Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:35am, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

<<@team: Our new arrival acknowledges. He'll be in soon.>> Professor pulls his awareness completely back to the physical and heads toward the door. Not a good idea to wander around Oz's place with partial attention.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:35am, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Professor checks the controls of his commlink. Is this thing on?

<<@team: Hoy! Chummers! Anybody there?>>

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:35am, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Professor's message pops up in Ferret's AR, drawing his attention from the 27 other windows he currently has open. He had started with just two, one on concealed holsters and one on Faraday cages. Each of these had spawned a number of related topics ranging from basic electronics to ammunition types, vehicle modifications for his van, pirate software sites, ghoul lore, video games, several trid shows and more.

He blinks most of the windows closed, leaving just his gun's status and the Professor's message.

<<@team: I'm here. I was just checking a couple of things on the 'net. More importanly, is he here?>>

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:36am, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Zo annoyed at the beeper noise indicating the text messages going back and forth yells out "Whaddya mean dat someone is here? Other than us. I'm tryin ta get some sleep, so don't wake me unless someone comes trying ta make trouble."

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

The autocab navigates its way through the decaying industrial neighborhood, with Void impassively glancing out the window at the squalor. At least the sealed cab spares him the infamous "Tacoma aroma". Finally, it comes to a stop in front of a nondescript building, nothing more than yet another abandoned-looking warehouse. He steps out of the cab, which sits there sputtering and idling for a second, before the door shuts and it zips off again. A wobbly camera on top of the doorway turns towards him, then bobs up and down, almost as if it is nodding.

<<Okay, I'm going to open the door for you. Just follow the route that's highlighted in AR. It may seem to meander a bit, but that's to avoid any nasty surprises.>>

Void complies, although he has a personal distaste for the visual clutter of AR. He scrupulously follows the winding path into the bowels of the warehouse. He makes none of his usual effort to muffle his steps. He can move like a ghost when he needs to, but he doesn't need to startle his teammates too badly. His weapons remain concealed or holstered, although his wired reflexes are on, which is something that they are more than is really good for his long-term health.

He finally steps out into a wider area that seems to have some people in it, as well as the unusual sight of the makeshift Faraday cage around several trucks.

Void is a thin, intense-looking ork with unkempt spikey stark white hair, and cyan eyes that rarely seem to blink. He is wearing a slightly rumpled cheap suit under a sleek but obviously armored jacket, and is carrying a trombone case, although it is doubtful that it is because he is musically inclined. He moves with the unnatural precision of someone whose reflexes have been augmented. Nothing is really that explicitly imposing about him, but somehow, he seems to radiate an aura of menace, perhaps even malevolence. To those looking at him astrally, though, the effect is far more pronounced. His aura is a compacted mass of roiling darkness, a taint even more vile that that of Glow City.

His face is impassive, only his eyes seeming to dart around, scanning his surroundings.

"I'm Void. Told you were expecting me."

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Professor watches the newcomer enter the warehouse. First astral impression, and he understands why the man has the name "Void". As he rises from his nest of tarps, Professor studies Void's aura. He guesses it may be easier to do so from a distance than when they shake hands.

"Welcome, Void. My name's Professor. Some of the others are sleeping after an interesting night. Our mage is out hunting, looking for info on our common opponent." As Void approaches, Professor holds out a hand to shake. Hope this doesn't hurt too much.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Despite the sickly taint to his aura, the Professor is able to discern it fairly clearly. Void is in good health, well-rested in contrast to most of the other people here, and alert, but calm. He senses no immediate hostile intentions, but gets the overall sense that this is someone capable of appalling violence. Nothing really any worse than any other killer for hire, though - nothing to explain that aura of menace he radiates. Maybe it's another affect of that darkness in his aura?

Void may have a relatively normal looking exterior appearance - no metal arms, rivets in his forehead, or glowing eyes. But assensing him, it becomes clear that he is extensively augmented. In fact, he is probably as augmented as a metahuman can get, and still be alive. His spirit is a vestigial presence; the contaminating presence of implants, however, is ubiquitous - replacement eyes, ears, and one fingertip; augmentations to his nerves, spinal cord, and muscles; a mix of cyberware and bioware in his head, and some kind of artificial organ.

Void wordlessly takes the Professor's hand when offered, a firm but not crushing handshake - and the Professor can barely restrain a gasp. There is no actual physical pain, but he can feel his magic weaken, to a fraction of its strength. Then Void releases his hand, and just like that, like an unplugged appliance being plugged back into a wall socket, his magic rushes back into him. It was a decidedly unpleasant experience.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Professor shivers, almost like a dog shaking out the water from a bath. "I see how you got your name. Here, I'll show you where you can have something to eat while we wait for the team to gather. Also, here's the commcode for communicating to the rest of us." Professor leads the way to the back room.

