Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 09:40, coffin motel

Immediately after Professor breaks the window open, the foul stench of death assaults Thirty's heightened olfactory sense. The blood would like to drain from his face, but he prevents it. His body would like to double over and expel his breakfast, but he forces it to remain erect, his expression stoic. The sight of the corpse is ghastly, so he turns his back on the Americar and scans the surroundings, playing the role of the guardian. Ore samurai da, he tells himself silently, I will show no weakness. After a few moments, he regains enough control to speak. "The gangers will be here soon, we need to go," he says, concentrating to keep his voice from quavering.

Once Professor's investigation is finished and they are back in the Comet (this time with Thirty in the driver's seat), he responds to Ferret, <Lead on.> To Professor, he says, "Would you mind checking out Heka's commlink? We should see if he's got any info on there pointing to a next of kin."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 09:40, coffin motel


Professor flips the cover back over the cadaver. No time to collect the remains and give them a decent burial. "Sure, let's get out of here. Maybe the gangers will clear the body away decently, now the smell is free to spread." He doesn't examine that preposterous idea too carefully.

Seated inside Thirty's vehicle, Professor examines Heka's commlink for messages, commonly called addresses, a contact book, etc.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 09:45, en route to the hospital


Professor closes down the commlink. "I've set a delayed message to Heka's parents.. he used to be Gordon Baum. Rich kid looking to be tough. And another message to a friend of his, Alice, who seems to be the only other one in his contact list close enough to care. When we get to the hospital, I'll send them off from his commlink. It looks from his communications that he was really new to the streets. Damn shame. It wasn't even his newness that killed him. Just bad luck.

"I've also removed any reference I can find to his Hyundai Shin Hyung. It should still be waiting for us at the bus depot. You might want to do your own thing to scrub the ID of the car."

<<I'd prefer to talk with the biker before we get to the woman. That alright with the rest of you?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 09:45, en route to the hospital

<<We've got time. I can keep a tab on her whereabouts as long as she keeps her commlink on. Anyway, we won't know if she's even involved until we talk to sleeping beauty here, although I have a feeling she might be.>>

Ferret always feels safer when on the move. The bus depot is also in one of the safer parts of the Barrens. And I can get something to eat there, he thinks as his stomach rumbles angrily at him.

<<I'll get you guys back to the bus depot. Then we need to decide what we do about our man. I don't fancy driving through Bellevue with him in the back of the van. The cops there are likely to pull me over just for being a meta. Or because the van's registered to a guy that doesn't exist anymore. If need be I can contact some of my buddies, see if one of them knows a quiet spot where we can talk to this guy without any interruptions. It'll cost us though, either a favor or cred and I ain't got much cred.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 09:45 AM, alongside Thirty's Comet in astral space

Jovan followed Professor and the other one from the detached privacy of astral space, mulling over what had just transpired. He was more than a little concerned by what he guessed was Oswald's (it made sense - the shadow of his blimp had appeared nearby just after the ganger vehicle had exploded, and the man did seem a bit senile) utter disregard for the security of their operation, destruction of an opportunity to learn more about the situation at that hotel with the gangers' deaths, and distasteful readiness to resort to crude violence. In short, Oswald had made a scene and likely alerted Long Legs and others to the team's operation. Whatever element of surprise they might have had before was likely gone, unless the informational network of their enemies and Long Legs was of poor quality - something that Jovan would not be naive enough to assume. According to his watcher, the human they had come to intercept was in the back of another vehicle ahead of the one he was following, and the two seemed to be going to the same destination; perhaps the driver of this new one was the muscleman Thirty, or maybe the newcomer Ferret. As for the body Professor and the other one had found, that was a new variable to contend with. It could have been someone murdered by Long Legs or his group, or it could itself have been a member of Long Legs' group - implying that either relations in the rigger's team were less than ideal, or someone else was hunting the team as well. It could be one of the megacorps, like Ares; shedim; dragons; uppity inferior Infected with too much ambition for their place; spirits; madmen; secret societies; or something entirely unknown. It required looking into.

Jovan drifted through the intangible walls of the car and through Professor's aura, and waited until the man switched his senses to the astral plane before speaking. 'It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.' Oswald has compromised our anonymity by blowing up the gangers and making a scene, correct? 'Let no such man be trusted.' That man may have just alerted Long Legs et al to our search for them and their trucks, and brought down a vengeance upon us in the future. We should proceed with the operation with more caution than before.

I would have you ensure that the other one does not fix his gaze upon me while I am here, for I am without a commlink and require an update of information. I inquire to you as to your current destination and plans, the status of our human target, and what you found on that corpse... Professor.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 09:45 AM, along/inside Thirty's Comet in astral space

<<Yeah, Ferret, go ahead and arrange a quiet, out of the way place. We have -some- cash to cover expenses.>>

A familiar chill ran through Professor. "I think our astral friend wants to talk. It feels as if he is poking at me from there. You can't perceive astrally, can you, Thirty? No, didn't think so. Just as well, seeing as how you're driving. Excuse me while I check the astra-phone."

Professor opens himself up to the astral and is immediately inundated with the paranoia Jovan is experiencing. It's almost a palpable presence in astral space. Professor centers himself and tries to present as calm a demeanour as possible. He speaks as well as emotes his half of the conversation, for Thirty's sake.

"Actually, I don't think Oswald did endanger our mission by his precipitous ending of what could have been a long and deadly gunfight. As far as noise goes, we were already under automatic fire, so the explosion, while louder, ended the noisy exchange. We asked him to do so, as we were outgunned here by ourselves.

