Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 pm East Redmond

Picker sat in the backroom with the guests after giving the green light for Oswald's van. It wasn't long before Throgg poked his head in,"What have we here?" He grinned,"Whose yer friend?" His boys handed him the sack of dope and he took it under his arm without even looking.

Oz and Jovan pulled up to a tattered building full of gangers just getting wound up for the evening. The majority of the crew seemed to be waiting in the van.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:20 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Amber's scan of the data chip turned up nothing out of the ordinary. After slotting the chip she finds a comm number, and a short, somewhat vague summary of the work;
<<Recovering 3 trucks from rogue employee. team currently in persuit. 10,000 nuyen. If this goes well, there will definately be more work in the future.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:22 PM, Elliot's Restaurant, Pier 60, Seattle

Ten-kay? This is just the sort of gig I have been looking for! Amber smiles to herself, and quickly dashes off the rest of her wine. She sashays out of the restaurant, a distinct spring in her step, and wanders slowly along the pier for a while until she finds a quiet place to place a call.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 PM, Outside, under an awning, Pier 60, Seattle

<<@CommID: A mutual friend asked me to drop you all a note. The lady with the steely-eyed glare suggested you might need an assist. I'm in Seattle proper, down by the Sound. Give me a progress report?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 pm East Redmond

"Holy shit! All of two minutes, and a replacement is lined up already?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 pm East Redmond

Ferret rolls his eyes as Throgg checks out Strawberry's 'assets', "Throgg, this is Strawberry. Her boyfriend is on his way over in the Rover that Picker cleared to come through the barricades."

He gives a smile at the ork's dissapointed look.

"Strawberry, this is Throgg. Don't be fooled by the dumb ork look. He's actually got a brain hiding under all that brawn. He needs it to keep these boys in line."

He turns back to Throgg, getting down to business. "The lady and her boyfriend need an escort out of town. That bag of dope is some of Beetle's finest and is the downpayment for the job. I need you and your boys to get them out of Redmond and safely to the address that she will give you. That will free me up to get on with this run, so that I can pay you for the taxi service. You know I'm good for it chummer, so what do you say? We got a deal?"

He takes a sip from the warm, weak soybeer he has been nursing while Throgg thinks about the offer.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf


Oswald pulled his vehicle up alongside Ferret's van and started unhooking straps in preperation to exit the cocoon.
"Head down Jove. Gotta switch some bodies around, then I'll send you off somewhere secluded so you can chat with the herpetophile." Oz remotely popped open the vehicle door and pushed it the rest of the way open with the hinged attachment to the armored cocoon. He got out and wandered around to the passenger side. "Before that, pass me the guy's comms through the window. I'm going to put Ferret's tools to work on them real quick to scramble their ID. For all we know they've got a self-destruct built in.." Oz cracked the window and took the links quickly before rolling the window back up.

Next, he went towards the van and banged on the rear door with his good arm. "Medic! Open up!" Not waiting for a response, he headed over to the rear of the SUV and opened it. With a thought, he ceased the anesthetic keeping Jay under, waited as all the medical arms of the Valkyrie Module retracted back to their waiting position, and finally removed the stretcher and Jay from the vehicle. "Heya Jay. Still haven't made it to the Puyallups. Some of your peoples from the Glow had a hard-on for seeing you, so apparently that's happening now."

The strangely happy old man maneuvered the stretcher over to the back of the van, whistling tunelessly and awaiting responses.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:32 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

Professor opens up the back door of the van. "Good to see you, old boy. Thirty is here in rough shape. I've done what I can, which is woefully inadequate. Ferret and Strawberry are already inside.

"Rusty here is willing to guide us to the location we want, once he sees Jay. I see you have him coming to now. Rusty, come, take a look."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:32 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

There is something very disconcerting about how that woman operates, Jovan thought to himself worriedly as he read the message from their newest member. It seemed like every interaction with that ...woman... gave him more justification for a paranoid attitude about this whole mess. She's not giving us the whole story regarding this job; her resources seem too efficient for her not to know more about this truck situation. No doubt she's as much a liar as all the rest. Oh, how I detest liars. A sneer appeared upon his face.

