think you can fix that? Change a few records?"
"Do you have any idea what that'll do to your life? If anybody finds out you're going to sit. And I don't wanna think about what happens to Molly when you're in jail. And even if you get out again, you'll be a criminal with a SIN to suit you."
"I know, I know...", he seemed more tired that ever, "I just don't know what to do any more. Even if I do get the money someday, they still wouldn't do it."
"If I find anything, I'll let you know. But maybe you can find someone with the right connections who owes you a favor..."
"I don't know. It's a rule not to trust your business partners."
"You may not have another choice. This can't go on forever. You know that."
"Yeah...", silence, "well, anyways, it was nice talking to you"
"Liar."
"See you"
"Take care, John."
"You too. Bye"
He hung up.
Looking for some distraction he switches on the trid. News. Economics, Desert Wars, Sports. Some cop shot a trog who was attacking him, yea right.
And no mention of the 4 people who died from the Amerindians hand this very morning.
How worthless life has become...
Not able to get to happier thoughts there he turned off the trid and instead decides to listen to Johann Sebastian Bach and meditate, which he does for about two hours until he goes to bed.
Usually he didn't return home for at least one night after a job but he was pretty sure that nobody would follow him after last night's assignment.
However, he still clung to the habbit of sleeping one night on his own before he got Molly back.
As he lay in bed, the pictures returned. A body collapsing on concrete floor, blood...
He activated the sleep regulator and slipped into dreams.
Molly, smiling at him, running towards him, young and strong as if nothing had ever happened. Then fire. Shots. White walls. Shouts and screams. A soldier lying in front of him, beheaded. Clacking noises of too many chitin legs growing louder behind him... although he know what to expect he turns around and freezes in shock.
Another rainy day in Seattle comes to an end...
Just as the sun creeps around the horizon to hand over its duty to her pale companion the already aging Ford Americar turns into the ramp of the parking garage of a proper looking apartment building in North Tacoma.
The Amerindian who gets out of the car looks tired as he routinely locks the Ford and gets into the elevator. His mind lost in gloomy thoughts he presses the button "5" and 12.7 seconds and a few frowns later he stands in front of the door which reads "M. and J. Crafter"
Swiping the keycard through the reader without looking at it he opens the door to enter. Light, Coat, Shoes, in that order. Even though his implants would allow him to see without light he preferes not to use them if not needed.
The spacious appartment lights up in a warm light, a wide living and sleeping area opening before the tired man. His steps take him into the kitchen and his hands start preparing a cup of strong Darjeeling.
With the steaming cup in his hands he returns to the living room, setting it on a small table next to the couch. As he is taking a seat he is already grabing the remote to switch on the telecom.
3 New Messages.
...adverstising...
...Junk...
wait! "Subject: You're application from the 7th November 63"
Exitement creeps into his yet tired face and his heart beats just a bit faster. He hardly dares pressing the button... open...
"Regarding your application for a position as chief of security in our Seattle facility we regret to have to tell you that..."
He didn't need to read the rest. He had read it often enough in other mails from other companies.
As if that wasn't enough bad news for the day he decided to call Lightning. The decker picked up almost the instant he finished dialing. He didn't save the LTG numbers of business contacts in his adress book for security reasons.
"Hey Johnny-boy, how you doing? Not feeling like using your implants today?", she said with a mild smile. He usually uses his implanted cellphone to make calls. At least she wasn't as cheerful as usual.
"No" he answered drily. It made the last bit of her smile vanish and a more concerned look took hold of her face. Or was it just pity? After all this time he still couldn't tell...
"One of those day again, hm?"
"Do you really need to know?", he said wearily.
"Didn't know it was that bad...", she said, almost a bit annoyed.
"I'm sorry", he tried to excuse for his unfriendliness. He knew that it was unfair that only his friends got to feel his bad moods but he couldn't change it. He tried several times before.
"Well, what is it then?"
"Just wanted to ask whether you found out anything concerning Molly."
"About the operations? I'm afraid not. Most certified clinics are too expensive and I doubt you'll pass their background check. They'll want to know how somebody like you got all the money for such an operation. You've been officially unemployed for over a year, remember?"
"And you don't think you can fix that? Change a few records?"
"Do you have any idea what that'll do to your life? If anybody finds out you're going to sit. And I don't wanna think about what happens to Molly when you're in jail. And even if you get out again, you'll be a criminal with a SIN to suit you."
"I know, I know...", he seemed more tired that ever, "I just don't know what to do any more. Even if I do get the money someday, they still wouldn't do it."
"If I find anything, I'll let you know. But maybe you can find someone with the right connections who owes you a favor..."
"I don't know. It's a rule not to trust your business partners."
"You may not have another choice. This can't go on forever. You know that."
"Yeah...", silence, "well, anyways, it was nice talking to you"
"Liar."
"See you"
"Take care, John."
"You too. Bye"
He hung up.
Looking for some distraction he switches on the trid. News. Economics, Desert Wars, Sports. Some cop shot a trog who was attacking him, yea right.
And no mention of the 4 people who died from the Amerindians hand this very morning.
How worthless life has become...
Not able to get to happier thoughts there he turned off the trid and instead decides to listen to Johann Sebastian Bach and meditate, which he does for about two hours until he goes to bed.
Usually he didn't return home for at least one night after a job but he was pretty sure that nobody would follow him after last night's assignment.
However, he still clung to the habbit of sleeping one night on his own before he got Molly back.
As he lay in bed, the pictures returned. A body collapsing on concrete floor, blood...
He activated the sleep regulator and slipped into dreams.
Molly, smiling at him, running towards him, young and strong as if nothing had ever happened. Then fire. Shots. White walls. Shouts and screams. A soldier lying in front of him, beheaded. Clacking noises of too many chitin legs growing louder behind him... although he know what to expect he turns around and freezes in shock.
[ Arden ]
Rubbing his eyes against the far too bright sunlight streaming through the unshuttered window, Arden rolls out of bed and promptly stubs his toe on the bedside table.
"Son of a..." he mutters to himself. "Note to self: stop trying to out drink goddamn Marks... I swear to god that's the last time I try to do shots against a trog..." Making his way to the bathroom, a couple of Advils later and Arden goes digging into the fridge.
Scones and coffee in his belly, a good jog later, and the world is once again right.
Back in the garage, Arden pulls on a pair of coveralls and slaps his hands together. Grinning to the collected hardware, he says "Come on then lads! I've got my paces done, now lets do yours!"
Rubbing his eyes against the far too bright sunlight streaming through the unshuttered window, Arden rolls out of bed and promptly stubs his toe on the bedside table.
"Son of a..." he mutters to himself. "Note to self: stop trying to out drink goddamn Marks... I swear to god that's the last time I try to do shots against a trog..." Making his way to the bathroom, a couple of Advils later and Arden goes digging into the fridge.
Scones and coffee in his belly, a good jog later, and the world is once again right.
Back in the garage, Arden pulls on a pair of coveralls and slaps his hands together. Grinning to the collected hardware, he says "Come on then lads! I've got my paces done, now lets do yours!"
When finished medtating, Ghost Dragon stands up and starts to walk around the corner of the stand-alone wall he has set up around the room where his circle is to go to bed. He stops in mid stride and walks to the living room area. Picking up his land phone, Ghost Dragon calls his fixers to see if there are more jobs available.
Work, or rather pay, had been scarce in the last few months, and Ghost Dragon needed money to pay his rather pricey rent. None of his runs this year had gone well. Poor planning on the Johnsons' parts had caused a trend of bad runs with young Ghost Dragon being left hung out to dry. Somehow, he had made it out of wherever he had been dropped off and arrived back home in Seattle. With a string of incomlete runs, the only income that Ghost Dragon had received was the retainer fees that the Johnsons used to keep runners interested - just enough to get by.
With a frown, he hangs up the phone with Charlie. No work. Charlie says he'll keep looking. Something about not wanting his friend to get in over his head. Charlie had been very good at acquiring rare, hard to find, and even unheard of gear. With jobs, Charlie wasn't all that great.
Ghost Dragon decides to call Zoe. Zoe was better with jobs, but Ghost Dragon hadn't known her as long as Charlie.
Work, or rather pay, had been scarce in the last few months, and Ghost Dragon needed money to pay his rather pricey rent. None of his runs this year had gone well. Poor planning on the Johnsons' parts had caused a trend of bad runs with young Ghost Dragon being left hung out to dry. Somehow, he had made it out of wherever he had been dropped off and arrived back home in Seattle. With a string of incomlete runs, the only income that Ghost Dragon had received was the retainer fees that the Johnsons used to keep runners interested - just enough to get by.
With a frown, he hangs up the phone with Charlie. No work. Charlie says he'll keep looking. Something about not wanting his friend to get in over his head. Charlie had been very good at acquiring rare, hard to find, and even unheard of gear. With jobs, Charlie wasn't all that great.
Ghost Dragon decides to call Zoe. Zoe was better with jobs, but Ghost Dragon hadn't known her as long as Charlie.
The phone rings for a few seconds, the line clicks as it is filtered through an encryption device, and then again as Zoe picks up. The sweet contralto voice on the other end speaks, "Hello?"
You explain that your looking for work. Theres a pause.
"Heres the problem I have Ghost, I haven't know you for long, and you don't have much of a rep." She pauses for a moment.