"As far as alerting Long Legs, to the best of our knowledge we have the only suspected team member of his present at the time in our custody. Along with all his communications equipment. Wherever the others are, they were not here to witness this event. We have a lead, including a commlink address, of another potential teammate of Long Legs, whom Ferret, in the other car, managed to contact and convince she was going to be picked up tonight by our captive.

"Thirty, here in the car with me, cannot perceive the astral. So, of our current team members, I am the only one who can perceive your astral presence." Professor smiles and throws as much dry humour into the next sentence as possible. "Now that shouldn't worry me at all, should it?

"We are on our way to drop off Heka's body at a place where friends and relatives can collect him. We will then go to the bus depot where we met Heka, to get his car. It is in better shape than this one. Then we will go to a place we are determining with Ferret to interrogate our captive. Later tonight, armed with whatever knowledge we glean from the interrogation, we will attempt to apprehend the female subject.

"I get the sense that you wish to operate mostly in the astral, and keep yourself as little known as possible. This is of course your prerogative, but your very presence at least, and probably some of your abilities would be very useful in any interrogation effort. It is still very early in the day, but are you willing to participate, as long as we can set up the right circumstances, such as ... time of day/night, a location where you would be safe to act during the daytime, who is in the interrogation room at the time, etc.? I'm serious here. You could probably get a lot more out of this guy than we could."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 09:47 AM, along/inside Thirty's Comet in astral space

"Yes, yes, don't get jumpy. The corpse we found in the back of the Ford Americar has no identification or other materials with it, but looks to have been a human male, middle aged. No clear cause of death, but he appears to have been tied in the car alive and left to be eaten. Tooth marks suggest metahuman, with sharper than normal teeth."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:47 AM, in/alongside Thirty's Comet in astral space

Interesting. Someone knows how to cover their tracks, it seems, though perhaps not as well as they think. If this person knows how to cover his tracks, he may know how to set up contingency networks for communication and information-gathering. You may have unknowingly tripped the alarm through those networks, so to speak, having little way to know of them beforehand. The fact that you were accompanied by a blimp that blew up a vehicle, which I believe does not lie within the capabilities of most gangers, certainly doesn't make the situation any better.

Now then, your planned interrogation of the captive is a more... sensitive matter. I do have a few techniques in my repertoire to make him talk and to maintain our anonymity, though I am inexperienced in the art of interrogation. However, I do not reside anywhere nearby. Furthermore, I have no vehicular transportation, and would trust no transportation given by a stranger such as yourself unless the vehicle and the route were unquestionably secure, especially at this hour. If you succeed in arranging the ideal circumstances, than I might be willing to consider being present in person.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:48 AM, in/alongside Thirty's Comet in astral space

Professor had to laugh at the idea of a blimp-equipped gang in this neighbourhood. "What are the necessary conditions for you to be involved in the interrogation, Jovan?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:48 AM, in/alongside Thirty's Comet in astral space

These are the three most direct options. Either you wait to interrogate the captive until nightfall, when my mobility is less restricted; you find a dark, out-of-the-way place somewhere in, say, Tacoma, that I can access using underground routes; or you send a secure vehicle with heavily tinted windows to a location determined by me, the coordinates of which must then be erased from the vehicle's records. If none of these options are acceptable to you, then I'm afraid we are at an impasse.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:48 AM, in/alongside Thirty's Comet in astral space

"Hmmm. Sunset in Seattle this time of year is around 7:30 pm. That's roughly ten hours away. Probably too long to wait. And we seem to be at a disadvantage in terms of vehicles that meet your needs. Let me check on option two."

<<Ferret. Professor here. Your buddies have a place in Tacoma by any chance? Nice and dark. Sewer access. I think Jovan has some ... talents that would help the interrogation of our subject, and those specs are necessary.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:48 AM, Redmond Barrens, driving to bus depot

<<@Team: Hey prof, Tacoma you say. It's not my usual haunt, most of my contacts are based here in Redmond. But I do know a guy who might be able to set us up with something over there. Only problem is that in addition to yen, it might mean we end up owing a favour to the Vory. Hope you are all cool with that coz they take debts pretty seriously.>>

Ferret dredges his Russian out of the recesses of his mind. It's been a while since he's met up with the russian dwarf. He hasn't exactly been avoiding him, but he knows that a night on the town with the Vory mobster always ends up with him drinking way too much vodka and spending the next day recovering from a massive hangover while trying vainly to remember what he got up to the night before.

<<@Mikey {in Russian}: Hi Mikhael, you up and about. I need a favor. I'm looking for a quiet place in the docks to do a spot of business. I was wondering if you might know a place we could rent out for a few hours. Needs to be today. Looking for somewhere dark and dingy, ideally with access to the sewers. Don't ask why, not really sure myself. If you come through on this for me, I'm buying the vodka next time. The real stuff too!>>

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:20 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

