12:02 AM "El Viajero" cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
As Otto slumped and groaned and died in front of them, Heka saw something almost as awful as what the Professor had: the mescaline in his system chose that moment to flare, and in his hallucination he saw all the light fade from Otto until he was encased in a viscous black film, a liquid body bag. When his body sank to the floor, Heka thought he could still see the man's spirit, sitting in confusion at the table before it, too, began to turn black and then slowly dispersed, like ash on the wind.
The dwarf listened, with unfeigned interest, to Oswald's talk of serial killers, and even asks some follow-ups; but mostly it's just to keep his attention focused, to keep the visions at bay, to keep from seeing the grisly autopsy.
By the time the body has been left at sea and the boat returned to the harbor, Heka's had another two glasses of the scotch. By God, he's earned it; they all have, and if they aren't going to have their share than that means more for him. There was a chill inside that the drink just wasn't able to defeat.
"So, we have an agreement?" their host asks eventually.
"Yes," murmurs Heka as he verifies the cred deposit. "Work to be done, and all that." The evening had started exciting but the luster quickly faded, and his enthusiasm has bled away. He wanted to get home, get properly soused, and get higher than a weather balloon.
Full Version: IC: Post or Die
Pages: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38
3:01 A.M, Tacoma
Even with the accelerated thought processes brought on by HMHVV 1, Jovan took some time - about a minute - to consider the message and it's implications. While it was certainly a pleasant surprise to hear from perhaps the only person in the world whom he could trust, particularly after so long, Jovan was smart enough to see that the offer held some danger. This could be an elaborate setup by someone who want's me dead. What if they succeed? I cannot allow them to do so... No, it will not happen. I will not allow myself to die. I need more power... but I am still a vampire. I am a super-vampire; I am a nosferatu; I will outwait and outsmart those fools. Do they even know who I am?? Impossible. They cannot have information on me. Perhaps it is not a trap after all. Still, a bit of paranoia never hurt anyone. And more cred in my pocket will open up my options, let me find more resources. And with those resources, I can gather more power... yes, yes, YES! This will be most helpful!
Closing his Hamlet book, Jovan got to his feet and ascended the stairs excitedly. He saw no need to broadcast his superior nature to his employer and so would probably have to obtain some extra articles of clothing on his way to the job meeting -a hat and scarf were striking his fancy this evening, or perhaps a hood- but that would be simple enough to deal with.
<<I am in. Bring on the job.>>
Even with the accelerated thought processes brought on by HMHVV 1, Jovan took some time - about a minute - to consider the message and it's implications. While it was certainly a pleasant surprise to hear from perhaps the only person in the world whom he could trust, particularly after so long, Jovan was smart enough to see that the offer held some danger. This could be an elaborate setup by someone who want's me dead. What if they succeed? I cannot allow them to do so... No, it will not happen. I will not allow myself to die. I need more power... but I am still a vampire. I am a super-vampire; I am a nosferatu; I will outwait and outsmart those fools. Do they even know who I am?? Impossible. They cannot have information on me. Perhaps it is not a trap after all. Still, a bit of paranoia never hurt anyone. And more cred in my pocket will open up my options, let me find more resources. And with those resources, I can gather more power... yes, yes, YES! This will be most helpful!
Closing his Hamlet book, Jovan got to his feet and ascended the stairs excitedly. He saw no need to broadcast his superior nature to his employer and so would probably have to obtain some extra articles of clothing on his way to the job meeting -a hat and scarf were striking his fancy this evening, or perhaps a hood- but that would be simple enough to deal with.
<<I am in. Bring on the job.>>
12:23 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
Once commcodes have been exchanged, Thirty says, "I'll see what I can dig up on our target. If any of you would like some backup chasing down physical leads, please don't hesitate to call on me. Otherwise, I'll be in touch tomorrow night, or earlier if I find something."
With a curt nod, he adds, "Until next time," as a farewell to the group before disembarking from El Viajero. As he strides down the gangway, he puts his link back into hidden mode, and looks for the cowgirl to give her a mysterious half-smile before he heads home for the night.
Once commcodes have been exchanged, Thirty says, "I'll see what I can dig up on our target. If any of you would like some backup chasing down physical leads, please don't hesitate to call on me. Otherwise, I'll be in touch tomorrow night, or earlier if I find something."
With a curt nod, he adds, "Until next time," as a farewell to the group before disembarking from El Viajero. As he strides down the gangway, he puts his link back into hidden mode, and looks for the cowgirl to give her a mysterious half-smile before he heads home for the night.
12:24 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
As everyone started to stand up and shuffle about in that traditional "I gotta get out of here" dance, Oswald remembered that he needs to get his rental boat back to Everett.
"If anyone wants a ride up Everett way, I got a boat I still need to collect my deposit on. Gotta car too if ya need a ride from there. I ain't sleepin tonight anyway."
As everyone started to stand up and shuffle about in that traditional "I gotta get out of here" dance, Oswald remembered that he needs to get his rental boat back to Everett.
"If anyone wants a ride up Everett way, I got a boat I still need to collect my deposit on. Gotta car too if ya need a ride from there. I ain't sleepin tonight anyway."
12:24 AM "El Viajero", cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
Professor answers Oswald, "I've got to get a boat back as well. I'll come along with you to Everett anyway. If you are going by my hangout, sure, I'd love a ride. Then a good night's sleep, and we can all do some planning.
"Thirty, I'll do some digging on my own. I'll check in with you to compare notes. Heka, tomorrow I'd like to talk to you about magic spells. I can sustain spells on myself, and I'd like to figure out possibilities."
Professor answers Oswald, "I've got to get a boat back as well. I'll come along with you to Everett anyway. If you are going by my hangout, sure, I'd love a ride. Then a good night's sleep, and we can all do some planning.
"Thirty, I'll do some digging on my own. I'll check in with you to compare notes. Heka, tomorrow I'd like to talk to you about magic spells. I can sustain spells on myself, and I'd like to figure out possibilities."
12:24 AM "El Viajero" cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
Heka frowned as he thought about logistics and realized he didn't have a spirit available to take him back. He'd already used up the one he summoned earlier, and after this night... this fuckin' night... he just didn't have it in him to summon another.
"Actually, Oswald, if you don't mind I wouldn't mind a ride to Everett with you and... Danny. And you, Professor, and I can start doing some planning. May as well put our minds to use."
Heka frowned as he thought about logistics and realized he didn't have a spirit available to take him back. He'd already used up the one he summoned earlier, and after this night... this fuckin' night... he just didn't have it in him to summon another.
"Actually, Oswald, if you don't mind I wouldn't mind a ride to Everett with you and... Danny. And you, Professor, and I can start doing some planning. May as well put our minds to use."
3:02 A.M, Tacoma
Zayne had been waiting for the response. The reply was immediate,
<<Commcode 151-411@ghostserv . She is going by mrs Johnson. She has a group ready, but they are short one>>
Zayne had been waiting for the response. The reply was immediate,
<<Commcode 151-411@ghostserv . She is going by mrs Johnson. She has a group ready, but they are short one>>
12:24 AM "El Viajero" cabin, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
The ship's jammer seems to be off at the moment, to ease communication. As the group begins to make their way off the yacht, The man in white and his female companion make their way down to the Triad members on the dock. They seem to be discussing payment. The cowgirl smiles at the Samurai as he passes, but receives a quick, but soft smack to the head from one of the guys with an assault rifle to refocus her attention. Mrs. Johnson sends a quick message to the group without looking away from the gangers
<<I will be in touch Later, After I settle in and try to find you some more manpower>>
The ship's jammer seems to be off at the moment, to ease communication. As the group begins to make their way off the yacht, The man in white and his female companion make their way down to the Triad members on the dock. They seem to be discussing payment. The cowgirl smiles at the Samurai as he passes, but receives a quick, but soft smack to the head from one of the guys with an assault rifle to refocus her attention. Mrs. Johnson sends a quick message to the group without looking away from the gangers
<<I will be in touch Later, After I settle in and try to find you some more manpower>>
12:28 AM, parking lot, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
Thirty opens the driver's side door on his Comet and gets in, hitching up his coat again to account for the sword he's carrying. As he sits down, the gun in his waistband digs into his hip painfully, and he leans back and very carefully adjusts it, so as not to shoot himself. Using the neural connection to his commlink granted by his trode net, he orders the Comet to head back to his apartment, and it whirs to life and starts navigating its way there.
While his car takes him home, he wonders what would make a runner turn on an obviously wealthy and dangerous client like the one he's working for now. Maybe the guy has a conscience, and is worried about what Mr. J is gonna do with a bunch of guns and explosives. He has a chuckle at that thought. No, it's more likely something so valuable, the rigger thought it was worth the risk to steal it. Or maybe Ares put the screws to him. Guess we'll find out soon enough, he thinks. It occurs to him that Cyrus might know a guy in whatever gang it is that has turf in Redmond, and that guy might know something about this nightclub, Twisters, and its owner. He opens an AR window and types on his thighs to compose an email message to Cyrus. <<I owe you a drink. Maybe two, since I need another favor. You got time to get together tonight or tomorrow?>>
12:32 AM, streets of Tacoma
Midway home from the marina, Thirty's gun pinches him again, and he decides he needs to get that holster sooner rather than later. "Take me to the nearest Savers Central," he tells the car. After a moment's hesitation while it accesses the mapsoft on his commlink, the car pings an acknowledgment and slows down for a turn onto its new course. Thirty gingerly takes the pistol out of his waistband and leans over to put it into the glove compartment. Kanjin detaches easily from the inside of his coat, and he slips it underneath the passenger seat.
A few minutes later the Comet glides into a parking space, and Thirty gets out and walks up to the triple-double doors of Savers Central. Strangely, they do not open as he approaches. What the- oh, my link is in hidden mode, he thinks. He checks to be sure his Ben Forrest I.D. is loaded, and orders his Sensei into active mode. The doors immediately slide open, and he and heads inside to the sporting goods section.
The selection of firearm accessories is not great, but the Ares Predator IV is a popular model, and he finds an armpit holster that is sized for it, with straps he can adjust to fit his larger-than-human frame. He heads up to the U-Check counter and puts the holster into a waiting plastic bag. The U-Check beeps as it detects the RFID tag attached to the holster, and it's display shows the price as $297.99 UCAS, or 75 nuyen. Thirty puts his credstick into the slot, and selects the [Pay with Certified Nuyen] option on the touch screen. In AR, an attractive female clerk appears next to the U-Check machine and says, "Thankyou for shopping at Savers Central, Mr. Forrest! Have a pleasant evening!" She disappears in a whirl of blue sparkles just as suddenly as she arrived, and "Mr. Forrest" heads back out into the night.
Thirty opens the driver's side door on his Comet and gets in, hitching up his coat again to account for the sword he's carrying. As he sits down, the gun in his waistband digs into his hip painfully, and he leans back and very carefully adjusts it, so as not to shoot himself. Using the neural connection to his commlink granted by his trode net, he orders the Comet to head back to his apartment, and it whirs to life and starts navigating its way there.
While his car takes him home, he wonders what would make a runner turn on an obviously wealthy and dangerous client like the one he's working for now. Maybe the guy has a conscience, and is worried about what Mr. J is gonna do with a bunch of guns and explosives. He has a chuckle at that thought. No, it's more likely something so valuable, the rigger thought it was worth the risk to steal it. Or maybe Ares put the screws to him. Guess we'll find out soon enough, he thinks. It occurs to him that Cyrus might know a guy in whatever gang it is that has turf in Redmond, and that guy might know something about this nightclub, Twisters, and its owner. He opens an AR window and types on his thighs to compose an email message to Cyrus. <<I owe you a drink. Maybe two, since I need another favor. You got time to get together tonight or tomorrow?>>
12:32 AM, streets of Tacoma
Midway home from the marina, Thirty's gun pinches him again, and he decides he needs to get that holster sooner rather than later. "Take me to the nearest Savers Central," he tells the car. After a moment's hesitation while it accesses the mapsoft on his commlink, the car pings an acknowledgment and slows down for a turn onto its new course. Thirty gingerly takes the pistol out of his waistband and leans over to put it into the glove compartment. Kanjin detaches easily from the inside of his coat, and he slips it underneath the passenger seat.
A few minutes later the Comet glides into a parking space, and Thirty gets out and walks up to the triple-double doors of Savers Central. Strangely, they do not open as he approaches. What the- oh, my link is in hidden mode, he thinks. He checks to be sure his Ben Forrest I.D. is loaded, and orders his Sensei into active mode. The doors immediately slide open, and he and heads inside to the sporting goods section.