"You know I think you may just solve two of our problems, I am hiring a crew for a weekend job, you interested? There wouldn't be much lead time and it will probably only work out to a few k each, but it is work and it is local." She waits patiently for your answer, when you agree she says,
"OK meet the crew your going to be working with at 0600 tomorrow morning at a warehouse on Indy blvd, the johnson will meet you there at 0800. I don't know for sure who all is going to be working with you, but they all come from me so they are spoken for, soka?"
You explain that your looking for work. Theres a pause.
"Heres the problem I have Ghost, I haven't know you for long, and you don't have much of a rep." She pauses for a moment.
"You know I think you may just solve two of our problems, I am hiring a crew for a weekend job, you interested? There wouldn't be much lead time and it will probably only work out to a few k each, but it is work and it is local." She waits patiently for your answer, when you agree she says,
"OK meet the crew your going to be working with at 0600 tomorrow morning at a warehouse on Indy blvd, the johnson will meet you there at 0800. I don't know for sure who all is going to be working with you, but they all come from me so they are spoken for, soka?"
Thursday night, 2200 hours.
The drop dead gorgeous blond with blue lips and an icy demeanor to match slid off her bike, her skin tight outfit reflecting light in all the righ places. The black Yamaha Rapier was parked in front of a club called Penumbra, a downtown affair famous for meetings of an illicit nature. She opened the seat and stored her helmet, and took out her leather jacket that matched her lips and eyes.
The inside of the club was a craze of techno music and loud colors. Her ears automatically filtered out most of it as she moved through the club. Men turned to look at her as she passed by, graceful, sexy, but there was something about her, something telling them she was the wrong person to mess with. She moved to the bar and spoke in hushed tones to the bartender, he nodded and pointed at one of the far rooms. She thanked him by leaving a 20
bill on the counter.
The rooms in question were specially designed to be private. White noise generators disrupted microphones, sonic tremblers played havoc with lasers, and special astral wards kept out any unwanted magical visitors.
She opened the door and inwardly sighed, she showed no outward sign of her disappointment. "Hello, Werner," she said in English, and in her normally ice cold voice.
"Gutenabend Fräulein Zoe," Werner said, a false cheer echoing in his voice. Zoe took the offered seat, hating every second she had to be in the room with him. She had worked for him before, Saeder-Krupp didn't have a big presence in the Emerald city, so when they dabbled in the shadows, Werner was their man.
"Good evening," she replied, if possible her demeanor slipped a few more degrees down. “I was led to believe this was a good job, Werner, I don’t particularly like working for you so it had better be.”
Werner’s eyes narrowed and his cheeks flushed. If Zoe were a Shadowrunner he would have her killed, or seriously maimed for daring to speak to him that way. But she wasn’t. She was one of the premier fixers in the Metroplex. All told she probably dealt with 50 different runners every month. She boasted contacts from Coast to Coast, corporate, illicit and government, he needed her much more than she needed him, and she knew it.
“Well then, we’ll get right to it. I have an extraction I need done this weekend, I need a team, and it pays 40k. Got anyone in mind Fräulein?”
Zoe nodded, “ok I can have a team ready for you by 0800 tomorrow,” she tossed a data chip on the table, “meet them here at that time, and don’t screw them, Werner, or the Dragon will be looking for another replacement.”
Her threat was more posture than anything. She didn’t like handing out work to Johnson’s like him, but she didn’t have a choice, she had a rep to worry about to, and she had to be neutral. If she favored the runners she would get a bad rep with the Johnson’s, and vice a versa.
After she left the room, Werner leaned back in his chair, her word echoing in his mind, and his imagination running wild. “Oh.” He said aloud, “their not the ones who have to worry about getting screwed.” His laughter rang hollow in the room, protected by all the technology money could buy.
The drop dead gorgeous blond with blue lips and an icy demeanor to match slid off her bike, her skin tight outfit reflecting light in all the righ places. The black Yamaha Rapier was parked in front of a club called Penumbra, a downtown affair famous for meetings of an illicit nature. She opened the seat and stored her helmet, and took out her leather jacket that matched her lips and eyes.
The inside of the club was a craze of techno music and loud colors. Her ears automatically filtered out most of it as she moved through the club. Men turned to look at her as she passed by, graceful, sexy, but there was something about her, something telling them she was the wrong person to mess with. She moved to the bar and spoke in hushed tones to the bartender, he nodded and pointed at one of the far rooms. She thanked him by leaving a 20
bill on the counter. The rooms in question were specially designed to be private. White noise generators disrupted microphones, sonic tremblers played havoc with lasers, and special astral wards kept out any unwanted magical visitors.
She opened the door and inwardly sighed, she showed no outward sign of her disappointment. "Hello, Werner," she said in English, and in her normally ice cold voice.
"Gutenabend Fräulein Zoe," Werner said, a false cheer echoing in his voice. Zoe took the offered seat, hating every second she had to be in the room with him. She had worked for him before, Saeder-Krupp didn't have a big presence in the Emerald city, so when they dabbled in the shadows, Werner was their man.
"Good evening," she replied, if possible her demeanor slipped a few more degrees down. “I was led to believe this was a good job, Werner, I don’t particularly like working for you so it had better be.”
Werner’s eyes narrowed and his cheeks flushed. If Zoe were a Shadowrunner he would have her killed, or seriously maimed for daring to speak to him that way. But she wasn’t. She was one of the premier fixers in the Metroplex. All told she probably dealt with 50 different runners every month. She boasted contacts from Coast to Coast, corporate, illicit and government, he needed her much more than she needed him, and she knew it.
“Well then, we’ll get right to it. I have an extraction I need done this weekend, I need a team, and it pays 40k. Got anyone in mind Fräulein?”
Zoe nodded, “ok I can have a team ready for you by 0800 tomorrow,” she tossed a data chip on the table, “meet them here at that time, and don’t screw them, Werner, or the Dragon will be looking for another replacement.”
Her threat was more posture than anything. She didn’t like handing out work to Johnson’s like him, but she didn’t have a choice, she had a rep to worry about to, and she had to be neutral. If she favored the runners she would get a bad rep with the Johnson’s, and vice a versa.
After she left the room, Werner leaned back in his chair, her word echoing in his mind, and his imagination running wild. “Oh.” He said aloud, “their not the ones who have to worry about getting screwed.” His laughter rang hollow in the room, protected by all the technology money could buy.
Stifling yet another yawn, Danny knuckles his eyes in an attempt to bring the Tarot cards laid out on the scarred table into focus. Once again he curses the after-effects of Long Haul. It's all fine and dandy until The Crash, then it takes days to feel normal again afterwards.
As he glances around the seedy little hotel room, he thinks back over the past few days. Grendel had dropped him in Touristville after getting back from Salish territory, and the run-down Rose & Thistle Inn was the first Danny had come across with a vacancy.
Being new to Seattle, and still wired from the effects of the stimulant, Danny had then spent the next two days and nights exploring his unfamiliar surroundings. This task was greatly aided by the timely assistance of a City Spirit's use of its Movement and Concealment Powers.
When The Crash finally arrived, it hit hard, barely giving the shaman time to make it back to his rented room before passing out.
A little over forty-eight hours later, here he sits trying to make some sort of sense out of the cards in front of him, four cups of soycaf not making a dent into the fuzziness inside his head.
As he glances around the seedy little hotel room, he thinks back over the past few days. Grendel had dropped him in Touristville after getting back from Salish territory, and the run-down Rose & Thistle Inn was the first Danny had come across with a vacancy.
Being new to Seattle, and still wired from the effects of the stimulant, Danny had then spent the next two days and nights exploring his unfamiliar surroundings. This task was greatly aided by the timely assistance of a City Spirit's use of its Movement and Concealment Powers.
When The Crash finally arrived, it hit hard, barely giving the shaman time to make it back to his rented room before passing out.
A little over forty-eight hours later, here he sits trying to make some sort of sense out of the cards in front of him, four cups of soycaf not making a dent into the fuzziness inside his head.
Zoë keyed herself into her apartment, an expensive high rise just north of the U. The twin white towers had all the amenities that she could ask for. Private security, a dedicated link to the matrix, and floor sized apartments. Hers was at the top of the 10-story tower; it sat 50 meters south of its twin. The apartments computer sensed her body heat and automatically turned on the lights. The kitchen activated the coffee pot and started distilling real coffee from true Peruvian beans. A small luxury that she aloud herself, considering the price 50 a pound. She tossed her jacket and glasses aside and plopped down on her over stuffed white couch with a sigh. She had already spoke with Ghostdragon, now it was time to find some more runners.
“Display on,” she said aloud to the voice-controlled computer. The small coffee table turned opaque and a holographic projection came to life above it. It was the latest form Novatech and Zoë was extremely pleased with it.
“Display all assets in the Seattle area, sort alphabetically.” The computers display started drawing dossiers of assets. Pictures names id’s and aliases sprang to life. As each on appeared, the other grew smaller. Information about each runners scrolling beside their picture. While the computer worked Zoë stripped of her jump suit and traded it for a fluffy robe. The coffee maker chimed when she returned to the living room and she poured herself a cup. She inhaled the aroma of the real coffee a slight shudder ran through her body. She had few failings and even fewer vices coffee was both.
“Upload complete,” the computers soft male voice stated. Zoë looked up, one of the great things about the holo display was regardless of where you were in the room, it appeared as if you were setting right in front of it. A laser monitored her eyes, and swiveled the display to follow her. With a few simple eye movements, she could have the display scroll up, down, focus in on one file, or display them all. She walked back to the couch and sat down getting comfortable, she expected a long night.