And oh, how I dislike parties. This job is turning into too much of a party for my liking.

On Oswald's cue, Jovan shied quickly out of sight, and handed the old man the RFID tags as well as the disposable commlink - he did not trust those surveillance devices anywhere near his person. And he had assured the high old man on the drive to Crusher turf that he would be able to keep the prisoner from escaping well enough on his own. The only thing left for now was to bide time until he could interrogate the captured Viper. Speaking of whom...

He sat there listening as the sound of the stretcher and Oswald's footsteps grew farther away and were met by Professor's update, then slowly turned his gaze toward the unconscious man with the deliberate patience of a natural killer. He studied the man's features again as his mind contemplated how he would go about the interrogation, and what to do with the man afterward.

I wonder if you know just how satisfying your lifeblood is to my cravings, human.

[quote name='pbangarth' date='Jan 5 2011, 09:36 PM' post='1027163']
Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:32 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

Acme grunted a bit as the van was opened and in Os, in his manic drug-fueled state, rummaged people around. "Don't go too quickly on my account," he replied with a soft chuckle. "I just need a little more time to get my head cleared. Sounds like you do to, unless you're going to go into battle all coked up like that."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:33 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

Throgg seemed pretty satisfied with the deal. One of his boys burst in to let him know the other van had arrived."Looks like your friends made it. I'll get these folks outa town. Null sweat. We can square up later."

Rusty watched the gurney bobble over the ragged concrete. There was Swagger J. with no swagger at all. His Eyes still rolled in his head as he started to come to, but he was breathing. So far so good. "How's it hangin J ?"
The man on the gurney furrowed his eyes in confusion,"Rusty? What's going on?"
Rusty smiled at the black man's voice and the dumb look on his face,"It's like Big Daddy says chummer, you can't run forever. Shit caught up with you. It's alright though, the Crush have agreed to get you and Strawberry outa here. I'm gonna help get this shit with Long Legs squared up."
J nodded, trying to take it all in, then he tilted his head up and said,"hey, when you see that dumb ass troll, spit in his eye for me would ya?"
"Sure thing" rusty said, trying to laugh a little.Then he turned his attention to Oswald and Professor"All right, you guys held up your end, I'll take you to the rigger's place. I guess you need to take care of your friend first huh?"
Thirty was out cold. His skin was clammy and his neck was a discolored mess. Even if the poison could be treated, he would be out of commission for a while

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:33 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

"Well, if you could help me get big greenbo here on the gurney, I'd appreciate it. I'm a little short-handed at the moment, heh, and I need to get him into the shop before he dies some more."

In moments, Thirty was tucked away in the back of the SUV and the systems of the medical shop within were working as redundant backups of his vital organs to keep him alive should they fail. "Alright. Safe as can be." ...while trapped with a blood-sucking monster... whom he offended a few hours earlier.. "Right! Pass me that medkit and a screwdriver. A bastard's work is never done."

Oz took the medkit over to his passenger door, opened it up and attached it to the Viper's leg before closing the door and sending the SUV away to sit in an alley far from the others. He contacted Jovan through the Rover's speakers in an automated text-to-speech voice like before. "Ready, Jove? I'll wake him on your word." Not breaking from his current activities, he twirled the screwdriver for a moment with his right hand's superhuman agility before he brought out the links and set into them effortlessly. He quickly cracked them open and then altered their Matrix IDs at the hardware level to make them anonymous. "One for the lad, and one for the doctor... Professor, hand this link over to Ferret when he gets out. Mean time, this is what their tags look like, try and find the one they planted on the driver's side." He handed over the bag of tags and the Viper's primary link, holding on to the backup. "I'mma sit here a moment and try to punch my way into this one." The old man announced to no one in particular as he sat in the van's open door and went into VR.