The selection of firearm accessories is not great, but the Ares Predator IV is a popular model, and he finds an armpit holster that is sized for it, with straps he can adjust to fit his larger-than-human frame. He heads up to the U-Check counter and puts the holster into a waiting plastic bag. The U-Check beeps as it detects the RFID tag attached to the holster, and it's display shows the price as $297.99 UCAS, or 75 nuyen. Thirty puts his credstick into the slot, and selects the [Pay with Certified Nuyen] option on the touch screen. In AR, an attractive female clerk appears next to the U-Check machine and says, "Thankyou for shopping at Savers Central, Mr. Forrest! Have a pleasant evening!" She disappears in a whirl of blue sparkles just as suddenly as she arrived, and "Mr. Forrest" heads back out into the night.
3:05 A.M., Tacoma
Oh. So it wasn't a job that he could take on alone. He had to put up with teammates, of all things. Teammates that probably wouldn't understand if they discovered what he was. Teammates that would likely attempt to kill him simply because he was one of the Infected. Wonderful. Still, he needed the cred and experience from this job. It would be something that he would have to work around.
Jovan checked the time on his comm. Just after 3:00. The night was progressing quickly, and he would have to be fast if he was to meet this Mrs. Johnson and return before sunrise.
After grabbing something to eat from the kitchen, Jovan returned to his room to ready himself, composing an email in the air to the number Zayne had sent as he walked. <<I hear that you are looking to fill a vacancy in your hired team. Suffice to say that I am interested. What relevant details and meeting arrangements can you tell me?>>
Oh. So it wasn't a job that he could take on alone. He had to put up with teammates, of all things. Teammates that probably wouldn't understand if they discovered what he was. Teammates that would likely attempt to kill him simply because he was one of the Infected. Wonderful. Still, he needed the cred and experience from this job. It would be something that he would have to work around.
Jovan checked the time on his comm. Just after 3:00. The night was progressing quickly, and he would have to be fast if he was to meet this Mrs. Johnson and return before sunrise.
After grabbing something to eat from the kitchen, Jovan returned to his room to ready himself, composing an email in the air to the number Zayne had sent as he walked. <<I hear that you are looking to fill a vacancy in your hired team. Suffice to say that I am interested. What relevant details and meeting arrangements can you tell me?>>
12:25 AM "El Viajero" deck, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
Oswald was starting to like this Heka fellow, despite his obvious racial deficiencies. "Can't really blame a fella for being short I guess." Even the Trog was okay for a no good untrustworthy pig-beast. "So long as he keeps his proper distance.." This was a workable situation. Lots of logistics and a bit of muscle to throw around. He still wasn't too sure about the boss. That bomb attack was desperate and he claims he's new in town. That means that this is a man who readily inspires desperate action... Or he's just a liar.
"What did you mean that no one else knew the design of H. H. Holmes' hotel? He couldn't possibly have killed all the workers.." Heka had asked. "Oh my, no." Oswald replied. "There was no real legal protection for workers then. In fact, the law was that, if you were unsatisfied with a person's labor, you could fire them within two weeks and not have to pay them a thing." Oswald shot a glance over towards the Spaniard. "So, Holmes would just manufacture some point of failing and send the work crew home empty-handed at the end of two weeks time. The failings were intentionally designed to make the place labyrinthine and inscrutable. So, thanks to this revolving door policy, no one knew the secret layout of the place, and Holmes never had to pay a cent for labor, only materials." Oswald quickly locked eyes with Heka, then turned his head slightly towards their recent employer. "You said your name's Heka, right? Like the Egyptian god of magic? Yeah.. yeah.. I did a Data Search a bit ago.." Oswald nodded a bit and smiled. "Egypt has a fascinating history. Some of their greatest architectural works were lost though, to a family tiff. See, one Pharaoh died while his only son was still in infancy. So, the man's wife took over the role. But, as you know, a Pharaoh is a god, a specific god, a male god, so the woman became a cross-dresser." This time, Oswald shot a glance across the room to their quiet team mate, whose "breasts" had been knocked slightly askance by the earlier explosion. "See, she couldn't be a Pharaoh and a woman, so she convinced the world that she was a man. She had the greatest architect and sculptor who had ever lived, well at that point in history at least, and she had him put up many sculptures of her, and even raise the first free-standing Obelisks ever, all to advertise her masculinity and her divinity. But, her son grew up and decided he wanted to play god a bit, and mommy was in the way. So, the cross-dressed god-king died, the statues were smashed and some of the best art the world had ever seen was lost." Oswald looked once again at Caper. "It's like they say. Time makes fools of us all."
Returning from recent memory, Oswald shook his head, as if to clear the last image from an etch-a-sketch.
He should stay rooted in current matters.
"Hmm. Well, if someone could help get Danny in the skiff, I've got to go let some gas out of the dirigible. The current mix is set to compensate for my added weight... Actually, I guess we could put Danny in there, but I don't know if I'd ever hear the end of it... Ah what the hell. What's the point of building a sassy robot if you don't give him any ammunition against you."
So, they loaded the robot into the Rigger Cocoon, Oswald tossed in the severed left arm of the late Lefty and turned to close it up.
"..mm-gotta-go-Riggs-mm.." the battered, little robot hummed.
"Yeah, Danny. I'll see you back at the base." Oswald replied as he shut the door and started to free the blimp from its moorings.
<Oswald@Sky-pod: Keep low and stay over the water as long as you can. You need to stay undetected. Go ahead and shadow our boats.>
He lowered himself into a waiting dingy, nodded to the Professor, clapped the intoxicated Heka on the back and said, "Let's go before the rest of us pay for someone else's mistakes."
Oswald was starting to like this Heka fellow, despite his obvious racial deficiencies. "Can't really blame a fella for being short I guess." Even the Trog was okay for a no good untrustworthy pig-beast. "So long as he keeps his proper distance.." This was a workable situation. Lots of logistics and a bit of muscle to throw around. He still wasn't too sure about the boss. That bomb attack was desperate and he claims he's new in town. That means that this is a man who readily inspires desperate action... Or he's just a liar.
"What did you mean that no one else knew the design of H. H. Holmes' hotel? He couldn't possibly have killed all the workers.." Heka had asked. "Oh my, no." Oswald replied. "There was no real legal protection for workers then. In fact, the law was that, if you were unsatisfied with a person's labor, you could fire them within two weeks and not have to pay them a thing." Oswald shot a glance over towards the Spaniard. "So, Holmes would just manufacture some point of failing and send the work crew home empty-handed at the end of two weeks time. The failings were intentionally designed to make the place labyrinthine and inscrutable. So, thanks to this revolving door policy, no one knew the secret layout of the place, and Holmes never had to pay a cent for labor, only materials." Oswald quickly locked eyes with Heka, then turned his head slightly towards their recent employer. "You said your name's Heka, right? Like the Egyptian god of magic? Yeah.. yeah.. I did a Data Search a bit ago.." Oswald nodded a bit and smiled. "Egypt has a fascinating history. Some of their greatest architectural works were lost though, to a family tiff. See, one Pharaoh died while his only son was still in infancy. So, the man's wife took over the role. But, as you know, a Pharaoh is a god, a specific god, a male god, so the woman became a cross-dresser." This time, Oswald shot a glance across the room to their quiet team mate, whose "breasts" had been knocked slightly askance by the earlier explosion. "See, she couldn't be a Pharaoh and a woman, so she convinced the world that she was a man. She had the greatest architect and sculptor who had ever lived, well at that point in history at least, and she had him put up many sculptures of her, and even raise the first free-standing Obelisks ever, all to advertise her masculinity and her divinity. But, her son grew up and decided he wanted to play god a bit, and mommy was in the way. So, the cross-dressed god-king died, the statues were smashed and some of the best art the world had ever seen was lost." Oswald looked once again at Caper. "It's like they say. Time makes fools of us all."
Returning from recent memory, Oswald shook his head, as if to clear the last image from an etch-a-sketch.
He should stay rooted in current matters.
"Hmm. Well, if someone could help get Danny in the skiff, I've got to go let some gas out of the dirigible. The current mix is set to compensate for my added weight... Actually, I guess we could put Danny in there, but I don't know if I'd ever hear the end of it... Ah what the hell. What's the point of building a sassy robot if you don't give him any ammunition against you."
So, they loaded the robot into the Rigger Cocoon, Oswald tossed in the severed left arm of the late Lefty and turned to close it up.
"..mm-gotta-go-Riggs-mm.." the battered, little robot hummed.
"Yeah, Danny. I'll see you back at the base." Oswald replied as he shut the door and started to free the blimp from its moorings.
<Oswald@Sky-pod: Keep low and stay over the water as long as you can. You need to stay undetected. Go ahead and shadow our boats.>
He lowered himself into a waiting dingy, nodded to the Professor, clapped the intoxicated Heka on the back and said, "Let's go before the rest of us pay for someone else's mistakes."
12:25 AM "El Viajero" deck, Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma
Professor jumps into his rented boat and calls back to Oswald, "Let's get as far from this death boat as we can. Can you drive these things as well as the blimp? I'll keep up with you if I can."
He revs the motor and proceeds to swerve and dip like a tyro until he finally gets it under control and heads off towards the rental dock.
Professor jumps into his rented boat and calls back to Oswald, "Let's get as far from this death boat as we can. Can you drive these things as well as the blimp? I'll keep up with you if I can."
He revs the motor and proceeds to swerve and dip like a tyro until he finally gets it under control and heads off towards the rental dock.
1:00 AM I-5
The man who called himself "Caper" had loaded into a Taxi and headed for home. His mind raced in all Directions. He had a few Ideas to check out, and some gear to acquire. He also pondered the fate of this runner who decided to keep the spoils of his heist. What kind of Karma might this guy have acquired? Would Caper share this guys fate?
What Caper was unaware of was the Big rig in front of the taxi was about to collide with an abandoned car left dead in the road. The car was dead and off the grid, no lights, no way to see it the dark. The tractor trailer Jack knifed, and the taxi disappeared under the trailers axles. In all of Caper's paranoia, he never imagined the end being so mundane.
3:20 AM, Tacoma
The Johnson sent Jovan a response<<Would a meeting in VR be acceptable? I could arrange something in person, but this would be more convenient>>
The man who called himself "Caper" had loaded into a Taxi and headed for home. His mind raced in all Directions. He had a few Ideas to check out, and some gear to acquire. He also pondered the fate of this runner who decided to keep the spoils of his heist. What kind of Karma might this guy have acquired? Would Caper share this guys fate?
What Caper was unaware of was the Big rig in front of the taxi was about to collide with an abandoned car left dead in the road. The car was dead and off the grid, no lights, no way to see it the dark. The tractor trailer Jack knifed, and the taxi disappeared under the trailers axles. In all of Caper's paranoia, he never imagined the end being so mundane.
3:20 AM, Tacoma
The Johnson sent Jovan a response<<Would a meeting in VR be acceptable? I could arrange something in person, but this would be more convenient>>
1450 S. Yakima Avenue, Apartment 3B, Tacoma, 12:57 AM
Benichi closes and locks the door behind him as he arrives back at his apartment from the meet, having taken a somewhat circuitous route home from Savers Central to make sure he wasn't being followed. Even though he's still wired from the night's events, he resolves to go to bed, since tomorrow will be a work day. He puts Kanjin on its stand, stows his glasses and other weapons in the top drawer, and crosses the room again to hang his duster up in the closet. Another minute getting undressed and unfolding the bed, and he's lying there staring at the ceiling. He reviews the meet in his head; the cowgirl, the Johnson, the crazy old guy with the robot, and the other runners. It's going to be an exciting week, he thinks. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, dispelling all but thoughts of rest from his mind.
Benichi closes and locks the door behind him as he arrives back at his apartment from the meet, having taken a somewhat circuitous route home from Savers Central to make sure he wasn't being followed. Even though he's still wired from the night's events, he resolves to go to bed, since tomorrow will be a work day. He puts Kanjin on its stand, stows his glasses and other weapons in the top drawer, and crosses the room again to hang his duster up in the closet. Another minute getting undressed and unfolding the bed, and he's lying there staring at the ceiling. He reviews the meet in his head; the cowgirl, the Johnson, the crazy old guy with the robot, and the other runners. It's going to be an exciting week, he thinks. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, dispelling all but thoughts of rest from his mind.
Friday 12:57 AM,1450 S. Yakima Avenue, Apartment 3B, Tacoma,
Just as Ben closes his eyes, the sound of his com tells him he has a message. Cyrus had taken his time to respond, but his text now waited in "Thirty's" inbox, weather the ork rose to check it tonight or not.