She was right, it took her two hours to narrow down the list. She didn’t want to send to many runners, but she didn’t want to send to few, and she was sure Werner wasn’t going to play strait with them. When she was done she had the computer display each runner and their comm.
First on her list was Ohanzee. She liked the big Indian; he was good, stealthy, and very serious. He took each job with a professional attitude. Unfortunately he didn’t take enough high profile jobs to get his standing up.
Next on her list was another favorite, Arden. The ex-legionnaire rigger was good, not in Grendels league, but very good, he was also a proven team player.
Ghostdragon was in, she didn’t know much about the oriental elf, and polite inquires into her yak contacts had been elusive. She knew he was on the run, but she didn’t know why, and this biz that could be dangerous.
Warpath followed, another of her favorites, especially after the week before. He had done good, kept his head and worked well with the team.
Sink’s name flickered before her. She wasn’t quite sure why she had added the troll. She had only met him once but the good-natured behemoth struck her as odd. He didn’t seem to have the right temperament for running, just odd for a troll.
The Cajun was on the list. She thought about Danny, he had been given to her by a contact in Texas. He had performed well on his last assignment, but there was something about him, and energy, something. But they would need a healer and he was it.
A smile spread its way across her face. Realization donned on her that Mirage, her next pick was French, and Arden had served in the Legion, should be interesting. The small stature woman was deadly with her pistols and was a good addition to any team.
Rounding out the team as there face, would be Jessie. The half Amerindian was an excellent negotiator, and to Zoë’s surprise, very handy in combat.
Now to make the calls.
a pound. She tossed her jacket and glasses aside and plopped down on her over stuffed white couch with a sigh. She had already spoke with Ghostdragon, now it was time to find some more runners. “Display on,” she said aloud to the voice-controlled computer. The small coffee table turned opaque and a holographic projection came to life above it. It was the latest form Novatech and Zoë was extremely pleased with it.
“Display all assets in the Seattle area, sort alphabetically.” The computers display started drawing dossiers of assets. Pictures names id’s and aliases sprang to life. As each on appeared, the other grew smaller. Information about each runners scrolling beside their picture. While the computer worked Zoë stripped of her jump suit and traded it for a fluffy robe. The coffee maker chimed when she returned to the living room and she poured herself a cup. She inhaled the aroma of the real coffee a slight shudder ran through her body. She had few failings and even fewer vices coffee was both.
“Upload complete,” the computers soft male voice stated. Zoë looked up, one of the great things about the holo display was regardless of where you were in the room, it appeared as if you were setting right in front of it. A laser monitored her eyes, and swiveled the display to follow her. With a few simple eye movements, she could have the display scroll up, down, focus in on one file, or display them all. She walked back to the couch and sat down getting comfortable, she expected a long night.
She was right, it took her two hours to narrow down the list. She didn’t want to send to many runners, but she didn’t want to send to few, and she was sure Werner wasn’t going to play strait with them. When she was done she had the computer display each runner and their comm.
First on her list was Ohanzee. She liked the big Indian; he was good, stealthy, and very serious. He took each job with a professional attitude. Unfortunately he didn’t take enough high profile jobs to get his standing up.
Next on her list was another favorite, Arden. The ex-legionnaire rigger was good, not in Grendels league, but very good, he was also a proven team player.
Ghostdragon was in, she didn’t know much about the oriental elf, and polite inquires into her yak contacts had been elusive. She knew he was on the run, but she didn’t know why, and this biz that could be dangerous.
Warpath followed, another of her favorites, especially after the week before. He had done good, kept his head and worked well with the team.
Sink’s name flickered before her. She wasn’t quite sure why she had added the troll. She had only met him once but the good-natured behemoth struck her as odd. He didn’t seem to have the right temperament for running, just odd for a troll.
The Cajun was on the list. She thought about Danny, he had been given to her by a contact in Texas. He had performed well on his last assignment, but there was something about him, and energy, something. But they would need a healer and he was it.
A smile spread its way across her face. Realization donned on her that Mirage, her next pick was French, and Arden had served in the Legion, should be interesting. The small stature woman was deadly with her pistols and was a good addition to any team.
Rounding out the team as there face, would be Jessie. The half Amerindian was an excellent negotiator, and to Zoë’s surprise, very handy in combat.
Now to make the calls.
The Seattle rain bounced off the windscreen of her Westwind as Mirage approached her rented garage. She stepped out into the rain and opened the battered garage door, the sprayed markings of local gangs were garishly illuminated by the Westwinds headlights.
It had been a long day, Mirage's augmented muscles ached and most of her manhunters clips were empty, but at least the rent was paid for a month and she wasn't wounded, which was always a good thing.
Once her car was inside the garage she turned to wake Kikumi. She had been asleep when Mirage had picked her up from Countdown's place so Mirage had carried her to the car, but she was damned if she was going to carry her up to their twelth floor appartment, and she doubted that the elevator was fixed yet.
Five minutes later Mirage stepped through the appartment door, Kikumi walked past her, the tired twelve year old Japanese girl went straight to her room and flopped into her bed.
Mirage smiled as she walked over to the apartments kitchen unit and switched on the coffee maker, then she noticed the message light flashing on her telecom...
It had been a long day, Mirage's augmented muscles ached and most of her manhunters clips were empty, but at least the rent was paid for a month and she wasn't wounded, which was always a good thing.
Once her car was inside the garage she turned to wake Kikumi. She had been asleep when Mirage had picked her up from Countdown's place so Mirage had carried her to the car, but she was damned if she was going to carry her up to their twelth floor appartment, and she doubted that the elevator was fixed yet.
Five minutes later Mirage stepped through the appartment door, Kikumi walked past her, the tired twelve year old Japanese girl went straight to her room and flopped into her bed.
Mirage smiled as she walked over to the apartments kitchen unit and switched on the coffee maker, then she noticed the message light flashing on her telecom...
[ Arden ]
Woken by the annoyingly (and chosen for that reason) loud beep of the telecom, Arden glares at the screen and fumbles at the playback button. After watching Zoe's typically statuesque delivery routine, he erases the message and flops back into bed.
"Wake up in the middle of the night for orders, get up at the crack of pre-dawn, and some slight mayhem by tuesday... It's like being back with the lads."
Poking the alarm clock a couple of times to make sure it'll wake him if he didn't do it himself, Arden rolls back over and immedietly falls asleep.
Waking up in the dark was a bit of a surprise, especially when he looked at the clock. "What the hell am I doing..." he begins before memory kicks in. "Oh, right."
Shaking his head, Arden showers and toasts a couple of english muffins before tossing back a cup of "coffee". Grimacing, he glares at the bag of soy-caf sitting next to the machine. "One of these days I'm gonna get some real, Arabian coffee, and we'll both get to enjoy ourselves," he says to the machine.
Hefting one of 'the twins' into the back of his van, Arden is climbing into the front seat and setting his Alpha on the seat next to him before even realizing that habit has taken over again. **"Ah, droite. Mettez le fusil d'assaut dans le siège avant et allez pour une commande. Grande idée," he mutters to himself as he restows it in the back locker.
Heading to the warehouse, he finds himself te first one there.
* "Oh right. Put the assault rifle in the front seat and go for a drive. Great idea"
Woken by the annoyingly (and chosen for that reason) loud beep of the telecom, Arden glares at the screen and fumbles at the playback button. After watching Zoe's typically statuesque delivery routine, he erases the message and flops back into bed.
"Wake up in the middle of the night for orders, get up at the crack of pre-dawn, and some slight mayhem by tuesday... It's like being back with the lads."
Poking the alarm clock a couple of times to make sure it'll wake him if he didn't do it himself, Arden rolls back over and immedietly falls asleep.
Waking up in the dark was a bit of a surprise, especially when he looked at the clock. "What the hell am I doing..." he begins before memory kicks in. "Oh, right."
Shaking his head, Arden showers and toasts a couple of english muffins before tossing back a cup of "coffee". Grimacing, he glares at the bag of soy-caf sitting next to the machine. "One of these days I'm gonna get some real, Arabian coffee, and we'll both get to enjoy ourselves," he says to the machine.
Hefting one of 'the twins' into the back of his van, Arden is climbing into the front seat and setting his Alpha on the seat next to him before even realizing that habit has taken over again. **"Ah, droite. Mettez le fusil d'assaut dans le siège avant et allez pour une commande. Grande idée," he mutters to himself as he restows it in the back locker.
Heading to the warehouse, he finds himself te first one there.
* "Oh right. Put the assault rifle in the front seat and go for a drive. Great idea"
Ohanzee is still lying in his bed as the call arrives but he awakes in an instant. It takes half a moment for him to shake off the disorientation from the surprising wakefullness and trying to find out what triggered the jolt.
After he got the situation settled (about two seconds after waking up) he answers the call. He doesn't recognize the face immediately but then remembers: Zoe, a (for her age) surpsingly successful fixer for whom he worked a few times before already. Despite her appearance she made a very professional impression to him when Jack first introduced the two.
"What is it?"
"Want to work?"
"Now?"
"0800 hours today."
"Actually, that doesn't suit me too well right now..." He planned to pick up Molly that day and spend some time together with her after they haven't seen each other for over a week. It would be the second time to let her down in a row...
"Well, do you want the money or not?"
Silence...
"Where's the meet?"
"I'll transfer the details."
"Okay."
"Bye."
After skimming through the file he quickly assembles a plan for the next hours.