Professor pulls up an ARO for Void, linking to all the team members but neither of the employers. <<@team: Void now set up to all of us here, exclusive of the Johnsons.>>

"Here's our situation in a nutshell. More details can come later. We were hired to retrieve a shipment of weapons that had been redirected by the Johnsons' first team. 'Mr. Johnson' is the top boss, and 'Ms. Johnson' is his lieutenant, and is coordinating the mission. At least, she thinks she still is. We hunted the shipment down in a nasty dead zone in the Barrens, complete with ghouls and an encounter with your target. Incidentally, we had to deal with a mercenary group called the 12 Vipers, who were looking for another payload, some high quality communications gear, also being redirected by that first team. We have that shipment in our possession as well, and the Vipers are significantly fewer than 12 now.

"It would seem your fellow Charles and Ms. Johnson may be somehow in league with each other, subverting Mr. Johnson's objective. The Vipers may have been, unknown to them, put in our path by those two in order to divert or delay us. We are in the process of delivering the weapons to Mr. Johnson without cluing a potentially troublesome Ms. Johnson in on our whereabouts. At the same time, we have sent a feeler out to the Vipers in hopes of removing them as a potential adversary that may show up at the wrong moment. It's been a tough night, and some of the team is still resting, but we should be on our way soon. Meanwhile, our magician is astrally seeking out Charles and an associate of his, whom we know as Archer. If you can fill us in on what you know of Charles, it may help us find him. We have some questions."

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

From the couch an obiously orkish voice can be heard "Prof, da info I got on da merc gorup is dat dere's more dan 12. Only the serious fragging drek kickers get da numbers."

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Ferret steps out cautiously from behind the Professor. He is skinny for a dwarf, with lank greasy hair and a day's worth of stubble on his chin. He has a large, pointed nose and wears grubby flats. He runs a small hand through his hair then rubs it self-consciously on the thigh of his pants, before reaching it out tentatively towards Void.

He twitches visibly when Zo calls out from the couch, then introduces himself.

"Hi, I'm Ferret. I'm the team decker. I guess."

While his physical approach is cautious, his mind is already sniffing out Void's commlink node in the digital.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Void follows the Professor towards the back room. He fumbles his trodes back on when the professor mentions a commcode - looks like he is not someone who uses AR as much as most people. He shakes his head slightly when he is asked about Charles

"Unfortunately, I am not familiar with the man. He is a mage who has a bounty on his head - that is as far as my knowledge goes. Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen, few in pursuit of the goal. My goal is to claim the rather sizable bounty on the gentleman's head."

His head turns with a slight curiosity at the voice from the couch, then regards the dwarf stepping from behind the Professor with his usual expressionless stare. He does shake the offered hand, though. Unlike the professor, Ferret doesn't experience any magical weirdness, although the almost palpable aura of evil that Void gives off does not help his nervousness.

His commlink, on the other hand, seems refreshingly mundane. A commercial commlink with a stock OS, obviously used as a tool of convenience rather than a component of a runner's arsenal.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

In the back room, Professor opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. "Here. Refresh yourself while I see if I can pull the team together."

GHe calls all but the Johnsons. <Professor @team: New member, Void, here in the warehouse. He hunts Charles and is particularly hazardous to the Awakened. Bad aura - maybe astral hazing, I don't know for sure. Would be good if we could pull together here to regroup and coordinate.>>

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 1:11am, Touristville

Jovan thought for a moment before replying. Not as much as I would like. I know that he is a militant extremist in his advocacy of equal rights for ghouls, and that he is at heart far more interested in garnering power for himself than in protecting the lives and welfare of the ghouls that have been under his care. He seemed to view himself as a powerful hunter, both of metahumans and of animals. Certainly he did not flinch when he saw us, despite our shared status as Infected and the still-potent magical forces within your and my astral forms. He struck me as a dangerous predator who knows no fear, even in the face of another, superior predator. He is clearly a megalomaniac; that I know for certain. Let me think... he also has some sort of relationship with my mysterious employer, but the nature of that relationship remains unclear. He had made some sort of arrangement with the toxic Mad Hatter, Charles, that gave him that entire warehouse as a sort of victory prize. Archer was bringing in food to the other ghouls via bus, and he was using the warehouse as a base of operations, meaning that he now considered it his own. He was also unhappy with this prize; he could not acquire complete control over the area unless the previous owner yielded it to him, he wished to move the trucks to another location, and he had no local source of food for his entourage. He is also fairly intelligent; he knew that keeping the previous owner alive was the only way to acquire the control over his "base" that he desired, and was willing to resort to torture and even infecting that troll with his disease as means to that end.