<<I could do tonight, or tomorrow. Just give me a buzz>>
1:30 AM, Seattle Marina
The trip back to Seattle for Oswald and his new teammates was a little bumpy, but far less eventful than the rest of the evening. Breaking news was broadcasting on the matrix about a huge car pile up on I-5. What stands out about the report is that a large amount of smoke and noxious gas seems to be spewing from a Taxi under a tractor trailer. The Firemen on scene believe that its some kind of tear gas or gas grenades that ruptured in the collision. They have called in a bomb squad in case of other weapons that may be present
Just as Ben closes his eyes, the sound of his com tells him he has a message. Cyrus had taken his time to respond, but his text now waited in "Thirty's" inbox, weather the ork rose to check it tonight or not.
<<I could do tonight, or tomorrow. Just give me a buzz>>
1:30 AM, Seattle Marina
The trip back to Seattle for Oswald and his new teammates was a little bumpy, but far less eventful than the rest of the evening. Breaking news was broadcasting on the matrix about a huge car pile up on I-5. What stands out about the report is that a large amount of smoke and noxious gas seems to be spewing from a Taxi under a tractor trailer. The Firemen on scene believe that its some kind of tear gas or gas grenades that ruptured in the collision. They have called in a bomb squad in case of other weapons that may be present
1450 S. Yakima Avenue, Apartment 3B, Tacoma, 12:58 AM
"Hot damn, didn't feel like sleeping anyway," Benichi says to himself as he checks his link. He composes a quick response: <<OMW, where to?>>
He doubts a ganger like Cyrus will want to meet anywhere upscale, so he gets dressed in his street clothes as before, including the new holster, into which he puts his Predator. As he weaves the trodes into his hair again, he wishes he could get a datajack for the convenience. He had found out many years earlier, while he was hospitalized after his goblinization, that his system was especially intolerant to cyberware, and that it might make him sick or kill him if he got even a few implants. The doctor had called it Aggressive Implant Rejection Syndrome, or AIRS, and though rare, it was common enough that the routine bloodwork they had done on him at that time had caught it. They should call it A Pain In The Ass, he thinks, but implants would wreck my mojo anyway, so I guess I'll have to live with trodes.
Armed with his pistol and taser, he looks at Kanjin on its stand, but decides to leave it there unless Cyrus wants to meet in a Z-zone. He goes to the closet and puts on his armor jacket, then flops down in the chair to await the reply from Cyrus as to his destination.
"Hot damn, didn't feel like sleeping anyway," Benichi says to himself as he checks his link. He composes a quick response: <<OMW, where to?>>
He doubts a ganger like Cyrus will want to meet anywhere upscale, so he gets dressed in his street clothes as before, including the new holster, into which he puts his Predator. As he weaves the trodes into his hair again, he wishes he could get a datajack for the convenience. He had found out many years earlier, while he was hospitalized after his goblinization, that his system was especially intolerant to cyberware, and that it might make him sick or kill him if he got even a few implants. The doctor had called it Aggressive Implant Rejection Syndrome, or AIRS, and though rare, it was common enough that the routine bloodwork they had done on him at that time had caught it. They should call it A Pain In The Ass, he thinks, but implants would wreck my mojo anyway, so I guess I'll have to live with trodes.
Armed with his pistol and taser, he looks at Kanjin on its stand, but decides to leave it there unless Cyrus wants to meet in a Z-zone. He goes to the closet and puts on his armor jacket, then flops down in the chair to await the reply from Cyrus as to his destination.
3:21 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
Well. This was an awkward situation. Jovan felt slightly relieved that he would not have to bother with hiding his condition from the Johnson if they met in VR. However, he did not possess the necessary equipment for a VR connection. He'd never really found VR necessary for his reclusive lifestyle - his books and AR had always been enough for him. By the look of things, it seemed that would have to change. He was already dressed in his incomplete Berwick suit and naga belt - which still left a bad taste in his mouth when wearing it, after owning it for two years - so he might as well go out anyway. How bothersome, he thought.
<<Of course, but I will need some time. Circumstances prevent me from meeting right now.>>
Jovan wasted no more time. Opening an AR window, he searched the Matrix for information on nearby stores carrying commlink accessories and other Matrix equipment. At the same time, he focused his mind on one of the many sets of hermetic formulae used to describe and summon elementals. He concentrated on the chosen formula and let his superior will and magical power ring out through astral space, all the way to the Metaplane of Consciousness, where a spirit minding its own business was instantly plucked from that metaplane and into the astral space of Jovan's home. The consciousness elemental couldn't have resisted his magical might if it tried.
Good evening, he thought to the spirit. I need you to stay here while I go out for a while. While I am away, you are to hide me from the notice of others, and you are to grant me the speed to run like wind. Do you understand?
Well. This was an awkward situation. Jovan felt slightly relieved that he would not have to bother with hiding his condition from the Johnson if they met in VR. However, he did not possess the necessary equipment for a VR connection. He'd never really found VR necessary for his reclusive lifestyle - his books and AR had always been enough for him. By the look of things, it seemed that would have to change. He was already dressed in his incomplete Berwick suit and naga belt - which still left a bad taste in his mouth when wearing it, after owning it for two years - so he might as well go out anyway. How bothersome, he thought.
<<Of course, but I will need some time. Circumstances prevent me from meeting right now.>>
Jovan wasted no more time. Opening an AR window, he searched the Matrix for information on nearby stores carrying commlink accessories and other Matrix equipment. At the same time, he focused his mind on one of the many sets of hermetic formulae used to describe and summon elementals. He concentrated on the chosen formula and let his superior will and magical power ring out through astral space, all the way to the Metaplane of Consciousness, where a spirit minding its own business was instantly plucked from that metaplane and into the astral space of Jovan's home. The consciousness elemental couldn't have resisted his magical might if it tried.
Good evening, he thought to the spirit. I need you to stay here while I go out for a while. While I am away, you are to hide me from the notice of others, and you are to grant me the speed to run like wind. Do you understand?
1450 S. Yakima Avenue, Apartment 3B, Tacoma, 12:58 AM
Cyrus replies, <<I can be at the E.O.E. club downtown in 20 minutes>>
3:21 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
The ethereal homunculous bowed humbly to Jovan, quietly hoping that he had no need of the spirit beyond these two tasks.
Cyrus replies, <<I can be at the E.O.E. club downtown in 20 minutes>>
3:21 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
The ethereal homunculous bowed humbly to Jovan, quietly hoping that he had no need of the spirit beyond these two tasks.
1450 S. Yakima Avenue, Tacoma, 12:58 AM
Benichi reads Cyrus' message, and looks up the club on his mapsoft. It's a bit of a hike, but the freeways will be empty this time of night, so he shouldn't hit traffic. He neurally transmits his reply: <<Soonest I can get there is about 40. If you get there before me, have a drink, I'll get the tab when I join you.>>
Downtown, eh? Better ditch the iron, he thinks, and he swaps out the Predator for his Yamaha Pulsar before locking up his apartment and heading out to the Comet. With no time to waste, he plots a route on his mapsoft that takes him on the I-5 north, past Renton, and on to the Downtown district. On the way, he looks up the address of Twisters, the nightclub that Mr. Johnson had mentioned, and files it away for future reference. As the car's autopilot dutifully handles the driving, he leans the seat back a bit and watches the blue-white highway lights march past outside.
End of the Earth Nightclub, Downtown Seattle, 1:37 AM
PAN Mode: Hidden, ID=Ben Forrest
Having found a spot to park not too far away, Benichi approaches the entrance to the club. He affects a casual strut, and gives the people at the door a friendly smile as he activates his commlink and pays the cover. Hopefully they don't spot the taser, but if they do, I'll have them hold it for me. No sense starting trouble, I won't be here too long, he thinks. I'll buy Cyrus a few drinks and see what he knows about the gangs of Redmond, specifically whose turf Twisters is in. Maybe he can put me in touch with someone there that knows the owner, or can at least get the team there in one piece so we can find him.
Once inside, he looks around for Cyrus, but keeps one eye open for anyone that might be watching him. It wasn't long ago he watched a man die, so he thinks it prudent to be cautious.
Benichi reads Cyrus' message, and looks up the club on his mapsoft. It's a bit of a hike, but the freeways will be empty this time of night, so he shouldn't hit traffic. He neurally transmits his reply: <<Soonest I can get there is about 40. If you get there before me, have a drink, I'll get the tab when I join you.>>
Downtown, eh? Better ditch the iron, he thinks, and he swaps out the Predator for his Yamaha Pulsar before locking up his apartment and heading out to the Comet. With no time to waste, he plots a route on his mapsoft that takes him on the I-5 north, past Renton, and on to the Downtown district. On the way, he looks up the address of Twisters, the nightclub that Mr. Johnson had mentioned, and files it away for future reference. As the car's autopilot dutifully handles the driving, he leans the seat back a bit and watches the blue-white highway lights march past outside.
End of the Earth Nightclub, Downtown Seattle, 1:37 AM
PAN Mode: Hidden, ID=Ben Forrest
Having found a spot to park not too far away, Benichi approaches the entrance to the club. He affects a casual strut, and gives the people at the door a friendly smile as he activates his commlink and pays the cover. Hopefully they don't spot the taser, but if they do, I'll have them hold it for me. No sense starting trouble, I won't be here too long, he thinks. I'll buy Cyrus a few drinks and see what he knows about the gangs of Redmond, specifically whose turf Twisters is in. Maybe he can put me in touch with someone there that knows the owner, or can at least get the team there in one piece so we can find him.
Once inside, he looks around for Cyrus, but keeps one eye open for anyone that might be watching him. It wasn't long ago he watched a man die, so he thinks it prudent to be cautious.
Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, 2:15 am
Having successfully ingratiated himself with the anti-Ares rebel faction, and then driven a couple of them home.. Oswald sets to work speculating as to where to start looking for the supposed quarry. First I ought to check this guy's story. Treat it like a peer review. I'll start at the beginning and verify everything up until now. Consider everything suspect until you have verified it yourself.
And so, Ozzy dumped back into AR and went to work tearing through the sum of the world's knowledge until he was left with bite sized portions.
<<Monty - prepare a datafile with the following items:>>
1) The report of the stolen trucks being driven into the barrens, including the account of the Ares recovery team being beaten back by an air spirit. "This confirms the original heist."
2)The shadow chatter regarding Big Daddy Long Legs, uncharacteristically, going missing and all his recent shipments having ceased without warning. Include the fact that one "Viper12" is quite unhappy about this and is seeking his current whereabouts. "Looks like BDLL is either, dead, locked up, or has burned his bridges."
3) The old photograph of BDLL at union protest outside Ares building. Include message "The International Union of Operating Engineers probably has some info on an old crane operator. It's possible he might have friends still from those days who would hide him in time of trouble, or who might know where he'd go to hide out and who he might need to hide from. It's a potential source of info if we hit a dead end."
<<Send Encryption keys to the group Yacht Club as passive mail. Encrypt and then attach prepared datafile with this message: "This is every bit of net-accessible information regarding the cargo and BDLL. Keep me informed of your progress, and let me know if you need my support." >>
Naturally, Oswald could have prepared the data file himself, but what good is an Agent if you don't use him for more than security?
Next on the docket was getting some gear.
First Ozzy checked to see if any electronics or security stores had an MCT flyspy in stock. Strangely enough, no one did. At least according to their Matrix sites. So Oswald put an order in to Kennedy's Cheap electronics for a new one once they got a shipment in. Kennedy's seemed just the right amount of shady to deliver legal goods in an under the table way.
Then Oswald radioed Mission Control with an urgent request for specialized mission gear. <<I need you to send an Ultrawideband Radar scanner through the dimensional warp from Earth Prime. I'll take whatever you can dig up quickly, but I would additionally like a top-flight model, whenever you can process the paperwork.>> He wired money to the AI to acquire and route a Rating 2 and Rating 4 UWB radar system to his warehouse.
Finally, he pinged Ol' Softy to see if he was awake at this hour. Chances were pretty likely.
<<Heya Softy! Soooofty! I know you're still up, you cosmic wastrel! Are you too deep in code to do a bit of business? I need to sample some software. Nothing too heavy. Just need your best consumer level Clearsight Autosoft that'll run on an MCT Flyspy with UWB, and the best Vehicle Identification Sensor Software that'll also run on a stock Flyspy. 1200¥ sound alright?>>
With that business out of the way, Oswald jacked out of VR and spent a few moments staring at the ceiling from his recliner. He needed to fix Danny. Then he had to put his captain's chair back in the Rover. Just the thought of all this work made him ache all over.
While he was sitting there, staring off into space a strange little poem popped into his head..
