OOC thread here
September 14th 2072
Somewhere in Manhattan
11:40AM
Sammy limped through his busy automotive workshop to the Bulldog parked in quiet corner. The rain and damp affecting his joints and the injuries he had sustained in a past life, in a distant city. The old dwarf paused a moment as he ran his hand over the immaculately kept body work, feeling, rather than seeing, the scars of old battles. He smiled for a moment then shook his head, clearing the memories and brining himself back to the presence. He logged into the bulldogs node and issued the unlock command. The rear doors clicked open and the dwarf climb in pulling them closed behind him.
He sat himself at a small desk and began to work. The job had come in less than two hours ago and like normal, the expectation was he'd get a team together and over to the Johnson meet in the next 6 hours. What little he'd been told suggested he would need to pull together a more seasoned team. Well his cut of the Nuyen told him that much at least. Sammy eased into his private node and began looking over the contact information of the runners he'd met or been introduced too since he arrived in New York.
An hour later and he had the final list.
Scorch, Vamp, Crowley, Phill and Thomas Badeaux he thought running over the names again, All seasoned, if not veteran runners And from what he knew of each of them they could handle themselves well. His only concern was a lack of physical muscle, but he knew that didnt matter one bit half the time you ran through the shadows.
He wrote a text message and sent it across to each of their commlinks, the ones he'd been given at least.
<Mr Johnson requests your presence at the Renraku Regus offices, Lexington Avenue 4pm prompt. Ask for Sombra Negro Inc. acknowledge attendance and remember It's all about the Nuyen boys>
Sammy smiled. His usual catch phrase closing the message would tell the runner exactly who the message was from. Job done he locked the van and return to the shop, yelling at his lazy workers to pick up the pace.
Full Version: IC: Its all about the Nuyen
11:42 AM : September 14th, 2072 : Vamp's Doss, Central SoHo
"Frag your god damned buzzing," cursed Vamp as he rolled over on his large queen bed, reaching for his buzzing commlink on the night stand that was just out of arm's reach. Grabbing the buzzing devil, he quickly read over the new message from Sammy, the light off the comm illuminating his face in the pitch black room, only tiny slivers of light entering the room directly below the black out curtains.
Alyssa stirred next to him, rolling over and curling up against Vamp's side. Vamp gave his pet a warm smile, running the fingers of one hand through her hair as he typed out a return message to Sammy.
< Thanks chum, I will be there. Next time, can I get a meet during the later hours?
Thanks again though. >
Vamp set his alarm for two hours later, laying back down to get a couple more hours of sleep after the late night out at DV8 last night. Alyssa had performed so well, taken his floggings and whippings with barely a sound, obeyed his every command perfectly. He would have to remember to get her something nice after this next run.
1:45 PM
Vamp rose feeling more refreshed, if still a little pissed about being awake during the daylight, than he had two hours ago. He slipped in a nice pair of black slacks, a tight white dress shirt with a mandarin collar, and slim black vest with tiny white pinstripes, paired with heavy, steel toed biker boots. On next went his concealable shoulder holster, complete with his newly plasteel modded Ares Predator IV, loaded with a clip of Stick n' Shock. Vamp then meticulously combed his long black hair, added light black eyeliner under his eyes, put in his contacts, and added a nice layer UV protective cream to his face, which if anything, made his white skin paler. His AR gloves protected his hands with smooth black leather, and his commlink added a nice silver highlight to his beltline. Vamp was, if nothing else, a creature of style.
Grabbing his Form Fitting Body Armor, he tossed it in his coffin briefcase with his sword weapon focus, other clips of ammo for his gun, along with its silencer, as well as his gecko gloves, medkit, and respirator. Quickly going over his mental list of equipment in his head, he grabs one of his survival knives from under his pillow and tucks it into the hidden sheathe in his boot.
Finally ready for the day, Vamp gives Alyssa's sleeping from a quick kiss of the cheek before tossing on his lined coat and grabbing his bike helmet as he heads out the door. Vamp's apartment is on the third floor of a ten floor apartment building in central SoHo. It is occupied primarily by artists, writers, socialites, and college students, all of whom keep their own private hours; it was the perfect place for him. That and they didn't bat an eye when a couple of his chums from his magical group crashed in his doss. It was nice.
Vamp took the elevator down to the below ground parking garage for his building, his bike one of a dozen in the garage, though his was the only one painted so well, or with the subtle combination of acid green and black that marked him as an Ancient. Securing his helmet, with it's crucial tinting that allowed him get around during the day, he disabled the anti-theft system on his bike, warming it up with a command from his comm, and then taking off onto the streets of the Big Apple, once again mentally thanking his hacker buddy, Ghost-In-The-Link for the white strip access that he had attached to his Fake SIN.
While riding over to the Renraku offices, Vamp loads up his new Agent on his comm with the Browse program and sends it out into the 'Trix looking for information about this Renraku Office and Sombra Negro.
"Frag your god damned buzzing," cursed Vamp as he rolled over on his large queen bed, reaching for his buzzing commlink on the night stand that was just out of arm's reach. Grabbing the buzzing devil, he quickly read over the new message from Sammy, the light off the comm illuminating his face in the pitch black room, only tiny slivers of light entering the room directly below the black out curtains.
Alyssa stirred next to him, rolling over and curling up against Vamp's side. Vamp gave his pet a warm smile, running the fingers of one hand through her hair as he typed out a return message to Sammy.
< Thanks chum, I will be there. Next time, can I get a meet during the later hours?
Thanks again though. >Vamp set his alarm for two hours later, laying back down to get a couple more hours of sleep after the late night out at DV8 last night. Alyssa had performed so well, taken his floggings and whippings with barely a sound, obeyed his every command perfectly. He would have to remember to get her something nice after this next run.
1:45 PM
Vamp rose feeling more refreshed, if still a little pissed about being awake during the daylight, than he had two hours ago. He slipped in a nice pair of black slacks, a tight white dress shirt with a mandarin collar, and slim black vest with tiny white pinstripes, paired with heavy, steel toed biker boots. On next went his concealable shoulder holster, complete with his newly plasteel modded Ares Predator IV, loaded with a clip of Stick n' Shock. Vamp then meticulously combed his long black hair, added light black eyeliner under his eyes, put in his contacts, and added a nice layer UV protective cream to his face, which if anything, made his white skin paler. His AR gloves protected his hands with smooth black leather, and his commlink added a nice silver highlight to his beltline. Vamp was, if nothing else, a creature of style.
Grabbing his Form Fitting Body Armor, he tossed it in his coffin briefcase with his sword weapon focus, other clips of ammo for his gun, along with its silencer, as well as his gecko gloves, medkit, and respirator. Quickly going over his mental list of equipment in his head, he grabs one of his survival knives from under his pillow and tucks it into the hidden sheathe in his boot.
Finally ready for the day, Vamp gives Alyssa's sleeping from a quick kiss of the cheek before tossing on his lined coat and grabbing his bike helmet as he heads out the door. Vamp's apartment is on the third floor of a ten floor apartment building in central SoHo. It is occupied primarily by artists, writers, socialites, and college students, all of whom keep their own private hours; it was the perfect place for him. That and they didn't bat an eye when a couple of his chums from his magical group crashed in his doss. It was nice.
Vamp took the elevator down to the below ground parking garage for his building, his bike one of a dozen in the garage, though his was the only one painted so well, or with the subtle combination of acid green and black that marked him as an Ancient. Securing his helmet, with it's crucial tinting that allowed him get around during the day, he disabled the anti-theft system on his bike, warming it up with a command from his comm, and then taking off onto the streets of the Big Apple, once again mentally thanking his hacker buddy, Ghost-In-The-Link for the white strip access that he had attached to his Fake SIN.
While riding over to the Renraku offices, Vamp loads up his new Agent on his comm with the Browse program and sends it out into the 'Trix looking for information about this Renraku Office and Sombra Negro.
September 14th 2072
Terminal, Manhattan
11:30AM
The delivery drone hummed annoyingly, just outside of the doorway to Scorch's flat. It waited patiently, as the young man fumbled with the interface on his new commlink. The device - a Sony CommClip AR-X - was fresh out of the box, as of this morning, and although he had spent a little bit of time customizing some of the options the OS exposed, the device was cheap, and Scorch had was quickly becoming frustrated with it. In a moment of peak annoyance, after the device's signal dropped ominously again, he smacked the commlink against the door frame, and - for a brief moment, during which his AR scrambled and overlapped with his "natural" AR - Scorch could swear he heard the drone snickering at him through the static noise of its radio signal. For a moment, Scorch considered trying to communicate with the thing, directly - which would certainly have been easier - but he would still need to provide access to his SIN, so he continued working with the flaky device, and its clumsy AR interface.
Scorch managed to regain his composure, and was able to provide the drone with the identification it was requesting. Satisfied, the delivery drone opened its storage compartment and allowed Scorch to reach in and take the package within. He looked it over quickly, before accepting the final prompt from the delivery drone, and, no sooner had he done so, the drone closed its storage compartment, spun in place, and began its journey back to the delivery van. It moved with haste, as though attempting to make up for the time lost waiting for Scorch to figure out his new commlink.
Back inside, Scorch cleared away some room on one of his benches, letting the cords and optical chips fall to the floor. His apartment was not especially small, but the clutter of random simsense equipment gave the impression of a much smaller living space. To the average person, the clutter was the typical mess one might expect from a modern technophile - but to the simsense enthusiast, Scorch's collection of sim modules, cryptosense converters, simsyth equipment, and various special-purposes processing devices would be rather impressive. There was enough equipment littered throughout the apartment to put together a small-scale sim production from scratch, not to mention the crown-jewel of his collection - a rack of devices that took up an entire closet in Scorch's bedroom - the Renraku MR-X ASIST Reprogrammer. Anyone capable of recognizing this device would understand that Scorch's interest in simsense was far more than a hobby - and that such a dangerous device has no business being in a place like this, or operated by a person like Scorch.
After unboxing his new toy - a brand new Horizon Hex simdeck cluster - Scorch set each blade into its place on his entertainment system rack. He took his time. He pulled each separately-wrapped component from the box, and looked it over carefully, before following the instructions to connect it to the rest of the system, and to the main power source. Computer hardware had never been something Scorch was particularly good at - but it interested him, so he was enjoying himself. Luckily for him, these were off-the-shelf consumer products, and only required minimal assembly - and was theoretically designed to be "idiot-proof". These top-end components expected a certain amount of end-user familiarity with their product, but nothing Scorch couldn't get through on his own.
Once the power was connected, the devices entered standby-mode and with a mental nudge the system came to life. The dimly lit room became noticeably brighter when devices of all shapes and sizes sprang to life on almost every surface. The dull hum of power felt comforting, as did the buzz of wireless communication, and Scorch sank back into his ergonomic chair, closed his eyes, and opened his mind to the swirling storm of electronic activity surrounding him. In moments, he was immersed in the Matrix - but not the Matrix he was used to. Between the stock Horizon user interface which filtered out the vast majority of the data passing through his home node, and the standard BRA peak controller which filtered out the dangerous signals, the Matrix that Scorch experienced was quieter, safer, saner, and it looked gorgeous - which was the whole point, after all.
Scorch spent a few minutes enjoying the new quality of his sim-feed, even neglecting a number of chat-requests from a couple of Matrix-friends, but his attention was stolen by an alert of a new message waiting for him at one of his online drop-boxes. He couldn't be sure where the message came from, as the sender had not included a reply-to address - but if it was sent by who he thought it was, it meant some much-needed work. It also meant he would need to get moving.
The job sounded corporate - not a look that Scorch pulled off particularly well - and unfortunately he didn't have many options for dressing up, given that his closet was filled with illegal computer equipment, rather than clothes. Scorch had to think that their expectations would be low, if they were putting together a team of runners, but he figured he might as well go for a look that didn't scream "beetlehead" or "burnout" quite as much as his current look. He took a second to bring up another AR window showing his balance in his online accounts - under 10K, but not by enough that he was worried, yet. A few seconds later, he had dropped
600 on a the latest version of Body Shop, and a premium account - which he downloaded to his crappy new commlink - which would need to be broadcasting his SIN in public mode, anyway. He spent a few more minutes downloading and "trying on" a handful of suits, hair-styles, and accessories, and finally arrived with a look for his AR appearance that he was happy with. He stood before an AR duplicate of himself - at least the self that those who subscribed to his public PAN would see - which was wearing a neat-looking modern suit, had short well-groomed hair, and shades. His actual appearance would fill in the missing areas on his AR model and would certainly detract from this corporate look. It was a token effort, at best, but for a few hundred bucks, and a few minutes of work, Scorch thought he had done pretty well. With a gesture, he put the model away, for now - he wouldn't want to be seen wearing that in this part of town.
As he headed out, Scorch grabbed his taser - a token effort at personal protection - from the table near the door and concentrated on one of his favorite music-steaming nodes. He didn't have any trouble deciphering the signals coming back, and requested a custom stream of music, which began to fill his head, immediately, with one of his favorite bands. Compared to dealing with the delivery drone, earlier, this, more complicated task, was a walk in the park.
Outside, his neighborhood was unusually quiet. It was early afternoon, and the dealers, junkies, and other hoodlums he that usually prowled the area would not be out for a few more hours. The few homeless and truly destitute people he passed were wrapped up in their own problems, or delusions, and were not going to bother Scorch on his way to the bus station. With luck, he would have time to stop at a mall, or something, and buy some nicer (or at least cleaner) clothes to make sure he made a good first impression.
Terminal, Manhattan
11:30AM
The delivery drone hummed annoyingly, just outside of the doorway to Scorch's flat. It waited patiently, as the young man fumbled with the interface on his new commlink. The device - a Sony CommClip AR-X - was fresh out of the box, as of this morning, and although he had spent a little bit of time customizing some of the options the OS exposed, the device was cheap, and Scorch had was quickly becoming frustrated with it. In a moment of peak annoyance, after the device's signal dropped ominously again, he smacked the commlink against the door frame, and - for a brief moment, during which his AR scrambled and overlapped with his "natural" AR - Scorch could swear he heard the drone snickering at him through the static noise of its radio signal. For a moment, Scorch considered trying to communicate with the thing, directly - which would certainly have been easier - but he would still need to provide access to his SIN, so he continued working with the flaky device, and its clumsy AR interface.