"You'll have a good bit of privacy to get this done. Security system will see to that. I've gotta keep an eye on the sky and such, so don't worry about me looking over your shoulder while you work. Waking the guy in 5, 4, 3.."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:33 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

<<@Team: Welcome aboard the love boat, friend. We're in the middle of dropping off innocent bystanders and the injured, and regrouping for the next phase. Glad to fill you on your way to us. What should we call you, and do you have transport?>>

Professor checks out the tags Oswald showed him, and begins searching the van for them. He hands the samples to Rusty. "While we're waiting, wanna help look for these?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 PM, Outside, under an awning, Pier 60, Seattle


<<@Team: Well, I had hoped to score some floor space at The Inferno tonight, but your party sounds like it'll be way more wiz than what Dante's got planned. Send me your location and I'll get there just as quick as I can.>>

Biz. Biz. BIZ! The adrenalin rush was better than nova, and less likely to frag you up afterwards. She made her way to her little Honda and hoped that she'd have a destination in hand before she got there.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:33 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

<<@Team: Ah, great. More meat for the locker. Welcome aboard, just be warned we're in the middle of a war zone here...>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:33 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

<<@Team: Here's our location {GPS/address/satellite photo}. Send us your vehicle's ID so our own personal Thor shooter doesn't rain a little uranium love on you.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 PM, In the Honda, heading to Redmond

<<@Team: Vehicle ID 34A.2234F.998TT. How long this takes depends on traffic on I-5. Look for a yellow and black Honda to come screaming in, shortly. Oh, and you can call me Amber.>>


Putting the coordinates into the car's computer, Amber leans back and lets the car do the driving. She briefly debates on a little snort of something fun, but decides that it makes more sense to be alert and ready when she arrives in the "war zone." Bliss is much more of a supplement for fun time.

She takes the Crusader out of the glovebox and ensures that all is in working order. Slapping in a magazine - standard rounds - she puts it down in the console beside her. Once everything is ready, she takes control back from the computer and begins jamming through traffic, pushing against the speed limits and keeping a cybered eye out for the Star.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:33 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

Rusty looked over the tags, and set about the van looking for their missing friends. Professor spotted two in the grill of the radiator. Rusty slid under the van like an old pro. It wasn't a minute before he had found another stuck on the gas tank.

Swagger J had fallen over trying to stand. Once he got his legs under him, he slowly made his way into the bar. When he walked into the back room, Strawberry shrieked,"Jay! Oh my god! I thought you were dead for sure." She ran to him with a hug.
"Girl, you know Swagger ain't goin out like that." He leaned heavy on the oni, but she didn't seem to notice.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:33 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

Professor rethinks his plan to destroy the tags. <<@Team: We've found three of the little buggers so far. Dumping them down a storm sewer, so if they still work, the snoops might think we haven't moved. Still looking.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:34 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

The loving couple reunited, Ferret gives a genuine smile and downs the rest of his beer. He shakes hands with Throgg using the same complex knuckle bumping ritual he performed earlier, then heads back out to find Prof and Rusty combing his van. When he realises what they are doing he walks over to one of the gangers loitering nearby.

"Hey Sparky, you still got that stun baton I fixed a while back?"

The ork grunts a nod and hands over a menacing looking club, seemingly made from spikes, wires and duct tape, to Ferret.

Ferret apporaches the van, waving the Prof and Rusty away. With a mental command he shuts down the van completely then wanders around it prodding it here and there with the stun baton. Sparks fly as electricity arcs between the baton and the vehicle's body and chassis.

"That should take care of any others," he mutters then hands the baton back to the ork. "Thanks, chummer. You'll need to recharge it."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:31 PM, In the Honda, heading to Redmond


Weaving her way up I-5 on her way to the 520 interchange, Amber takes a moment to do some digging. She pulls up video from her eye recording units and gets some stills of her new Johnson. Using them, she tries some pattern matching to see if this particularly unique individual has any public records. At the same time, she drops a line to Leapus.

<<@Leap: Leapus, honey, I need you to do me a favor. I've picked up some work and I'd like a bit of a go-to run on the Johnson. She's...interesting. {{video file attachment: XX456.cvf12}} And is there anything hot going on in Redmond right now? I'd rather not drive into a drekstorm if I can avoid it.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:34 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

Jovan continued to stare passively at the man before him as Oswald's voice came through the interior speakers. He looked for a long second at the speakers as the drugged-up doctor began the countdown though, giving no indication of his heavy disbelief. So he won't watch me while I work, but he'll watch me while I travel. How quaint. He must think me gullible.