"While fishing in the blue lagoon
I caught a lovely silver fish,
And he spoke to me, "My boy," quoth he,
"Please set me free and I'll grant your wish...
A kingdom of wisdom? A palace of gold?
Or all the goodies your fancies can hold?"
So I said, "OK," and I threw him free,
And he swam away and he laughed at me
Whispering my foolish wish
Into a silent sea."
"Danny!" Oswald called out. "Do you know anything about a poem called "The Silver Fish"?
The robot replied distantly, "..mm-it's-not-a-fish-Leo-it's-a-shark-mm..."
Having successfully ingratiated himself with the anti-Ares rebel faction, and then driven a couple of them home.. Oswald sets to work speculating as to where to start looking for the supposed quarry. First I ought to check this guy's story. Treat it like a peer review. I'll start at the beginning and verify everything up until now. Consider everything suspect until you have verified it yourself.
And so, Ozzy dumped back into AR and went to work tearing through the sum of the world's knowledge until he was left with bite sized portions.
<<Monty - prepare a datafile with the following items:>>
1) The report of the stolen trucks being driven into the barrens, including the account of the Ares recovery team being beaten back by an air spirit. "This confirms the original heist."
2)The shadow chatter regarding Big Daddy Long Legs, uncharacteristically, going missing and all his recent shipments having ceased without warning. Include the fact that one "Viper12" is quite unhappy about this and is seeking his current whereabouts. "Looks like BDLL is either, dead, locked up, or has burned his bridges."
3) The old photograph of BDLL at union protest outside Ares building. Include message "The International Union of Operating Engineers probably has some info on an old crane operator. It's possible he might have friends still from those days who would hide him in time of trouble, or who might know where he'd go to hide out and who he might need to hide from. It's a potential source of info if we hit a dead end."
<<Send Encryption keys to the group Yacht Club as passive mail. Encrypt and then attach prepared datafile with this message: "This is every bit of net-accessible information regarding the cargo and BDLL. Keep me informed of your progress, and let me know if you need my support." >>
Naturally, Oswald could have prepared the data file himself, but what good is an Agent if you don't use him for more than security?
Next on the docket was getting some gear.
First Ozzy checked to see if any electronics or security stores had an MCT flyspy in stock. Strangely enough, no one did. At least according to their Matrix sites. So Oswald put an order in to Kennedy's Cheap electronics for a new one once they got a shipment in. Kennedy's seemed just the right amount of shady to deliver legal goods in an under the table way.
Then Oswald radioed Mission Control with an urgent request for specialized mission gear. <<I need you to send an Ultrawideband Radar scanner through the dimensional warp from Earth Prime. I'll take whatever you can dig up quickly, but I would additionally like a top-flight model, whenever you can process the paperwork.>> He wired money to the AI to acquire and route a Rating 2 and Rating 4 UWB radar system to his warehouse.
Finally, he pinged Ol' Softy to see if he was awake at this hour. Chances were pretty likely.
<<Heya Softy! Soooofty! I know you're still up, you cosmic wastrel! Are you too deep in code to do a bit of business? I need to sample some software. Nothing too heavy. Just need your best consumer level Clearsight Autosoft that'll run on an MCT Flyspy with UWB, and the best Vehicle Identification Sensor Software that'll also run on a stock Flyspy. 1200¥ sound alright?>>
With that business out of the way, Oswald jacked out of VR and spent a few moments staring at the ceiling from his recliner. He needed to fix Danny. Then he had to put his captain's chair back in the Rover. Just the thought of all this work made him ache all over.
While he was sitting there, staring off into space a strange little poem popped into his head..
"While fishing in the blue lagoon
I caught a lovely silver fish,
And he spoke to me, "My boy," quoth he,
"Please set me free and I'll grant your wish...
A kingdom of wisdom? A palace of gold?
Or all the goodies your fancies can hold?"
So I said, "OK," and I threw him free,
And he swam away and he laughed at me
Whispering my foolish wish
Into a silent sea."
"Danny!" Oswald called out. "Do you know anything about a poem called "The Silver Fish"?
The robot replied distantly, "..mm-it's-not-a-fish-Leo-it's-a-shark-mm..."
3:21 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
Jovan grabbed his lined coat and turned to leave. His search had found a Saver's Central 2.7 kilometers northeast of his home. As he walked in a magically-enhanced blur of motion down the stairs to the door, he realized that this would be an excellent opportunity for his enemies, if they existed, to ambush and kill him. Perhaps it would be better to bring along some backup, just to be cautious. Spirit, he thought to the elemental, I have reconsidered. You are still to perform the tasks I have given you, but I wish you to accompany me instead of remaining here. Come.
He opened the door and stepped outside into the crisp night air, his eyes scanning the street and houses for anyone that might be watching him. He wanted to remain as unseen as possible on this little excursion tonight.
Jovan grabbed his lined coat and turned to leave. His search had found a Saver's Central 2.7 kilometers northeast of his home. As he walked in a magically-enhanced blur of motion down the stairs to the door, he realized that this would be an excellent opportunity for his enemies, if they existed, to ambush and kill him. Perhaps it would be better to bring along some backup, just to be cautious. Spirit, he thought to the elemental, I have reconsidered. You are still to perform the tasks I have given you, but I wish you to accompany me instead of remaining here. Come.
He opened the door and stepped outside into the crisp night air, his eyes scanning the street and houses for anyone that might be watching him. He wanted to remain as unseen as possible on this little excursion tonight.
End of the Earth Nightclub, Downtown Seattle, 1:38 AM
The bouncers at the door are big, but they seem soft and slow. The club relies more on its location and Lonestar patrols for anything above crowd control. The jowly skinhead at the door scowls at the orc, "You got your commlink on chummer? I need some ID."
Once he checks the SIN, he waves Ben in without so much as a pat down. The E.O.E is a franchise club for wageslaves. Cyrus liked to come here for non gang related biz because nobody from his neck of the woods hung out here. He was waiting for "Thirty" at the bar. The club had a post-apocalypse look to it, If somehow the end of the world was ridiculously clean. The music was mechanical and dark, until someone requested some C-pop, and drunkin secretaries ran out onto the dance floor, and the mood was lost.
As "Thirty" got to the bar Cyrus stood up to greet him,"I got us a back room so we can talk in private" They made their way out of a bad remake of an old shieldwall song, and into a small room down the hall. The room seemed to be part of the resaurant portion of the club that probably shut down a few hours ago. they sat at a booth and Cyrus ordered another drink on his comm,"Anything for you, omae?"
The bouncers at the door are big, but they seem soft and slow. The club relies more on its location and Lonestar patrols for anything above crowd control. The jowly skinhead at the door scowls at the orc, "You got your commlink on chummer? I need some ID."
Once he checks the SIN, he waves Ben in without so much as a pat down. The E.O.E is a franchise club for wageslaves. Cyrus liked to come here for non gang related biz because nobody from his neck of the woods hung out here. He was waiting for "Thirty" at the bar. The club had a post-apocalypse look to it, If somehow the end of the world was ridiculously clean. The music was mechanical and dark, until someone requested some C-pop, and drunkin secretaries ran out onto the dance floor, and the mood was lost.
As "Thirty" got to the bar Cyrus stood up to greet him,"I got us a back room so we can talk in private" They made their way out of a bad remake of an old shieldwall song, and into a small room down the hall. The room seemed to be part of the resaurant portion of the club that probably shut down a few hours ago. they sat at a booth and Cyrus ordered another drink on his comm,"Anything for you, omae?"
02:00 Professor's pad, Seattle
Professor flopped into his 'thinking couch' with a hot chai, a drink for which he developed a taste during his days in India. Oswald would easily do the Matrix search for B.D.L.L., no point in going over that ground. Was there something he himself could do to add to the search? If someone were trying to duck our employer and Ares, what things would he do? "Aha!"
<<@Logo: Big guy, I got 500 nuyen for you if you can find out any new ID someone by the handle of Big Daddy Long Legs has tried to get in the last week. I have another 500 for you if you can come up with a recent location for him, too. Urgent, time is short.>>
Could be expensive, but Logo needs his palms greased every once in a while. This much grease might get Professor a little higher on the contact list.
He sipped his tea, relaxing into the couch.
Professor flopped into his 'thinking couch' with a hot chai, a drink for which he developed a taste during his days in India. Oswald would easily do the Matrix search for B.D.L.L., no point in going over that ground. Was there something he himself could do to add to the search? If someone were trying to duck our employer and Ares, what things would he do? "Aha!"
<<@Logo: Big guy, I got 500 nuyen for you if you can find out any new ID someone by the handle of Big Daddy Long Legs has tried to get in the last week. I have another 500 for you if you can come up with a recent location for him, too. Urgent, time is short.>>
Could be expensive, but Logo needs his palms greased every once in a while. This much grease might get Professor a little higher on the contact list.
He sipped his tea, relaxing into the couch.
End of the Earth Nightclub, Downtown Seattle, 1:39 AM
Thirty waves his free hand dismissively as he pulls out his commlink and says, "Drinks are on me tonight, C. That tip you gave me earlier worked out, and I want to say thanks. Plus I'm hoping you might know something else I'm interested in. Let's talk after they bring the refreshments." He orders a glass of light beer, and when the waitstaff arrives, Thirty gestures across the table to Cyrus and says authoritatively, "Credit this man's account and charge mine for all his expenses tonight, please."
Once they have chewed the fat for a few, Thirty gets down to biz. He leans over and puts his elbows on the table, and in a low voice he says, "I need to do some work over in Redmond. There's this club there called Twisters, and I need to know what I'm walking into before I go. I figure if there's a gang over there with clout, you might know the right guy to talk to. Or better yet, know anything about that club?" he asks.
Thirty waves his free hand dismissively as he pulls out his commlink and says, "Drinks are on me tonight, C. That tip you gave me earlier worked out, and I want to say thanks. Plus I'm hoping you might know something else I'm interested in. Let's talk after they bring the refreshments." He orders a glass of light beer, and when the waitstaff arrives, Thirty gestures across the table to Cyrus and says authoritatively, "Credit this man's account and charge mine for all his expenses tonight, please."
Once they have chewed the fat for a few, Thirty gets down to biz. He leans over and puts his elbows on the table, and in a low voice he says, "I need to do some work over in Redmond. There's this club there called Twisters, and I need to know what I'm walking into before I go. I figure if there's a gang over there with clout, you might know the right guy to talk to. Or better yet, know anything about that club?" he asks.
End of the Earth Nightclub, Downtown Seattle, 1:45 AM, Friday, September 11, 2071
Cyrus shakes his head with a chuckle,"That is not a pretty neighborhood chummer, hangin there'll make yer hair fall out. Twisters is all right if you wanna get really blitzed outa yer mind. the floors and walls are warped. You feel drunk just walkin in. The crowd is on some heavy shit. Asia, Vertigo, Novacoke. Its a place for people to get high in the flesh. No chipheads or wizkid shit. The Rusted Stilettos claim that turf, if any of 'em are sober enough to know where they are. Smoothies are in the minority, So you'll blend in a bit, but your look is a little "normal" for the scene. Unless you get a lot of used and ridiculous looking cyber before you go. I don't know the owner, but I hear he fronts for some runners in the Barrens. Just rumors though, nothin concrete "
02:30AM, Professor's pad, Seattle
It was some time before Logo got back to Professor on his inquiry<<I love to take your money, but you got some hard questions. I haven't found anything on this "Big Daddy" guy getting a new ID. Funny enough though,I do have a fella here that came up in my surfing. he's looking for a new SIN, and his access ID is the same one used for some of "Big daddy long legs" business transactions.He didn't give a name, but I traced him to an old coffin motel in glow city. Maybe that's him, but I doubt it. Anyway, just send me whatever you think thats worth>>
Cyrus shakes his head with a chuckle,"That is not a pretty neighborhood chummer, hangin there'll make yer hair fall out. Twisters is all right if you wanna get really blitzed outa yer mind. the floors and walls are warped. You feel drunk just walkin in. The crowd is on some heavy shit. Asia, Vertigo, Novacoke. Its a place for people to get high in the flesh. No chipheads or wizkid shit. The Rusted Stilettos claim that turf, if any of 'em are sober enough to know where they are. Smoothies are in the minority, So you'll blend in a bit, but your look is a little "normal" for the scene. Unless you get a lot of used and ridiculous looking cyber before you go. I don't know the owner, but I hear he fronts for some runners in the Barrens. Just rumors though, nothin concrete "
02:30AM, Professor's pad, Seattle
It was some time before Logo got back to Professor on his inquiry<<I love to take your money, but you got some hard questions. I haven't found anything on this "Big Daddy" guy getting a new ID. Funny enough though,I do have a fella here that came up in my surfing. he's looking for a new SIN, and his access ID is the same one used for some of "Big daddy long legs" business transactions.He didn't give a name, but I traced him to an old coffin motel in glow city. Maybe that's him, but I doubt it. Anyway, just send me whatever you think thats worth>>
02:31 Professor's pad, Seattle
<<@Logo: That's a good lead, chummer. Send me the location info and I'll be happy to send you 500.>>
Professor waits for the info and then transfers 500 nuyen to the standard account for Logo. Then he signals the team on their local network.