Scorch managed to regain his composure, and was able to provide the drone with the identification it was requesting. Satisfied, the delivery drone opened its storage compartment and allowed Scorch to reach in and take the package within. He looked it over quickly, before accepting the final prompt from the delivery drone, and, no sooner had he done so, the drone closed its storage compartment, spun in place, and began its journey back to the delivery van. It moved with haste, as though attempting to make up for the time lost waiting for Scorch to figure out his new commlink.
Back inside, Scorch cleared away some room on one of his benches, letting the cords and optical chips fall to the floor. His apartment was not especially small, but the clutter of random simsense equipment gave the impression of a much smaller living space. To the average person, the clutter was the typical mess one might expect from a modern technophile - but to the simsense enthusiast, Scorch's collection of sim modules, cryptosense converters, simsyth equipment, and various special-purposes processing devices would be rather impressive. There was enough equipment littered throughout the apartment to put together a small-scale sim production from scratch, not to mention the crown-jewel of his collection - a rack of devices that took up an entire closet in Scorch's bedroom - the Renraku MR-X ASIST Reprogrammer. Anyone capable of recognizing this device would understand that Scorch's interest in simsense was far more than a hobby - and that such a dangerous device has no business being in a place like this, or operated by a person like Scorch.
After unboxing his new toy - a brand new Horizon Hex simdeck cluster - Scorch set each blade into its place on his entertainment system rack. He took his time. He pulled each separately-wrapped component from the box, and looked it over carefully, before following the instructions to connect it to the rest of the system, and to the main power source. Computer hardware had never been something Scorch was particularly good at - but it interested him, so he was enjoying himself. Luckily for him, these were off-the-shelf consumer products, and only required minimal assembly - and was theoretically designed to be "idiot-proof". These top-end components expected a certain amount of end-user familiarity with their product, but nothing Scorch couldn't get through on his own.
Once the power was connected, the devices entered standby-mode and with a mental nudge the system came to life. The dimly lit room became noticeably brighter when devices of all shapes and sizes sprang to life on almost every surface. The dull hum of power felt comforting, as did the buzz of wireless communication, and Scorch sank back into his ergonomic chair, closed his eyes, and opened his mind to the swirling storm of electronic activity surrounding him. In moments, he was immersed in the Matrix - but not the Matrix he was used to. Between the stock Horizon user interface which filtered out the vast majority of the data passing through his home node, and the standard BRA peak controller which filtered out the dangerous signals, the Matrix that Scorch experienced was quieter, safer, saner, and it looked gorgeous - which was the whole point, after all.
Scorch spent a few minutes enjoying the new quality of his sim-feed, even neglecting a number of chat-requests from a couple of Matrix-friends, but his attention was stolen by an alert of a new message waiting for him at one of his online drop-boxes. He couldn't be sure where the message came from, as the sender had not included a reply-to address - but if it was sent by who he thought it was, it meant some much-needed work. It also meant he would need to get moving.
The job sounded corporate - not a look that Scorch pulled off particularly well - and unfortunately he didn't have many options for dressing up, given that his closet was filled with illegal computer equipment, rather than clothes. Scorch had to think that their expectations would be low, if they were putting together a team of runners, but he figured he might as well go for a look that didn't scream "beetlehead" or "burnout" quite as much as his current look. He took a second to bring up another AR window showing his balance in his online accounts - under 10K, but not by enough that he was worried, yet. A few seconds later, he had dropped
600 on a the latest version of Body Shop, and a premium account - which he downloaded to his crappy new commlink - which would need to be broadcasting his SIN in public mode, anyway. He spent a few more minutes downloading and "trying on" a handful of suits, hair-styles, and accessories, and finally arrived with a look for his AR appearance that he was happy with. He stood before an AR duplicate of himself - at least the self that those who subscribed to his public PAN would see - which was wearing a neat-looking modern suit, had short well-groomed hair, and shades. His actual appearance would fill in the missing areas on his AR model and would certainly detract from this corporate look. It was a token effort, at best, but for a few hundred bucks, and a few minutes of work, Scorch thought he had done pretty well. With a gesture, he put the model away, for now - he wouldn't want to be seen wearing that in this part of town.As he headed out, Scorch grabbed his taser - a token effort at personal protection - from the table near the door and concentrated on one of his favorite music-steaming nodes. He didn't have any trouble deciphering the signals coming back, and requested a custom stream of music, which began to fill his head, immediately, with one of his favorite bands. Compared to dealing with the delivery drone, earlier, this, more complicated task, was a walk in the park.
Outside, his neighborhood was unusually quiet. It was early afternoon, and the dealers, junkies, and other hoodlums he that usually prowled the area would not be out for a few more hours. The few homeless and truly destitute people he passed were wrapped up in their own problems, or delusions, and were not going to bother Scorch on his way to the bus station. With luck, he would have time to stop at a mall, or something, and buy some nicer (or at least cleaner) clothes to make sure he made a good first impression.
September 14th 2072, A tiny apartment in Brooklyn, 11:47AM
A Shower is running. "Ya ya, I'm coming. Just taking a shower. Goddamn work never stops." Thomas Badeaux, feeling a little like a wet cat, puts on a towel and walks through his apartment, which is covered in all manner of junk. Coins, cards, pieces of paper, empty bottles, innumerable pieces of junk hang from the ceiling, sit on shelves and decorate the floor. It looks like a mess, but there seems to be an order behind the chaos, just out of reach. He meanders to the tiny kitchen, taking his time and pulling an orange from the machine as he grabs his commlink off the table, checking the new message. <Mr Johnson requests your presence at the Renraku Regus offices, Lexington Avenue 4pm prompt. Ask for Sombra Negro Inc. acknowledge attendance and remember It's all about the Nuyen boys>
He sighs, then texts back to his newest criminal friend in New York, stopping occasionally to peel the orange. As he does so, he brushes a card hanging from the ceiling. It crackles slightly, and he looks pleased. <If you say so Sam. Formal? I'll be there, but a dress code 'll be nice to know. Any other stuff you got for us? Maybe a general description? Thanks for the vote of confidence though.>
He dries himself off, pulling some simple clothes on. He goes to cook himself some lunch, whistling a little tune while he does.
September 14th 2072, A tiny apartment in Brooklyn, 2:09PM
Still whistling, Tom sighs, and pulls on a well tailored shirt and slacks on. Over them goes a long coat, and a concealed holster, built into the coat, is filled with an Ares Predator he recently acquired. A clip full of stick and shock goes into the gun. A glasses case goes into an inside pocket also. He throws the commlink, registered to one Geoffry Dunn, into another pocket, and before leaving, grabs an old deck of playing cards, beginning the trudge to the nearest subway station. The brisk air and weak sun is much too cold for his southern sensibilities, even after so many years, and he's thankful for the coat as he leaves the building. Being Manhattan, the Subway station isn't too far, but it never hurts to be early. He smiles at Le Fay, his spirit, and she smiles back. "I've got a good feeling here Thomas. I'm seeing money here." Tom replies. "I'm liking it too. We've only got two months of rent left."
A Shower is running. "Ya ya, I'm coming. Just taking a shower. Goddamn work never stops." Thomas Badeaux, feeling a little like a wet cat, puts on a towel and walks through his apartment, which is covered in all manner of junk. Coins, cards, pieces of paper, empty bottles, innumerable pieces of junk hang from the ceiling, sit on shelves and decorate the floor. It looks like a mess, but there seems to be an order behind the chaos, just out of reach. He meanders to the tiny kitchen, taking his time and pulling an orange from the machine as he grabs his commlink off the table, checking the new message. <Mr Johnson requests your presence at the Renraku Regus offices, Lexington Avenue 4pm prompt. Ask for Sombra Negro Inc. acknowledge attendance and remember It's all about the Nuyen boys>
He sighs, then texts back to his newest criminal friend in New York, stopping occasionally to peel the orange. As he does so, he brushes a card hanging from the ceiling. It crackles slightly, and he looks pleased. <If you say so Sam. Formal? I'll be there, but a dress code 'll be nice to know. Any other stuff you got for us? Maybe a general description? Thanks for the vote of confidence though.>
He dries himself off, pulling some simple clothes on. He goes to cook himself some lunch, whistling a little tune while he does.
September 14th 2072, A tiny apartment in Brooklyn, 2:09PM
Still whistling, Tom sighs, and pulls on a well tailored shirt and slacks on. Over them goes a long coat, and a concealed holster, built into the coat, is filled with an Ares Predator he recently acquired. A clip full of stick and shock goes into the gun. A glasses case goes into an inside pocket also. He throws the commlink, registered to one Geoffry Dunn, into another pocket, and before leaving, grabs an old deck of playing cards, beginning the trudge to the nearest subway station. The brisk air and weak sun is much too cold for his southern sensibilities, even after so many years, and he's thankful for the coat as he leaves the building. Being Manhattan, the Subway station isn't too far, but it never hurts to be early. He smiles at Le Fay, his spirit, and she smiles back. "I've got a good feeling here Thomas. I'm seeing money here." Tom replies. "I'm liking it too. We've only got two months of rent left."
| 11:46 AM | September 14th, 2072 | Crowley's Loft in Hell's Kitchen |
Crowley sits comfortably in a plush gentleman's chair that seems completely out of place in an otherwise spartan shithole of a loft. Dressed simply in a pair of blackened jeans and a burgundy t-shirt, he's paging through a heavy tome entitled Ars Thaumaturgica ex Miscellanea when the quiet serenity is suddenly disturbed by the arrival of three ravens.
The ravens, composed of blackish mist, caw incessently as they manifest into the physical realm. They fly noisily around the open loft before finally perching themselves upon a single rafter. They suddenly grow quiet. The two smaller birds look to their larger brother as if unsure what to do, while their elder simply gazes upon their master expectantly. Never taking his eyes off of his book, Crowley addresses the three spirits.
"I presume your silence means you didn't find the blade."
The two smaller ravens create a cacophony of cawing before their elder silences them with a glare. "We're afraid not, warlock," the avian whispers macabrely into the conjurer's mind. "Numerous obstacles stood across the boroughs five. Of those we could observe, that of which you seek was nowhere to be found."
With a sigh, Crowley closes his tome and moves to stand. The tome — an illusion of simsense — flickers for a moment before vanishing into thin air as he tosses it to the side. He looks up to the rafters and nods tightly. "Very well. Thank you for your efforts as always. Perhaps we can try again at a later date. The three are you are free to return from whence you came."
The raven bows its head respectfully, followed by the two watcher spirits that had been accompanying him. Then, just as Crowley's commlink begins to hum and dance from across the room, the ravens disperse like vapor in the wind.
Disappointment finds its way onto the magician's face. He's been here for over six months and not even so much as a hint of the blade's presence in the region.
Crowley looks over to the jittering device interrupting his brief reverie. Through sheer act of will facilitated by a wireless connection, a screen appears in his line of sight with Sammy's disturbing visage filling it completely.
"Well, at least the day won't be a total bust," he think while mentally typing a response to the dwarf. <Acknowledged.> The mage grins to himself, knowing just how much Sammy hates it when he's curt.
Checking his watch and seeing that he had quite some time before the meet, Crowley decides to head down to Chinatown and browse through some of the apothecaries to see if he comes across anything interesting. Maybe even stop by Egg's parlor and let him know how the search goes. He walks over to the cabinet housing his commlink and grabs a long coat from the stand nearby. Sliding the commlink into an inner pocket, he takes up his staff and heads to the elevator.
Crowley sits comfortably in a plush gentleman's chair that seems completely out of place in an otherwise spartan shithole of a loft. Dressed simply in a pair of blackened jeans and a burgundy t-shirt, he's paging through a heavy tome entitled Ars Thaumaturgica ex Miscellanea when the quiet serenity is suddenly disturbed by the arrival of three ravens.
The ravens, composed of blackish mist, caw incessently as they manifest into the physical realm. They fly noisily around the open loft before finally perching themselves upon a single rafter. They suddenly grow quiet. The two smaller birds look to their larger brother as if unsure what to do, while their elder simply gazes upon their master expectantly. Never taking his eyes off of his book, Crowley addresses the three spirits.
"I presume your silence means you didn't find the blade."
The two smaller ravens create a cacophony of cawing before their elder silences them with a glare. "We're afraid not, warlock," the avian whispers macabrely into the conjurer's mind. "Numerous obstacles stood across the boroughs five. Of those we could observe, that of which you seek was nowhere to be found."
With a sigh, Crowley closes his tome and moves to stand. The tome — an illusion of simsense — flickers for a moment before vanishing into thin air as he tosses it to the side. He looks up to the rafters and nods tightly. "Very well. Thank you for your efforts as always. Perhaps we can try again at a later date. The three are you are free to return from whence you came."
The raven bows its head respectfully, followed by the two watcher spirits that had been accompanying him. Then, just as Crowley's commlink begins to hum and dance from across the room, the ravens disperse like vapor in the wind.
Disappointment finds its way onto the magician's face. He's been here for over six months and not even so much as a hint of the blade's presence in the region.
Crowley looks over to the jittering device interrupting his brief reverie. Through sheer act of will facilitated by a wireless connection, a screen appears in his line of sight with Sammy's disturbing visage filling it completely.
"Well, at least the day won't be a total bust," he think while mentally typing a response to the dwarf. <Acknowledged.> The mage grins to himself, knowing just how much Sammy hates it when he's curt.
Checking his watch and seeing that he had quite some time before the meet, Crowley decides to head down to Chinatown and browse through some of the apothecaries to see if he comes across anything interesting. Maybe even stop by Egg's parlor and let him know how the search goes. He walks over to the cabinet housing his commlink and grabs a long coat from the stand nearby. Sliding the commlink into an inner pocket, he takes up his staff and heads to the elevator.