He went back to sleep until 0500 then gets up, gets dressed and then calls Frank:
"Sorry to wake you up so early, Frank."
"John? What is it? Something go wrong?"
"No, everything's fine. Or maybe not. I got another assignment."
"What, today?"
"Yeah, today. Do you think you can keep her for at least one more day?"
"Well... yeah, I guess. But you know that she won't happy about that. It's the second time you're putting her off now."
"I know. I haven't even been informed about the nature of that job. I have no clue how long it will take or how often I'll be home during the job. I'm thinking about taking her home anyways, if the job allows but I can't tell you how the rest of the day is developing. But she does understand that I'm doing this only for her. She will understand."
"Her mind will understand, but her heart surely will not. She just wants to be with her husband once in a while, John. She really loves you a lot. You have idea how she has been looking forward to this day. She hasn't been talking about anything else for the last two days." Ohanzee's heart felt as if it was clenched by an iron fist. Breathing got harder. He hated to do this but he had to.
"You know that we need the money and she knows as well. Tell her I love her and that I miss her just as much and that I'll come and see her as soon as possible, yes?"
"Ok..."
"Thanks Frank, I really appreciate that."
"Yea, yea, now go make some money."
"... Bye"
"Bye"
He makes himself some ham and eggs to cheer him up but he has problems getting the bites down. Not even the rising sun on the cloudles sky can raise his mood now.
After breakfast he get's onto his bike, switches on his implanted navigation system and heads off over the still-wet streets of Seattle into the dawning day.
He arrives at the warehouse to find an old acquaintance, that rigger who called himself Arden. The view of him brings back some terrifying memories but he remembers Arden as reliable and kind. Two good properties for someone whose help your life might depend upon.
He greets Arden with a mild smile.
"Arden, good to see you are still alive."
After he got the situation settled (about two seconds after waking up) he answers the call. He doesn't recognize the face immediately but then remembers: Zoe, a (for her age) surpsingly successful fixer for whom he worked a few times before already. Despite her appearance she made a very professional impression to him when Jack first introduced the two.
"What is it?"
"Want to work?"
"Now?"
"0800 hours today."
"Actually, that doesn't suit me too well right now..." He planned to pick up Molly that day and spend some time together with her after they haven't seen each other for over a week. It would be the second time to let her down in a row...
"Well, do you want the money or not?"
Silence...
"Where's the meet?"
"I'll transfer the details."
"Okay."
"Bye."
After skimming through the file he quickly assembles a plan for the next hours.
He went back to sleep until 0500 then gets up, gets dressed and then calls Frank:
"Sorry to wake you up so early, Frank."
"John? What is it? Something go wrong?"
"No, everything's fine. Or maybe not. I got another assignment."
"What, today?"
"Yeah, today. Do you think you can keep her for at least one more day?"
"Well... yeah, I guess. But you know that she won't happy about that. It's the second time you're putting her off now."
"I know. I haven't even been informed about the nature of that job. I have no clue how long it will take or how often I'll be home during the job. I'm thinking about taking her home anyways, if the job allows but I can't tell you how the rest of the day is developing. But she does understand that I'm doing this only for her. She will understand."
"Her mind will understand, but her heart surely will not. She just wants to be with her husband once in a while, John. She really loves you a lot. You have idea how she has been looking forward to this day. She hasn't been talking about anything else for the last two days." Ohanzee's heart felt as if it was clenched by an iron fist. Breathing got harder. He hated to do this but he had to.
"You know that we need the money and she knows as well. Tell her I love her and that I miss her just as much and that I'll come and see her as soon as possible, yes?"
"Ok..."
"Thanks Frank, I really appreciate that."
"Yea, yea, now go make some money."
"... Bye"
"Bye"
He makes himself some ham and eggs to cheer him up but he has problems getting the bites down. Not even the rising sun on the cloudles sky can raise his mood now.
After breakfast he get's onto his bike, switches on his implanted navigation system and heads off over the still-wet streets of Seattle into the dawning day.
He arrives at the warehouse to find an old acquaintance, that rigger who called himself Arden. The view of him brings back some terrifying memories but he remembers Arden as reliable and kind. Two good properties for someone whose help your life might depend upon.
He greets Arden with a mild smile.
"Arden, good to see you are still alive."
Jessie laid back in the bathtub, finding calm in the smell of the rose scented bubbles. She reached over and hit the button to activate the jets that would provide a nice back massage. Letting out a deep breath, Jessie sunk into the warmth and let it unknot her tight muscles.
2 hours later
Having dried off after a long relaxing bath, Jessie wraps herself up in the soft fluffy bathrobe and flopped herself onto the living room couch. As she reached for the trid remote, a red light appeared in the corner of her vision. She almost let the call go, wanting a moment to herself, but she figured if the call came through this late, it must be important. With a simple mental impulse, the line opened and encrypted itself.
“Speak”
“Jessie, Zoe here. I knew its only been a few days, but would you be interested in some more work? I could really use you on this one.”
“A girl just can’t get any rest these days… Sure, what the hell. When is the meet?”
“Tomorrow, 0800, I’m sending the location file now.”
“Alright, I’ll see you later then.”
She mentally sighs to herself, and to think I was going to take a little break to get some R&R… oh well.
The following morning.
After a quick shower, Jessie looks over the equipment spread across her bed. She nods to herself, satisfied that everything is there and in working order. Getting dressed in her working outfit, she packs everything up and loads it into her Americar parked downstairs, and heads off for the meet.
She arrives fifteen minutes early, and gets ready to greet whoever the new team happens to be.
2 hours later
Having dried off after a long relaxing bath, Jessie wraps herself up in the soft fluffy bathrobe and flopped herself onto the living room couch. As she reached for the trid remote, a red light appeared in the corner of her vision. She almost let the call go, wanting a moment to herself, but she figured if the call came through this late, it must be important. With a simple mental impulse, the line opened and encrypted itself.
“Speak”
“Jessie, Zoe here. I knew its only been a few days, but would you be interested in some more work? I could really use you on this one.”
“A girl just can’t get any rest these days… Sure, what the hell. When is the meet?”
“Tomorrow, 0800, I’m sending the location file now.”
“Alright, I’ll see you later then.”
She mentally sighs to herself, and to think I was going to take a little break to get some R&R… oh well.
The following morning.
After a quick shower, Jessie looks over the equipment spread across her bed. She nods to herself, satisfied that everything is there and in working order. Getting dressed in her working outfit, she packs everything up and loads it into her Americar parked downstairs, and heads off for the meet.
She arrives fifteen minutes early, and gets ready to greet whoever the new team happens to be.
Jessie greets Arden and Ohanzee with a friendly smile.
"Hoi fellas. Early enough for ya? My names Jessie."
Grinning, she extends her hand to each for a shake.
"Hoi fellas. Early enough for ya? My names Jessie."
Grinning, she extends her hand to each for a shake.
"I go by the name Ohanzee. My specialties are security systems and procedures in general and the diagnosis, modification and circumvention of security devices in special as well as combat and marksmanship. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
During his introduction he speaks in a very matter-of-fact voice and extremely even tone. His whole speach doesn't sound dull but rather very controlled as if he rehearsed this encounter thoroughly. His posture and expression is not one of superiority but, again, one of utter self-control. His stance is relaxed but firm his expression serious.
He is wearing a long artfully embossed leather coat with fitting boots. Under the high buttoned coat with its flipped-up colar a white shirt can be seen. One that could also be worn under a suit. His whole appearance is very orderly and clean.
During his introduction he speaks in a very matter-of-fact voice and extremely even tone. His whole speach doesn't sound dull but rather very controlled as if he rehearsed this encounter thoroughly. His posture and expression is not one of superiority but, again, one of utter self-control. His stance is relaxed but firm his expression serious.
He is wearing a long artfully embossed leather coat with fitting boots. Under the high buttoned coat with its flipped-up colar a white shirt can be seen. One that could also be worn under a suit. His whole appearance is very orderly and clean.
Lunch went well, Ziggy had the batteries, small high tech things that could power several cubic meters of ruthenium for hours, as well as a surprise. After the last mission, Warpath had decided that maybe comm security was more important than he could currently handle, so he'd made a few inquiries. Ziggy was good with stuff like that and slide him a micro-comm unit under the table as the Aztex-Mex meal was being served.
There was a time when Aztex-Mex had meant something other than it did now. What few immigrants could escape the steaming cesspool to the south rarely made it so far north as this, and the quality of the food had certainly gone down hill. Deprived of any type of heritage and pushed into a business mold, the stuff was as reconstituted as most places in the sprawl, and certainly it lacked the flavor it could have had.
As the meal came to a conclusion, Warpath lamented the cooking he'd left behind in Atlanta. At least down there, the Aztex-mex cooks had had the decency to use meat. Well, he thought, I guess that depends on how intent you are on having "traditional" meat from "traditional" animals as to whether that is a good thing or not.
"Hoi, chummer, good doin' business and lunch," Ziggy noted with a nod as he pocketed the cred stick that had come across the table toward the end of the meal. "Catch you later, an' watch your hoop."
Warpath nodded and rose with Ziggy. "Thanks, you too." The two parted outside and Warpath made his way back to the Brumby paused for a few seconds as he looked it over. There were no overt signs of sabotage or the like, so he opened the door and looked the inside over. With a few seconds, his paranoia was abated and he slid behind the wheel, reaching for the jack cable and pulling out of the lot. He slotted a cred stick at the exit and was out and on his way.