<<@Team flag URGENT: Got a location in Glow City for someone using an access ID used in the past for some of Big Daddy's transactions. He's looking for a new SIN. Sounds like something to investigate. I'm still up and available. How should we proceed?>>
<<@Logo: That's a good lead, chummer. Send me the location info and I'll be happy to send you 500.>>
Professor waits for the info and then transfers 500 nuyen to the standard account for Logo. Then he signals the team on their local network.
<<@Team flag URGENT: Got a location in Glow City for someone using an access ID used in the past for some of Big Daddy's transactions. He's looking for a new SIN. Sounds like something to investigate. I'm still up and available. How should we proceed?>>
Heka's Pad, Bellevue - 2:36 AM - September 11, 2071
He was sprawled out in his leather armchair, a glass of merlot in his hand. He swirled the dark liquid in the glass and closed his eyes. Heka relished the feel of the cool leather against his skin--he'd removed his ruined coat and the shirt below as soon as he entered, tossing them aside before moving to the kitchen--and wanted this night to be over with.
Two messages sat, blinking, in his AR view. One said 'Urgent.' But he didn't want to deal with them. As far as he was concerned, he was off the clock--and well he deserved it, too, after the way this night turned out. The sort of night that the word "clusterfuck" had been created for.
"What do you think?" he said, flicking his eyes to the dracoform sitting on the couch across the room, coiled up and watching him. The wyvern cocked its head at Heka, looking at him with its glittering yellow eyes. It spilled from the couch and hovered towards him. It landed next to his chair and rubbed its head against his empty hand; he scratched the black scales, idly, the haptics in his gloves making it feel almost real. Real wyverns probably didn't act like cats, he thought, but a digital wyvern was far more impressive than a fake cat would have been.
Heka sipped the wine, still rubbing the coded dracoform, and finally opened the messages with a sigh. Time was tight enough as it is. If there was anything he could provide then waiting til morning would be a mistake. He read the Urgent message from Professor first, and mulled that over while he skimmed the file from Oswald. Pouring his second glass of wine he pulled up a keyboard in his AR overlay and quickly typed out a message.
<<@Team - Re: SIN - Anyway we can intercept and arrange a meeting to "hand over" his new ID? Job becomes a lot easier if he comes right to us.>>
He was sprawled out in his leather armchair, a glass of merlot in his hand. He swirled the dark liquid in the glass and closed his eyes. Heka relished the feel of the cool leather against his skin--he'd removed his ruined coat and the shirt below as soon as he entered, tossing them aside before moving to the kitchen--and wanted this night to be over with.
Two messages sat, blinking, in his AR view. One said 'Urgent.' But he didn't want to deal with them. As far as he was concerned, he was off the clock--and well he deserved it, too, after the way this night turned out. The sort of night that the word "clusterfuck" had been created for.
"What do you think?" he said, flicking his eyes to the dracoform sitting on the couch across the room, coiled up and watching him. The wyvern cocked its head at Heka, looking at him with its glittering yellow eyes. It spilled from the couch and hovered towards him. It landed next to his chair and rubbed its head against his empty hand; he scratched the black scales, idly, the haptics in his gloves making it feel almost real. Real wyverns probably didn't act like cats, he thought, but a digital wyvern was far more impressive than a fake cat would have been.
Heka sipped the wine, still rubbing the coded dracoform, and finally opened the messages with a sigh. Time was tight enough as it is. If there was anything he could provide then waiting til morning would be a mistake. He read the Urgent message from Professor first, and mulled that over while he skimmed the file from Oswald. Pouring his second glass of wine he pulled up a keyboard in his AR overlay and quickly typed out a message.
<<@Team - Re: SIN - Anyway we can intercept and arrange a meeting to "hand over" his new ID? Job becomes a lot easier if he comes right to us.>>
Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 2:37 AM - September 11, 2071
<<@Team: That sounds good. And up Oswald's alley. Whaddaya think, spaceman? In the meantime, should we stake out the coffin hotel? I don't have wheels at the moment, but I would be willing to take on that chore with one or more others.>>
<<@Team: That sounds good. And up Oswald's alley. Whaddaya think, spaceman? In the meantime, should we stake out the coffin hotel? I don't have wheels at the moment, but I would be willing to take on that chore with one or more others.>>
End of the Earth Nightclub, Downtown Seattle, 1:47 AM, Friday, September 11, 2071
Thirty leans back and strokes his goatee thoughtfully while he considers Cyrus' words. Then with a grin, he says, "I look 'normal' now, eh? I bet I could still spook some of the sarariman out there on the dance floor. But drek, I guess I am pretty normal compared to the Stilettos. Mutants, right?" Then jokingly he adds, "No way a guy as good-looking as me will fit in as one of them. Sounds like a little costuming is in order before I go poking around there."
As he mentions costuming, Thirty's mind is cast back to his ganger days for a moment. He used to put on skull face-paint and dress in black and orange leathers when he ran with the Halloweeners. He was constantly pissed off back then; mad at his father, mad at Renraku and the Red Samurai, and mad at himself. When he finally got over his rage, being in the gang lost its meaning, and it seemed silly to get dressed up like that in an attempt to scare people. Still, he understood what it meant to gangs like the Stilettos to show their colors; it offered a sense of belonging that was difficult to find in mainstream culture. They wouldn't take kindly to it if they found out Thirty was masquerading as one of them. He would have to tread carefully in Redmond.
Coming back to the present, Thirty raises his glass and says, "Thanks for the download, Cy. I imagine if I'd rolled down there dressed like this, I'd have gotten clobbered." He stays a bit longer at the club to see if Cyrus has anything else he wants to talk about before heading out.
Thirty's Comet, Downtown Seattle, 2:00 AM
Once back in his car, Thirty composes a quick message to the team. <<@Yacht Club: Confirmed that Twisters owner hires out runners. We should talk to him, but we'll have to take some precautions going there, it's a rough neighborhood. Can we meet to discuss our options? I'm still up if you guys are, or tomorrow is fine.>>
Thirty leans back and strokes his goatee thoughtfully while he considers Cyrus' words. Then with a grin, he says, "I look 'normal' now, eh? I bet I could still spook some of the sarariman out there on the dance floor. But drek, I guess I am pretty normal compared to the Stilettos. Mutants, right?" Then jokingly he adds, "No way a guy as good-looking as me will fit in as one of them. Sounds like a little costuming is in order before I go poking around there."
As he mentions costuming, Thirty's mind is cast back to his ganger days for a moment. He used to put on skull face-paint and dress in black and orange leathers when he ran with the Halloweeners. He was constantly pissed off back then; mad at his father, mad at Renraku and the Red Samurai, and mad at himself. When he finally got over his rage, being in the gang lost its meaning, and it seemed silly to get dressed up like that in an attempt to scare people. Still, he understood what it meant to gangs like the Stilettos to show their colors; it offered a sense of belonging that was difficult to find in mainstream culture. They wouldn't take kindly to it if they found out Thirty was masquerading as one of them. He would have to tread carefully in Redmond.
Coming back to the present, Thirty raises his glass and says, "Thanks for the download, Cy. I imagine if I'd rolled down there dressed like this, I'd have gotten clobbered." He stays a bit longer at the club to see if Cyrus has anything else he wants to talk about before heading out.
Thirty's Comet, Downtown Seattle, 2:00 AM
Once back in his car, Thirty composes a quick message to the team. <<@Yacht Club: Confirmed that Twisters owner hires out runners. We should talk to him, but we'll have to take some precautions going there, it's a rough neighborhood. Can we meet to discuss our options? I'm still up if you guys are, or tomorrow is fine.>>
Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, 2:19 am
Once Oswald had finished checking and sending the message, he noticed that there was a flashing light in his goggles. "Huh. Must have got a message from the Professor. If anyone can dig something up quickly, it's an archeologist! Heh heh heh."
<<@Yacht Club: Confirmed that Twisters owner hires out runners. We should talk to him, but we'll have to take some precautions going there, it's a rough neighborhood. Can we meet to discuss our options? I'm still up if you guys are, or tomorrow is fine.>>
"Well I'll be damned... this Trog has a work ethic.." Oswald mused. "But you know what they say, the harder a Trog works.. the worse he smells... hahaha!! You hear that one Danny?"
"..mm-what's-so-funny-mm.." the robot hummed from the distance.
"Hmm? Oh, I just zinged that Trog so good!"
"..mm-oh-that's-a-relief-mm..
"Ha- Heh... Yeah.. Guess I'd best respond before he gets all 'fe-fi-fo-fum' on me."
<<@Thirty: I'm about 25 miles from Redmond as the blimp flies, but it seems like it would be easier to organize everything virtually first. I've sent you a key to sign up to our own personal VPN for off the grid texts and pictures. It's an old protocol, so there's basically no chance anyone will be able to access it without knowing it's there. Anyway, I don't know if you've had a chance to look at what I dug up on this Long Legs guy, but he seems smart enough for a thud-skull to not pick this of all times to burn his bridges. What I'm sayin, is who decides it's a good time to hide out when he has to babysit three giant-ass container trucks? Guy is probably a week dead and someone else is sitting on our target. By the way, some guy named Viper12 was looking to start shit with our missing underpass-dweller. Sounds like a rival rigger. Could be useful on his home turf.>>
Once Oswald had finished checking and sending the message, he noticed that there was a flashing light in his goggles. "Huh. Must have got a message from the Professor. If anyone can dig something up quickly, it's an archeologist! Heh heh heh."
<<@Yacht Club: Confirmed that Twisters owner hires out runners. We should talk to him, but we'll have to take some precautions going there, it's a rough neighborhood. Can we meet to discuss our options? I'm still up if you guys are, or tomorrow is fine.>>
"Well I'll be damned... this Trog has a work ethic.." Oswald mused. "But you know what they say, the harder a Trog works.. the worse he smells... hahaha!! You hear that one Danny?"
"..mm-what's-so-funny-mm.." the robot hummed from the distance.
"Hmm? Oh, I just zinged that Trog so good!"
"..mm-oh-that's-a-relief-mm..
"Ha- Heh... Yeah.. Guess I'd best respond before he gets all 'fe-fi-fo-fum' on me."
<<@Thirty: I'm about 25 miles from Redmond as the blimp flies, but it seems like it would be easier to organize everything virtually first. I've sent you a key to sign up to our own personal VPN for off the grid texts and pictures. It's an old protocol, so there's basically no chance anyone will be able to access it without knowing it's there. Anyway, I don't know if you've had a chance to look at what I dug up on this Long Legs guy, but he seems smart enough for a thud-skull to not pick this of all times to burn his bridges. What I'm sayin, is who decides it's a good time to hide out when he has to babysit three giant-ass container trucks? Guy is probably a week dead and someone else is sitting on our target. By the way, some guy named Viper12 was looking to start shit with our missing underpass-dweller. Sounds like a rival rigger. Could be useful on his home turf.>>
Heka's Pad, Bellevue - 2:38 AM - September 11, 2071
<<@Team: I've got a car. Professor and I could hit the coffin--in the morning, I hope, once we're all rested. I've room for one more if anyone wants to come along.>>
Yes, the morning. No way in hell he was going out again tonight. Heka fully intended to have digested a pot of coffee and the morning newsfax before he even got into the shower...
<<@Team: I've got a car. Professor and I could hit the coffin--in the morning, I hope, once we're all rested. I've room for one more if anyone wants to come along.>>
Yes, the morning. No way in hell he was going out again tonight. Heka fully intended to have digested a pot of coffee and the morning newsfax before he even got into the shower...
Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, 2:31 am
Oswald had spent the last few minutes making a mental inventory of basic wireless consumer electronics in his warehouse which he might consider disposable enough to be used as a throwaway node for team VR meetings. "I'll meet you in the coffee machine in half an hour!" he joked to himself. Suddenly, action!
<<@Team flag URGENT: Got a location in Glow City for someone using an access ID used in the past for some of Big Daddy's transactions. He's looking for a new SIN. Sounds like something to investigate. I'm still up and available. How should we proceed?>>
<<@Team - Re: SIN - Anyway we can intercept and arrange a meeting to "hand over" his new ID? Job becomes a lot easier if he comes right to us.>>
<<@Team: That sounds good. And up Oswald's alley. Whaddaya think, spaceman? In the meantime, should we stake out the coffin hotel? I don't have wheels at the moment, but I would be willing to take on that chore with one or more others.>>
After thinking on it a moment, Oswald replied.