So I suppose the question now becomes this: how does one needle a megalomaniac?

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Void hesitates a second, then takes the beer. Beer has grain in it, if he remembers correctly. So it should be fairly healthy. He slowly sips it as waits impassively for the other members of this group to be called together.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

In one of those moments that seem to happen more and more often these days, Professor's mind wanders momentarily, to a scene from an old video, from the middle of the last century.

Twee-we-we-we-we-we-wee .... Twee-we-we-we-we-we-wee .... Twee-we-we-we-we-we-wee .... Twee-we-we-we-we-we-wee ....

Navigator: This is strange, Captain, the sensor readings are all wrong.

Captain: what do you mean, Navigator? Be more specific.

Navigator: It's ... It's like there's nothing out there ahead of us.

Captain: It's space, what do you expect?

Navigator: No, Sir, regular space has gasses, no matter how sparse, never a true vacuum. This ... this is like a complete void. It shouldn't exist.

Professor shudders, and returns to the present. Sometimes a near-perfect memory can be a burden.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Zo slowly gets up just enough to peer over the couch. Seeing the well dressed ork on the other side Zo considers the absurdity of it. Zo mutters under his breath Well, he'z at least dressed up for a funeral. He stakes stock of the ork in front of him. "Zo checking in sort of, can he drive one of da trucks? And da we trust him enough to do so? He isn't exactly employed to our Mr. and Mrs. J."

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Ferret scratches his butt and yawns. He looks over to Zo.

"Good idea, Zo. But he wouldn't exactly be driving the truck, Oz or me would be controlling it remotely. Our new friend would mainly be there for his mage-killing talents in case Charlie-boy or one of his spirits turns up at the meet."

The skinny dwarf gives a condescending sniff and turns back to Void, keeping the Prof between himself and the menacing ork.

"That is your area of expertise right? And could you actually drive one of those rigs, if say it got jammed or our resident spaceman forgot he's supposed to be driving it?"

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Void smiles thinly and humorlessly.

"Yes, yes, killing, that is my main function. I am not a professional driver, but I could operate one of these vehicles - if Mr. Doctor Spaceman has another one of his meth binges, or it otherwise becomes necessary."

His voice is expressionless - if he is joking, he must be a master of deadpan delivery. He does not seem bothered by Zo's nervousness. He is used to his affect on others, and most of the time, he barely notes it.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:57 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

A strong Autumn breaze gusts from the south. The winds have shifted, but the scents they bring with them are familiar.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 8:59 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett


Zo looks around at the group after a minute of silence. "So let's go over da plan den and get some rest. Once I hear back from my contacts about getting hold of da vipers the plan is that we'll give them the location of their coms if dere are no frag-ups with us in da next few hours. No need to tell dem why or were we'd be,just dat if they want der comms we're willin to get them to the no questions. As ta da Ms. and Mr. J--we should try and get hold of Mr. J an let him know dat the guns are en route. My contacts indicated dat he's new in town, an all we have ta go on is his face if anyone took a pic, his boat and Mrs. J. We should lay low until tonight at da earliest. Get som rest, order a pizza, or somethin an watch da trid. Dat bein said we should deliver the goods to da warehouse den tell the Mrs. J that were here the goods are dropped off an if she wants them intact, give us da cred. Otherwise we blow da trucks. I don't trust the slitch an da Mr. J is out real employer from my understandin--Mrs. J is just our Handler. So what yer thoughts to dis plan?"

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 9:00 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Ferret smirks to himself.

How many times have I seen people underestimate an ork's natural talent for planning. I wonder if it has anything to do with their short lifespans?

He is already opening a couple of search windows, when he remembers Void.

"Sounds good, Zo. While were waiting, I'll be in my van...trying to digging up dirt on Mr and especially Mrs J. Yeah, that's what I'll be doing. Er, nice to meet you Mr Void."

With that, he scurries off back to the beaten up stepvan parked in the far corner of the warehouse.

Frag me. I thought the Crush were scary when they were hopped on liquor and drugs. This guy is scary just standing there with that deathly stare of his.

He shivers, then dives into the safety of the matrix. He has little to go on regarding Mr and Mrs J but he at least has the address of the pirate node she had given him. Plus, there was the search he wanted to do on the correlation between metahumanity's planning abilities and their lifespans. And his Analyze program was still sniffing carefully around Void's commlink, looking for any holes in its firewall.

And hey, look at that. A new episode of 'Dungeon Mistresses'?