September 14th 2072
Times Square, Manhattan
1:10 PM
The majority of the bus ride was a blur. Scorch allowed himself to get lost in his music, and other online distractions in AR, pulling his attention back into the real world only when he received an alert on his commlink from the public transportation system, informing him that his Commuter Pass was being scanned (at the borders between Terminal, Downtown, and Times Square) or that he had reached his destination - a bus station in Times Square. The people on the bus seemed similarly absorbed in their own thoughts or AR and a few, who were not traveling alone, even had the courage to drop into VR.
As he exited the bus, he was assaulted by gigantic multi-story AR advertisements. His commlink filtered most of the spam down to a manageable level, but his living persona made him aware of every bit of corporate propaganda that floated around public AR space. Fortunately, his living persona was basically invisible to those same nodes, which were constantly scanning with telemetry software for nearby public PANs to harass with directed, personalized, messages, which were designed to bypass the usual spam filters. His new commlink - which was required to broadcast his identity in public mode - was easy prey for these commercial predators, and Scorch found himself beset by both, and struggling to differentiate the AR icons and images from the real ones as he navigated the urban commercial labyrinth in an attempt to purchase what was, for all intents and purposes, a disguise. As he made his way between several shops, he avoided the other shoppers and store employees, most of whom seemed to look at him strangely as he attempted to pick up virtual outfits, or access RFID data by touching real ones - but he eventually settled on an outfit that looked a bit better than the one he had been wearing for the last few days, but which he could also feel comfortable in. The look was a little more "corporate punk" than "corporate", but he was happy with it. He spent a little longer than he had intended looking around various software shops, electronics stores, and even stopped outside of a drone retailer for a while looking at a Transys Steed, before deciding he should wait until after this new Job to spend this month's rent.
He took a return-bus back to his apartment, where an attractive girl his own age, with synthetic hair and glowing eyes, had attempted to strike up a conversation with him, which he had uncomfortably avoided, and then regretted once she had slipped back into her own Matrix activity and lost interest in him. He spent the rest of the bus ride nervously biting at his fingernails and trying not to look like he was watching her navigate her own AR, which is what he was doing. He also accessed her public profile. They had some interests in common - bands, simflicks,etc - which was probably why she had approached him in the first place, and this only served to make Scorch feel worse about his decision to dodge her attention earlier. When he got up to leave, he sent an virtual contact ARO to her public PAN, just in case she was interested in chatting latter, online, and then quickly got off of the bus before she could look and see how embarrassed he was quickly becoming.
Back in his apartment, he spared just a few minutes to rest his mind and let the dull throb of electronic noise relax him before changing into his new outfit. He put the old one away, and made a note on his commlink to do some laundry soon, and then headed out again for the meet. It was later than he had hoped, and Scorch decided to call an auto-cab to take him directly to Lexington Avenue. This was a little more expensive than taking public transportation, but with the money Scorch saved by not leasing a car in a city like this, it wasn't outside of his budget. It also avoided any more awkward meetings with strangers on buses.
Times Square, Manhattan
1:10 PM
The majority of the bus ride was a blur. Scorch allowed himself to get lost in his music, and other online distractions in AR, pulling his attention back into the real world only when he received an alert on his commlink from the public transportation system, informing him that his Commuter Pass was being scanned (at the borders between Terminal, Downtown, and Times Square) or that he had reached his destination - a bus station in Times Square. The people on the bus seemed similarly absorbed in their own thoughts or AR and a few, who were not traveling alone, even had the courage to drop into VR.
As he exited the bus, he was assaulted by gigantic multi-story AR advertisements. His commlink filtered most of the spam down to a manageable level, but his living persona made him aware of every bit of corporate propaganda that floated around public AR space. Fortunately, his living persona was basically invisible to those same nodes, which were constantly scanning with telemetry software for nearby public PANs to harass with directed, personalized, messages, which were designed to bypass the usual spam filters. His new commlink - which was required to broadcast his identity in public mode - was easy prey for these commercial predators, and Scorch found himself beset by both, and struggling to differentiate the AR icons and images from the real ones as he navigated the urban commercial labyrinth in an attempt to purchase what was, for all intents and purposes, a disguise. As he made his way between several shops, he avoided the other shoppers and store employees, most of whom seemed to look at him strangely as he attempted to pick up virtual outfits, or access RFID data by touching real ones - but he eventually settled on an outfit that looked a bit better than the one he had been wearing for the last few days, but which he could also feel comfortable in. The look was a little more "corporate punk" than "corporate", but he was happy with it. He spent a little longer than he had intended looking around various software shops, electronics stores, and even stopped outside of a drone retailer for a while looking at a Transys Steed, before deciding he should wait until after this new Job to spend this month's rent.
He took a return-bus back to his apartment, where an attractive girl his own age, with synthetic hair and glowing eyes, had attempted to strike up a conversation with him, which he had uncomfortably avoided, and then regretted once she had slipped back into her own Matrix activity and lost interest in him. He spent the rest of the bus ride nervously biting at his fingernails and trying not to look like he was watching her navigate her own AR, which is what he was doing. He also accessed her public profile. They had some interests in common - bands, simflicks,etc - which was probably why she had approached him in the first place, and this only served to make Scorch feel worse about his decision to dodge her attention earlier. When he got up to leave, he sent an virtual contact ARO to her public PAN, just in case she was interested in chatting latter, online, and then quickly got off of the bus before she could look and see how embarrassed he was quickly becoming.
Back in his apartment, he spared just a few minutes to rest his mind and let the dull throb of electronic noise relax him before changing into his new outfit. He put the old one away, and made a note on his commlink to do some laundry soon, and then headed out again for the meet. It was later than he had hoped, and Scorch decided to call an auto-cab to take him directly to Lexington Avenue. This was a little more expensive than taking public transportation, but with the money Scorch saved by not leasing a car in a city like this, it wasn't outside of his budget. It also avoided any more awkward meetings with strangers on buses.
September 14th 2072
Times Square, Manhattan
2:45 PM
As Scorch climbed into the auto-cab, he checked the text-message one more time to make sure he had the correct address. As he read through it, a few words which had confused him, earlier - and which he had passed off as nothing - suddenly made sense.
"Acknowledge attendance." Shit, I was supposed to text him back.
As his heart raced, and stress-levels rised, Scorch felt his mind reach out into the matrix - instinctively directing the flow of information to the address he had for Sammy. It wasn't on purpose, and before Scorch could reign in his signal, he had already sent a short raw wet-record simfeed of his emotive track - ripe with embarrassment and a sense of urgency. The stream probably wasn't dangerous, and Scorch wasn't sure if the interface Sammy used to check his messages would even be able to make sense of the data, but the accident did nothing to improve his feeling about the situation.
Pull it together. Sammy is looking for professionals. Act like one.
Scorch sent off a follow-up message, from his commlink, and figured <If you haven't already opened that previous message, don't. Sorry about the late reply. I'm in, and on my way.>
Times Square, Manhattan
2:45 PM
As Scorch climbed into the auto-cab, he checked the text-message one more time to make sure he had the correct address. As he read through it, a few words which had confused him, earlier - and which he had passed off as nothing - suddenly made sense.
"Acknowledge attendance." Shit, I was supposed to text him back.
As his heart raced, and stress-levels rised, Scorch felt his mind reach out into the matrix - instinctively directing the flow of information to the address he had for Sammy. It wasn't on purpose, and before Scorch could reign in his signal, he had already sent a short raw wet-record simfeed of his emotive track - ripe with embarrassment and a sense of urgency. The stream probably wasn't dangerous, and Scorch wasn't sure if the interface Sammy used to check his messages would even be able to make sense of the data, but the accident did nothing to improve his feeling about the situation.
Pull it together. Sammy is looking for professionals. Act like one.
Scorch sent off a follow-up message, from his commlink, and figured <If you haven't already opened that previous message, don't. Sorry about the late reply. I'm in, and on my way.>
September 14th 2072
Somewhere in the matrix.
3:00pm
Phill lazily hovered in his node as he often did when not on the job critiquing the spam mail a false account he made specifically for the purpose had accumulated. After all he heard once that you should always remember your roots. As usual Aztechnology was always on top of it's game, but some of the smaller local corps had been very creative and he had to give them kudos.
He was interrupted by a buzzing and a message materialized in his hands. He read it once, shook it removing the text from it and sent it back with “acknowledge attendance” hastily scrawled on the other side. After that he stood up, walked out the front door and headed off to the meet.
Somewhere in the matrix.
3:00pm
Phill lazily hovered in his node as he often did when not on the job critiquing the spam mail a false account he made specifically for the purpose had accumulated. After all he heard once that you should always remember your roots. As usual Aztechnology was always on top of it's game, but some of the smaller local corps had been very creative and he had to give them kudos.
He was interrupted by a buzzing and a message materialized in his hands. He read it once, shook it removing the text from it and sent it back with “acknowledge attendance” hastily scrawled on the other side. After that he stood up, walked out the front door and headed off to the meet.
September 14th
Sammys Automotive chop shop
1:00PM - 3:15pm
Sammy groaned to himself as the ARES beaurocratic continued to bemoan the costs of having his 2009 corvette restored to its former glory. A task, Sammy had tried to tell the man, that was proving difficult though not impossible and that was the reason for the higher than expected bills. Sometimes he wished he could simply turn off that commlink and ignore Sammuel Goldberger for good and just focus on the other sammy, the one that the acknowledgements where streaming into.
He smiled to himself at Vamps inconvenience. Next time he'd suggest a meet with a Johnson at the top ot the empire state as the sun burst through the clouds and announced itself on the world. But then Vamp was useful and sammy decided he should at least try to accomodate him.
When thomas' message came through he realised that the Johnson hadnt actually mentioned dress code. Odd really given they'd be meeting in a Business center. he wrote a quick message back to the man <Dress smart would be my guess but no specifics from Mr Johnson on subject matter or descriptions.
The final acknowledgements arrived and Sammy relaxed. All 5 had opted into the job, that was a promising start.
[All - the following is generally available information which requires no real search on the Renraku Regus offices]
The Renraku Regus building occupies what was, in the early 20th century the Chrysler building at 405 Lexington Avenue, directly across from Grand Central Station. The office has a public access node: here. Although in 2072 it occupies the entire building providing what it known as 'rent an office' The amieties include permant fixed offices , meeting rooms and other business facilities to rent at a farly exorbitant rate.
You cannot get information on long term leases or tenancy though from the public node.
25 years ago Renraku bought out the remaining Regus shareholder. Renraku Regus is operated as its own company, with its own CEO and board, and maintains the business model it had done in the early 2000's - that of providing business facilities to start up companies and corporate jetsetters with more Nuyen than sense (or good corporate rates)
Spoiler for Vamp
Sammys Automotive chop shop
1:00PM - 3:15pm
Sammy groaned to himself as the ARES beaurocratic continued to bemoan the costs of having his 2009 corvette restored to its former glory. A task, Sammy had tried to tell the man, that was proving difficult though not impossible and that was the reason for the higher than expected bills. Sometimes he wished he could simply turn off that commlink and ignore Sammuel Goldberger for good and just focus on the other sammy, the one that the acknowledgements where streaming into.
He smiled to himself at Vamps inconvenience. Next time he'd suggest a meet with a Johnson at the top ot the empire state as the sun burst through the clouds and announced itself on the world. But then Vamp was useful and sammy decided he should at least try to accomodate him.
When thomas' message came through he realised that the Johnson hadnt actually mentioned dress code. Odd really given they'd be meeting in a Business center. he wrote a quick message back to the man <Dress smart would be my guess but no specifics from Mr Johnson on subject matter or descriptions.
The final acknowledgements arrived and Sammy relaxed. All 5 had opted into the job, that was a promising start.
***
[All - the following is generally available information which requires no real search on the Renraku Regus offices]
The Renraku Regus building occupies what was, in the early 20th century the Chrysler building at 405 Lexington Avenue, directly across from Grand Central Station. The office has a public access node: here. Although in 2072 it occupies the entire building providing what it known as 'rent an office' The amieties include permant fixed offices , meeting rooms and other business facilities to rent at a farly exorbitant rate.
You cannot get information on long term leases or tenancy though from the public node.
25 years ago Renraku bought out the remaining Regus shareholder. Renraku Regus is operated as its own company, with its own CEO and board, and maintains the business model it had done in the early 2000's - that of providing business facilities to start up companies and corporate jetsetters with more Nuyen than sense (or good corporate rates)
Spoiler for Vamp
[ Spoiler ]
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:50pm
Scorch exited the auto-cab, draped in his new AR accessories and in a much better mood than when he had first entered. The driver's personasoft had not been too talkative, and had gotten him where he needed to be on time. He would have considered his arrival early, except that he still wasn't sure where to go, once he was in the building. The AR space outside the building was thick with spam, but far less obtrusive than it had been in Times Square. He approached the building, checking the address again, although there was no doubt which building was the Renraku Regus. Scorch looked around the public node before entering, and was balked at the front door for a moment, as he pressed his finger repeatedly against it to no effect. After a few seconds of this, he managed to get inside when another man exited the building through the same door.
Either his odd behavior or his strange appearance must have gotten the attention of the guard at the security booth, because he stopped leaning back in his chair when Scorch entered, as if expecting to have to escort the troublemaker out of the building. Scorch glanced at the MAD sensors between himself and the receptionist, and casually walked over to the guard booth. The guard slid a metal deposit box out, expectantly, and said nothing - but adjusted his belt, just enough that his pistol would be within easy reach, in case Scorch tried anything.
"I.. uh..." Scorch muttered, as he dug in his pockets for anything metallic. The first object to go in the box was his taser. He was far enough away from the bad neighborhoods that it didn't bother him to give that away. A place like this could generally be counted on to return personal protection devices, too. He put his new CommClip into the box, next, and as he did, his AR BodyShop overlay flickered and winked out of existence. He expected to find a number of other assorted wires, chips, and electronic knick-knacks in his pockets - but as he had just changed into these brand new clothes, he was relieved to find that he wouldn't have to explain what they were for. The clothes were laced with the usual consumer-product RFID tags, though, which he didn't think would bother the MAD sensors, unless it was set to be way too sensitive. They might matter if the guard did an RF scan, Scorch thought, with apprehension.