<<@Team: If you've got the access ID, I can stalk the owner from up to 10 klicks out. I've still got my blimp set up for manned flight, so I'd have to stay on the guy physically. Probably a good thing I'm set up for this. Otherwise, staking out glow city at 2:30 in the morning sounds like a great way to get eaten by mutants. I watch the news. I know what it's like down there.. Intercepting the ID is a bit too physical for me. I don't know who the courier might be, so I couldn't spoof a message from him. But, if this guy's node suddenly goes dark and a new node with a new name pops up in its place, I'm all over it. What time do all of you want me to bug you in the morning? I'll start looking pretty conspicuous come daybreak unless I manage to find a good perch on the nearby mountains... I guess I might as well be off.. unless anyone has some other pressing concerns that I can't address from the air?>>
Oswald had spent the last few minutes making a mental inventory of basic wireless consumer electronics in his warehouse which he might consider disposable enough to be used as a throwaway node for team VR meetings. "I'll meet you in the coffee machine in half an hour!" he joked to himself. Suddenly, action!
<<@Team flag URGENT: Got a location in Glow City for someone using an access ID used in the past for some of Big Daddy's transactions. He's looking for a new SIN. Sounds like something to investigate. I'm still up and available. How should we proceed?>>
<<@Team - Re: SIN - Anyway we can intercept and arrange a meeting to "hand over" his new ID? Job becomes a lot easier if he comes right to us.>>
<<@Team: That sounds good. And up Oswald's alley. Whaddaya think, spaceman? In the meantime, should we stake out the coffin hotel? I don't have wheels at the moment, but I would be willing to take on that chore with one or more others.>>
After thinking on it a moment, Oswald replied.
<<@Team: If you've got the access ID, I can stalk the owner from up to 10 klicks out. I've still got my blimp set up for manned flight, so I'd have to stay on the guy physically. Probably a good thing I'm set up for this. Otherwise, staking out glow city at 2:30 in the morning sounds like a great way to get eaten by mutants. I watch the news. I know what it's like down there.. Intercepting the ID is a bit too physical for me. I don't know who the courier might be, so I couldn't spoof a message from him. But, if this guy's node suddenly goes dark and a new node with a new name pops up in its place, I'm all over it. What time do all of you want me to bug you in the morning? I'll start looking pretty conspicuous come daybreak unless I manage to find a good perch on the nearby mountains... I guess I might as well be off.. unless anyone has some other pressing concerns that I can't address from the air?>>
Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 2:40 AM - September 11, 2071
<<@Team: Alright, rest it is, then. Let's be ready to go at 09:30. Heka, thanks for the offer of the ride. Let me know when you can be here {{address of Professor's pad}} once you leave your place at 09:30. Oswald, great idea for the virtual stakeout. We'll let you know when we are on the way. If someone wants to be a third in Heka's vehicle, call in by 09:30. Night all.>>
Professor sets the commlink to wake him by 09:00, though he seriously doubts he will sleep that late. Of course... after tonight....
<<@Team: Alright, rest it is, then. Let's be ready to go at 09:30. Heka, thanks for the offer of the ride. Let me know when you can be here {{address of Professor's pad}} once you leave your place at 09:30. Oswald, great idea for the virtual stakeout. We'll let you know when we are on the way. If someone wants to be a third in Heka's vehicle, call in by 09:30. Night all.>>
Professor sets the commlink to wake him by 09:00, though he seriously doubts he will sleep that late. Of course... after tonight....
Thirty's Comet, I-5 Southbound, 2:36 am
Thirty has fallen asleep on the way home from End of the Earth. So far, his snoring has drowned out the sound of his commlink's gentle beeping as messages from the team have come in.
Ahead of his Comet on the freeway, a small pothole about two inches deep and six inches across is there in the middle of the lane, cloaked in darkness since the freeway light overhead has gone out. It just so happens that this pothole's far edge is almost perfectly perpendicular to the direction of travel on the freeway. To the Comet's radar sensor, the pothole's edge forms a dihedral, which sends a strong return back to it. The visual sensor can't see anything there, since the area is dark and the car isn't close enough yet for its headlights to illuminate the area. The Comet's dog brain decides that some debris is in the road that may cause damage to the vehicle, so it suddenly slows down and changes lanes to avoid it, simultaneously sending a wireless broadcast to any vehicles that may be nearby that it is taking an emergency action. Of course, it is tracking no nearby vehicles, but it sends the broadcast just the same.
Having been jostled awake by his car's maneuvering, Thirty wipes a little drool off his cheek and sits up to check his location. He brings up an AR interface to his mapsoft, which shows he is still on the I-5, coming up on the I-705 interchange. Almost home. Several messages are waiting in his inbox, and he starts reading them. He gets finished about the time Heka's message arrives, which he also reads. After considering things for a bit, he composes a message of his own.
<<@Team: I'll grab my gear and find a place to park & snooze just outside of Bellevue. That way I can be relatively close by if Oswald needs boots on the ground. Hopefully nobody jacks up my ride while I'm sleeping. ETA 1 hour until I'm on-station. Wake me whenever you need me, Oswald.>>
Thirty stays awake long enough to get back to his apartment, grab Kanjin and his other weapons and gear, and get back in his car for the trip to Redmond. He routes his incoming email alerts through his car stereo system, jacks up the volume, and sets the email client to play a spunky J-pop song by one of his favorite idol singers upon message receipt. He sees Professor's 2:40am message awaiting him, and after reading it, composes a response.
<<@Team: Professor, if it's OK with you, I'll park in your driveway while I zonk. Yours is a much better neighborhood, only a little farther away from where Oswald will be, and we can team up if he needs anything. Send me a message to wave me off, else I'll assume it's OK.>>
Thirty changes his car's destination to Professor's house, and then leans his seat back and shuts his eyes to try and get some sleep.
Thirty has fallen asleep on the way home from End of the Earth. So far, his snoring has drowned out the sound of his commlink's gentle beeping as messages from the team have come in.
Ahead of his Comet on the freeway, a small pothole about two inches deep and six inches across is there in the middle of the lane, cloaked in darkness since the freeway light overhead has gone out. It just so happens that this pothole's far edge is almost perfectly perpendicular to the direction of travel on the freeway. To the Comet's radar sensor, the pothole's edge forms a dihedral, which sends a strong return back to it. The visual sensor can't see anything there, since the area is dark and the car isn't close enough yet for its headlights to illuminate the area. The Comet's dog brain decides that some debris is in the road that may cause damage to the vehicle, so it suddenly slows down and changes lanes to avoid it, simultaneously sending a wireless broadcast to any vehicles that may be nearby that it is taking an emergency action. Of course, it is tracking no nearby vehicles, but it sends the broadcast just the same.
Having been jostled awake by his car's maneuvering, Thirty wipes a little drool off his cheek and sits up to check his location. He brings up an AR interface to his mapsoft, which shows he is still on the I-5, coming up on the I-705 interchange. Almost home. Several messages are waiting in his inbox, and he starts reading them. He gets finished about the time Heka's message arrives, which he also reads. After considering things for a bit, he composes a message of his own.
<<@Team: I'll grab my gear and find a place to park & snooze just outside of Bellevue. That way I can be relatively close by if Oswald needs boots on the ground. Hopefully nobody jacks up my ride while I'm sleeping. ETA 1 hour until I'm on-station. Wake me whenever you need me, Oswald.>>
Thirty stays awake long enough to get back to his apartment, grab Kanjin and his other weapons and gear, and get back in his car for the trip to Redmond. He routes his incoming email alerts through his car stereo system, jacks up the volume, and sets the email client to play a spunky J-pop song by one of his favorite idol singers upon message receipt. He sees Professor's 2:40am message awaiting him, and after reading it, composes a response.
<<@Team: Professor, if it's OK with you, I'll park in your driveway while I zonk. Yours is a much better neighborhood, only a little farther away from where Oswald will be, and we can team up if he needs anything. Send me a message to wave me off, else I'll assume it's OK.>>
Thirty changes his car's destination to Professor's house, and then leans his seat back and shuts his eyes to try and get some sleep.
3:21 A.M., outside Jovan's home, Tacoma
PAN mode: hidden
At this time of night, the street was quiet and unoccupied. A few houses here and there had some lights on, but most houses in this neighborhood were dark and silent, their wageslave owners sleeping soundly after an exhausting 16-hour workday. A small gray cat, slinking its way stealthily along the lawns as it searched for something to eat, was the only living thing he saw. His sensitive ears picked up no sign of nearby vehicles. Time to go.
After setting up his link for ghosting and locking up his house, he set off at a run, heading northeast at a smooth 90 km/h. He moved like a pale shadow in the darkness, swift and unnoticed.
3:23 A.M., Electronics section, Saver's Central, Tacoma
PAN mode: Active
As Jovan's eyes perused the selection of commlink accessories in front of him, he felt vulnerable and out of place in this store. It had been a long time since he had gone out in public. A long time. He didn't like the bright lighting of the place; it made him feel like he was in the sun, like he would start burning any second now. He didn't want to look at anyone else in the store, though thankfully there was almost no one here at this hour. This felt too much like his younger years. This felt too ordinary. He wanted to get this done and get out of here as soon as possible.
After finding a decent-looking sim module and set of trodes, Jovan walked quickly and purposefully to the U-Check counter, letting the products fall gently into the waiting plastic bag. According to the RFID tags in the accessories, the total cost was a decent 150
; it wouldn't really put a dent in his funds. He let the cost be deducted from his account, and turned and left without waiting for the AR female clerk's message. By the time she had finished, he had already disappeared into the night.
3:26 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
PAN mode: Passive
Jovan settled into a comfortable armchair in his basement, with his new equipment installed and their RFID tags erased. Let's get this over with, he thought to himself.
<<I am ready. Shall we meet now to discuss the job at hand?>>
PAN mode: hidden
At this time of night, the street was quiet and unoccupied. A few houses here and there had some lights on, but most houses in this neighborhood were dark and silent, their wageslave owners sleeping soundly after an exhausting 16-hour workday. A small gray cat, slinking its way stealthily along the lawns as it searched for something to eat, was the only living thing he saw. His sensitive ears picked up no sign of nearby vehicles. Time to go.
After setting up his link for ghosting and locking up his house, he set off at a run, heading northeast at a smooth 90 km/h. He moved like a pale shadow in the darkness, swift and unnoticed.
3:23 A.M., Electronics section, Saver's Central, Tacoma
PAN mode: Active
As Jovan's eyes perused the selection of commlink accessories in front of him, he felt vulnerable and out of place in this store. It had been a long time since he had gone out in public. A long time. He didn't like the bright lighting of the place; it made him feel like he was in the sun, like he would start burning any second now. He didn't want to look at anyone else in the store, though thankfully there was almost no one here at this hour. This felt too much like his younger years. This felt too ordinary. He wanted to get this done and get out of here as soon as possible.
After finding a decent-looking sim module and set of trodes, Jovan walked quickly and purposefully to the U-Check counter, letting the products fall gently into the waiting plastic bag. According to the RFID tags in the accessories, the total cost was a decent 150
; it wouldn't really put a dent in his funds. He let the cost be deducted from his account, and turned and left without waiting for the AR female clerk's message. By the time she had finished, he had already disappeared into the night.3:26 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
PAN mode: Passive
Jovan settled into a comfortable armchair in his basement, with his new equipment installed and their RFID tags erased. Let's get this over with, he thought to himself.
<<I am ready. Shall we meet now to discuss the job at hand?>>
Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 2:40 AM - September 11, 2071
Professor sets his driveway light to stay on, half intensity, till Thirty's vehicle pulls in. Then the condo will signal the vehicle a welcome and request permission to shut off the light. The environment and all, you know. He adds a message, "The couch is comfortable, and quite big and sturdy, you know. Your choice. Come in for breakfast."
By the time Thirty pulls in, professor is snoring, but the pad is ready to admit his guest and resets the breakfast menu... twelve eggs instead of three. Thirty shouldn't cause any trouble for the wards.
Professor sets his driveway light to stay on, half intensity, till Thirty's vehicle pulls in. Then the condo will signal the vehicle a welcome and request permission to shut off the light. The environment and all, you know. He adds a message, "The couch is comfortable, and quite big and sturdy, you know. Your choice. Come in for breakfast."