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 9:00 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Professor chimes in, "Here's what our two Johnsons look like." He produces an ARO of the two of them from recordings in his goggles. "We have been running a little ragged the last day or so. And we need to wait for Jovan to get back to us about his search for Archer and Charles. It would be good if we could all be together when the last leg of the delivery happens. Void, your search for Charles will almost certainly be aided by info from Jovan, our mage. There would appear to be some time to rest, maintenance of equipment, etc.. I for one don't want to actually sleep. I'm keeping a spell going on myself cast by a mage who is ... no longer with us. I'd like to hang onto the extra perspicacity the spell affords me, so I'll do some meditative resting rather than actually sleeping.

"There's food and facilities here. Make yourself at home, Void. Do you have any questions? I might be able to fill you in on things."
Seeing the reactions to Void, Professor wonders what an effect it would be to expose the mundane crew to both Jovan and Void at the same time. I might have to do some dancing to keep the team on an even keel.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 9:00 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

"Ferret see what ya can dig up on da Mr. J. Start wit da boat. Prof, what waz it called??"

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 9:00 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Professor digs into his memory momentarily. "The boat is called 'El Viajero'."

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 9:00 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Void frowns slightly, a look of concentration more than annoyance, before a slight shake of his head indicates he has no questions at this time. To be honest, he doesn't have enough of a frame of reference to really know what to ask, although he takes some comfort that the others seem to have some sort of plan. He belatedly activates his commlink, both to study the two pictures, and to look up what "perspicacity" means.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 9:00 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Lying on the bench seat in the front of his van, a grubby blanket pulled over his head, Ferret dives into the matrix. Free from his flesh, the gleaming silver rodent flashes from node to node.

This is much better than the Barrens. So many nodes to explore. Yikes, and so much security.

Skirting around an evil-looking agent patrolling some corp node, he finds a more suitable node to begin his search from.

Ah, Stuffer Shack, how I love your pathetic security measures.

<<@Team: Okay chummers, send me anything you got on Mr and Mrs J, the Vipers, Charles or the ghouls. I'm setting up a few data searches and the better I can tailor them, the better the results.>>

He then assembles the data into distinct packages and sends six little rodents on their way, one each for Mr J, Mrs J, the 'El Viajero', the Vipers and Charles, and one for the ghouls, Jonathan and Archer. He then turns his attention to the node where he first met Mrs J about the run.

He hopes to find a record of her being there, assuming that a) the node is still there and b) it is not too difficult or dangerous for him to hack.

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 9:00 AM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Zo inches up in the couch to get a better view of the area, scratches the back of his left ear. "Prof, do we think we got our slottin hides covered? I was wonderin what da original owners of dis shipment are up ta--as I recall Mr.J hired runners ta grab da trucks?"

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 12:01 PM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

Ferret's eyes blink open. He sits up and stretches, looking around the warehouse for any sign of the the others. Then nature calls and he hops out of the van and scoots over to the warehouse's bathroom.

Emerging a few moments later, he heads for the kitchen and some fuel for the meat. With a stale donut and a soykaf in hand, he emerges and between bites of the donut, outlines what little he has found so far.

"I done some initial digging into our employers and other players, but so far I've not managed to dig up much. With only a grainy trid shot of Mr J, I got nothing locally. I can set up an ongoing background search but doubt I'll find anything within the timeframe we have left. I did get a couple of hits on Mrs J, including one outside a Stuffer Shack with some Amerind and one in a restaurant with some guy who either digitally or magically screwing with the cameras. I'm sending you the best images I have of both of them."

<<Images: Amerind, Concealed man>>

"I did get a hit on the boat. It was docked in California, but its registered under a shell company. I'll need to dig further to find out who the real owner is. I also got a possible way to contact the Vipers. There is a site called CredForces that mercs use to sell their services. The Vipers are fairly active on there. But I tripped something while poking around so will need to wait till the system cools off before going back in. Or someone else can set up an account and send them a message? No, didn't think so.

"I didn't find anything on Archer, but Johnathon has a whole tridcast on ghoul equality. He actually seems genuine, if a bit loopy. So at the moment, about all I can do is send a message to the Vipers and do some more digging on the boat. I guess I could also check out our mystery Amerindian, if you think he's worth following up on?"

Saturday, Sept. 12, 2071, 12:01 PM, Oswald's warehouse in Everett

"You might consider widening your search to Europe, Ferret. My take on his accent is Spain, maybe from the south. That might give you something to latch on to. Zo, Mr. J. said in the first hire on his boat that he is moving into the Seattle area, and needs some local talent right now. If we work out, we may have regular work from him." Professor chuckles. "Though to be honest, I'd like to see whatever is screwing up this run to be dealt with, because regular work at the rate of turnaround this run has had is basically a one shot deal."