"Go on then. I'm itching to get this done." As the man started to come to, Jovan focused the surrounding mana through his body and bound the man's arms and legs to his body with strong, invisible bands of force. He wanted to be absolutely sure that the human would not be causing any problems in this little conversation they were going to have.

"Wake up, human." He spoke coldly, with little to no emotion in his voice. His humanitarian dispositions were already subconsciously starting to slip.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:34 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

This was some kind of nightmare. A dream. As The mercinary came to, he found himself in a dark cramped space, unable to move his limbs. It was like he had been tied up with invisible rope. Worse than any of that however, was the beast that greeted him. This couldn't be real. He said nothing, just hoping he would wake up. Trying to come up with options. He thought for the first time in a long time about praying.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:35 PM, In the Honda, heading to Redmond

Leapus didn't take long to respond<<@ Amber: This chick doesn't ring any bells right yet, I'll have to look into it. If you want to talk Barren dreckstorm, we got a doosy. Multiple explosions at a strip mall. We've got a response team heading there now. Standard crackdown procedure, so avoid the flashing lights ok?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:34 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

Jovan sat in silence for several moments as he studied the man's facial expressions, waiting patiently for a response. Judging by the mercenary's slightly high breathing rate and brief look of horror upon seeing Jovan's face, he was certainly very much awake now. "Wishing you were elsewhere is not going to help you escape me, Viper, no matter how hard you wish it. I have questions, and I believe you have answers. I strongly recommend that you be honest and straightforward with those answers, because doing otherwise will make me much more inclined to kill you slowly. Do we have an understanding, Viper?"

He sat up more in the seat, to make himself more comfortable now that he did not have to hide away from the window. "And as for your name - what shall I call you? Your surname? Viper designation? Long-discarded alias? I care not which. I simply dislike conversing with unnamed food." In other circumstances, Jovan might have been joking - a rare occurrence for him. But it was clear from his cold mannerisms that he was in nothing resembling a lighthearted mood right now.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:35 PM, Redmond, Ferret's Van

Acme was starting to feel better, but things were still buzzing. He wished he had a pair of aspirin. He considered the new person to fill in for Thirty and nodded, since she was on her way and already cued in to the team's line. <<@ Amber: So, since we're waiting on you, care to tell us a bit about yourself?>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:35 PM, In the Honda, heading to Redmond

<<@Team: Guys... Have you been indulging in some retail therapy? The 'Star has been called to a strip mall there because of "several explosions" - head's up if anyone is still in the vicinity: there's a crackdown team en route.>>

<<@Leap: Thanks, Leapie. Let me know what you find on this lady, if you do.>>

Amber plots the coordinates of the mall against those sent to her by her new team, and adjusts her route accordingly. She swings over into the exit to get onto the 520, and punches the accelerator, taking the little three wheeler up to best cruising speed.

At Acme's reply, she lets out an involuntary giggle.

<<@Team: Oh, you know, the usual. Five-ten, long, curly red hair, leather catsuit. Impossibly chesty. An aggressive, bisexual nymphomaniac. Just like every girl 'runner on the trideo...>>

She waits the requisite thirty seconds to let that all sink in.

<<@Team: Honestly? Mostly inside work. Social engineering, corp espionage, that sort of thing. I know a bit about how to use a gun, which sounds like it might come in handy in your company.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:35 PM, East Redmond, Crusher's turf

Professor break out in a laugh at Amber's last comment. The others look at him quizzically. He just shakes his head and waves them off.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:35 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

The mercenary looked at Jovan with a stoic face. His body remained tense againts the mystical restraints. To Jovan's initial question he responded,"Viper 5, stateless marine, no corporate affiliation."The man's brown eyes stared just past his interrogator into nowhere.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:35 pm East Redmond, Crusher's Turf

"Viper 5, then. That will suffice. Let us begin. Firstly, I want you to tell me about the rest of the Vipers: what they can do, how they think. I'm particularly interested in information on Viper 12, your Awakened personnel, and any more exotic members of your group. And of course," he said, as he subtly and firmly implanted a suggestion in the mercenary's mind to make him more inclined to talk about his companions, "any other information on them is important as well.