Better play-dead. Can't be too careful.
He shrugged at the guard, and began to walk towards the MAD scanner, willing his mind to gracefully disconnect and stay silent. The guard pulled the items through, glanced at them with disinterest, and pushed the commlink through a similar box on the other side. Scorch walked between the MAD sensor-bars, felling generally uncomfortable as he could feel his mind racing along his skin looking for any sign of activity, calling out into the void, and receiving no response except for the small blips of data from the RFID tags on his new clothes. Things felt eerily silent, as he had been listening to music all afternoon and now that stream of constant simsense had been cut off. He wasn't sure if he was being scanned for implants, as well - but it didn't really matter. They would not find any. He lingered on the far side of the device, for a moment, then the guard knocked on the security-glass window and made a gesture for Scorch to come get his commlink. After doing so, Scorch relaxed his mind, allowing it to reconnect to Matrix and too his commlink, and his overlay rematerialized around him. He felt better as he felt a steady stream of data rush over him, and proceeded to the receptionist's counter.
He had failed to find a tenant listing on the public Matrix node, and no directory presented itself to him as he got closer to the desk, but Sammy's message had said that he would have to ask about "Sombra Negro" so he spoke up. "I'm looking for," Scorch began, and the right side of his face twitched slightly, "Sombra... Negro... Inc." He said the words slowly, to make sure he got them right, and turned his head slightly.
The receptionist looked up at him, for a second, but then returned her gaze to whatever she was doing in AR. "18-05." The words were followed up by an ARO depicting both numbers, with an icon that looked like stairs between them. Scorch stood there for a moment, wondering what she meant and if he needed to give her his ID or not, and she stopped what she was doing and turned to him with an impatient look. Speaking to him as if he were a child, she said, "Eighteenth floor. Fifth room." She gestured in the direction the door would be, and then returned to her tasks in AR. Scorch nodded, slightly embarrassed, and headed over towards the elevator. They opened at his approach, and a number of people exited. Once inside, the interface for operating the one he was in sprang to life in AR. Scorch pressed the ARO for "18" and waited as the machine took him to his desired floor. He exited, turned, and counted out five doors - despite the fact that each of them was adorned with a numeric ARO. As he went, he passed a window, with a great view of Midtown, where Scorch paused for a moment, and attempted to change the window's perspective in AR, to no avail - it was apparently a real window. He lost interest, and continued, until he found door number five, where he stood for a moment, not sure how to proceed.
Should I knock, or just let myself in? I wonder if that receptionist let them know I was coming. He peered at the door, more intently, but wasn't able to find any AR controls on this, either. He glanced at the time, on his commlink's interface. Still a little early. He bit at one of his nails nervously, for a second, then shrugged and knocked on the door.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:50pm
Scorch exited the auto-cab, draped in his new AR accessories and in a much better mood than when he had first entered. The driver's personasoft had not been too talkative, and had gotten him where he needed to be on time. He would have considered his arrival early, except that he still wasn't sure where to go, once he was in the building. The AR space outside the building was thick with spam, but far less obtrusive than it had been in Times Square. He approached the building, checking the address again, although there was no doubt which building was the Renraku Regus. Scorch looked around the public node before entering, and was balked at the front door for a moment, as he pressed his finger repeatedly against it to no effect. After a few seconds of this, he managed to get inside when another man exited the building through the same door.
Either his odd behavior or his strange appearance must have gotten the attention of the guard at the security booth, because he stopped leaning back in his chair when Scorch entered, as if expecting to have to escort the troublemaker out of the building. Scorch glanced at the MAD sensors between himself and the receptionist, and casually walked over to the guard booth. The guard slid a metal deposit box out, expectantly, and said nothing - but adjusted his belt, just enough that his pistol would be within easy reach, in case Scorch tried anything.
"I.. uh..." Scorch muttered, as he dug in his pockets for anything metallic. The first object to go in the box was his taser. He was far enough away from the bad neighborhoods that it didn't bother him to give that away. A place like this could generally be counted on to return personal protection devices, too. He put his new CommClip into the box, next, and as he did, his AR BodyShop overlay flickered and winked out of existence. He expected to find a number of other assorted wires, chips, and electronic knick-knacks in his pockets - but as he had just changed into these brand new clothes, he was relieved to find that he wouldn't have to explain what they were for. The clothes were laced with the usual consumer-product RFID tags, though, which he didn't think would bother the MAD sensors, unless it was set to be way too sensitive. They might matter if the guard did an RF scan, Scorch thought, with apprehension.
Better play-dead. Can't be too careful.
He shrugged at the guard, and began to walk towards the MAD scanner, willing his mind to gracefully disconnect and stay silent. The guard pulled the items through, glanced at them with disinterest, and pushed the commlink through a similar box on the other side. Scorch walked between the MAD sensor-bars, felling generally uncomfortable as he could feel his mind racing along his skin looking for any sign of activity, calling out into the void, and receiving no response except for the small blips of data from the RFID tags on his new clothes. Things felt eerily silent, as he had been listening to music all afternoon and now that stream of constant simsense had been cut off. He wasn't sure if he was being scanned for implants, as well - but it didn't really matter. They would not find any. He lingered on the far side of the device, for a moment, then the guard knocked on the security-glass window and made a gesture for Scorch to come get his commlink. After doing so, Scorch relaxed his mind, allowing it to reconnect to Matrix and too his commlink, and his overlay rematerialized around him. He felt better as he felt a steady stream of data rush over him, and proceeded to the receptionist's counter.
He had failed to find a tenant listing on the public Matrix node, and no directory presented itself to him as he got closer to the desk, but Sammy's message had said that he would have to ask about "Sombra Negro" so he spoke up. "I'm looking for," Scorch began, and the right side of his face twitched slightly, "Sombra... Negro... Inc." He said the words slowly, to make sure he got them right, and turned his head slightly.
The receptionist looked up at him, for a second, but then returned her gaze to whatever she was doing in AR. "18-05." The words were followed up by an ARO depicting both numbers, with an icon that looked like stairs between them. Scorch stood there for a moment, wondering what she meant and if he needed to give her his ID or not, and she stopped what she was doing and turned to him with an impatient look. Speaking to him as if he were a child, she said, "Eighteenth floor. Fifth room." She gestured in the direction the door would be, and then returned to her tasks in AR. Scorch nodded, slightly embarrassed, and headed over towards the elevator. They opened at his approach, and a number of people exited. Once inside, the interface for operating the one he was in sprang to life in AR. Scorch pressed the ARO for "18" and waited as the machine took him to his desired floor. He exited, turned, and counted out five doors - despite the fact that each of them was adorned with a numeric ARO. As he went, he passed a window, with a great view of Midtown, where Scorch paused for a moment, and attempted to change the window's perspective in AR, to no avail - it was apparently a real window. He lost interest, and continued, until he found door number five, where he stood for a moment, not sure how to proceed.
Should I knock, or just let myself in? I wonder if that receptionist let them know I was coming. He peered at the door, more intently, but wasn't able to find any AR controls on this, either. He glanced at the time, on his commlink's interface. Still a little early. He bit at one of his nails nervously, for a second, then shrugged and knocked on the door.
September 14, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:30 PM
After hunting a parking spot within a block of the Regus, Vamp parks his bike in between an old Americar and a much newer Eurocar, grabbing his coffin briefcase from the it's special holster on the side of his rear wheel and setting the anti-theft system to ON and Stun with a wave of his AR gloves. Removing his helmet when he is within the shadow along the side of the building, Vamp tunes up the tinting on his contact lenses to make the daylight a tad more bearable and fishes inside the pockets of his long coat for his Snuff cigarettes. Finding the squat, slightly crushed box of Amerindian Spirits, Vamp lights one up as he starts the walk to entrance of the Regus.
Reading over the findings of his Agent as he walks, he muses to himself, 'So, a shipping company either owned by or under the thumb of Renraku. Wonder what they ship...
The front of the Regus is gleaming and shiny in AR, a homage to the Big Apple's glory days, before the Awakening and the drek-storm that followed in it's wake. Now there was just the brown, rotten core of the Apple, worm eaten and molding, hidden by the shiny AR overlays and Corporate propaganda machines. 'Conflict is natural, it is what the world is striving for. Who are we to deny the desires of the world and the Dark Mother?' Vamp wonders ruefully as he flicks the butt of his cigarette into the gutter and makes his way into the maw of the Regus.
The inside of the building is as shiny as the AR overlay on the outside, marred only by a standard MAD scanner. Vamp sets his briefcase down at his feet and proceeds to pull the AR glove off of his right hand, then quickly sliding his finger over the biometric reader on the lock of the coffin case and inputting the 12 digit code needed to unlock the maglock. Opening the case barely a crack, Vamp pulls the survival knife from his boot and drops it in the case, latching the locks with a deft snap and sliding his AR glove back on before picking the case up and handing it to the security guard in the booth.
"I need to check this with you, I presume?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, a dangerous smirk, and gleam in his eye that says that if anything were to happen to this case it would not be very good for the guard's health. He then removes his commlink from his belt and places it the box on the side of the scanner, as well his lighter from his coat pocket, and steps through the scanner, hoping that his new Plasteel Modified Predator is plasteel enough to make it through.
Stepping through with a sound, Vamp smiles his dangerous smile at the guard again as he collects his comm and lighter. "Which way to Sombra Negro Inc.?" he asks, changing to a warmer smile.
The guard looks at him with a touch of confusion before answering, "18-05, eighteenth floor, fifth door to the right." He follows up his directions with an ARO showing the map of the eighteenth floor and a highlight on the designated office.
Vamp nods a thanks at the guard before strolling over the elevator, pinging the AR call button while he is still a couple of meters away. The door pings and slowly opens just as Vamp reaches its threshold, stepping slightly to his right to let a Japanese business man in a very nice Vashon Island Synergist Suit exit the elevator before he stepped in and dialed in the eighteenth floor. The elevator projected a slow classical piano piece over its AR interface as it rose, also bringing up the days top news articles on the back of the door, scrolling downwards as the elevator rose further into the sky. *ping* 18th Floor sang the cheery electronic voice of the elevator as it stopped and opened its doors for Vamp.
Vamp checks the time in the upper corner of his vision as he steps out of the elevator, Drek, 3:50 already. Didn't realize how long it took to walk the block. Vamp quickens his steps and rounds the corner towards the office, only to see a nervous looking man knocking on the office he was headed to. Must be another of Sammy's boys.
Typing up a quick message, he sends it off to the person in front of him as he strolls up.
<You know Sammy too?>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:30 PM
After hunting a parking spot within a block of the Regus, Vamp parks his bike in between an old Americar and a much newer Eurocar, grabbing his coffin briefcase from the it's special holster on the side of his rear wheel and setting the anti-theft system to ON and Stun with a wave of his AR gloves. Removing his helmet when he is within the shadow along the side of the building, Vamp tunes up the tinting on his contact lenses to make the daylight a tad more bearable and fishes inside the pockets of his long coat for his Snuff cigarettes. Finding the squat, slightly crushed box of Amerindian Spirits, Vamp lights one up as he starts the walk to entrance of the Regus.
Reading over the findings of his Agent as he walks, he muses to himself, 'So, a shipping company either owned by or under the thumb of Renraku. Wonder what they ship...
The front of the Regus is gleaming and shiny in AR, a homage to the Big Apple's glory days, before the Awakening and the drek-storm that followed in it's wake. Now there was just the brown, rotten core of the Apple, worm eaten and molding, hidden by the shiny AR overlays and Corporate propaganda machines. 'Conflict is natural, it is what the world is striving for. Who are we to deny the desires of the world and the Dark Mother?' Vamp wonders ruefully as he flicks the butt of his cigarette into the gutter and makes his way into the maw of the Regus.
The inside of the building is as shiny as the AR overlay on the outside, marred only by a standard MAD scanner. Vamp sets his briefcase down at his feet and proceeds to pull the AR glove off of his right hand, then quickly sliding his finger over the biometric reader on the lock of the coffin case and inputting the 12 digit code needed to unlock the maglock. Opening the case barely a crack, Vamp pulls the survival knife from his boot and drops it in the case, latching the locks with a deft snap and sliding his AR glove back on before picking the case up and handing it to the security guard in the booth.
"I need to check this with you, I presume?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, a dangerous smirk, and gleam in his eye that says that if anything were to happen to this case it would not be very good for the guard's health. He then removes his commlink from his belt and places it the box on the side of the scanner, as well his lighter from his coat pocket, and steps through the scanner, hoping that his new Plasteel Modified Predator is plasteel enough to make it through.
[ Spoiler ]
Stepping through with a sound, Vamp smiles his dangerous smile at the guard again as he collects his comm and lighter. "Which way to Sombra Negro Inc.?" he asks, changing to a warmer smile.
The guard looks at him with a touch of confusion before answering, "18-05, eighteenth floor, fifth door to the right." He follows up his directions with an ARO showing the map of the eighteenth floor and a highlight on the designated office.
Vamp nods a thanks at the guard before strolling over the elevator, pinging the AR call button while he is still a couple of meters away. The door pings and slowly opens just as Vamp reaches its threshold, stepping slightly to his right to let a Japanese business man in a very nice Vashon Island Synergist Suit exit the elevator before he stepped in and dialed in the eighteenth floor. The elevator projected a slow classical piano piece over its AR interface as it rose, also bringing up the days top news articles on the back of the door, scrolling downwards as the elevator rose further into the sky. *ping* 18th Floor sang the cheery electronic voice of the elevator as it stopped and opened its doors for Vamp.
Vamp checks the time in the upper corner of his vision as he steps out of the elevator, Drek, 3:50 already. Didn't realize how long it took to walk the block. Vamp quickens his steps and rounds the corner towards the office, only to see a nervous looking man knocking on the office he was headed to. Must be another of Sammy's boys.
Typing up a quick message, he sends it off to the person in front of him as he strolls up.