He fished in a jacket pocket and pushed the pocket secretary he produced into a slot on the dashboard, giving him access to the device through his vehicle link. He flipped through his cryptic rolodex and eventually set to dialing a number.
After a few rings, a gruff voice answered, "Yeah."
"Hey, Milspec, this is Warpath," he said and waited the two seconds for acknowledgement. "Did you score those A-packs I was after?"
There was a negative grunt on the other end of the line. "A-packs are hard to find. Ain't got none I can part with right now. Try back in a couple of weeks."
"Frag." He grumbled, but the answer wasn't unexpected. High end ammunition was certainly hard to come by. "Right then, thanks. Let me know if something comes through."
He drove his way to the safe house via a circuitous route and settled in for the evening. It was still only late afternoon, but he didn't feel comfortable being out and about so soon after a major job without a good reason. He watched some trid and ran through his combat forms before going to sleep in a fetal position clutching his assault rifle protectively.
Early the next morning, Zoe's message woke him. She had more work, and it was as sweet a cherry as the last job, he didn't want to miss out on this one. He slipped into his meet gear, an expertly tailored armored suit and threw a long coat over top, and stuffed some party favors into a rucksack before heading out the door. He'd be at the meet a good bit early, which gave him some time to scope the place out. He filled another bag with his working gear and carted the lot to his Brumby.
He pulled up in front of the warehouse and scoped the place before pulling into a relatively obscure parking spot [(note, he will park in the garage if that's where everyone else is parking)] and made his way to the building. He recognized Jessie immediately and offered her a smile and a nod. A friendly face at a meet was always a good thing.
There was a time when Aztex-Mex had meant something other than it did now. What few immigrants could escape the steaming cesspool to the south rarely made it so far north as this, and the quality of the food had certainly gone down hill. Deprived of any type of heritage and pushed into a business mold, the stuff was as reconstituted as most places in the sprawl, and certainly it lacked the flavor it could have had.
As the meal came to a conclusion, Warpath lamented the cooking he'd left behind in Atlanta. At least down there, the Aztex-mex cooks had had the decency to use meat. Well, he thought, I guess that depends on how intent you are on having "traditional" meat from "traditional" animals as to whether that is a good thing or not.
"Hoi, chummer, good doin' business and lunch," Ziggy noted with a nod as he pocketed the cred stick that had come across the table toward the end of the meal. "Catch you later, an' watch your hoop."
Warpath nodded and rose with Ziggy. "Thanks, you too." The two parted outside and Warpath made his way back to the Brumby paused for a few seconds as he looked it over. There were no overt signs of sabotage or the like, so he opened the door and looked the inside over. With a few seconds, his paranoia was abated and he slid behind the wheel, reaching for the jack cable and pulling out of the lot. He slotted a cred stick at the exit and was out and on his way.
He fished in a jacket pocket and pushed the pocket secretary he produced into a slot on the dashboard, giving him access to the device through his vehicle link. He flipped through his cryptic rolodex and eventually set to dialing a number.
After a few rings, a gruff voice answered, "Yeah."
"Hey, Milspec, this is Warpath," he said and waited the two seconds for acknowledgement. "Did you score those A-packs I was after?"
There was a negative grunt on the other end of the line. "A-packs are hard to find. Ain't got none I can part with right now. Try back in a couple of weeks."
"Frag." He grumbled, but the answer wasn't unexpected. High end ammunition was certainly hard to come by. "Right then, thanks. Let me know if something comes through."
He drove his way to the safe house via a circuitous route and settled in for the evening. It was still only late afternoon, but he didn't feel comfortable being out and about so soon after a major job without a good reason. He watched some trid and ran through his combat forms before going to sleep in a fetal position clutching his assault rifle protectively.
Early the next morning, Zoe's message woke him. She had more work, and it was as sweet a cherry as the last job, he didn't want to miss out on this one. He slipped into his meet gear, an expertly tailored armored suit and threw a long coat over top, and stuffed some party favors into a rucksack before heading out the door. He'd be at the meet a good bit early, which gave him some time to scope the place out. He filled another bag with his working gear and carted the lot to his Brumby.
He pulled up in front of the warehouse and scoped the place before pulling into a relatively obscure parking spot [(note, he will park in the garage if that's where everyone else is parking)] and made his way to the building. He recognized Jessie immediately and offered her a smile and a nod. A friendly face at a meet was always a good thing.
With a bit of potential pay now secured, Ghost Dragon turns in for the night. With a verbal command, he turns off the lights in his apartment and relies on his natural vision to navigate in the dark. Once he reaches the bed, Ghost Dragon strips and puts on some black silk pajamas. He gets into his bed, which has all black bedding, and slips under a thick heavy mass of blankets to sleep the night away and keep him warm. He turns to set his alarm clock and then goes to sleep after doing that.
When his alarm goes off at 0400, Ghost Dragon gets up in a hurry. A quick shower precedes him trading in his pajamas for a black terrycloth bathrobe. He makes himself breakfast, an easy pork stir fry dish and some strong black tea to wake himself up for the day. He also has what's left of a tomato that isn't going to last much longer in his refrigerator and finishes with a little pineapple juice and a multivitamin.
Dressing in his black underwear, black form-fitting armor shirt, black forearm guards, fine off-white hi-collar shirt by Vashon Island, black slacks by Zoe, and some designer black cashmere socks with matching black dress shoes, Ghost Dragon is fully clothed in his usual running gear, except for the shirt, which would have normally been black as well. He straps on the concealable holster for his Browning Ultra Power and slides a clip of regular rounds into the magazine, chambering a round as soon as it locks in place. He screws on the silencer and holsters the pistol. He puts on his Mortimer Ulysses coat, which contains all of his electronics and communications gear, and he grabs the 3 other clips and loads them into one of his coat's pockets. Looking quickly in the mirror, Ghost Dragon takes the time to brush his long white hair before leaving.
Ghost Dragon snatches his sunglasses from the nightstand, puts them on, and walks briskly toward the door. He takes his keys out of his pocket and exits his flat into his floor's tenant elevator foyer. "Lock door", he says, and the maglocks on his front door engage, with an electronic indicator showing that they are engaged.
Ghost Dragon rides the elevator to the lobby. Passing the security desk, he greets the guards, and takes off his sunglasses, revealing his pale blue eyes, "Hello, Sam. And Ryan. I am going on a business trip again. As with many of my business trips, I do not know when I will return. Keep the usual requests in mind: no visitors and please hold my packages until I return."
"Sure thing, Mr. Hakomoto," Ryan answers in a voice above indoor level.
"Thank you..." Ghost Dragon says before turning around to leave.
The new guy... he annoys me some.
0500
Ghost Dragon mounts his Harley-Davidson Electroglide in the still-dark parking lot. He puts his sunglasses into his pocket, since it's still dark, and rides off into the early morning to the warehouse he is supposed to meet his employer at.
When his alarm goes off at 0400, Ghost Dragon gets up in a hurry. A quick shower precedes him trading in his pajamas for a black terrycloth bathrobe. He makes himself breakfast, an easy pork stir fry dish and some strong black tea to wake himself up for the day. He also has what's left of a tomato that isn't going to last much longer in his refrigerator and finishes with a little pineapple juice and a multivitamin.
Dressing in his black underwear, black form-fitting armor shirt, black forearm guards, fine off-white hi-collar shirt by Vashon Island, black slacks by Zoe, and some designer black cashmere socks with matching black dress shoes, Ghost Dragon is fully clothed in his usual running gear, except for the shirt, which would have normally been black as well. He straps on the concealable holster for his Browning Ultra Power and slides a clip of regular rounds into the magazine, chambering a round as soon as it locks in place. He screws on the silencer and holsters the pistol. He puts on his Mortimer Ulysses coat, which contains all of his electronics and communications gear, and he grabs the 3 other clips and loads them into one of his coat's pockets. Looking quickly in the mirror, Ghost Dragon takes the time to brush his long white hair before leaving.
Ghost Dragon snatches his sunglasses from the nightstand, puts them on, and walks briskly toward the door. He takes his keys out of his pocket and exits his flat into his floor's tenant elevator foyer. "Lock door", he says, and the maglocks on his front door engage, with an electronic indicator showing that they are engaged.
Ghost Dragon rides the elevator to the lobby. Passing the security desk, he greets the guards, and takes off his sunglasses, revealing his pale blue eyes, "Hello, Sam. And Ryan. I am going on a business trip again. As with many of my business trips, I do not know when I will return. Keep the usual requests in mind: no visitors and please hold my packages until I return."
"Sure thing, Mr. Hakomoto," Ryan answers in a voice above indoor level.
"Thank you..." Ghost Dragon says before turning around to leave.
The new guy... he annoys me some.
0500
Ghost Dragon mounts his Harley-Davidson Electroglide in the still-dark parking lot. He puts his sunglasses into his pocket, since it's still dark, and rides off into the early morning to the warehouse he is supposed to meet his employer at.
Once people start arriving, Arden puts away his idle thoughts of coming back and turning all this empty space into a canvas. 'Wouldn't do to seem to distracted, now would it?' he thinks to himself.
"Man it's good to see your mug again!" Arden says when Ohanzee appears out of the gloom. He then makes a show of patting himself down, as if checking for holes. "Me? Dead? Somebody been planin' stuff and not warning me or something?
I plan on staying intact and unnibbled for a good, looooong time."