The large shaman creaked in synthetic leather as he folded his arms. He was thickly built and tan. He held the elf perfectly still while he waited for his floor,"I can appreciate a quest from the great spirits, but I must be cautious as well. I'm sure you understand. I will be more hospitable when we're in private."
As the doors to the elevator part, Acme finds his body walking on its own towards the mans hotel room. He even nods and smiles to an elderly business woman as they pass. The door opens upon approach, and inside is a large living room and kitchen space, with a couple of rooms to each side. The space is finely appointed, color coordinated to an African sunset, but with no cheesy animal prints or wacky sculptures. Everything was clean and modern. Sitting on the couch was a very large troll. At least Acme thought he was sitting. suddenly he was standing beside him with the muzzle of a gun pressed to his temple,"Don't breath"
The shaman spoke up as he came up behind,"I'm handling him at the moment. I'll hold up his arms so you can frisk him, but he's a shaman as well so his weapons are likely not man made." Acme watches his arms pass by his head while he's patted down. The door behind them close and he's walked to the couch and sat down. The Amerind sits in front of him while the troll takes up a position behind him somewhere,"I will release you now, but if you try something stupid, you will be dead. You seem powerful enough, but believe me, my friend and I have dealt with worse."
The magic that gripped Acmes nerves like a vice slowly release, leaving him feeling lighter somehow. control returns over his body, if not his situation. His captor continues,"Tell me more of this ghoul. we have none working with us, so maybe I can help."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:49 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

It had been an exhilarating non-chase. Invisible enemies dogged him at every turn. Luckily, Commander Shankles was too crafty for whatever forces might have trailed him at 100 mph with no notice or digital signature... Good times. Parking the blimp was a bit more of a chore. With no one to help him secure it, he had to bleed off the extra lift as he stepped out of the cocoon, just to keep it from rising up and crashing into the ceiling.

<<Ahhh.. god. I thought maybe my feet had died. Turns out they were only sleeping. What's the current conundrum? I know you boys couldn't go 15 minutes without a new problem cropping up, yeah? So, dish already. If you're still looking for a place to deal with our new friend, I have, at my disposal, multiple means of legal and discrete transport and a very large, very private place in Everett. Oh, also a mobile clinic if the guy's still seeping blood from that spill. Let's pick a solution, eh?>>

"Danny! I told you I'd be back soon! I may just have the time I need to get you walking again! How's that sound?"
"..mmm-and-they-gave-you-the-Congressional-Medal-of-Honor-mm.."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:49 AM, Streets of Redmond

Micky answered. He was up early this morning doing some running around for the higher ups, so the call wasn't too big a nuisance,<<{in Russian}Вы являетесь ранними мой друг. One place springs to mind. we use it for something similar to what I imagine you need it for. We used it a week ago, and typically won't touch it again for a month. 500 cred should cover the rent. You interested?>>
Oswald came back online in the middle of the conversation, and the mix of English and Russian was distracting.

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:20 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

Acme sweat profusely as he was puppeted around. He hated this feeling of sheer helplessness; part of it was why he never dabbled in that sort of spell himself. He was the other shaman's to mold for the time being, even being threatened by the troll seemed less of a violation than he'd already gone through. The only weapon found on his person was the beaten-up Predator, used for self defense largely. He hoped he'd get it back, but then again, being in over his head like he was, he hoped he walked out of this alive...

Finally getting his own control back, he bit back a few choice snarks. The other two were in power. It would be fun to piss them off, but even Coyote knew a little bit of tact when it came to self-preservation. He started describing the ghoul the best he could remember. "He's an old man, actually fairly functional except for the neon sign going off in the astral. He ended up near my place on the border of Redmond, but Coyote said his trail began here."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:49 AM, Streets of Redmond

Oswald's incoming call throws Ferret for a loop and he ends up answering Mikey in English. Fortunately, the mobster's English is at least as good as Ferret's Russian.

<<@Mikey: Hang on a sec. I got another call coming in.>>

<<@Team: Если Oswald имеет место, oops...I meant if Oswald has a place we can use for free, let's take that instead.>>

Crap, I hope that crazy old man doesn't start thinking I'm some sort of Russian spy.

<<@Mikey {Russian}: Mikhael, it looks like one of my colleagues has a place we can use. Sorry to have troubled you. When I get finished with this business, I will buy you that drink.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:49 AM, Streets of Redmond

He appreciates the speed at which the team operates, but Professor wonders whether the operating parameters required by Jovan will be met by the new plan.

<<Hang on, one and all. I am communicating with Jovan regarding Oswald's options. Oswald, can I have the address? {waits for the address} Thanks.>>

"Jovan, Oswald has a place in Everett that is suitable. This is the address {........}. Can you make it there on your own? If not, Oswald has 'discreet' transport for you and can send it to pick you up. I'm sure the record of the location can be cleared."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:49 AM, Streets of Redmond

As he drives, Thirty tries to think of a way to deliver Heka's body into society's hands without burning his fake SIN. I need a hacker, he thinks. Since he has one on the line, he uses DNI to compose a message to his newest team-mate.

<@Ferret: I know we haven't even met yet, but I could use a favor. If Prof and I show up at the hospital with a dead guy in the back, our SINs will get burnt, and I'm kinda attached to mine. What I'd like to do is dump my car with Heka's body near the hospital. Then we can call an ambulance to where we leave the car. Heka had a Shin that I think we can recover, but I need to have the Comet wiped from my SIN, and then add the Shin, assuming for the moment he owned it legally. Professor said he wiped the Shin from Heka's records, but maybe you could check on that too, just to be sure. I can throw some cred your way if you can make it happen, omae. Just make sure I'm not connected to Heka in any way; I don't want the cops coming to ask me why he's dead. And if you have a way to make an anonymous call to the hospital, that would be good too.>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:49 AM, Streets of Redmond

Ferret has barely hung up on Mikey when a message icon appears in his vision. Even as he reads Thirty's message, an idea is forming in his mind.

<<Prof, Thirty, slight change of plan. I assume you got Heka's body covered up coz we're going to the bus depot first.>>

He takes the next left, heading directly towards the bus depot rather than the hospital. Then he composes a response to Thirty, a smug grin spreading across his face.