By the time Thirty pulls in, professor is snoring, but the pad is ready to admit his guest and resets the breakfast menu... twelve eggs instead of three. Thirty shouldn't cause any trouble for the wards.
3:26 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
Mrs. Johnson responds to Jovan with an invite to a private chat room on Ghostserv. As Jovan enters the door to the site, he finds himself in the foyer of a luxurious mansion. A woman in a black dress stands by a fireplace in the sitting room. Judging by the decor and the dress, its early 20th century America. A servant escorts Jovan to the sitting room. He seems to be an agent of some sort. The woman offers a greeting and a seat to her guest while she gracefully perches on a chair,"I appreciate your quick response. I don't wish to waste your time, so I'll be brief. I have an operation in progress, and I feel a little short staffed. Currently, It's a team of four. A talented group, but my organization has found that five to six operatives work the most efficiently. I have details on the mission, but the price has been well negotiated and, I am afraid, is firm. Twelve thousand each. If this is not acceptable than we are at an impasse, shall I proceed?"
The woman takes the briefest moment of silence as a yes and continues,"The group is in the process of recovering three truckloads of stolen goods that were to be delivered a week ago. The team that acquired these goods originally has disappeared. We have the faintest of leads on the Rigger who we believe possesses the goods. They are to recover those goods and get them to a boat in Everett. Questions?"
Mrs. Johnson responds to Jovan with an invite to a private chat room on Ghostserv. As Jovan enters the door to the site, he finds himself in the foyer of a luxurious mansion. A woman in a black dress stands by a fireplace in the sitting room. Judging by the decor and the dress, its early 20th century America. A servant escorts Jovan to the sitting room. He seems to be an agent of some sort. The woman offers a greeting and a seat to her guest while she gracefully perches on a chair,"I appreciate your quick response. I don't wish to waste your time, so I'll be brief. I have an operation in progress, and I feel a little short staffed. Currently, It's a team of four. A talented group, but my organization has found that five to six operatives work the most efficiently. I have details on the mission, but the price has been well negotiated and, I am afraid, is firm. Twelve thousand each. If this is not acceptable than we are at an impasse, shall I proceed?"
The woman takes the briefest moment of silence as a yes and continues,"The group is in the process of recovering three truckloads of stolen goods that were to be delivered a week ago. The team that acquired these goods originally has disappeared. We have the faintest of leads on the Rigger who we believe possesses the goods. They are to recover those goods and get them to a boat in Everett. Questions?"
3:26 A.M., Jovan's home, Tacoma
Jovan's icon smiled in his digital chair. He had but two questions; no doubt the group he was joining would be able to elaborate on the other details, if they didn't kill him first. "'This is the short and the long of it.' What information do you have on the original team, and how much time hath we to do this job?"
Jovan's icon smiled in his digital chair. He had but two questions; no doubt the group he was joining would be able to elaborate on the other details, if they didn't kill him first. "'This is the short and the long of it.' What information do you have on the original team, and how much time hath we to do this job?"
Thirty's Comet, outside Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 3:40 AM - September 11, 2071
As the Comet glides into Professor's driveway, Thirty is already sleeping soundly. His commlink pings, and he stirs, but does not awaken. Satisfied that it has reached its programmed destination, the Comet contacts the home node in Professor's house and performs a wireless handshake. It then engages the parking brake and shuts down its powerplant, but leaves the stereo system on, since it has been slaved to Thirty's commlink.
Thirty, who is used to sleeping on a hard mattress meant for trolls, is only slightly more uncomfortable than usual sleeping in the reclined bucket seat. He snores softly, dreaming of things he will not remember when he wakes.
As the Comet glides into Professor's driveway, Thirty is already sleeping soundly. His commlink pings, and he stirs, but does not awaken. Satisfied that it has reached its programmed destination, the Comet contacts the home node in Professor's house and performs a wireless handshake. It then engages the parking brake and shuts down its powerplant, but leaves the stereo system on, since it has been slaved to Thirty's commlink.
Thirty, who is used to sleeping on a hard mattress meant for trolls, is only slightly more uncomfortable than usual sleeping in the reclined bucket seat. He snores softly, dreaming of things he will not remember when he wakes.
Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, 2:55 am
"Hey kitchen! Make me another one of those shitty soybean hamburgers!" Oswald called out from across the warehouse floor.
He had just spent the last 20 minutes winching up one of his Kulls and securing it to the launching stocks wedged in the doors of his rover to hold the light craft over the roof. Four metal poles, secured across the top of the car through the roof ties and with a flat, lubricated surface from front to back (with quick crook in the rear to hold the wings and keep it from sliding off backwards) and he had a launching platform that could work on road or off. Just crank up the propellers, accelerate the car down the local industrial road, quickly stop the vehicle once a good speed has been reached, and the lightweight Kull zips of the roof. Then, in two minutes time, it could easily cover 30 km to drop its payload wherever Oswald needed. The payload in this instance being the 20 slaved HE grenades stuffed in its dual cargo holders and controlled by the Bombing Autosoft or Oswald himself.
As backup plans go, it was overkill, but nothing excels like excess.
Oswald looked it over, basically satisfied. "Oh wait, almost forgot the ropes." he chided himself before retrieving the two tie-downs from the old milk crate by the wall. Each rope clipped to a notch on the Kull's wing and had a large monkey's-fist knot on the other end. Oswald ordered each of the rear windows on the rover to come down, slipped the knots through individually, and rolled the windows back up until the ropes were secured between the Plexiglas and door-frame. That ought to keep it from sliding off too soon.
Food all packed, smoke projector all full of cloud-juice, bottle for pissing in ("I really need to get my flight suit back...") and Oswald was ready to spend the night in the air. He secured his Redline to his hip, checked the bed-sheet he was using to cover the under-mounted sniper rifle from view, and climbed into the cocoon. This time he would be flying over hostile territory, so he took further precautions. Rather than simply jacking into his comlink and slaving the blimp to it, he first loaded all his basic programs onto the blimp, putting the Autosofts into backup, slaved the blimp to his com and just plugged the optical line, usually reserved for diagnostics, straight into his comlink's input jack. Now the blimp wouldn't allow any outside input from wifi sources other than the com, and the com wouldn't be broadcasting to it at all. Satisfied with this level of protection and preparation, Oswald took to the skies.
Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:10 am
PAN mode: Hidden
<<Alright Poddy, time to find me a thief.>> Oswald commanded the Drone's pilot to begin an extended sweep for Hidden Nodes in the area with its Scan program and electronic Warfare Autosoft. That done, he Browsed for the ID belonging to his target, and within 9 seconds of first ping, he had him. Having established the whereabouts of the target device, he reeled the blimp back from the rotting and run down structure until the node failed to respond. Oswald then stopped and moved a bit further forward until he regained his signal. Giving it a few meters of play, he settled into a dead drift and expelled a touch of smoke to break up his outlines up in the air.
"Hey kitchen! Make me another one of those shitty soybean hamburgers!" Oswald called out from across the warehouse floor.
He had just spent the last 20 minutes winching up one of his Kulls and securing it to the launching stocks wedged in the doors of his rover to hold the light craft over the roof. Four metal poles, secured across the top of the car through the roof ties and with a flat, lubricated surface from front to back (with quick crook in the rear to hold the wings and keep it from sliding off backwards) and he had a launching platform that could work on road or off. Just crank up the propellers, accelerate the car down the local industrial road, quickly stop the vehicle once a good speed has been reached, and the lightweight Kull zips of the roof. Then, in two minutes time, it could easily cover 30 km to drop its payload wherever Oswald needed. The payload in this instance being the 20 slaved HE grenades stuffed in its dual cargo holders and controlled by the Bombing Autosoft or Oswald himself.
As backup plans go, it was overkill, but nothing excels like excess.
Oswald looked it over, basically satisfied. "Oh wait, almost forgot the ropes." he chided himself before retrieving the two tie-downs from the old milk crate by the wall. Each rope clipped to a notch on the Kull's wing and had a large monkey's-fist knot on the other end. Oswald ordered each of the rear windows on the rover to come down, slipped the knots through individually, and rolled the windows back up until the ropes were secured between the Plexiglas and door-frame. That ought to keep it from sliding off too soon.
Food all packed, smoke projector all full of cloud-juice, bottle for pissing in ("I really need to get my flight suit back...") and Oswald was ready to spend the night in the air. He secured his Redline to his hip, checked the bed-sheet he was using to cover the under-mounted sniper rifle from view, and climbed into the cocoon. This time he would be flying over hostile territory, so he took further precautions. Rather than simply jacking into his comlink and slaving the blimp to it, he first loaded all his basic programs onto the blimp, putting the Autosofts into backup, slaved the blimp to his com and just plugged the optical line, usually reserved for diagnostics, straight into his comlink's input jack. Now the blimp wouldn't allow any outside input from wifi sources other than the com, and the com wouldn't be broadcasting to it at all. Satisfied with this level of protection and preparation, Oswald took to the skies.
Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:10 am
PAN mode: Hidden
<<Alright Poddy, time to find me a thief.>> Oswald commanded the Drone's pilot to begin an extended sweep for Hidden Nodes in the area with its Scan program and electronic Warfare Autosoft. That done, he Browsed for the ID belonging to his target, and within 9 seconds of first ping, he had him. Having established the whereabouts of the target device, he reeled the blimp back from the rotting and run down structure until the node failed to respond. Oswald then stopped and moved a bit further forward until he regained his signal. Giving it a few meters of play, he settled into a dead drift and expelled a touch of smoke to break up his outlines up in the air.
Professor's Pad, Bellevue - 4:40 AM - September 11, 2071
Professor rolls restlessly in his sleep. Images pass through his dreams....
{A tent flap opens.... inside two young people are sprawled across a wooden table, papers, maps and books soaked in blood...}
{A figure... elf?... walks out of a mist.... what is he wearing? A clown costume? ... No, but his face is painted... he is angry... }
Professor moans, talks in his sleep... "Who are you?"
Professor rolls restlessly in his sleep. Images pass through his dreams....
{A tent flap opens.... inside two young people are sprawled across a wooden table, papers, maps and books soaked in blood...}
{A figure... elf?... walks out of a mist.... what is he wearing? A clown costume? ... No, but his face is painted... he is angry... }
Professor moans, talks in his sleep... "Who are you?"
Friday, September 11th, 2071, 3:27 AM, Private chat room on Ghostserv
The female persona stared at Jovan with two limpid pools of blue that glowed brighter than the fireplace behind them,"You have about a week to do the job, I have a file with the pertinant information on Big Daddy. The rest of his team will be handeld as a seperate job, that information will be forthcoming at that time, if this mission goes well, and the interest is there.Our concern is the cargo at the moment"
Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:30 am
Tracking the node through the matrix was simple enough, having the access ID already. But there was some interference when it came to pinning down its physical location. Signals got spotty in Redmond, and the radiation didn't help. Oswald, however, had prevailed, and he now hovered in the night sky, roughly four old fashion football fields away from a group of buildings that contained the target. The target's comm was currently streaming mixed-meta porn in hot sim.
The female persona stared at Jovan with two limpid pools of blue that glowed brighter than the fireplace behind them,"You have about a week to do the job, I have a file with the pertinant information on Big Daddy. The rest of his team will be handeld as a seperate job, that information will be forthcoming at that time, if this mission goes well, and the interest is there.Our concern is the cargo at the moment"
Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:30 am
Tracking the node through the matrix was simple enough, having the access ID already. But there was some interference when it came to pinning down its physical location. Signals got spotty in Redmond, and the radiation didn't help. Oswald, however, had prevailed, and he now hovered in the night sky, roughly four old fashion football fields away from a group of buildings that contained the target. The target's comm was currently streaming mixed-meta porn in hot sim.
Friday, September 11, 2071, 3:27 A.M., Private chatroom on Ghostserv
"Then the cargo you shall have. I don't believe there is anything else that needs to be discussed. If you can give me a copy of this file and put me in touch with your team," Jovan said with some disdain as he rose from his chair, confident that they wouldn't act like much of a team when it came to him, "then I can let you return to your affairs."
He took a few steps towards the Mrs. Johnsonand bowed civilly, though a savvy observer could detect a hint of arrogance and mockery in his icon's body language. "'Good Night, Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow,'" the bloodsucker said with a smile and a hint of sarcasm, as he prepared to log off and get to work.
"Then the cargo you shall have. I don't believe there is anything else that needs to be discussed. If you can give me a copy of this file and put me in touch with your team," Jovan said with some disdain as he rose from his chair, confident that they wouldn't act like much of a team when it came to him, "then I can let you return to your affairs."