When Jessie arrives, Arden gives a (very) low whistle to himself and gets up to greet her. Giving her the grin of someone who's had their nose broken, Arden shakes her hand and offers her a cup of the god awful coffee brewing the the little machine in the corner.
"Can't say I'd advise drinking this stuff though... unless you just want something hot."
"As to introductions, pleased to meet you. I'm Arden, and here's hoping you don't break my fingers for this, but I'm guessing you ain't the entertainment?
"
After noting the look from Warpath to Jessie, he says "Looks like Zoe is playing some favorites. Me an' Ohanzee here worked together before, and so seems like you pair. You guys got any more info the I got, that being dick all beyond 'show up'?"
"Man it's good to see your mug again!" Arden says when Ohanzee appears out of the gloom. He then makes a show of patting himself down, as if checking for holes. "Me? Dead? Somebody been planin' stuff and not warning me or something?
I plan on staying intact and unnibbled for a good, looooong time."When Jessie arrives, Arden gives a (very) low whistle to himself and gets up to greet her. Giving her the grin of someone who's had their nose broken, Arden shakes her hand and offers her a cup of the god awful coffee brewing the the little machine in the corner.
"Can't say I'd advise drinking this stuff though... unless you just want something hot."
"As to introductions, pleased to meet you. I'm Arden, and here's hoping you don't break my fingers for this, but I'm guessing you ain't the entertainment?
"After noting the look from Warpath to Jessie, he says "Looks like Zoe is playing some favorites. Me an' Ohanzee here worked together before, and so seems like you pair. You guys got any more info the I got, that being dick all beyond 'show up'?"
Giving Ohanzee a nod, Jessie replies, "I'm the Face, but like most of them, thats not where my talents end. I'm handy with electronics and pistols. Don't worry, I'm not just a pretty face."
She gives Arden a smile, taking no offence to his comments, and just lets them slide.
"Warpath and I just got done with some work not to long ago. Aparently we did a good job, cause usually Zoe wouldn't put someone back into the field so quickly. And as for info, thats just how things go with Zoe most of the time, you get the info at the meet, but don't worry, Zoe knows better than to waste a contacts time."
She gives Arden a smile, taking no offence to his comments, and just lets them slide.
"Warpath and I just got done with some work not to long ago. Aparently we did a good job, cause usually Zoe wouldn't put someone back into the field so quickly. And as for info, thats just how things go with Zoe most of the time, you get the info at the meet, but don't worry, Zoe knows better than to waste a contacts time."
Mirage accessed the telecomms menu and played back the recorded message.
She grimaced, that was the problem with having more than one fixer, the previous job had been for Fingers her usual fixer, still I'm not injured, and Zoe is a league apart from Fingers anyway.
She mentally dialled Countdown's LTG number into her datalinked pocket-secretary and the decker's icon filled the window in the corner of her vision, after a brief delay as both encryption systems synchronized.
"Hi Count, I need you to take Kumi again."
"Jeez Nicole, you only picked her up thirty minutes ago," the haunting tones of her decker friend's synthesized online voice always sent a shiver down Mirage's spine.
"What do you care, you both spend the whole time jacked in the 'trix anyway, I'll drop her off at 05:30," Mirage cut the link and headed to her bed, to get at least a couple of hours sleep.
Four hours later her Westwind approached the warehouse, 05:55 blinked in the bottom corner of her vision.
Mirage steps out of the car and walks cautiously into the warehouse, wired reflexes triggered and all her enhanced senses activated, in case of trouble. As she enters the building she relaxes slightly as she spots the four runners chatting, well it doesn't look like an ambush.
Mirage scans the gathered runners, but doesn't see anyone she's worked with before. She nods to them and says, "Bonjour, my name is Mirage."
She grimaced, that was the problem with having more than one fixer, the previous job had been for Fingers her usual fixer, still I'm not injured, and Zoe is a league apart from Fingers anyway.
She mentally dialled Countdown's LTG number into her datalinked pocket-secretary and the decker's icon filled the window in the corner of her vision, after a brief delay as both encryption systems synchronized.
"Hi Count, I need you to take Kumi again."
"Jeez Nicole, you only picked her up thirty minutes ago," the haunting tones of her decker friend's synthesized online voice always sent a shiver down Mirage's spine.
"What do you care, you both spend the whole time jacked in the 'trix anyway, I'll drop her off at 05:30," Mirage cut the link and headed to her bed, to get at least a couple of hours sleep.
Four hours later her Westwind approached the warehouse, 05:55 blinked in the bottom corner of her vision.
Mirage steps out of the car and walks cautiously into the warehouse, wired reflexes triggered and all her enhanced senses activated, in case of trouble. As she enters the building she relaxes slightly as she spots the four runners chatting, well it doesn't look like an ambush.
Mirage scans the gathered runners, but doesn't see anyone she's worked with before. She nods to them and says, "Bonjour, my name is Mirage."
Jessie offers her hand to Mirage as she introduces herself, "Hi, I'm Jessie. Mirage... I've heard that name. You've built quite the rep for yourself. Its a pleasure to meet ya."
Mirage shakes Jessie's hand, "The pleasure is mutual, I have also heard of you by reputation Jessie."
She smiles, "It is good that Zoe has gathered such a professional team, but I worry that she has got us here so early for the meet. She must fear problems with the meeting, perhaps we should prepare."
She smiles, "It is good that Zoe has gathered such a professional team, but I worry that she has got us here so early for the meet. She must fear problems with the meeting, perhaps we should prepare."
"Its always a good idea to get to know eachother a bit before the J gets here. That way we already have a feel for eachother and don't have to worry about figuring that out while at the same time getting a feel for the J. Either way, I agree that a few things may be setup before hand..."
With that, Jessie removes a White Noise Generator from her backpack, places it on the hood of her car and turns it on.
With that, Jessie removes a White Noise Generator from her backpack, places it on the hood of her car and turns it on.
Danny fumbles for the chirping pocket secretary, his eyes registering the time on the battered Timex sitting on the nightstand. His mind slowly comes awake as he listens to Zoe give instructions for the meet early this coming morning. After assuring the fixer of his acceptance, he disconnects and leans back against the bed's molded headboard.
Lighting a cigarette, he thinks back on the reading he had done the day before, turning the cards' possible meanings over in his mind. No matter which way he looked at it though, the meaning is the same; Trouble.
Seeing no point in returning to sleep, he shakes off any misgivings and heads towards the door, flipping the switch on the cheap soycaf brewer and grabbing the bag of toiletries before leaving the hotel room and heading down the hall to the communal bathroom.
Upon his return after a refreshing, but cold shower, he pours a cup from the cracked coffee pot and settles himself on the bed with his flute. Several hours of playing and meditation helps to clear head of the remnants of both sleep and worry.
After slipping into a clean pair of jeans and pulling on a gray Concrete Dreams Live: Viva Las Vegas t-shirt, he retrieves his bags from under the bed. Gathering up what little he had unpacked over the past couple of days, he repacks the duffel bag, taking the time to check that everything is in it's place in his smaller shoulder bag as well.
Satisfied, he slips the shoulder holster containing his Manhunter over his head, settling it in place before drawing his worn leather bomber jacket on. Danny takes one last look around the small room, then jams his Stetson on his head as he closes the door behind him.
Once outside, it takes him a little less than half an hour to find a taxi at this time of night. According to the cabby, he is lucky it didn't take longer. It definitely would have if he wasn't right in Touristville. Having given the driver directions, Danny sits back to watch the city pass by as the taxi winds it's way towards the meet. Traffic is light at this time of the morning, and he arrives at the scheduled location slightly after 0615.
Lighting a cigarette, he thinks back on the reading he had done the day before, turning the cards' possible meanings over in his mind. No matter which way he looked at it though, the meaning is the same; Trouble.
Seeing no point in returning to sleep, he shakes off any misgivings and heads towards the door, flipping the switch on the cheap soycaf brewer and grabbing the bag of toiletries before leaving the hotel room and heading down the hall to the communal bathroom.
Upon his return after a refreshing, but cold shower, he pours a cup from the cracked coffee pot and settles himself on the bed with his flute. Several hours of playing and meditation helps to clear head of the remnants of both sleep and worry.
After slipping into a clean pair of jeans and pulling on a gray Concrete Dreams Live: Viva Las Vegas t-shirt, he retrieves his bags from under the bed. Gathering up what little he had unpacked over the past couple of days, he repacks the duffel bag, taking the time to check that everything is in it's place in his smaller shoulder bag as well.
Satisfied, he slips the shoulder holster containing his Manhunter over his head, settling it in place before drawing his worn leather bomber jacket on. Danny takes one last look around the small room, then jams his Stetson on his head as he closes the door behind him.
Once outside, it takes him a little less than half an hour to find a taxi at this time of night. According to the cabby, he is lucky it didn't take longer. It definitely would have if he wasn't right in Touristville. Having given the driver directions, Danny sits back to watch the city pass by as the taxi winds it's way towards the meet. Traffic is light at this time of the morning, and he arrives at the scheduled location slightly after 0615.
(In response to Ardens remarks about staying alive:) "In our line of business, you never know when we meet our forefathers. There's no plan or plot needed for... dying"
Ohanzee listens to each of the introductions - and the whole conversation, for that matter - very intentively and tries to memorize as much about each of his fellow runners as possible, storing a short blurb together with a foto for each of them in his headmem for later reference. He gives a short nod to each of the new arrivers as they introduce themselves.