<@Thirty: I assume your Comet has an autopilot. While Gridlink might be crappy down here, I can still program a route to the hospital. Hell, I could even drive it there remotely if I had to. Then we call 911 from Heka's commlink. Deleting the vehicle records might be a challenge, but I think I can simply switch the registration info on your IDs so it looks like the Shin was always your's and the Comet Heka's. More than that would take a dedicated hack on the DoT servers and that's gonna take time we ain't got right now. I can give it a shot once we get to Oswald's place. And don't worry about the cred, we're on the same team so I ain't gonna charge you. Although, you could pick me up a couple of soyburgers, some fries and a large nukacola at the depot while I hack the records.>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:50 AM, Streets of Redmond

Thirty glances back at Heka's body to make sure the coat is still covering him up. Then he reads Ferret's message and starts to grin as well. <@Ferret: You got it, chummer, and thanks.> he writes back.

From his pocket, he gets the packet of disinfectant wipes. Paying partial attention to driving the car, he begins wiping off the door handles and other interior surfaces, saving the wheel for after they stop. Since he doesn't regularly use his car to commute, it is relatively clean, a fact he is grateful for now that he will have to sanitize it of anything that might lead investigators to his door.

***

Once they reach the bus depot, Thirty gives the car a quick once-over, checking for any strands of his long black hair that may have fallen on the floor or the seats. Once he is satisfied that the car is reasonably DNA-free, he says to Professor, "Can you check to see if the spirit is gone? If not, well," he pats Kanjin's hilt, "I can deal with that. But I need to go inside the depot here and fetch some grub for Ferret, and I'd like to leave my sword in the Shin so as not to spook the locals - well, any more than the sight of me without a sword will spook them."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:50 AM, Streets of Redmond

Professor helps Thirty wipe down the car of traces. Then he opens himself to the astral to see if any presence yet hovers over the Shin. He also studies the car carefully for any hint of spells or other magic placed on it.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:13 AM, Tourist town Redmond, Bus depot

The Bus station looked much the same as it did earlier. Heka's shin hadn't moved. Professor gazed into the astral and saw no sign of the spirit Heka had summoned. The car had no trace of magic at all. Much like the husk of its owner. Ferret went to work on the car registrations while Thirty fetched the food. several people eyed the orc suspiciously, but none took action or spoke. Ferret went to work on the ID's and the car registration. He was a little frustrated to fin Heka's SIN seemed to be the real deal. The car was in all the systems. And it would take a while to fish it out. Adding the comet to his SIN was easy enough. He swapped out the details on Thirty's registration to match the newly spoofed ID on the Shin. It would have to do for now. Luckily nobody has reported the car stolen or anything. When the crew is ready, Ferret sends the car on its way.


Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:25 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

The shaman seemed to be gnawing on Acme's words in his head. He looked to the man behind his guest,"Has...mrs. Johnson been sleeping?" He made a quick adjustment to conceal a name. From behind Acme rumbled the troll's voice,"She went to the lobby for breakfast. Said she needed to stretch, then came up here and hit the sack. She's been down for maybe an hour"
Something puzzled the shaman for a moment, "I will ask a spirit friend to take a look around" He spoke it's name,"Momo" then proceeded to communicate mentally. The name he gave was an Amerind language. Acme couldn't quite place it. Hopi perhapse. "Are you working for someone now? or is this strictly a spiritual exercise?"

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:25 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

Acme sighed, wondering if he should just take a seat. It sounded like he was in for the long haul, sucked into someone else's mission when he heard "Ms. Johnson". He resisted rolling his eyes, he had a habit of this kind of crap. Crossing his arms, he listened in to the goings on, seeing if he could make heads or tails of it, and waited till the shaman addressed him again. "Nope, this was just a spiritual hunt," he replied. "I'm not new to the shadows though. I won't pry, but it sounds like our hunts are coming together."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:13 AM, Tourist town Redmond, Bus depot

Thirty watches his car drive off with a bemused look on his face. "Well, Comets come and Comets go, I guess," he says. He shakes Ferret's hand with a smile and says, "Nice work." Then he turns to Professor and asks, "You mind driving the Shin for now? I figure I should ride with Ferret in case our buddy wakes up in a bad mood," he tilts his head towards the rear of the van, "but either way is fine with me."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:13 AM, Tourist town Redmond, Bus depot

Professor watches the comet leave, wondering when the next vehicle will need to be turned into a hearse. "My thinking exactly, big guy. Let's confirm the transportation details with Oswald and get on with the job."

He heads toward the Shin. <<Oswald, can you send a nice, dark ride for Jovan to Tacoma and bring him to your location in Everett? It would be good to actually have all of us in the same place for at least part of this job.>>

Well, good remains to be seen. Wait till they get a load of Jovan. I don't think he is right to worry about this crowd, but I better be ready to forestall both paranoia and prejudice. Me... the peacekeeper? Whodathunkit?

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 9:50 AM, Streets of Redmond in astral space

Jovan was having a hard time controlling the alarm bells going off in his head about this proposal. Everett was nowhere near the safety of his home; hell, it was on the other side of the Seattle metroplex. If something happened there, he would be trapped in an unfamiliar location and unable to go outside, and possibly under attack as well. He reminded himself that the primary reason he was doing this job was to learn and grow stronger through experience, and that dealing with unexpected circumstances was a valuable form of experience. But a million things could go wrong with this. It was taking a large amount of willpower to keep himself from kicking into super-paranoia mode. Even so, there was no way that Jovan would be going into this rendezvous without some preparations and contingencies in place.