Secondly, I understand that you are currently out here searching for someone or something. I want to know how long you have been out here searching, and what pertinent information you have uncovered in your search.

Thirdly, whether you are on this hunt of your group's own volition or are acting as somebody's agent. It matters little that you claim to have no corporate affiliation; if your team is being used as someone else's pawn, you must explain that to me. Speak now, Viper 5. What are your answers?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:35 PM, Redmond, Ferret's Van

<<@ Amber: There was a helicopter crash. It just didn't blow up right away, so I helped it along. If you don't know how to drive through gang turf, I'll help steer you around any blocked off streets to get to the Northern Crush checkpoint. Keep your head low and your tint high..>>

Oswald shifted his attention fully to the blimp and watched the road.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:37 PM, In the Honda, heading to Redmond

<<@Oswald: I would greatly appreciate that, hon. This little rollerskate of a car isn't exactly designed to take on go-gangers in a head-to-head - a particularly cybered-up thrill ganger could catch it on foot.>>

That's what I get for buying cute...

Seeing what looks like a Star cruiser, she downshifts and quickly reduces speed to the posted maximum. Passing by, she sees that it's not a corp cop after all, but an Ares fleet vehicle pulled over with a mechanical glitch. No longer paranoid, she ups the speed back to 80 and sails along as quickly as she can.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:38 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Satisfied that his van is now bug free, Ferret climbs back into the driver seat and slumps down in the comfy chair with a sigh. He plays back the messages from their new team member, his imagination running riot at her description of herself. That at least raises his spirit's somewhat.

Been quite a day Ferdinand old boy, but you are still alive. Which is more than can be said for some.

He casts a forlorn glance at Oswald's van where Thrirty was encased in the autodoc, then shivers at the thought of what the secretive mage Jovan was doing to the captured Viper.

Ah well, job's not done yet and Throgg will want paid for escorting Strawberry and Jack out of town. Best get back to work.

<<@Throgg: Got another team member coming into Barrens. Again, please don't shoot her or y'know doing anything untoward to her. She's driving some toy car and describes herself as 'five-ten, long, curly red hair, leather catsuit. Impossibly chesty. An aggressive, bisexual nymphomaniac. Just like every girl 'runner on the trideo...' I think she might be exaggerating a little on those vital statistics but I'll hang onto that image until I see her in the flesh.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:40 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Throgg told Ferret that he would let the boys know, but if she did match such a description, there was no saving her.
Oswald watched from his blimp like some electronic deity. He watched the approach of the small car bumping along the shoddy streets. He could also see Lonestar lights flickering in the distance. On his radar, a large chopper was entering the area, but didn't seem to be heading their way.
Amber rattled along through crowds of gangers and street people. The buildings were all crumbling and unmarked, but she was pulling up to the coordinates and it looked like the right place. A bustling bar and a conspicuously untagged van full of people. The trids may have been based in a little more truth than she gave them credit for.

Viper 5 had planned to repeat himself as long as he could. but he couldn't stop himself from talking,"The Vipers are a small Mercenary group. Different backgrounds and Nationalities, all military trained. We are a freelance army. We do a lot of anti corp missions for government bodies that need deniability. Last month, we fragged an Island building operation near Key West." He seemed to be rambling now. Talking about anything that he could think of," Aztechnology was taking advantage of some disputed water off the coast of the Caribbean League. We put that project years behind, and they don't know if it was The C.L. or the C.A.S. behind it. The general doesn't have anything against the Megacorps really, he's just used to working for governments. It seems more legit. Personally, I could give a rat's ass. I'm just trying to get paid." He moved his head to look around, and realizing he could still move in some ways, he started to wriggle to the side, working on sitting up.

As Amber's car came to a stop, a small glowing figure appeared between the vehicles, facing the van. It was a spirit, small with the look of an Aborigine. It spoke to no one in particular,"We seek our surviving warrior. We had called a truce. If you have not accepted, there will be war."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:40 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

At the arrival of the spectral figure, Amber stops before she can pop the hatch on the Honda.

If I know anything, it's that magic and I don't mix...