<You know Sammy too?>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:50pm
Scorch looked up, first glancing off to one side, where the AR message appeared, then towards Vamp with wide eyes, and a slight smirk. The young man looked like someone who dressed up, but did not usually do so. His dark hair was messy, with a just-out-of-bed look that may have taken an hour to get just right, and his face looked sunken and tired, despite the energy in his eyes, which was partially obscured by his virtual shades. He wore a nice gray button-down shirt, with a black tie that wasn't tied properly and hung loosely around his neck. Both the shirt and his black slacks had deep creases, from being recently folded on store shelves and having never been washed, and the entire ensemble seemed to give the impression of someone who had rushed to make themselves look presentable. In AR, the outfit was overlapped by a virtual suit, and a handful of other accessories and AROs, all of which seemed to fit him perfectly - but this did little to alter the impression the young man made at first sight.
He seemed to be looking Vamp over, as he clenched his left hand a few times, in what might have been a nervous tick, or a series of AR commands (except that he wasn't wearing any gloves), and Vamp received a reply-message from the same public node. <Not well. New to the city, but not to this sort of thing.> The node broadcast itself as belonging to "Trever Nox" - presumably the man standing in front of the door - and offered up a good deal of, rather mundane, personal information on his public profile, most of which further counteracted the image he seemed to be trying to present, and instead painted a picture of a young "artist", with questionable taste in music, simflicks, friends, and recreational activities - most of which eluded to the sort of "scene" typically common to chipheads.
Scorch stepped to the side of the doorway, and leaned against the wall, attempting to appear casual, while he waited for someone to invite them in. Vamp's commlink alerted him to a request, from Trever's node, to establish a connection, followed by another incoming text message. <If we're going to talk biz, accept the connection, and I'll scramble the traffic.>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:50pm
Scorch looked up, first glancing off to one side, where the AR message appeared, then towards Vamp with wide eyes, and a slight smirk. The young man looked like someone who dressed up, but did not usually do so. His dark hair was messy, with a just-out-of-bed look that may have taken an hour to get just right, and his face looked sunken and tired, despite the energy in his eyes, which was partially obscured by his virtual shades. He wore a nice gray button-down shirt, with a black tie that wasn't tied properly and hung loosely around his neck. Both the shirt and his black slacks had deep creases, from being recently folded on store shelves and having never been washed, and the entire ensemble seemed to give the impression of someone who had rushed to make themselves look presentable. In AR, the outfit was overlapped by a virtual suit, and a handful of other accessories and AROs, all of which seemed to fit him perfectly - but this did little to alter the impression the young man made at first sight.
He seemed to be looking Vamp over, as he clenched his left hand a few times, in what might have been a nervous tick, or a series of AR commands (except that he wasn't wearing any gloves), and Vamp received a reply-message from the same public node. <Not well. New to the city, but not to this sort of thing.> The node broadcast itself as belonging to "Trever Nox" - presumably the man standing in front of the door - and offered up a good deal of, rather mundane, personal information on his public profile, most of which further counteracted the image he seemed to be trying to present, and instead painted a picture of a young "artist", with questionable taste in music, simflicks, friends, and recreational activities - most of which eluded to the sort of "scene" typically common to chipheads.
Scorch stepped to the side of the doorway, and leaned against the wall, attempting to appear casual, while he waited for someone to invite them in. Vamp's commlink alerted him to a request, from Trever's node, to establish a connection, followed by another incoming text message. <If we're going to talk biz, accept the connection, and I'll scramble the traffic.>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57PM
The door opened to the knock from Sorch. A large troll, clearly uncomfortable in a suit and tie smiled at the two men in the corridor. "You here for the Sombra Negro meeting?" he asked, then almost without waiting for a response he gestured you inside.
The room was blacked out for the most part. What light there was filtered in from slightly lightened windows in the top half of the room. The room itself was a large meeting / conference room. A big oval table with 12 chairs around it sat in the middle of the room. Water and glasses sat in the middle of the table. At the far end of the table a man was seated and an ork stood to his left. The troll closed the door behind you with an audible click as the ork smiled at you "Please be seated gentlemen. I trust the others will be along shortly"
All the while the suited man remained quiet, staring down at the table in front of him.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57PM
The door opened to the knock from Sorch. A large troll, clearly uncomfortable in a suit and tie smiled at the two men in the corridor. "You here for the Sombra Negro meeting?" he asked, then almost without waiting for a response he gestured you inside.
The room was blacked out for the most part. What light there was filtered in from slightly lightened windows in the top half of the room. The room itself was a large meeting / conference room. A big oval table with 12 chairs around it sat in the middle of the room. Water and glasses sat in the middle of the table. At the far end of the table a man was seated and an ork stood to his left. The troll closed the door behind you with an audible click as the ork smiled at you "Please be seated gentlemen. I trust the others will be along shortly"
All the while the suited man remained quiet, staring down at the table in front of him.
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
Scorch shrugged, and muttered "I assume so," as he took a seat at the table, looking over his hosts. He put both elbows on the table, and held his head for a moment, as he scanned the room for public wireless devices.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
Scorch shrugged, and muttered "I assume so," as he took a seat at the table, looking over his hosts. He put both elbows on the table, and held his head for a moment, as he scanned the room for public wireless devices.
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 18-05
3:57 PM
Vamp nods to the nervous man, Trever, letting him enter the room after the troll first. Following the two of them, he accepts Trever's private connection, hoping the kid is good at hacking.
<I just hope that whoever else is supposed to here shows up soon.> Vamp texts back to Trever over the secure connection as he takes a seat, smiling at everyone in the room and adjusting his coat as he sits.
"It is nice weather we are having, wouldn't you say?" Vamp asks to one in particular as he leans back a little in his chair, stretching his back while also secretly positioning his feet to help him spring up quickly if needed. He liked Sammy, but he hadn't worked with him enough to trust a Johnson that the dwarf hooked him up with.
Renraku Regus, 18-05
3:57 PM
Vamp nods to the nervous man, Trever, letting him enter the room after the troll first. Following the two of them, he accepts Trever's private connection, hoping the kid is good at hacking.
<I just hope that whoever else is supposed to here shows up soon.> Vamp texts back to Trever over the secure connection as he takes a seat, smiling at everyone in the room and adjusting his coat as he sits.
"It is nice weather we are having, wouldn't you say?" Vamp asks to one in particular as he leans back a little in his chair, stretching his back while also secretly positioning his feet to help him spring up quickly if needed. He liked Sammy, but he hadn't worked with him enough to trust a Johnson that the dwarf hooked him up with.
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
The connection completes, allowing for the transfer of standard text, voice, video, or simsense data between the two nodes. A moment later, Vamp receives confirmation that the line is secure when the devices finish handshaking and exchanging encryption information. When he sent out his text message, the content was scrambled into gibberish an instant before the message disappeared. A second later, a response arrived in similar gibberish, but instantly decoded in front of him. <Sammy didn't mention the other talent. Still got a few minutes, though.> Scorch seemed distracted, as he sat at the table. His eyes flicked around the room, dancing between the men at the table, but occasionally jumping to something that only he seemed to be able to see.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
The connection completes, allowing for the transfer of standard text, voice, video, or simsense data between the two nodes. A moment later, Vamp receives confirmation that the line is secure when the devices finish handshaking and exchanging encryption information. When he sent out his text message, the content was scrambled into gibberish an instant before the message disappeared. A second later, a response arrived in similar gibberish, but instantly decoded in front of him. <Sammy didn't mention the other talent. Still got a few minutes, though.> Scorch seemed distracted, as he sat at the table. His eyes flicked around the room, dancing between the men at the table, but occasionally jumping to something that only he seemed to be able to see.
September 14th, Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue, 4:07pm
Well, he thought it'd be enough time. A breakdown caused the trains to be delayed almost 40 minutes. Wonderful. Dressed in his newest Vashon Island suit, Thomas ignores the envious stares he gets while on the subway, getting out at the Lexington Avenue stop. Wandering up, he realizes that he is late. Hmm. He rushes into the building. He walks through the MAD scanner without realizing it.
He walks to the receptionist. "I'm here to see Sombra Negro, Inc. Where is it?" She looks up and replies in a bored voice: "18th floor, Office 5." He replies back: "Thanks kindly miss." and walks to the elevator.
Elevator music is playing while a large ork occupies the other side of the elevator. As is proper for a suit, he ignores the janitor, who gets off at the 15th floor. He walks to the 5th office, and finding it closed, knocks loudly. "I think I want another hit of Psyche. That was awesome." "No, Morgan, We aren't buying drugs, we're getting a job. Stop distracting me for a bit, I need to focus." He grabbed the glasses from his pocket and slid them onto his eyes, image link hooking up to his comm, while the numerous other modifications to the glasses started to overlay themselves on his vision.
Well, he thought it'd be enough time. A breakdown caused the trains to be delayed almost 40 minutes. Wonderful. Dressed in his newest Vashon Island suit, Thomas ignores the envious stares he gets while on the subway, getting out at the Lexington Avenue stop. Wandering up, he realizes that he is late. Hmm. He rushes into the building. He walks through the MAD scanner without realizing it.
[ Spoiler ]
He walks to the receptionist. "I'm here to see Sombra Negro, Inc. Where is it?" She looks up and replies in a bored voice: "18th floor, Office 5." He replies back: "Thanks kindly miss." and walks to the elevator.
Elevator music is playing while a large ork occupies the other side of the elevator. As is proper for a suit, he ignores the janitor, who gets off at the 15th floor. He walks to the 5th office, and finding it closed, knocks loudly. "I think I want another hit of Psyche. That was awesome." "No, Morgan, We aren't buying drugs, we're getting a job. Stop distracting me for a bit, I need to focus." He grabbed the glasses from his pocket and slid them onto his eyes, image link hooking up to his comm, while the numerous other modifications to the glasses started to overlay themselves on his vision.
| September 14th, 2072 | A Talismonger Shop in Chinatown | Around 3:00pm |
Stepping out of a claustrophobic little apothecary, Crowley reaches into his coat and pulls out a wooden rod. As if responding to his very will, it extends itself from both directions and becomes a walking stick. The warlock's proceeds to use it as such while making his way through the crowded streets of Chinatown. His eyes dart to and fro as he assesses his environment, thankful that his tinted glasses mask any outward signs of paranoia.
After a few blocks he comes to a parking garage. On his way up the winding stairwell he comes across a small shrub shivering in the cool air. Crouching down, he brushes his fingers across a few of its leaves before whispering lightly to it.
"You seem a bit lonely, little one. Would you like to spend the rest of the day with me? I was just off to a meeting that may prove interesting, and I could certainly use the company if you'd be so kind as to join me."
The shrub seems to rustle eagerly in response, causing Crowley to smile. He stands and touches the tip of his staff to the plant while whispering some arcane chant under his breath. While veiled from the eyes of mere mortals, the bush explodes with life on the Astral Sea. It stretches mightily before looking at the warlock's staff. The spindly mass of vines, roots and leaves wraps itself around the staff and slowly seep into it through its etched runes.
On the material realm those same runes glimmer briefly before fading back to normal. Crowley hefts the staff back up right and smiles gently. "Thank you, my friend. I hope you enjoy the experience."
Using his staff to help himself back to his feet, Crowley continues his way up the parking garage. Once reaching the appropriate floor, he steps out and walks to the Suzuki Mirage parked right where he left it. "If you could do me a favor," he thinks to his new companion, "I'd appreciate it tremendously if you could try to keep yourself hidden as best you can. And if you see anything out of place, please let me know."
With that, he reverts the staff back to its more portable form and slides the rod into a tailor-made sheath under his jacket. He mounts his bike and wills it to life before heading to Lexington Avenue.
| 3:52pm |
Crowley spent about ten minutes looking for a decent place to park, putting himself in a rather sour disposition. His mood lightens ever so slightly, however, when he realizes that he's still a few minutes early. He pops open the hidden storage container on his bike and places his pistol inside before locking it securely and heading to the office building just down the street.
Closing his eyes for a moment of meditation to soothe his nerves, he steps into the Renraku Regus offices. The scanner protecting the doorway seems a bit perturbed at some of his jewelry, but the guard didn't seem too concerned by any of it.
Crowley walks up to the receptionist's counter and offers his kindest smile. "I'm here for a meeting with Sombra Negro, Inc. Do you mind guiding me in the right direction?"
Stepping out of a claustrophobic little apothecary, Crowley reaches into his coat and pulls out a wooden rod. As if responding to his very will, it extends itself from both directions and becomes a walking stick. The warlock's proceeds to use it as such while making his way through the crowded streets of Chinatown. His eyes dart to and fro as he assesses his environment, thankful that his tinted glasses mask any outward signs of paranoia.
After a few blocks he comes to a parking garage. On his way up the winding stairwell he comes across a small shrub shivering in the cool air. Crouching down, he brushes his fingers across a few of its leaves before whispering lightly to it.
"You seem a bit lonely, little one. Would you like to spend the rest of the day with me? I was just off to a meeting that may prove interesting, and I could certainly use the company if you'd be so kind as to join me."
The shrub seems to rustle eagerly in response, causing Crowley to smile. He stands and touches the tip of his staff to the plant while whispering some arcane chant under his breath. While veiled from the eyes of mere mortals, the bush explodes with life on the Astral Sea. It stretches mightily before looking at the warlock's staff. The spindly mass of vines, roots and leaves wraps itself around the staff and slowly seep into it through its etched runes.
On the material realm those same runes glimmer briefly before fading back to normal. Crowley hefts the staff back up right and smiles gently. "Thank you, my friend. I hope you enjoy the experience."
Using his staff to help himself back to his feet, Crowley continues his way up the parking garage. Once reaching the appropriate floor, he steps out and walks to the Suzuki Mirage parked right where he left it. "If you could do me a favor," he thinks to his new companion, "I'd appreciate it tremendously if you could try to keep yourself hidden as best you can. And if you see anything out of place, please let me know."