He turned his attention back to the one who had posed the question to him. Making my way to Everett myself, though more appealing than the prospect of being trapped in Everett like a rat, is quite out of the question. The distance is too large, and too many things could go wrong. If this transportation of Oswald's is truly discrete, than he can have it arrive at the shore of the Port of Tacoma, at this location {.......} in one hour. The vehicle must be unoccupied. Upon my arrival, none of the other three must be present during the interrogation. Do you understand? They must not be in the room with me. And you and I may have an agreement, but do not expect me to simply waltz merrily in with no preparations whatsoever - I would be a fool to do so around so many strangers. 'Trust not the physician; His antidotes are poison, and he slays More than you rob,' as they say. Good day, Professor.

The nosferatu flew from that place then, back to his body in Tacoma. He opened his amber eyes, rose from his armchair, and got to work. He copied all files in his CHN into his commlink, and double checked that his firewall was up and running. He then unlocked the self-destruct subroutine in his commink and set the trigger condition for it, ready to destroy all of his information if necessary. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that; the loss of knowledge and information as such an unfortunate event.

The minutes rolled by as Jovan set up contingency after contingency. He wanted to be as sure of his control of this situation as he possibly could.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:14 AM, Tourist town Redmond, Bus depot

Professor shakes his head. It's been a long time, maybe never, since he's met someone so paranoid. Maybe this business makes you that way. Crosses and double-crosses are the order of the day. In any case, they needed to get the interrogation under way.

<<OK, everyone. Here's the deal that works. Oswald will send his secure ride to this address by the docks in Tacoma: {address} by 10:50. Jovan will board the bus and be delivered inside the secure facility Oswald has. Only I will be permitted to see Jovan and be in the room with him as he interrogates the subject. I am allowed in because I have seen him on the astral already, and nothing bad has happened to him. And I myself appear to present no threat to him. Jovan has concerns about his security and wishes to remain as anonymous as possible.

Once there, he can conduct his interrogation, and any ideas, suggestions or new questions from the rest of the team can come via commlink. Once Jovan has done his thing, he will want to be delivered back to his territory in the same secure manner. He will then be free to provide astral overwatch and spirit muscle for our efforts as he has been doing. Any questions? Are we alright with this?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:14 AM, Tourist town Redmond, Bus depot

Ferret tucks into the soyburgers like a man who hasn't eaten for days, which from initial appearances of the scruffy looking dwarf, could actually be the case. The inside of his van is a mess of tools, electronic gear, empty soypizza boxes, what appears to be a pimped out dodge scoot and one tied up biker. The van smells of stale sweat, only partly concealed by a fresh, zesty pine scent.

Speaking through a mouthful of burger, Ferret mumbles, "Works for me" in response to the Professor's question. Then seeming to remember his manners, he wipes one hand on his jogging pants and holds it out to Thirty. "Thanks for the grub, chummer. I'm Ferret. Guess you're riding with me. Jump in."

Still eating, he piles some blankets and other gear into a duffel bag and pushes it under the passenger seat to make space for Thirty to sit.

<<@Oswald: Hey Ozzie, does this place of yours have somewhere I can get cleaned up while our mystery mage talks to our biker buddy here. The facilities at that fleabag motel weren't exactly up to scratch and I sure could use a shower.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:14 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

A 5 minute shower and some more shitty soy food had put Oswald back into the semblance of his regular cranky self. The thrill of action wasn't completely gone, but as he stripped the weapon from his blimp, he felt the wind go out of his sails just a little bit. Still, they had kidnapped a gangbanger and were taking him to the shop for questioning. That was exciting.

"Danny!" he called out to his Manservent, still resting on the floor. "I'll be shutting off the perimeter defenses in a little while. We're having company, and I don't want them getting blown up or you shooting them, okay?"
"..mmm-glad-to-see-you're-comming-out-of-your-little-shell-mm..." the damaged bot replied.

Oswald listened in as the Professor laid out the situation before them. The resumed com chatter raised his spirits a little. It was good to have work.
<<Alright, I've got the blimp rigged up so that it's legal now. Shouldn't cause any alarms to go off, so long as I keep it out of restricted airspace. I'll send it to the specified location as soon as I've got the air tank filled back up. Should arrive in 12 minutes or so at top speed. Take about the same time to get back.>>

<<@Ferret: Sure thing, Jack. Full facilities are available. But a word of warning, do be careful what frequencies you scan when you get here. I've got some booby traps set up which might be a little sensitive.>>

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:26 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

"You may be right. In fact, if I can rouse my companion, She may have need of another person with your talent." He pauses as the spirit returns,"my friend has found little in the way of magic in the building now, but I am interested in why a ghoul would risk being in this area in the daylight. He clearly is one that has maintained his faculties. I will leave you with my associate and my spirit companion for a moment and see if mrs. Johnson can join us."
The man in synthleather frills begins to head to a side bedroom. He turns back for a moment,"If you don't mind, I'd like to keep the ghoul thing between us for the time being. Just tell her your here for work, and if you don't like the offer, you can continue on your own business. "

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:14 AM, Tourist town Redmond, Bus depot

Professor fires up the Shin, using the access code he got from Heka's commlink. <<Ferret, I'll follow you in to Oswald's place.>>

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:26 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

Acme nodded as the other shaman went in to the separate bedroom. Finally taking a seat to relax, he wonders what sort of job that his employer is doing that has anything to do with a ghoul. It could be any of a number of things, but at least he'd be able to find work. Hopefully pay too, though he stumbled into this without being recruited and Johnsons looked down on "freelance" operations... He looked over the troll and at the spirit briefly, mentally twiddling his thumbs. He knew better than to start asking questions, especially as the troll had a gun in his hands.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:14 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Coming off the 189 exit to the 509 Boeing Freeway, one can't help but marvel at the towering maze of on-ramps and off-ramps, like concrete spaghetti reaching into the sky. This time of day, it was actually peopled by commuters moving to and from the massive Boeing facility. Luckily it's easy for a vehicle to hide in the crush of traffic. The facility itself is so massive it seems like it belongs on some other world. A warehouse 30 meters high that goes on so long that you might think it stretches past the horizon. It's hard not to marvel at the sort of construction which must go on behind those walls. Though that was most definitely not the destination.