<<[Amber]@Team: I'm here, and I didn't bring the little brown guy...>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:40 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Professor racked his brain for any communication they might have received suggesting a truce. Maybe it was the confusion, maybe the background count fogging his brain, but he was having difficulty nailing down anything that fit the bill.

He walked over to in front of the spirit. In the past, this form of bravado seemed to him to be more stupidity than bravery, but social discourse in this environment had different rules, different syntax and grammar. He looked directly into the spirits eyes, such as they were. "Which action of yours was the declaration of truce? The helicopter falling out of the sky, or the SUV turning tail and running?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:40 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

The new woman's message sent paranoid alerts through Jovan's brain. He was getting rather exasperated with unpleasant surprises today. <<@team: What is happening? Who has found us now?!>>

All of you, on alert immediately. Alert me if you see anything unusual.

Even when growing tense and paranoid, Jovan could still remain cold and predatory towards a victim - for nosferatu are nothing if not mentally and emotionally abnormal. "You will not move unless I bid you do so, and I have little immediate interest in your team's job history. I am interested in your team's capabilities and mentalities, your leader and Awakened members, the job you are on, and which government hired you. Finish answering my questions, Viper 5. I will not repeat myself."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:40 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Ferret jolts upright in his chair at the spirit's appearance, his recent experience with the snake spirit still raw in his mind. His van starts up and begins reversing away from the little spirit.

<<@team: There's another spirit here. Just a little one. It's claiming we have a truce with the Vipers and is asking for the one Jovan's currently torturing back. Or else!>>

He scans around both visually and electronically, looking for possible attackers.

[quote name='Notsoevildm' date='Jan 14 2011, 02:04 AM' post='1030746']
Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:40 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Acme shakes his head groggily, blinking. Things were getting there.. But now things were falling apart again. He wanted to comment on the new arrival's sense of humor, but now the spirit showed up. <<@all: That doesn't sound like a truce, that sounds like asking us to surrender and naming its terms...>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:40 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Oz watched the little glowing figure though the gun sights. Paaah... Fucking hate spooks. <<@team:Bosslady said something about an agreement. That the Vipers had some parallel deal with BDLL and wouldn't be looking for the same thing we are. That's horse shit. They attacked when they thought we'd found our merchandise. So, way I figure, the word of a stranger that'd kill so readily isn't worth shit. I know mine isn't. Anyway, the words I got from Ms. Sliver were that the Vipers could provide "no guarantees about the people on the ground," so I figured this guy was fair game. Besides, torture? No. Just a little magical mind work. I'm watching his vitals with the medkit. He's scared, sure, but not in pain. Point is Joe's just asking some questions. Only reason to be scared of that would be if they're lying. His story matches up with the party line and I suppose we could let him go. Anyway, someone tell this spook that we're not just going to loose the guy and trust he walks home safe. How about a drop-off location. We drop him, then we tell them where. I'm sick of these assholes following us around.>>

Oz stood up and walked shakily over to where the apparition had appeared.

"Truce, hunh? That joke wasn't funny the first time I heard it. Who the hell attacks during a peace-talk and then expects us to believe them when they say 'that was the last time?' What kind of thought process it that? Your boss is somehow stupider than the fuck-ups who decided that massacring an entire bar was a good way of gathering info. What assurances can he grant, besides his word as a mass-murderer?" If anyone present thought they'd get through the day without seeing a frail old man giving a ghost the finger, they were mistaken. It was generally an easy mistake to make.

His piss and vinegar spent, Oswald shuffled back towards the van's doors and sat down. He immediately called up an AR window and took in the sky. Forewarned is forearmed.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

<<@team: I'm with you on this one, Oswald. I'm waiting for the spirit to relay whatever response they want to give to my taunt. As far as I'm concerned, we've been targets right up until now, with no evidence of a truce from them. Not sure what to think about boss lady knowing about these guys but not telling us ahead of time, maybe having different teams on the go here.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