With that, he reverts the staff back to its more portable form and slides the rod into a tailor-made sheath under his jacket. He mounts his bike and wills it to life before heading to Lexington Avenue.
| 3:52pm |
Crowley spent about ten minutes looking for a decent place to park, putting himself in a rather sour disposition. His mood lightens ever so slightly, however, when he realizes that he's still a few minutes early. He pops open the hidden storage container on his bike and places his pistol inside before locking it securely and heading to the office building just down the street.
Closing his eyes for a moment of meditation to soothe his nerves, he steps into the Renraku Regus offices. The scanner protecting the doorway seems a bit perturbed at some of his jewelry, but the guard didn't seem too concerned by any of it.
Crowley walks up to the receptionist's counter and offers his kindest smile. "I'm here for a meeting with Sombra Negro, Inc. Do you mind guiding me in the right direction?"
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
After only a few seconds of awkward silence, Scorch glances across the table at Vamp, and sends another encrypted message. <Next time, we should all come together. This is freaking me out.>.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
After only a few seconds of awkward silence, Scorch glances across the table at Vamp, and sends another encrypted message. <Next time, we should all come together. This is freaking me out.>.
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
3:57 PM
Vamp sighs as he receives Trever's message, typing out a reply to the other man while pretending to drum his fingers on the table.
<You're telling me. I'm Vamp BTW.>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
3:57 PM
Vamp sighs as he receives Trever's message, typing out a reply to the other man while pretending to drum his fingers on the table.
<You're telling me. I'm Vamp BTW.>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
Vamp's messages scrambles as it goes out, and the characters which formed the word "Vamp" remain and unscramble into the word "Scorch", then dissolve away with the rest of the message.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
3:57pm
Vamp's messages scrambles as it goes out, and the characters which formed the word "Vamp" remain and unscramble into the word "Scorch", then dissolve away with the rest of the message.
September 14, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
3:57 PM
Vamp's eyes widen slightly as the letters reform themselves in his vision and then disappear. He glances over at Scorch, Sounds like a chipheads nickname, and then smiles at the Johnson and his muscle, shrugging his shoulders lightly as though saying he doesn't know where the others are at.
I have to remember to have Ghost secure this thing better after this run...
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
3:57 PM
Vamp's eyes widen slightly as the letters reform themselves in his vision and then disappear. He glances over at Scorch, Sounds like a chipheads nickname, and then smiles at the Johnson and his muscle, shrugging his shoulders lightly as though saying he doesn't know where the others are at.
I have to remember to have Ghost secure this thing better after this run...
September 14, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:11 PM
[Spoiler for Tom]
[Spoiler for Scorch]
A couple of minutes after Scorch and Vamp seat themselves another knock is answered by the Troll. You make out the words Sombra Negro and a grunt from the Troll. In strolls another man. He nods at everyone and takes a seat (OOC Crowley arrives). Then again almost 10past the hour a knock answered by the troll. This one wearing glasses and a neat suit (tom arrives).
A few moments of silence past then the man in the suit looked up.
“Good afternoon Gentleman, my name is er… Mr Johnson. Thank you for arriving promptly and I hope I shall not keep you long. I, “ a pause again, long enough for the Ork to step forward and place a hand on the mans shoulder. He glanced up and nodded, then spoke rapidly, words almost tumbling out from his mouth, “I have a small task for you gentlemen. I wish for you to ensure a package does not reach its intended destination. The package will be transported via van and armed escort in 2 days time. How you prevent the package from arriving at its destination is your concern” Mr Johnson swallows hard, “though it should be done in a manner than will guarantee it can not be recovered in a usable form.”
Mr Johnson looked slightly behind him at the Ork, who smiled a big broad smile, clearly happy with what had just been said. Mr Johnson turned back and looked at you, “I am authorized to offer you this”, he places a credstick on the table in front of him “ 15,000 now and a further 50,000 on completion. Are you interested?”
The Ork seemed to hold his breath glancing between each of you, Mr Johnson on the other hand, seemed disinterested, almost going out of his way to avoid looking at you.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:11 PM
[Spoiler for Tom]
[ Spoiler ]
[Spoiler for Scorch]
[ Spoiler ]
A couple of minutes after Scorch and Vamp seat themselves another knock is answered by the Troll. You make out the words Sombra Negro and a grunt from the Troll. In strolls another man. He nods at everyone and takes a seat (OOC Crowley arrives). Then again almost 10past the hour a knock answered by the troll. This one wearing glasses and a neat suit (tom arrives).
A few moments of silence past then the man in the suit looked up.
“Good afternoon Gentleman, my name is er… Mr Johnson. Thank you for arriving promptly and I hope I shall not keep you long. I, “ a pause again, long enough for the Ork to step forward and place a hand on the mans shoulder. He glanced up and nodded, then spoke rapidly, words almost tumbling out from his mouth, “I have a small task for you gentlemen. I wish for you to ensure a package does not reach its intended destination. The package will be transported via van and armed escort in 2 days time. How you prevent the package from arriving at its destination is your concern” Mr Johnson swallows hard, “though it should be done in a manner than will guarantee it can not be recovered in a usable form.”
Mr Johnson looked slightly behind him at the Ork, who smiled a big broad smile, clearly happy with what had just been said. Mr Johnson turned back and looked at you, “I am authorized to offer you this”, he places a credstick on the table in front of him “
15,000 now and a further 50,000 on completion. Are you interested?”The Ork seemed to hold his breath glancing between each of you, Mr Johnson on the other hand, seemed disinterested, almost going out of his way to avoid looking at you.
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:11 PM
"Well Mr. Johnson, how are we to know if it is destroyed if we don't know what the package is?" asks Vamp, knowing that Mr. Johnson will just tell him that he cannot reveal that information until the group accepts the job, but he isn't done yet. It is time to overwhelm the Johnson. "Are we supposed to blow up the transport in case the 'package's information is within the mind of whomever is carrying it? Do you know how armed the escort is? Who is escorting the package? As a matter of fact, who has the package? How will we know if they have it?"
Vamp lets the questions sit in the air for a second, leaning back in his seat and looking at the other runners at the table. As the Johnson starts to open his mouth to respond, Vamp speaks up again, cutting off the business man, keeping him offguard, breaking down his resistance. "I don't think a total of 65,000 is enough for a risky job like this. NYPD is watching the streets all the time, you can't even walk around with your comm in hidden mode without being pulled over. You may not think it so, but you have underestimated the risk involved for this. We need 30,000 up front and another 70,000 at completion. We are all going to need new SINs after this."
Vamp lets his last sentence hang in the air over the Johnson's head, the implication of the ALL including the Johnson if he doesn't agree to the price. Keeping his eyes locked on the Johnson, Vamp finally finishes speaking, leaving the air tense and heavy with his words and implications. Your turn Johnson.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:11 PM
"Well Mr. Johnson, how are we to know if it is destroyed if we don't know what the package is?" asks Vamp, knowing that Mr. Johnson will just tell him that he cannot reveal that information until the group accepts the job, but he isn't done yet. It is time to overwhelm the Johnson. "Are we supposed to blow up the transport in case the 'package's information is within the mind of whomever is carrying it? Do you know how armed the escort is? Who is escorting the package? As a matter of fact, who has the package? How will we know if they have it?"
Vamp lets the questions sit in the air for a second, leaning back in his seat and looking at the other runners at the table. As the Johnson starts to open his mouth to respond, Vamp speaks up again, cutting off the business man, keeping him offguard, breaking down his resistance. "I don't think a total of 65,000
is enough for a risky job like this. NYPD is watching the streets all the time, you can't even walk around with your comm in hidden mode without being pulled over. You may not think it so, but you have underestimated the risk involved for this. We need 30,000 up front and another 70,000 at completion. We are all going to need new SINs after this." Vamp lets his last sentence hang in the air over the Johnson's head, the implication of the ALL including the Johnson if he doesn't agree to the price. Keeping his eyes locked on the Johnson, Vamp finally finishes speaking, leaving the air tense and heavy with his words and implications. Your turn Johnson.
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:15 PM
A pause as Vamps word hung in the air. Mr Johnson seemed to sigh, imperceptably almost then he glanced at the Ork, then back to the group at the table.
"Do your associates feel the same way?" his response showing a little nervousness.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:15 PM
A pause as Vamps word hung in the air. Mr Johnson seemed to sigh, imperceptably almost then he glanced at the Ork, then back to the group at the table.
"Do your associates feel the same way?" his response showing a little nervousness.
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:15 PM
Vamp shrugs to the Johnson and turns to look at the other runners at the table, looking for a sign of acknowledgment, while also discreetly typing a quick message over the encrypt line to Scorch.
<Ping the others and see what they think.>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:15 PM
Vamp shrugs to the Johnson and turns to look at the other runners at the table, looking for a sign of acknowledgment, while also discreetly typing a quick message over the encrypt line to Scorch.
<Ping the others and see what they think.>
| Same Bat Place, Same Bat Time |
Crowley seems a bit overwhelmed by the pace of the conversation taking place around him. He vaguely hears a few numbers being spoken, but it's not until Mr. Johnson addresses the group with a questioning tone that he seems to find his focus. Completely unaware of the conversation taking place in the Matrix, the warlock simply nods in confirmation. "I believe the gentleman to my right," he pauses to nod in Vamp's direction without looking at him directly, "has suitably addressed my concerns on the matter."
Crowley seems a bit overwhelmed by the pace of the conversation taking place around him. He vaguely hears a few numbers being spoken, but it's not until Mr. Johnson addresses the group with a questioning tone that he seems to find his focus. Completely unaware of the conversation taking place in the Matrix, the warlock simply nods in confirmation. "I believe the gentleman to my right," he pauses to nod in Vamp's direction without looking at him directly, "has suitably addressed my concerns on the matter."
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:15pm
Scorch remains quiet for the next few minutes, after that. Vamp and the Johnson go back and forth, and Scorch simply listens in, attempting to pay attention despite his focus being split between the conversation and the process of scrambling the messages going between his commlink and Vamp's. When the Johnson addresses the group, Scorch looks as though he is about to say something, when Vamp's request comes in, causing Scorch to stop what he was doing, and focus on the Matrix for a second.
While Crowley fills the lull in conversation, Scorch looks around the room, sifting through the AR iconography. Finally, he sends off a brief, unencrypted text-message to the AR icons for the two men sitting across from him - ignoring whatever public information they might be providing, for the moment. <What do you think?>. A split second after he sent the messages, Scorch realizes that one of them just said what he thought, aloud, but didn't amend his question - it might still be worth hearing what they really thought, if that was somehow different. He wished he was doing this meet in VR, as he probably would have been fast enough to catch him before he spoke, but Sammy's message had suggested (at least in Scorch's opinion) that physical attendance would be appreciated.
Afterward, Scorch turns his attention back to the Johnson, and says, "... He makes some good points..." Scorch wasn't sure why Johnsons always insisted on meeting Runners as a team - particularly when it was a new team being assembled just for them. Odds were that one of them would know just the right way to phrase what everyone else was thinking, and they'll all back him up. This was looking to be one of those cases. "I'm sure we can get the job done without anyone's SIN being tagged - we're not cherry, and you've done your homework - but even if you aren't all see-why-oh-ay, sixty-five split four ways is barely enough to cover what you're asking us to put on the line...." Scorch began biting at one of his fingernails, darting his eyes between Vamp and the Johnson, as though looking for confirmation that his foot was not firmly planted in his mouth. "... and... I'm going to assume everything is on a need-to-know basis... so... yeah... " He paused for a moment, to collect his thoughts, "... we're going to need to know a few more details... and it wouldn't hurt to consider Vamp's counter-offer." Finally, he fell silent to give someone else a chance to jump in and, he hoped, to take the attention off of himself.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:15pm
Scorch remains quiet for the next few minutes, after that. Vamp and the Johnson go back and forth, and Scorch simply listens in, attempting to pay attention despite his focus being split between the conversation and the process of scrambling the messages going between his commlink and Vamp's. When the Johnson addresses the group, Scorch looks as though he is about to say something, when Vamp's request comes in, causing Scorch to stop what he was doing, and focus on the Matrix for a second.
While Crowley fills the lull in conversation, Scorch looks around the room, sifting through the AR iconography. Finally, he sends off a brief, unencrypted text-message to the AR icons for the two men sitting across from him - ignoring whatever public information they might be providing, for the moment. <What do you think?>. A split second after he sent the messages, Scorch realizes that one of them just said what he thought, aloud, but didn't amend his question - it might still be worth hearing what they really thought, if that was somehow different. He wished he was doing this meet in VR, as he probably would have been fast enough to catch him before he spoke, but Sammy's message had suggested (at least in Scorch's opinion) that physical attendance would be appreciated.
Afterward, Scorch turns his attention back to the Johnson, and says, "... He makes some good points..." Scorch wasn't sure why Johnsons always insisted on meeting Runners as a team - particularly when it was a new team being assembled just for them. Odds were that one of them would know just the right way to phrase what everyone else was thinking, and they'll all back him up. This was looking to be one of those cases. "I'm sure we can get the job done without anyone's SIN being tagged - we're not cherry, and you've done your homework - but even if you aren't all see-why-oh-ay, sixty-five split four ways is barely enough to cover what you're asking us to put on the line...." Scorch began biting at one of his fingernails, darting his eyes between Vamp and the Johnson, as though looking for confirmation that his foot was not firmly planted in his mouth. "... and... I'm going to assume everything is on a need-to-know basis... so... yeah... " He paused for a moment, to collect his thoughts, "... we're going to need to know a few more details... and it wouldn't hurt to consider Vamp's counter-offer." Finally, he fell silent to give someone else a chance to jump in and, he hoped, to take the attention off of himself.
| Haven't Gone Anywhere Yet |
Crowley takes a sip from the glass of water he requested earlier while he quietly listens. "Hmm," he ponders as the nervous one in the corner began speaking, "so the smooth-talker is 'Vamp.'" He turns and glances at the one he dubs Cherry for now. "I guess Longfellow's old adage is true, 'Many a poem is marred by a superfluous word.' I should consider well what I say around this one. Who knows what information about me he'll rattle off to someone without thinking first."