Instead, there is a right turn onto Hardeson Rd right past the The Rubber Suit, a small warehouse facility turned into a rather exclusive night club. Traveling north on Hardeson, one sees many more shipping and receiving warehouses, all holding some arbitrary goods waiting to stock local stores or to be shipped off to destinations north and south, and all of whom are absolutely dwarfed by the Boeing facility still visible above the tree line to the west. Reaching Merrill Creek Parkway yields another turn, this time to left, followed by yet another turn left and down a tree-lined 100m private road. Finally Oswald's building comes into view. It is a large white warehouse some 3600 square meters in size with a row of 6 meter tall sliding doors intended for loading and unloading tractor trailers. Rolling up to the building, one of the doors pulls open, keyed to the approach of an approved com signal.


<<Hoy and welcome!>> Oswald's voice comes in over the com channel. <<Just pull all the cars inside on the left. Do try and keep a wide berth from the walls though... for safety.>>

Entering from the east, the warehouse strikes one as being breathsuckingly empty. In the far north corner, there is a full auto shop, complete with a hydrolic lift and electronics bench. Towards the center of the western wall there is a makeshift walled off room with vents leading up and out the side of the building. South east is contains another prefab structure, this one flush up against one of the outside doors, plastic sheeting still stapled to the plastiboard walls, a sink by the door. Finally in the southwestern corner is are the warehouse offices. The bottom floor with a kitchen, study lounge and two bathrooms. Upstairs, accessible either by a set of old wrought-iron stairs or an electric lift are Oswald's main living quarters.

<<Down south there in front of you is the surgery wing. Feel free to go inside and get the gurney. Just try and scrub up a touch first at the sink. Let me finish straightening out Danny's legs with my clamp here and I'll join you. Feed says Jovan should be here any minute.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:50 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Professor pulls the Shin over to one side, near the med-shop, and shuts it down. He washes at the sink and gets the guerney from the operating room. "Nice setup." Rolling it over to the van, he calls out to Thirty and Ferret, "Here, let's strap our friend into this and get him into that other room." (...indicating the walled off room with the vents) "That looks like where Oswald would want the interrogation to happen. Oswald is probably waiting in the offices over there for you two. I will watch chummer here, and wait for Jovan to come and do his thing. We can keep contact through our commlinks.

"I suspect I will play 'good cop' to his 'bad cop'. Oswald's ride should be picking Jovan up about now, so we have a few minutes to talk over strategy. Aside from asking the obvious, 'where are the trucks with the cargo', what specific things do you think we should find out?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:50 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Ferret parks his van as directed, staying well away from the walls. He steps down and looks around in amazement.

"Wow! Oswald must be doing alright for himself. This place is frakkin' huge."

He lets his commlink automatically discover any nearby active or passive nodes, but resists the urge to scan for hidden ones. The crazy rigger might really have bombs planted around the place that will go off if he tries to scan them out. For now, he just enjoys the static-free wireless signal, opening multiple AR windows to catch up on the latest news and events while simultaneously surfing his favourite matrix sites.

"Prof, just remember that our guy here might not even be one of BDLLs crew. You may need to find out where he got his grubby hands on the commlink he used for the deal. Oh frag, he dumped it back at the motel. Ah well, I sure aint going back there to look for it. Hmm, let me think. Oh yeah, ask him who this Ted-E fellow is or was, and if he was part of Daddy's crew. And if you want him a bit more cooperative, you can tell him we know where his lady friend lives."

He taps the side of his head as he says this to indicate he still has a trace running on her. He goes quiet for a moment as he cross-references her current position against a map of Seattle and then tells the Professor the address.

Then going around to the passenger side of his van, he scoops up the duffel bag stashed under the passenger seat. While Thirty and the Professor, haul the ganger out of the back of the van and strap him onto the gurney, he slings the bag over his shoulder and wanders off in the direction of the auto shop.

<<Hey Ozzie, nice place you got here. So, where can I freshen up? And I don't suppose you got a washing machine here I could use as well?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:50 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Thirty is impressed with Oswald's digs, and looks around the place in awe as he disembarks from Ferrret's van. He keeps his facial expression stern, though, as if he is evaluating the area for security flaws. Damn, what's a guy with this kind of scratch doing running the shadows? He must be - oh right, he is crazy, that explains it, he thinks.

At Professor's prompting, Thirty drags the biker out of the van and hefts him onto the gurney, pinching him first to make sure he is still unconscious. He uses the gurney's trauma straps to secure the man in place, then says to Professor, "Can you scan him for cyber? I think we'd like to know about optics or audio especially, since we may need to wipe them after this is all over." With a grin, he adds, "Any further discussion about how to interrogate him should probably wait until he can't possibly hear what we're saying." He gives Professor some time to look him over, then wheels him into what will now become the interrogation room.