During the arrvial of the others he always stays one step outside of the circle of chatters with one of the big neon lights in his back, so that his hair is throwing sharp shadows into his face, making it almost impossible for someone without the appropriate vision enhancers to make out the expression on his face or what he's looking at.
He asks himself why he does so, since these people seem to be rather professional and trustworthy but following this habbit of keeping himself as concealed as possible makes him feel more comfortable, in a way, even though he doesn't know why. Even though he's been running for quite some time now, he still felt anxious and a little nervous when a new job began. Professional caution would be a nice name for this underlying fear. As the other keep arriving and start casually chatting and exchanging polite remarks he can't help to think about the irony of being so good at something that is so against his nature and about the friendly demeanor of what essentially are professional killers and criminals.
During the rest of the conversation Ohanzee keeps in the background and remains silent for the most part until everybody has arrived (until about 0700 or nobody has arrived for 15 Minutes, whichever happens first).
Ohanzee listens to each of the introductions - and the whole conversation, for that matter - very intentively and tries to memorize as much about each of his fellow runners as possible, storing a short blurb together with a foto for each of them in his headmem for later reference. He gives a short nod to each of the new arrivers as they introduce themselves.
During the arrvial of the others he always stays one step outside of the circle of chatters with one of the big neon lights in his back, so that his hair is throwing sharp shadows into his face, making it almost impossible for someone without the appropriate vision enhancers to make out the expression on his face or what he's looking at.
He asks himself why he does so, since these people seem to be rather professional and trustworthy but following this habbit of keeping himself as concealed as possible makes him feel more comfortable, in a way, even though he doesn't know why. Even though he's been running for quite some time now, he still felt anxious and a little nervous when a new job began. Professional caution would be a nice name for this underlying fear. As the other keep arriving and start casually chatting and exchanging polite remarks he can't help to think about the irony of being so good at something that is so against his nature and about the friendly demeanor of what essentially are professional killers and criminals.
During the rest of the conversation Ohanzee keeps in the background and remains silent for the most part until everybody has arrived (until about 0700 or nobody has arrived for 15 Minutes, whichever happens first).
0558
Ghost Dragon is one of the last to arrive at the warehouse. He parks his bike in one of the open parking spaces and begins walking toward the door to go inside. As he does so, he casts a spell with just a thought, turning himself invisible. The spell is an easy one, so he doesn't even strain under its casting.
Ghost Dragon checks the outside of the warehouse for astral security with a quick glance into the astral plane. Seeing none, he walks as quietly as possible into the warehouse and observes what he sees there.
Ghost Dragon is one of the last to arrive at the warehouse. He parks his bike in one of the open parking spaces and begins walking toward the door to go inside. As he does so, he casts a spell with just a thought, turning himself invisible. The spell is an easy one, so he doesn't even strain under its casting.
Ghost Dragon checks the outside of the warehouse for astral security with a quick glance into the astral plane. Seeing none, he walks as quietly as possible into the warehouse and observes what he sees there.
Sink hung up the phone and allowed himself a smile. He had been wondering how he was going to pay the rent this month, and was feeling more than a little relieved not that he had an opportunity for work.
Later, after a shower and some food, he gathered a few things and got ready for the meet. He packed the tools of his trade in a large transit case, stuffing guns, ammo, grenades and other goodies so that he would be ready to go if the job came through.
He left the case in his apartment, not wanting to carry all that heavy weaponry around. Nothing worse than having some Lone Star Slag find heavy weapons in a traffic stop. He stuffed a small sawed off shotgun in a shoulder holster though. He didn't want to go to the meet totally naked.
He dressed casually, jeans, t-shirt long coat and hiking boots, all clean but worn, the jeans more than a little threadbare. Dermal deposits played hell with clothes.
He left the apartment and drove over to the warehouse, backing his Americar into a spot with easy access to the road. He glanced at his watch and saw that he was 5 minutes early, then walked casually into the warehouse, nodded in a mildly friendly way to those presnt and stood back to wait to see what developed.
Later, after a shower and some food, he gathered a few things and got ready for the meet. He packed the tools of his trade in a large transit case, stuffing guns, ammo, grenades and other goodies so that he would be ready to go if the job came through.
He left the case in his apartment, not wanting to carry all that heavy weaponry around. Nothing worse than having some Lone Star Slag find heavy weapons in a traffic stop. He stuffed a small sawed off shotgun in a shoulder holster though. He didn't want to go to the meet totally naked.
He dressed casually, jeans, t-shirt long coat and hiking boots, all clean but worn, the jeans more than a little threadbare. Dermal deposits played hell with clothes.
He left the apartment and drove over to the warehouse, backing his Americar into a spot with easy access to the road. He glanced at his watch and saw that he was 5 minutes early, then walked casually into the warehouse, nodded in a mildly friendly way to those presnt and stood back to wait to see what developed.
[ Arden ]
Arden's ears practically swivel with the opening word from Mirage. *"Vous ne trouvez pas beaucoup de Français autour ici! It's good to hear that somebody else speaks something other the 'gutter' that has a hint of passion in it. Welcome aboard, I'm Arden.
*"You don't find many frenchmen around here!"
Arden's ears practically swivel with the opening word from Mirage. *"Vous ne trouvez pas beaucoup de Français autour ici! It's good to hear that somebody else speaks something other the 'gutter' that has a hint of passion in it. Welcome aboard, I'm Arden.
*"You don't find many frenchmen around here!"
Warpath listens to everyone stoicly. "I'm called Warpath, an' I do the sammie thing." He shrugs a bit at so simple a description. "Ain't much more you can say about that, I guess." He goes back to listening and waiting for the Johnson to show up.
After some time without any new arrivals Ohanzee waits for a pause in the ongoing conversations and says in a calm and quiet voice:
"Now that everybody has seemed to arrive I assume it would be best if we all introduce ourselves again. We should use the time until our employer arrives productively."
He then goes on to repeat his little introduction that he already used when greeting Jessie, using almost exactly the same words.
During all this he hardly moves from his position. He doesn't use his hands to accompany the words. In fact, he doesn't use any body language at all.
"Now that everybody has seemed to arrive I assume it would be best if we all introduce ourselves again. We should use the time until our employer arrives productively."
He then goes on to repeat his little introduction that he already used when greeting Jessie, using almost exactly the same words.
During all this he hardly moves from his position. He doesn't use his hands to accompany the words. In fact, he doesn't use any body language at all.
At Danny's arrival, she gives him a warm smile, and has to stop herself from going over to hug him. "Hey there Danny, good to know you're on board."
After Ohanzee's speach, Jessie re-introduces herself, smiles all around.
After Ohanzee's speach, Jessie re-introduces herself, smiles all around.
Ghost Dragon continues to observe the conversations without making his presence known, just to be sure who he is working with.
Can I drop my spell without surprising them into shooting at me? I am more than fast enough to keep pace with them if they do, but... no, not yet. I will not take the risk of revealing myself yet.
After an hour and a half has passed, Ghost Dragon decides to reveal himself.
It would seem that I will be working with them. They do not appear to be against me. What does my life matter?
Ghost Dragon says, "Hello," from 5 meters away as he begins walking toward the group of runners standing around talking to one another. Once everyone's jumping and grabbing of weapons ends, he drops his spell and becomes visible to everyone.
As he fades into visibility, Ghost Dragon begins speaking, "My name is Ghost Dragon. I will be working with all of you. I was watching you for quite some time, so I already know all of your names and specializations. My specialization is magic. I also possess other talents, such as stealthiness, pistols, and hand-to-hand skills."
They are... undisciplined. A sign of weakness. Typical.
Can I drop my spell without surprising them into shooting at me? I am more than fast enough to keep pace with them if they do, but... no, not yet. I will not take the risk of revealing myself yet.
After an hour and a half has passed, Ghost Dragon decides to reveal himself.
It would seem that I will be working with them. They do not appear to be against me. What does my life matter?
Ghost Dragon says, "Hello," from 5 meters away as he begins walking toward the group of runners standing around talking to one another. Once everyone's jumping and grabbing of weapons ends, he drops his spell and becomes visible to everyone.
As he fades into visibility, Ghost Dragon begins speaking, "My name is Ghost Dragon. I will be working with all of you. I was watching you for quite some time, so I already know all of your names and specializations. My specialization is magic. I also possess other talents, such as stealthiness, pistols, and hand-to-hand skills."
They are... undisciplined. A sign of weakness. Typical.
Jessie gives Ghost Dragon a simple nod, obviously not happy with the way he handled his introduction.
What kind of professional does things that way? He's obviously over-paranoid, which could end up getting in the way.
What kind of professional does things that way? He's obviously over-paranoid, which could end up getting in the way.
At hearing the hello, Ohanzee calmly turns around to look the approaching guest. He figures that no one with the intention to attack them immediately would bother to intoduce them first.
He gives the new arrival a thorough once-over.
"And you expect us to even remotely trust you now? I could have imagined many much better ways to introduce yourself to your new team.", he says completely calmly and almost bored but most of all without any agression or or other emotion.
What a show-off...
He gives the new arrival a thorough once-over.
"And you expect us to even remotely trust you now? I could have imagined many much better ways to introduce yourself to your new team.", he says completely calmly and almost bored but most of all without any agression or or other emotion.
What a show-off...