When Cherry finally stops talking, Crowley turns back to the Johnson to await his reply.
Crowley takes a sip from the glass of water he requested earlier while he quietly listens. "Hmm," he ponders as the nervous one in the corner began speaking, "so the smooth-talker is 'Vamp.'" He turns and glances at the one he dubs Cherry for now. "I guess Longfellow's old adage is true, 'Many a poem is marred by a superfluous word.' I should consider well what I say around this one. Who knows what information about me he'll rattle off to someone without thinking first."
When Cherry finally stops talking, Crowley turns back to the Johnson to await his reply.
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
4:15pm
Mr Johnson glances once at the Ork and nods. The Ork places another credstick on the table with a slight smirk. Mr Johnson places it next to the other one.
" 100,000 for this job is not an insignificant amount. However we are prepared to pay this amount. So I can offer you the 30,000 upfront and 70,000 after the event. For this amount there will be one additional requirement which will be explained upon acceptance. Do we proceed or should i ask tiny to show you out?"
He sits back. A subtle shift in the mans attitude.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
4:15pm
Mr Johnson glances once at the Ork and nods. The Ork places another credstick on the table with a slight smirk. Mr Johnson places it next to the other one.
"
100,000 for this job is not an insignificant amount. However we are prepared to pay this amount. So I can offer you the 30,000 upfront and 70,000 after the event. For this amount there will be one additional requirement which will be explained upon acceptance. Do we proceed or should i ask tiny to show you out?"He sits back. A subtle shift in the mans attitude.
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:15pm
Scorch doesn't say anything, but another text-message from him descrambles in Vamp's field-of-view. <No word from the other two, but I'm in.>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:15pm
Scorch doesn't say anything, but another text-message from him descrambles in Vamp's field-of-view. <No word from the other two, but I'm in.>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public
4:17pm
<I'm fine with this rate. I see no reason to say anything more. This extra requirement could quite possibly be the straw that broke the camels back. Sammy sent you?> Thomas finally gets his message off, his frustration evident. He returns his gaze to Mr. Johnson, along with his emotional control. "This unknown requirement is slightly offputting, but I would accept it. However, we still need more information. For all we know, we're hitting an armoured convoy to murder every person who knows that it is carrying something. And that something could be anything, from a keycard to a crate. You might be prepared to pay us, but with the current state of our information, you'll have spent 30000 nuyen on something that'll end badly for both us and you, if any of us survive to talk. How much can you tell us, right now, without... call it; endangering the mission. It may very well be the difference between us accepting the mission and us walking out of here."
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:17pm
When the first reply comes in, Scorch sends off a quick message to Vamp, across their encrypted communication-stream, keeping him in the loop. <The other guy says he's in, too.> He then puts together a reply, while Thomas is speaking to the Johnson. <Yeah, but not with any details. Hoping he didn't give any to the J, either.>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:17pm
When the first reply comes in, Scorch sends off a quick message to Vamp, across their encrypted communication-stream, keeping him in the loop. <The other guy says he's in, too.> He then puts together a reply, while Thomas is speaking to the Johnson. <Yeah, but not with any details. Hoping he didn't give any to the J, either.>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public
4:18pm
A message pops into his glasses, which Tom brings up. <Yeah, but not with any details. Hoping he didn't give any to the J, either.> Hmm. Just as vague then. The J was playing this really close to his chest. <Ah. I'm Tom. Nice to meet you...>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public
4:18pm
A message pops into his glasses, which Tom brings up. <Yeah, but not with any details. Hoping he didn't give any to the J, either.> Hmm. Just as vague then. The J was playing this really close to his chest. <Ah. I'm Tom. Nice to meet you...>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:18pm
<Scorch. I'm guessing I'm your tech-support.>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:18pm
<Scorch. I'm guessing I'm your tech-support.>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public
4:18pm
Thomas shifts his perception to the astral, the room lighting with the ambient glow that persists there, as well as the auras of the people in front of him. He takes some time to assense all of them. Then, he drops out of the astral again. (Note: Assensing doesn't have a listed action, so I assume this doesn't take too long.)
<Quite possibly. You're better with that damn commlink than I am. Its a miracle I manage to filter spam out when I've got these glasses on. I'm awakened, so I'm probably on that side. Do you know the other two?>
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public
4:18pm
Thomas shifts his perception to the astral, the room lighting with the ambient glow that persists there, as well as the auras of the people in front of him. He takes some time to assense all of them. Then, he drops out of the astral again. (Note: Assensing doesn't have a listed action, so I assume this doesn't take too long.)
<Quite possibly. You're better with that damn commlink than I am. Its a miracle I manage to filter spam out when I've got these glasses on. I'm awakened, so I'm probably on that side. Do you know the other two?>
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
PAN - Public
4:18 PM
Looking to each of the other runners around the table and not seeing anyone getting up to leave, Vamp leans forward again, sizing the Johnson up with his eyes, judging the business man's intentions. Getting the feeling that the man wasn't trying to screw them over, not yet at least, Vamp feels that they should be able to handle the extra requirement for the amount that Vamp had pulled out of the Johnson.
"Alright Mr. Johnson, you've got yourself a deal. Now we need all the information that you have. What is this package you need disposed of?"
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
PAN - Public
4:18 PM
Looking to each of the other runners around the table and not seeing anyone getting up to leave, Vamp leans forward again, sizing the Johnson up with his eyes, judging the business man's intentions. Getting the feeling that the man wasn't trying to screw them over, not yet at least, Vamp feels that they should be able to handle the extra requirement for the amount that Vamp had pulled out of the Johnson.
"Alright Mr. Johnson, you've got yourself a deal. Now we need all the information that you have. What is this package you need disposed of?"
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:20 PM
Mr Johnson seemed to sigh. Relief, fustration, you couldnt tell. He reached down near his feet and pulled out a small black box. setting it on the table he turned it on and immediately a new node appeared in AR. The Ork seemed suprised and went to move forwards then checked himself.
"The information is contained within this data store, however in brief: A NYPD transport van will set out from Roosevelt Island moderate security prison sometime between 9PM and 3AM in two days time. The van will take an overland route finishing at the NYPD interrogation center on 54th street. My information tells me the van will be protected by two forward outriders and a single patrol car. There is likely to be 1 or 2 guards in the van including the driver. The package is one Duke Torres. He should not make the Interrogation facility. For the increase in payment you are required to make it look like the work of Neo Anarchists." He paused and looked at you all. "I believe all information and answers to questions can be found within the node. Be aware it is programmed to self erase in 10 minutes. This concludes our meeting. We will contact you via the same means in 3 days time for confirmation and final payment. "
Abruptly Mr Johnson stood and walked out the room followed by the Ork and Troll. The door closed behind them suprising you with the sudden end to the meet.
On the table in front of you sits the data box and two cred sticks.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
4:20 PM
Mr Johnson seemed to sigh. Relief, fustration, you couldnt tell. He reached down near his feet and pulled out a small black box. setting it on the table he turned it on and immediately a new node appeared in AR. The Ork seemed suprised and went to move forwards then checked himself.
"The information is contained within this data store, however in brief: A NYPD transport van will set out from Roosevelt Island moderate security prison sometime between 9PM and 3AM in two days time. The van will take an overland route finishing at the NYPD interrogation center on 54th street. My information tells me the van will be protected by two forward outriders and a single patrol car. There is likely to be 1 or 2 guards in the van including the driver. The package is one Duke Torres. He should not make the Interrogation facility. For the increase in payment you are required to make it look like the work of Neo Anarchists." He paused and looked at you all. "I believe all information and answers to questions can be found within the node. Be aware it is programmed to self erase in 10 minutes. This concludes our meeting. We will contact you via the same means in 3 days time for confirmation and final payment. "
Abruptly Mr Johnson stood and walked out the room followed by the Ork and Troll. The door closed behind them suprising you with the sudden end to the meet.
On the table in front of you sits the data box and two cred sticks.
| A Moment Later |
"Well," Crowley speaks up after the Johnson leaves, "this promises to be an interesting job if nothing else. Shall we discuss matters here or retreat to a more secure location?
"Well," Crowley speaks up after the Johnson leaves, "this promises to be an interesting job if nothing else. Shall we discuss matters here or retreat to a more secure location?
September 14th, 2072
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
PAN - Public
4:19 PM
Vamp eyes widen slightly at the nature of the target, and even more as the Johnson quickly exits the room, but he quickly composes himself. Connecting quickly to the new node, Vamp starts downloading all the information that he can from it, to be reviewed later.
Turning to the suited runner to his left (Crowley), Vamp nods his head in agreement, "We should get the information and get out of here. I don't think we should discuss our ideas here. My place is open for discussion purposes, I am used to having people over, and my neighbors won't bat an eye at you all."
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Ave, Suite 18-05
PAN - Public
4:19 PM
Vamp eyes widen slightly at the nature of the target, and even more as the Johnson quickly exits the room, but he quickly composes himself. Connecting quickly to the new node, Vamp starts downloading all the information that he can from it, to be reviewed later.
Turning to the suited runner to his left (Crowley), Vamp nods his head in agreement, "We should get the information and get out of here. I don't think we should discuss our ideas here. My place is open for discussion purposes, I am used to having people over, and my neighbors won't bat an eye at you all."
| Still There |
Crowley nods in response as he pulls his commlink out of his coat's pocket. He fumbles with the controls for a bit when he spots a curious text message. Having no idea what it's referring to, he whisks it to the trash bin just before following Vamp's lead and downloading the information.
"That sounds good to me. Just give me a time and place and I'll be there."
Crowley nods in response as he pulls his commlink out of his coat's pocket. He fumbles with the controls for a bit when he spots a curious text message. Having no idea what it's referring to, he whisks it to the trash bin just before following Vamp's lead and downloading the information.
"That sounds good to me. Just give me a time and place and I'll be there."
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:18pm
Scorch shakes his head in real life, seemingly at nothing in particular, but Thomas receives a corresponding response in AR. <Nope. Just met Vamp, and the other guy hasn't returned my message.>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:20pm
After the Johnson leaves, Scorch also seems eager to get started. He even disconnects the secure connection between himself and Vamp in order to free up resources and his own concentration, for the task. Oddly, as everyone else begins downloading their own copies of the data, they do not see Scorch's public icon log onto the node, but he does seem to be staring at the box, intently. Hidden behind thick streams of data, his living persona coaxes its own secrets from the box and Scorch records them to memory on his commlink. "Yeah, I'm down. I'd invite you guys to my place, but the neighborhood is kind of... well, I'm sure we'll be more comfortable at your place."
He paused for a second, then turned his attention towards Crowley. "Scorch, by the way." He looked as though he was going to offer his hand, for a moment, before realizing that the distance across the table between them was too great. Instead, he sort of shuffled around in his chair, uncomfortably, for a second. "We can... you know... do proper introductions, later."
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:18pm
Scorch shakes his head in real life, seemingly at nothing in particular, but Thomas receives a corresponding response in AR. <Nope. Just met Vamp, and the other guy hasn't returned my message.>
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:20pm
After the Johnson leaves, Scorch also seems eager to get started. He even disconnects the secure connection between himself and Vamp in order to free up resources and his own concentration, for the task. Oddly, as everyone else begins downloading their own copies of the data, they do not see Scorch's public icon log onto the node, but he does seem to be staring at the box, intently. Hidden behind thick streams of data, his living persona coaxes its own secrets from the box and Scorch records them to memory on his commlink. "Yeah, I'm down. I'd invite you guys to my place, but the neighborhood is kind of... well, I'm sure we'll be more comfortable at your place."
He paused for a second, then turned his attention towards Crowley. "Scorch, by the way." He looked as though he was going to offer his hand, for a moment, before realizing that the distance across the table between them was too great. Instead, he sort of shuffled around in his chair, uncomfortably, for a second. "We can... you know... do proper introductions, later."
| Haven't Gone Anywhere Yet |
"A pleasure." Crowley bows his head politely to Scorch. He considers offering his own name, but decides to take advantage of the nervous one's suggestion to wait until later.
"A pleasure." Crowley bows his head politely to Scorch. He considers offering his own name, but decides to take advantage of the nervous one's suggestion to wait until later.
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:20pm
Almost as though in response to Crowley's head-nod, Scorch suddenly goes slack in his chair - head lolling to one side. A split second later, a series of messages go out to the team - first Vamp, Thomas, and then, imperceptibly last, Crowley. <Probably innocuous but there 2KP of encrypted data hidden in one of those images> The message contains an identifier for the file. <Looks safe, but I can't unscramble it without the pass-code. Might know someone who can, though.> He then seems to come to, sitting upright in his chair, and rubbing his head a little.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:20pm
Almost as though in response to Crowley's head-nod, Scorch suddenly goes slack in his chair - head lolling to one side. A split second later, a series of messages go out to the team - first Vamp, Thomas, and then, imperceptibly last, Crowley. <Probably innocuous but there 2KP of encrypted data hidden in one of those images> The message contains an identifier for the file. <Looks safe, but I can't unscramble it without the pass-code. Might know someone who can, though.> He then seems to come to, sitting upright in his chair, and rubbing his head a little.
September 14th
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:20pm
Once firmly back in reality, Scorch puts together a quick message to one of his contacts, leaving it in a matrix drop-box that the two of them have used for this purpose before. <Came across some interesting data, that I could use a hand making sense of.> He included a link to a public matrix chat-room, a help-line for people with mental disorders, that the two of them occasionally met at to talk, and logged in, with his living persona, as he stood from his chair and prepared to head out from the meet. As an afterthought, he also concentrates on firmly establishing an additional layer of protection - a series of short, peak-amplified, wet-record snap-shorts of his emotional track's desire to be left alone, fear of being hacked, and whatever else his subconscious had floating around at the moment. He bundled the data together, weaving the streams through one another like a black net that he lay draped over his own icon, and pushed to the back of his mind. It wasn't that he expected Seg-Fault to try anything, but he sometimes got a weird vibe from him - and it was probably a good idea to firm up his defenses on his matrix nodes, anyway. He draped another copy over the iconography of his commlink's node, as well. Through his AR connection to that device, he saw tendrils of simsense begin to swirl at the edges of his perception, as a quiet voice - a distorted version of the way he sounded to himself - demanded the passcode. He provided it, and the iconography resumed its previous appearance.