.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:51 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

"Ho, wait!" Oswald shuffles feebly toward the Professor, followed by his now-hobbling robot. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you!" he says pointing to the vented room on the back wall. "That's my chem lab. Interrogating him in full hazmat gear might be intimidating, but I need to patch this guy up before we get to anything else." He pauses for a moment. "Plus the surgery room already has plastic on all the walls and floor. It's easier to remove the traces of what's done that way."

As he comes up on Ferret, he pauses for a moment. "Heka? I.. thought they said you were dead? Nice disguise by the way! You really do look like some kind of barrens trash in that."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:51 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Professor opens himself to the astral and scans the subject. "Wait a minute! I know he has some cyber, but nothing is showing. What the frag does Oswald have going on in here? Is there a background count?" Professor tries harder, and things become clear.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:50 AM, west coast of the Port of Tacoma, Tacoma

The central area of the Port of Tacoma is quite a sight for tourists today. A huge variety of ships float in the waters of the port, ranging from a few relatively humble yachts to towering cargo freights and other steel titans. Some vessels sit quietly in place, with most or all of their crews eating breakfast or still sleeping, while others look as if they are being swarmed by little black ants as workers and drones move cargo on and off the ships. Further up the western coast, out in the direction of the twin Shiawase towers and the archaic Cathode Glow tavern on Sixth Avenue, it gradually becomes less crowded with boats and docks. Here and there along these docks and coastlines, industrial and sanitary waste spill out into the waters of the Puget Sound from small metal sewer pipes and larger concrete pipes, some of them even dating back to shortly after the Awakening - the Seattle city government has never exactly been one to be concerned about the purity of its surrounding waters.

It is inside one of those concrete pipes that Jovan waits, carefully poised so as to avoid getting the disgusting waste on his good business slacks. He is dressed for the occasion: his lined coat lies a bit heavily over his business slacks and shirt, and his hellhound's-tooth amulet hangs gently against the skin of his pale and emaciated chest, hidden under his business shirt. He is perfectly still, looking out towards the Sound as he waits for his transportation to arrive. He made sure to be as precise as possible with the coordinates of the pick-up site, so Oswald's vehicle should arrive right by this sewer exit.

He is not disappointed. Right on time, a blimp (Of course he would send a blimp, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. That isn't conspicuous at all) floats down and hovers right outside the edge of the concrete pipe. It didn't seem to have any windows on it, so at least the old man was honoring that part of the arrangement.

This was it. He's really going to do this. He's really going to lay his safety in the hands of strangers. For a moment, his confidence wavers. He is reminded of the nervousness he felt when he decided to travel to Denmark with his family. He had felt uncomfortable and anxious. But that decision seems to have been the best decision he ever made, looking back now. He would not be in this condition if he had not traveled to Denmark then. Fortune might bless Jovan now, as it blessed him then - though, as he walks forward to meet the blimp, a small part of him in the back of his mind wonders if perhaps that blessing had come at too great a cost.

Jovan takes a deep breath, letting the slow movement of the air relax him. He braces himself, making sure one last time that his pack of Laes cigarettes is safely hidden in his coat, and walks forward into the killing light of the morning sun and the safety of the cocoon just beyond it.

By the time the unbelievable deathly pain subsides, he is already fast on his way to Everett.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:52 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

The Man's aura was difficult to read at first. The man might be having strange dreams. The shadows in his right leg are a sure sign of a cyber replacement. Scanning the rest of the body reveals no more man made modifications. The man had no magical talent and Professor doubted he had the power of a technomancer either. He had some slight poisoning of the skin from radiation. His blood flow was poor, but not life threatening, And he was suffering from head trauma, a broken rib, and a broken collar bone.

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:52 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

The Shaman slipped into the other room. There were some muffled discussions, then he returned to his spot on the couch across from Acme,"She will be right out. She just has to freshen up" He smiles for the first time since Acme's arrival. After a few moments, a woman emerges. The first thing one would notice would be her slender frame, tightly fitted into a tailored business suit. Maybe then one would notice her blond hair, pulled back so tight it could repel water. These things would grab one's attention if it wasn't for the eyes. They had been replaced with what could have been Stainless steel ball bearings. It was just blank steel under blond lashes. Her face was aging, but seemed to be preserved by lack of movement. she was straight lipped and calm. She gave Acme a quick nod as she joined the large native American on the couch,"Now mr..?"
"I don't usually consider people who show up at my doorstep, but My associate says he found you nearby, and he vouches for you somewhat. I will do my homework in time in any case. For now, I must check on my operations in progress and see if they could use any more help."
The woman accesses an unseen comlink and sends a message to the group<<@team: Looking for progress report, team status, etc. Any info would be appreciated>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:53 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

<<@Ms. Johnson: Heya bosslady. We snagged up a friend of BDLL. Comms traffic prior to capture indicated that he was buying up a fresh SIN and skipping town. Lots of action going on streetside. I thought Heka got shot in the head on the way into Redmond, but then he came back to life as a homeless guy who swears that he's not Heka. Did... is Ferret a halfer too? He swears he is but I don't know. So I guess Heka is still dead.. and Ferret is a dwarf.. Anyway, Jovan is on route to lend his mojo to our possible interrogation. I've got to go set the pris- er.. BDLL's friend's bones. He seems to have contracted a nasty case of concrete poisoning. I'll send you a snap of his face for your records.>> *Attached file follows

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:54 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

While the rest of the team watches over their prisoner, Ferret makes the most of Oswald's facilities. The crazy old man had mistaken him for Heka and even when Ferret had corrected him, he still seemed unconvinced.