0800
The cold morning is felt to the bone inside the old building, wooden walls do little to insulate the place. Outside a light fog has taken residence a few feat of the ground. The weather has been unusual the last few weeks, starting with an insane rainstorm that just ended a few days ago. Not it seems to have turned cold. The grey clouds that seem permanently etched in the sky have turned dark and forboding.
The crunch of tires on pavement echoes outside as a vehicle pulls up. A door is opened, then another, a smartly dressed elf enters the building, black suit, red tie. He has short cut black hair and fair skin. He walks with an ease and attitude that makes it obvious he is used to dealing with people. Through the opened door you can make out the headlights of a Nightsky.
"Freunde des gutenmorgens, danke für das Kommen," he says in lightly accented german. When no one replies immediately he looks some what disappointed and continues.
"Good morning, danke for coming. I am Mr. Johnson. Zoë has assured me that you all are looking for work, ja? Good then I have some," he says in with a light accent.
"An asset of a company called "Optronics" would like to be relocated, he is purchasing his transfer with an extremely advanced surgical laser. All the work is done, all that is left is that we actually get the asset. He was simply to get on a plane this weekend, but that has changed. The parent company, Novatech, wertlose Villers Marionetten, has decided he is worth protecting," as he speaks he looks at the group, at each member. His eyes flicker over most the group with a dismissive gesture. When they rest on Mirage, they go slightly wide. His look doesn't change, but the hair on the back of her neck stands on end, and the emotion in his eyes makes her skin crawl.
"Now we have learned that he has a bodyguard, and has been moved to a secure housing facility in Everett," he says, now mostly looking near Mirage, never quite taking his eyes of the dark haired beauty.
"That is the job, I have forty thousand nuyen for the team that can complete it, do you want the job?" The last he says while trying to look at everyone, but again, his eyes end on Mirage.
The cold morning is felt to the bone inside the old building, wooden walls do little to insulate the place. Outside a light fog has taken residence a few feat of the ground. The weather has been unusual the last few weeks, starting with an insane rainstorm that just ended a few days ago. Not it seems to have turned cold. The grey clouds that seem permanently etched in the sky have turned dark and forboding.
The crunch of tires on pavement echoes outside as a vehicle pulls up. A door is opened, then another, a smartly dressed elf enters the building, black suit, red tie. He has short cut black hair and fair skin. He walks with an ease and attitude that makes it obvious he is used to dealing with people. Through the opened door you can make out the headlights of a Nightsky.
"Freunde des gutenmorgens, danke für das Kommen," he says in lightly accented german. When no one replies immediately he looks some what disappointed and continues.
"Good morning, danke for coming. I am Mr. Johnson. Zoë has assured me that you all are looking for work, ja? Good then I have some," he says in with a light accent.
"An asset of a company called "Optronics" would like to be relocated, he is purchasing his transfer with an extremely advanced surgical laser. All the work is done, all that is left is that we actually get the asset. He was simply to get on a plane this weekend, but that has changed. The parent company, Novatech, wertlose Villers Marionetten, has decided he is worth protecting," as he speaks he looks at the group, at each member. His eyes flicker over most the group with a dismissive gesture. When they rest on Mirage, they go slightly wide. His look doesn't change, but the hair on the back of her neck stands on end, and the emotion in his eyes makes her skin crawl.
"Now we have learned that he has a bodyguard, and has been moved to a secure housing facility in Everett," he says, now mostly looking near Mirage, never quite taking his eyes of the dark haired beauty.
"That is the job, I have forty thousand nuyen for the team that can complete it, do you want the job?" The last he says while trying to look at everyone, but again, his eyes end on Mirage.
Jessie steps up.
"I'm in, but forty isn't enough. There are eight of us here, thats only five grand each. You go to Zoe to get the best, well, you've got them, but five grand isn't going to cut it. Make it sixty and we'll continue our conversation, and even at sixty I feel like I'm giving more than I should."
"I'm in, but forty isn't enough. There are eight of us here, thats only five grand each. You go to Zoe to get the best, well, you've got them, but five grand isn't going to cut it. Make it sixty and we'll continue our conversation, and even at sixty I feel like I'm giving more than I should."
He has an almost disgusted look on his face when Jessie starts talking. He listens, and nods, "I don't care if there were ten of you, that's not my problem. However I understand you are good, so let's say 45k."
Ohanzee states, in his usuall and by know well-known matter-of-fact motionless way of speaking: "I have the same thoughts. I can't speak for the others here but I'm not doing this for fun. 5000 is rather meager for an assignment that will most likely be everything but straightforward and may put many a life on the line, not counting even ours. Professional work comes with a pricetag attached. 60.000 is the bare minimum and even that would be very generous of us, considering the gain you get from this man and the risk that comes with this assignment. And it is very much your problem how many we are. If you can't afford eight professionals then don't ask for then. You always get what you pay for." During all this time he holds direct eye contact with the Johnson and doesn't blink even once - an ability that he found was granted to him by his cybereyes.
Jessie does her best to keep her face clear of emotion, she simply looks around to see if everyone else is go for it.
The johnson stares back at Ohanzee, more of a glare actually. A twitch develops on his cheek, he looks away and his face flushes slightly crimson.
"Fine he barks, 60k it is." Anger flutters over his face before he gets it under control, "so, will you take the job."
Feine Freunde, gerade Geldstrafe, lassen mich Sie bitten, niedrig halfbred shadowrunning Abschaum, um dies für mich zu tun, he thinks to himself.
"Fine he barks, 60k it is." Anger flutters over his face before he gets it under control, "so, will you take the job."
Feine Freunde, gerade Geldstrafe, lassen mich Sie bitten, niedrig halfbred shadowrunning Abschaum, um dies für mich zu tun, he thinks to himself.
Good, cause otherwise I was going to walk
"Alright. I'm in."
"Alright. I'm in."
Mirage grins when she hears Arden speaking in her own language, "il est bon de pouvoir parler en ma langue maternelle, puits rencontré."*
After Warpath has reintroduced himself she says, "I'm also a Street Samurai, so I'm mostly good at shooting people, I'm also quite stealthy and I pretty good at dealing with people as I'm a bit less imposing than most samurai."
She chooses to ignore Ghost Dragon's arogant entrance, when will mages realise that it takes more than invisibility to hide from us cybered mundanes
She does her best to hide her "creeped out" emotions as she meets the Johnsons stare with the cold, unblinking gaze of the killer that she is.
*It is good to be able to speak in my native language, well met.
After Warpath has reintroduced himself she says, "I'm also a Street Samurai, so I'm mostly good at shooting people, I'm also quite stealthy and I pretty good at dealing with people as I'm a bit less imposing than most samurai."
She chooses to ignore Ghost Dragon's arogant entrance, when will mages realise that it takes more than invisibility to hide from us cybered mundanes
She does her best to hide her "creeped out" emotions as she meets the Johnsons stare with the cold, unblinking gaze of the killer that she is.
*It is good to be able to speak in my native language, well met.
At first, Sink seems to be doing his impression of the strong silent type. He looks and acts relaxed and listens to the others introduce themselves, waiting till everyone has had their chance at talking and then finally adds "Pleased ta meet ya all. Da name's Sink."
His accent is pure Seattle Street, he's either a local or can pass for one. "Dey must think dis job could get rough, der's alot of us muscle types here" he comments. "I can handle myself in a scrap, and patch ya up after one. I'm not a street doc, but can help keep ya alive till you can get ta one. Hopefully I won't need ta use either of dose kinda skills, I like my runs quiet, but if tings get bad, I'll be dere."
He follows the other runner's gazes and notices Ghost appear. He watches to see how the others react, but says nothing of the man's arrival technique.
Later, when the meet begins, he stands back, listening to the description of the job. He ignores the money talk, but says "So you're saying dis guy is willing, but dey just upped da security on dis slag outta da blue? Dey know he plannin on jumpin ship then......"
"How much dey know and how dey find out?"
His accent is pure Seattle Street, he's either a local or can pass for one. "Dey must think dis job could get rough, der's alot of us muscle types here" he comments. "I can handle myself in a scrap, and patch ya up after one. I'm not a street doc, but can help keep ya alive till you can get ta one. Hopefully I won't need ta use either of dose kinda skills, I like my runs quiet, but if tings get bad, I'll be dere."
He follows the other runner's gazes and notices Ghost appear. He watches to see how the others react, but says nothing of the man's arrival technique.
Later, when the meet begins, he stands back, listening to the description of the job. He ignores the money talk, but says "So you're saying dis guy is willing, but dey just upped da security on dis slag outta da blue? Dey know he plannin on jumpin ship then......"
"How much dey know and how dey find out?"
The Johnsons acknowledges Jessie, "Do you speak for the group, fräulein," halfbreed he says in his head.
"I have a feeling that the upgrade to his security is coincidental, Novatech is just responding to the fact that his project is near completion," he says to the big troll. When Mirage starts getting "the look" he starts to shy away and deliberately avoids looking at her, which seems to fuel more emotion behind his eyes.
"I have a feeling that the upgrade to his security is coincidental, Novatech is just responding to the fact that his project is near completion," he says to the big troll. When Mirage starts getting "the look" he starts to shy away and deliberately avoids looking at her, which seems to fuel more emotion behind his eyes.
"No. Hence my saying that I'm in. They can speak for themselves."
Jessie does her best to read the Johnson's reactions to Mirage.
Jessie does her best to read the Johnson's reactions to Mirage.
Mirage says, "Ok, I'm in."
She continues to stare coldly at the Johnson.
She continues to stare coldly at the Johnson.
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