He took a few steps towards the Mrs. Johnsonand bowed civilly, though a savvy observer could detect a hint of arrogance and mockery in his icon's body language. "'Good Night, Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow,'" the bloodsucker said with a smile and a hint of sarcasm, as he prepared to log off and get to work.
Thursday, September 10, 2071, 23:27, Parking lot of coffin motel
PAN Hidden
Ferret pulled his van into the coffin motel's parking lot and looked for a secluded spot away from the main entrance. Nowhere in the barrens was really safe to park overnight but the parking lots of motels, fast food joints and 24/7 shopping arcades were a lot safer than a random dark alley.
Then he settled himself as comfortably as possible on the passenger bench seat, wrapping his thin, grubby blanket around him. He closed his eyes and spiralled off into the matrix. He loaded up the latest 'Neil the Ork Barbarian' game and played for a few hours, before jacking out and falling asleep.
PAN Hidden
Ferret pulled his van into the coffin motel's parking lot and looked for a secluded spot away from the main entrance. Nowhere in the barrens was really safe to park overnight but the parking lots of motels, fast food joints and 24/7 shopping arcades were a lot safer than a random dark alley.
Then he settled himself as comfortably as possible on the passenger bench seat, wrapping his thin, grubby blanket around him. He closed his eyes and spiralled off into the matrix. He loaded up the latest 'Neil the Ork Barbarian' game and played for a few hours, before jacking out and falling asleep.
Friday, September 11, 2071, 3:28 A.M., Private chatroom on Ghostserv
The woman stood motionless for a moment, as she composed a message to her team
<<@Team: I have procured another set of hands to help in this project. I expect you can bring him up to speed. I have also been informed that Caper has been terminated in a car accident. So we are still a little understaffed. I will try to find another runner, but if any of you have someone in mind, I'm open for suggestions.>>
She forwards Jovan's contact info to the group and returns her attention to the chatroom,"Here is some contact info for the team," As he bows and makes his farewells, the woman has clearly picked up on his arrogance,"I am not impressed with the chatter of horny teenagers, mr. Jovan. Good evening, I will be in touch"
The woman stood motionless for a moment, as she composed a message to her team
<<@Team: I have procured another set of hands to help in this project. I expect you can bring him up to speed. I have also been informed that Caper has been terminated in a car accident. So we are still a little understaffed. I will try to find another runner, but if any of you have someone in mind, I'm open for suggestions.>>
She forwards Jovan's contact info to the group and returns her attention to the chatroom,"Here is some contact info for the team," As he bows and makes his farewells, the woman has clearly picked up on his arrogance,"I am not impressed with the chatter of horny teenagers, mr. Jovan. Good evening, I will be in touch"
Friday, September 11, 2071, 08:12, Parking lot of coffin motel
PAN Hidden
Grey light filtering through the van's windscreen rouses Ferret from his slumber. Yawning and stretching, he scratches at the stubble on his chin. He reads the time off the clock floating in the corner of his vision and begins opening multiple AR windows onto the virtual world even as he thinks to himself.
Hmm, I could use a shave. Phew...and I could REALLY use a shower.
Clambering over the bench seat into the back of the van in a practised move, he surveys the chaotic jumble of his worldly goods. Half the rear compartment is taken up by his pimped scooter, the other half with a workbench. Bins of tools, electrical components, chemical bottles and empty food cartons are stacked haphazardly on and around it, mostly held in place with gecko tape. A half (dis)assembled trid player sits at the centre of the bench. Ferret's stomach grumbles as he shifts an empty pizza box off the chair and sits at the bench.
I really should finish fixing that...and get some food.
As he searches through the piles of equipment he checks the news in one window and his mail in another. His inbox is disappointingly empty. For a moment he brings his attention back to the real world, surveying the few items he has gathered in his hands. A credstick with 200 yen, some corp scrip worth about another 150 at current exhange rates and a few tabs of cram worth maybe another 50 if he can find a buyer.
Frag. I need a job.
With the news playing in the background he opens another window and composes a quick message.
<@Beetle: Hey chummer, I'm looking for some work. Preferably some data work if you know what I mean. But hell, the way my finances are right now, if you need some product delivered I'm your dwarf.>
Ferret leans back in the chair letting the matrix envelop him fully. He is a chromed icon of a ferret now, his silver whiskers twitching, the large reflective globes of his eyes drinking in the digital. He scurries off, sniffing for the data that will lead him to the Shadowland server.
PAN Hidden
Grey light filtering through the van's windscreen rouses Ferret from his slumber. Yawning and stretching, he scratches at the stubble on his chin. He reads the time off the clock floating in the corner of his vision and begins opening multiple AR windows onto the virtual world even as he thinks to himself.
Hmm, I could use a shave. Phew...and I could REALLY use a shower.
Clambering over the bench seat into the back of the van in a practised move, he surveys the chaotic jumble of his worldly goods. Half the rear compartment is taken up by his pimped scooter, the other half with a workbench. Bins of tools, electrical components, chemical bottles and empty food cartons are stacked haphazardly on and around it, mostly held in place with gecko tape. A half (dis)assembled trid player sits at the centre of the bench. Ferret's stomach grumbles as he shifts an empty pizza box off the chair and sits at the bench.
I really should finish fixing that...and get some food.
As he searches through the piles of equipment he checks the news in one window and his mail in another. His inbox is disappointingly empty. For a moment he brings his attention back to the real world, surveying the few items he has gathered in his hands. A credstick with 200 yen, some corp scrip worth about another 150 at current exhange rates and a few tabs of cram worth maybe another 50 if he can find a buyer.
Frag. I need a job.
With the news playing in the background he opens another window and composes a quick message.
<@Beetle: Hey chummer, I'm looking for some work. Preferably some data work if you know what I mean. But hell, the way my finances are right now, if you need some product delivered I'm your dwarf.>
Ferret leans back in the chair letting the matrix envelop him fully. He is a chromed icon of a ferret now, his silver whiskers twitching, the large reflective globes of his eyes drinking in the digital. He scurries off, sniffing for the data that will lead him to the Shadowland server.
Oswald's GTS Tower, "Sky-pod," hanging roughly 80m over lower Redmond, 3:33 am
Having settled into position for a long night of waiting, Oswald kicked on his coat's massaging liner, dropped into AR and checked his messages.
"Hmmm, which one was that?" Oswald flips though his virtual notes. "Caper... the quiet one's dead? Maybe he just took the advance and ran... I wouldn't blame him, the way these people operate. Pain in the ass meeting that gets blown up regardless.. Shame to see him/her go, but paranoid people are trouble regardless. It seems to me that if you can't trust.. you can't be trusted." Oswald shifted a little in his seat, trying to get comfortable. "Might as well welcome the new guy and set him up on the VPN..."
<<Oswald@Jovan - Greets, Jovan. Name's Oswald. I'm pulling the night shift this evening. I'll go ahead and set you up on our off-Matrix message board. It should have all the information and pictures we've gathered so far. If you're ready to work tonight, ping me back. I'm always hungry for action.>>
Speaking of pictures, Oswald figured he might as well take some shots of the hotel with the drone's long-range camera and indicate which room the com's signal appeared to be coming from. And, speaking of action, he also figured he should check in to see what this node was up to. He kicked on "Nite flights" popped open his soy chips and ordered the Sky-pod to grab up that node's wireless signal...
Having settled into position for a long night of waiting, Oswald kicked on his coat's massaging liner, dropped into AR and checked his messages.
"Hmmm, which one was that?" Oswald flips though his virtual notes. "Caper... the quiet one's dead? Maybe he just took the advance and ran... I wouldn't blame him, the way these people operate. Pain in the ass meeting that gets blown up regardless.. Shame to see him/her go, but paranoid people are trouble regardless. It seems to me that if you can't trust.. you can't be trusted." Oswald shifted a little in his seat, trying to get comfortable. "Might as well welcome the new guy and set him up on the VPN..."
<<Oswald@Jovan - Greets, Jovan. Name's Oswald. I'm pulling the night shift this evening. I'll go ahead and set you up on our off-Matrix message board. It should have all the information and pictures we've gathered so far. If you're ready to work tonight, ping me back. I'm always hungry for action.>>
Speaking of pictures, Oswald figured he might as well take some shots of the hotel with the drone's long-range camera and indicate which room the com's signal appeared to be coming from. And, speaking of action, he also figured he should check in to see what this node was up to. He kicked on "Nite flights" popped open his soy chips and ordered the Sky-pod to grab up that node's wireless signal...
Friday, September 11, 2071, 03:40, coffin motel in Redmond
What has been called "the coffin motel" is more of a rotten husk of a coffin motel, left to decay and become infested with the human vermin of Redmond. The cost of staying here is having enough cred or intimidation to keep the locals at bay. The weather hasn't turned cold yet, so the building isn't overrun. A few cars in the parking lot still function, but the scrappers are eyeing them for the opportunity to change that. On the second of four floors is a node that is patiently waiting for news of a new identity. Some unknown person lies awake, more than likely masturbating in a four by eight by eight room with a bed.
What has been called "the coffin motel" is more of a rotten husk of a coffin motel, left to decay and become infested with the human vermin of Redmond. The cost of staying here is having enough cred or intimidation to keep the locals at bay. The weather hasn't turned cold yet, so the building isn't overrun. A few cars in the parking lot still function, but the scrappers are eyeing them for the opportunity to change that. On the second of four floors is a node that is patiently waiting for news of a new identity. Some unknown person lies awake, more than likely masturbating in a four by eight by eight room with a bed.
Friday, September 11, 2071, 3:28 A.M., Thirty's Comet
As the message from Mrs. Johnson arrives on Thirty's commlink, the stereo speakers begin blaring "Kiba Aru Demo," one of Thirty's favorite songs. A young Japanese woman belts out the vocals with a peppy pop accompaniment.
Anata no kokoro wa,
itsumo shinsetsu,
Kiba aru demo, ai shite iru!
Thirty jolts awake at the sound, and quickly shuts off the incoming message alert. He checks the message from Mrs. Johnson, and composes a reply.
<<@team: Welcome aboard Jovan. I'll let Oswald catch you up on current operations (he's actually awake), but here's a rundown of the rest of the team and skillsets:
Jovan, If you'd be so kind, give us some idea of your specialty in a document on Oswald's VPN, and I'll check it out in the morning.
Oswald, I'm almost to Professor's place, message me if you need me.>>
His eyelids heavy, Thirty sends the message and lets his body collapse back into the seat. He's asleep again in under thirty seconds.
As the message from Mrs. Johnson arrives on Thirty's commlink, the stereo speakers begin blaring "Kiba Aru Demo," one of Thirty's favorite songs. A young Japanese woman belts out the vocals with a peppy pop accompaniment.
Anata no kokoro wa,
itsumo shinsetsu,
Kiba aru demo, ai shite iru!
Thirty jolts awake at the sound, and quickly shuts off the incoming message alert. He checks the message from Mrs. Johnson, and composes a reply.
<<@team: Welcome aboard Jovan. I'll let Oswald catch you up on current operations (he's actually awake), but here's a rundown of the rest of the team and skillsets:
- Thirty (yours truly) - Close combat and pistoleer
- Oswald - Rigger, hacker and spaceman
- Heka - Subtle mage
- Professor - Information collection & analysis
Jovan, If you'd be so kind, give us some idea of your specialty in a document on Oswald's VPN, and I'll check it out in the morning.
Oswald, I'm almost to Professor's place, message me if you need me.>>
His eyelids heavy, Thirty sends the message and lets his body collapse back into the seat. He's asleep again in under thirty seconds.
Friday, September 11, 2071, 07:32, Parking lot of coffin motel
The sun rises in over the motel in a haze. Splitting the eyelids of the people who passed out in the street. A general rustling is seen along the broken sidewalks and not quite abandoned storefronts that sprawl in every direction. Some people are just awakening, and others scurry away from the coming day after a busy night. Two messages are on their way to this place through the digital ether. While unrelated, they will bring a group of strangers to know each other quite well.
8:22
As Ferret Probes through the Shadowland nodes He gets an Alert from Beetle for an audio chat. At almost the same time, Oswald finally gets a bite on the signal he's been monitoring. A message coming in under heavy encryption.
The sun rises in over the motel in a haze. Splitting the eyelids of the people who passed out in the street. A general rustling is seen along the broken sidewalks and not quite abandoned storefronts that sprawl in every direction. Some people are just awakening, and others scurry away from the coming day after a busy night. Two messages are on their way to this place through the digital ether. While unrelated, they will bring a group of strangers to know each other quite well.
8:22
As Ferret Probes through the Shadowland nodes He gets an Alert from Beetle for an audio chat. At almost the same time, Oswald finally gets a bite on the signal he's been monitoring. A message coming in under heavy encryption.
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