Maybe he's not mad, just a bit senile. Wonder what he's doing running the shadows at his age? Then again, maybe like me he doesn't have a choice. At least Prof and Thirty seem like professionals. I wonder what the mage, Jovan is like. Well, apart from being totally paranoid.

The hot water washes away the stress and grime accumulated from years of living on the fringes of society. The clean-shaven Ferret that emerges from the bathroom, while still dressed in scruffy street clothes, seems a much more relaxed and professional individual.

"God, that feels better." he announces to no-one in particular. "Is Jovan here yet? No. Well I still need to switch Heka's and Thirty's car registration in the vehicle registration database. I'll be in my van if you need me."

Out of habit, he climbs into his van and locks the doors before relaxing back in his chair and drifting off into the matrix. His chromed icon skitters through glowing pathways as he first weaves a false trail away from Oswald's warehouse, then swings back towards the node containing the Department of Transport's vehicle registration database. Once there, he squeezes himself into a quiet nook in the matrix architecture and begins his study of the node.

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:52 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

Acme grinned, looking at the woman coming in. He would like to have said his first area of notice was her face to gauge what kind of Johnson he was dealing with, but knowing it was a female... Well he wasn't a follower of Coyote for nothing. He stole a look at how well she filled out her suit, trying to play it off like he was just merely waiting to be addressed and he happened to look near where she was coming. As she asked his name, he finally looked up to her eyes and couldn't help but wince a fraction at her cybereyes. He hated how... unnatural people let themselves look sometimes, much preferring to deal with people like the Bear shaman who knew the value of keeping the body whole, not surrendering their soul to metal... Clearing his throat he recovered and nodded. It was sales pitch time. "Ah yes, my name that will be known is Acme," he replied. He was sure that the shaman, having seen the path he walked, would find the particular humor in the sobriquet he ran under. "I can provide a few links to places I know I'm cataloged under, though I will admit they are handwritten instead of saved on my phone. My talents are in arcane arts, providing support in a variety of fields in that department." He was business himself, though it was more because he was in an interview of sorts rather than the actual discussion of terms.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:55 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Oswald and Professor roll the subject into the medical facility, and Oswald takes over. Professor can only stand back and marvel at the man's talent. "Maybe I might survive this one, after all," he thinks. Oh, oh. Dangerous, that kind of confidence.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:55 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Thirty follows the gurney into the medical room with Oswald and Professor. He stands near the door and keeps a silent watch on the captive biker, as much for the unconscious man's safety as the team's after what Oswald said about cleaning up blood splatter. After a few moments it occurs to him that his weapon focus is still in Heka's - soon to be his - car. He takes a few moments to get it, then returns to his post.

Keeping his eyes on the prisoner, he sends a neural command to his commlink to switch to conversation mode, then whispers, <@Professor: Per your arrangement with the mysterious Jovan, I'll be just outside while you two are performing your interrogation. If there's trouble, I can be back in here in a flash, so just call if you need me. As for strategy, I'd say let the guy know you're in his corner, and that if he can't help you out, Jovan is there to mindfrag him. Nothing bad needs to happen to his girl, his team or Big Daddy, we just need the cargo back. I'm sure he'll see it our way.>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:56 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

<<Your suggestions for our approach to interrogation are sensible, Thirty. I think that for the short time during which Jovan is transferring from vehicle to surgery room, or back again, none of you should be visible or able to see him. He was pretty clear about that point. Once he is in the room, you being outside may be a good precaution, but to be honest if things go south I don't know that I would be in the position to call for help. Part of his talents run towards mind control, which is why he will be good for the interrogation. I believe he and I have come to an understanding, and I wouldn't go along with this plan if I expected him to turn on me... at this time. He does give the impression of being one who does his professional duty, and nuking a teammate before the job is done doesn't make sense or set one up for further employment.

Anyway, it will feel good to know you have my back, big guy.>>

Friday, September 11, 2071, 10:56 AM The Gold Lion Hotel

The woman stared into space operating in the technical world,<<Well, This is some mixed news. I'm glad to hear there is progress, but I will get no sleep this week trying to keep this operation manned. Luckily, I have a line on someone to fill Heka's shoes already, so I'll be in touch soon>>

Her head tilted slightly in Acme's direction, which was the only indication that she was looking at him again,"It looks like you're in luck. We appear to have an opening. My team is on the trail of some stolen property. Three truckloads of military gear, Taken into the barrens by a rouge rigger named Big Daddy Long Legs. I have some details, and the team can fill you in more. They are already tracking some strong leads. The pay is 10k. I can't haggle on price at this point. So it's a bit of a take it or leave it." She was short and to the point. Maybe it was due to lack of sleep or the unexpectedness of the meeting, but Acme got the feeling that this was just her nature.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:56 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Oswald's Blimp hoisted the slightly smoking man in the dark box up into the air and quickly made it's way back to Everett. It wasn't long before the vessel's dog brain was signaling its return to Oswald as he snapped a collar bone back into place. The pain seemed to bring the man around, who groaned and squirmed against the straps on the gurney. Luckily, the pain meds had kicked in, or he would be screaming bloody murder.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 10:56 AM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Professor takes note of the sound of the blimp pulling close. "The eagle is landing, folks." He smiles at Oswald, and shrugs. "Let's take our places."

He looks down at the awakening man on the guerney. "Settle down, chummer. You'll just hurt yourself some more. Wait a few minutes, we'll have a nice conversation, and we'll make sure your comfortable."