Renraku Regus, 405 Lexington Avenue
PAN - Public (Living Persona - Hidden)
4:20pm
Once firmly back in reality, Scorch puts together a quick message to one of his contacts, leaving it in a matrix drop-box that the two of them have used for this purpose before. <Came across some interesting data, that I could use a hand making sense of.> He included a link to a public matrix chat-room, a help-line for people with mental disorders, that the two of them occasionally met at to talk, and logged in, with his living persona, as he stood from his chair and prepared to head out from the meet. As an afterthought, he also concentrates on firmly establishing an additional layer of protection - a series of short, peak-amplified, wet-record snap-shorts of his emotional track's desire to be left alone, fear of being hacked, and whatever else his subconscious had floating around at the moment. He bundled the data together, weaving the streams through one another like a black net that he lay draped over his own icon, and pushed to the back of his mind. It wasn't that he expected Seg-Fault to try anything, but he sometimes got a weird vibe from him - and it was probably a good idea to firm up his defenses on his matrix nodes, anyway. He draped another copy over the iconography of his commlink's node, as well. Through his AR connection to that device, he saw tendrils of simsense begin to swirl at the edges of his perception, as a quiet voice - a distorted version of the way he sounded to himself - demanded the passcode. He provided it, and the iconography resumed its previous appearance.
[ Spoiler ]
"Hmm. Well then, I suppose we'll meet at... where ever Vamp lives. So, when should we meet? I'd say soon, since we've got two days and I'm sure you all have contacts you need to see. I'll be heading off, since I'm not liking this suit too much." Thomas' voice relaxes a bit, and a hint of a french accent comes into it.
At the sight of Scorch going limp in his chair, Vamp's hand instinctively twitches towards his coat, but stops part way when the message appears from Scorch in his AR vision. Sighing, and changing the motion of his hand to adjusting his vest, Vamp quickly cues up his Agent, loading it Analyze, Browse, Stealth, and Exploit, and sending it into the data packet he now has on his comm.
"So, to my place then? Good, here is the address," he says as he quickly forwards them his address in SoHo, "And lets say that everyone be there by 5:30 so that we can start the planning on this. My name is Vamp by the way, and here is my commcode. Give me a call when you arrive and I will signal the lobby doors to open."
With that Vamp raised up out of his chair and nodded to the others, staying around long enough to hear if they had any questions for him, before heading out of the room, down the elevator, picking up his brief case from the lobby (and checking it for tampering at the time, and walking the block back to his bike, smoking another cigarette on the way.
That was a good meet. Decent nuyen after this. I should be able to get Alyssa something nice.
The thought made him smile as he put his helmet back on and pulled out onto Lexington to head back to his building.
"So, to my place then? Good, here is the address," he says as he quickly forwards them his address in SoHo, "And lets say that everyone be there by 5:30 so that we can start the planning on this. My name is Vamp by the way, and here is my commcode. Give me a call when you arrive and I will signal the lobby doors to open."
With that Vamp raised up out of his chair and nodded to the others, staying around long enough to hear if they had any questions for him, before heading out of the room, down the elevator, picking up his brief case from the lobby (and checking it for tampering at the time, and walking the block back to his bike, smoking another cigarette on the way.
That was a good meet. Decent nuyen after this. I should be able to get Alyssa something nice.
The thought made him smile as he put his helmet back on and pulled out onto Lexington to head back to his building.
Scorch glanced at the time in AR. Bit more than an hour. He brought up a map of the city, entered in the address, and got a reasonable list of public transportation options as well as some estimated travel times. Terminal wasn't directly on the way, but it wasn't terribly out of the way, either, and Scorch decided to stop at home, although he probably wouldn't change again. "Somebody better remember those," he said, gesturing at the two credsticks near the black box, but making no immediate move for them, himself. "We can do the nuyen-shuffle over dinner."
He followed the others out of the building, retrieved his taser from the guard, and called another auto-cab. During the ride home, Seg-Fault joined him in the help-line node, and the two of them made smalltalk for a few minutes before Seg brought Scorch on target by bringing up the data. Scorch transferred the small snippet of garbled information over a secure line - carefully peeling away the image around it - and Seg inspected it carefully. They discussed scramble-IC for a few minutes, encryption techniques, and their conversation even drifted to the human instinct to guard information, and information's destiny to either be set free, or lost forever. Seg watched, as Scorch attempted to cast the data through several filters he constructed on the spot, but there was something he simply could not wrap his mind around. Seg-Fault seemed to have a little more success, but explained that it would take some time - and a great deal of his attention - to solve the riddle that Scorch had presented him with. Seg seemed eager to return to whatever corner of the Matrix he had emerged from, and play with his new toy, and he and Scorch agreed on a location where Seg would drop off anything he was able to uncover.
Their conversation ended shortly before the taxi arrived outside Scorch's apartment. He thanked the pilot program, and offered it more cred to stick around for a few minutes while he grabbed some things. The interface agreed by providing Scorch with an up to the second report of idle-rates, calculated specifically for this neighborhood - the numbers were larger than Scorch would have liked, so he was quick about his business. Apparently, the auto-cab was not confident that Scorch's agreements with the local enforcers would extend to his transportation. As Scorch exited the vehicle, he decided that he wasn't so confident, either, and "tagged" the local AR space with a black scorch mark, which might be recognized by a few of the better-informed locals. After all, if it wasn't for his place, providing a stable wifi bridge and gloriously rendered iconography, this area might not even have AR.
He dashed inside, impatiently suffering through the better-than-average security system he had installed, and spent a few minutes checking up on his MSP Agent, which was diligently gathering legal sim-clips for him. His array of holographic monitors sputtered between ten-thousand channels, including the "premium" channels which provided legal hot-sim-flicks, although most of those came in with strong copy-protection, and Scorch would have to crack that, himself. He narrowed down some of the agent's parameters, grabbed a few chips off a table - some empty, some full of Deus-knows-what - and hurried back out the door. He stopped to scrub away his "tag" and fired off a few matrix commands from the cab to make sure everything was locked down tight, behind him.
The cab dropped him off in SoHo a bit early. He dropped a quick line to Vamp, letting him know he was in the lobby, but didn't mind waiting around. While he waited for a reply, he checked for news from Seg-Fault. The team would probably be expecting an update on that mystery data - and Scorch was a little embarrassed about not being able to make heads or tails of it, right then. It made him feel better to know that it even Seg had taken an hour or so to get anywhere with it - but he wasn't sure the others would appreciate that fact. He also felt a little bad about showing up to somebody else's place, empty handed. Well, not entirely empty-handed, but he suspected that his new "business friends" didn't have quite the same recreational vices as his usual "casual friends".
He followed the others out of the building, retrieved his taser from the guard, and called another auto-cab. During the ride home, Seg-Fault joined him in the help-line node, and the two of them made smalltalk for a few minutes before Seg brought Scorch on target by bringing up the data. Scorch transferred the small snippet of garbled information over a secure line - carefully peeling away the image around it - and Seg inspected it carefully. They discussed scramble-IC for a few minutes, encryption techniques, and their conversation even drifted to the human instinct to guard information, and information's destiny to either be set free, or lost forever. Seg watched, as Scorch attempted to cast the data through several filters he constructed on the spot, but there was something he simply could not wrap his mind around. Seg-Fault seemed to have a little more success, but explained that it would take some time - and a great deal of his attention - to solve the riddle that Scorch had presented him with. Seg seemed eager to return to whatever corner of the Matrix he had emerged from, and play with his new toy, and he and Scorch agreed on a location where Seg would drop off anything he was able to uncover.
Their conversation ended shortly before the taxi arrived outside Scorch's apartment. He thanked the pilot program, and offered it more cred to stick around for a few minutes while he grabbed some things. The interface agreed by providing Scorch with an up to the second report of idle-rates, calculated specifically for this neighborhood - the numbers were larger than Scorch would have liked, so he was quick about his business. Apparently, the auto-cab was not confident that Scorch's agreements with the local enforcers would extend to his transportation. As Scorch exited the vehicle, he decided that he wasn't so confident, either, and "tagged" the local AR space with a black scorch mark, which might be recognized by a few of the better-informed locals. After all, if it wasn't for his place, providing a stable wifi bridge and gloriously rendered iconography, this area might not even have AR.
He dashed inside, impatiently suffering through the better-than-average security system he had installed, and spent a few minutes checking up on his MSP Agent, which was diligently gathering legal sim-clips for him. His array of holographic monitors sputtered between ten-thousand channels, including the "premium" channels which provided legal hot-sim-flicks, although most of those came in with strong copy-protection, and Scorch would have to crack that, himself. He narrowed down some of the agent's parameters, grabbed a few chips off a table - some empty, some full of Deus-knows-what - and hurried back out the door. He stopped to scrub away his "tag" and fired off a few matrix commands from the cab to make sure everything was locked down tight, behind him.
The cab dropped him off in SoHo a bit early. He dropped a quick line to Vamp, letting him know he was in the lobby, but didn't mind waiting around. While he waited for a reply, he checked for news from Seg-Fault. The team would probably be expecting an update on that mystery data - and Scorch was a little embarrassed about not being able to make heads or tails of it, right then. It made him feel better to know that it even Seg had taken an hour or so to get anywhere with it - but he wasn't sure the others would appreciate that fact. He also felt a little bad about showing up to somebody else's place, empty handed. Well, not entirely empty-handed, but he suspected that his new "business friends" didn't have quite the same recreational vices as his usual "casual friends".
September 14th, 2072
Vamp's Apartment Building, SoHo
PAN - Public
5:10 PM
Tossing some empty cartons of Chinese takeout in the trash, Vamp moved around his apartment, cleaning up some of the usual mess he doesn't worry about. Alyssa was gone when he arrived home, having class at Columbia University tonight, and then a club to go to tonight. If they got everything planned quickly, he might just be able to meet her there.
Lighting up another Snuff cigarette, Vamp activated the vacuum drone and tells it give the living room a quick sweep over as he drops onto his couch and inhales deeply on the cigarette.
They say these things will kill me, but I don't think I would enjoy life as much without them.
Suddenly Scorch's message pops into Vamp's vision, telling of his arrival in the lobby. Glancing at the time in the corner of his vision, Vamp sighs as he sends down a confirmation to the door of the lobby to let the man in.
<Sixth floor, apartment 13.> He pings back to Scorch as well.
Rising up off his couch, Vamp sticks his cigarette in his lips, leaving it hanging there as he walks into his bedroom, grabbing one of his survival knives from its hiding spot behind his dresser, he sticks it in a sheath inside his sleeve, having changed his shirt from a tight white mandarin collar dress shirt, to loose black poet's shirt over black synthleather pants, still wearing his black biker boots, with a knife in the sheath at his ankle as well. Crossing next to his bed, Vamp pulls his right AR glove off and types in the 12 digit code on his coffin briefcase and slides his finger over the biometric lock. Opening the case with reverence, Vamp pulls out the sheathed black monofilament sword, his personal weapon focus, a gift from his Ancient's family in Seattle. Snapping the case close with a click, Vamp closes the door to his room, to keep prying eyes from noticing his giant bed, and St. Andrew's BDSM cross, in his bedroom. His bedroom was the only place where he spent lots of nuyen for luxury pieces, the rest of his apartment was minimalistic goth.
Setting his sword on the armchair in his living room, Vamp flicks the hanging ash from his cigarette into the ashtray on his coffee table and then walks over to the door of his apartment, knowing that Scorch should be knocking any second now.
Vamp's Apartment Building, SoHo
PAN - Public
5:10 PM
Tossing some empty cartons of Chinese takeout in the trash, Vamp moved around his apartment, cleaning up some of the usual mess he doesn't worry about. Alyssa was gone when he arrived home, having class at Columbia University tonight, and then a club to go to tonight. If they got everything planned quickly, he might just be able to meet her there.
Lighting up another Snuff cigarette, Vamp activated the vacuum drone and tells it give the living room a quick sweep over as he drops onto his couch and inhales deeply on the cigarette.
They say these things will kill me, but I don't think I would enjoy life as much without them.
Suddenly Scorch's message pops into Vamp's vision, telling of his arrival in the lobby. Glancing at the time in the corner of his vision, Vamp sighs as he sends down a confirmation to the door of the lobby to let the man in.
<Sixth floor, apartment 13.> He pings back to Scorch as well.
Rising up off his couch, Vamp sticks his cigarette in his lips, leaving it hanging there as he walks into his bedroom, grabbing one of his survival knives from its hiding spot behind his dresser, he sticks it in a sheath inside his sleeve, having changed his shirt from a tight white mandarin collar dress shirt, to loose black poet's shirt over black synthleather pants, still wearing his black biker boots, with a knife in the sheath at his ankle as well. Crossing next to his bed, Vamp pulls his right AR glove off and types in the 12 digit code on his coffin briefcase and slides his finger over the biometric lock. Opening the case with reverence, Vamp pulls out the sheathed black monofilament sword, his personal weapon focus, a gift from his Ancient's family in Seattle. Snapping the case close with a click, Vamp closes the door to his room, to keep prying eyes from noticing his giant bed, and St. Andrew's BDSM cross, in his bedroom. His bedroom was the only place where he spent lots of nuyen for luxury pieces, the rest of his apartment was minimalistic goth.
Setting his sword on the armchair in his living room, Vamp flicks the hanging ash from his cigarette into the ashtray on his coffee table and then walks over to the door of his apartment, knowing that Scorch should be knocking any second now.
Sure enough, Scorch's knock came as lightly on the apartment door as it had when Vamp had first spotted him at the meet. When he opened the door, Vamp found Scorch looking up and down the hallway. He looked basically the same as before, but his BodyShop AR Overlay had been changed from a business suit (and accessories) to a shimmering web of circuitry that ran on top of his physical clothes. Scorch glanced into the apartment, looking around a bit, and mumbled, "First one here, again?"
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