<<Suffice to say that it would better serve us not to release him at all. I am disinclined to elaborate, as I am a bit busy right now, but I give you my word of honor on this. As for this truce that someone so conveniently neglected to mention to the rest of us... in technical terms, a truce is by definition the calling of a cease-fire, a temporary cessation of hostilities between two conflicting parties. This does not, in most cases, apply to the taking of prisoners - only to the violence of the conflict itself. And indeed, "no guarantees about the people on the ground" leaves little room for interpretation.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

<<So glad Jovan is on the same page here. This thing looks like a spirit to me.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

<<[Amber] @Team: Guys, talking is kinda my thing. My wee gun isn't going to do much for that spook, but I could try to arrange a face to face, do a bit of dickering, buy some time...>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

<<@team[Professor]:Amber, that sounds like a good idea. Dive right in, as it were. Come on over and join me at the spirit, and let's see if parleying will happen. At the very least, you will provide a second target for the spirit.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

Amber mentally pops the release on the canopy and, gathering her machine pistol, makes her way over to stand near the spirit. Contrary to her earlier comm, Amber is not a leggy redhead, but in fact closer to 3'9" - in heels - than 5'9", with her straight, shiny brown hair in a chinlength bob - very "now" - and clothes that look like she just got through with her 9-5 job and decided to hit the town.

"This is hardly the best way to make arrangements, you know, sending a spook to do a man's job as it were. Let's see if we can't get our people and yours into the same space together, come to a mutually beneficial conclusion?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

Professor eyed the spirit as Amber made her debut onto the scene. The spirit before them was had not materialized at all, it was manifesting from the astral plane. This was definitly a watcher spirit. It paused a moment as it relayed the message to it's master. The glowing face stared suspiciously at the woman that addressed it last. Finally, it spoke. Relaying another message,"We have made our arrangements with your employer. It is your team that has taken action against us. We did not attack you. If you don't wish to cooperate, so be it. You will make an enemy this day."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:41 PM, Redmond, Oswald's rover

Viper 5 pressed his head against the side of the truck and continued to shift his body as best he could, but the conversation did get a little more focus,"Twelve core members with a few dozen recruits in and out. Most of the team is special forces or specialists in their field. two mojo slingers, I don't know much about them. Money's tight, but we got the know how to put a chopper or a boat together. We can make our own explosives and such. And we know what to do with military grade hardware when we get our hands on it. The general is some hot shot black op's type. too old now, but sharp. He wasn't real involved in this mess here. I imagine he will be though. As far as who hired us, we were just trying to collect some gear we bought from Big Daddy. We paid him, but he never came through with the goods. so a few of us came up here to find him and get our shit. How about you guys? Did he stiff your crew too?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:42 PM, Redmond, Oswald's rover

Jovan considered what the mercenary had said. "Ours is not unlike your situation, but do not try to make me sympathize with you by rationalizing away your motives, Viper 5. Particularly after the wave of brutality and destruction that your team visited upon the Twisters bar. If you have any other relevant information on your general, tell it to me; a name would be particularly desirable. In addition, tell me what you know of this Long Legs person. You have met him in the past, and you presumably have been searching for him in earnest in order to get your gear. What information on him do you possess?"

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:42 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

Oz was trying to keep his mind on the Radar, but he couldn't help but listen in on this spirit... or contain himself under the control of this drug.

"Ha!" he ejaculated from his perch on the van. "If you didn't attack us, then we must not have your man. See, the guy we've got was directly involved in an attack on our group, and since your people didn't attack us, he couldn't possibly be one of yours! What a wacky misunderstanding! We should really team up to track down these impostors! See, there's a group of guys out there who have repeatedly attacked us calling themselves 'The Twelve Vipers.' I'll give you a quick description so you won't miss them if you happen across one. They like using snake icons when they attack us from the Matrix and like sending snake spirits when they try and kill us from the Astral. They enjoy using numerical designations and throwing tantrums like pissy little children with automatic weaponry. I could read you a tantrum transcript I pulled off the net if you like, but, really, this info ought to be enough to get you started... Now, go! Find the impostors, and wreak non-snake-obsessed vengeance upon them!"

<<@Acme: Joe's busy at the moment. Could you rustle up a spirit to go track this mage down? I imagine that when his line of bullshit runs out, we'll be dealing with another snake spirit. It would be good to prepare for that inevitability.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:43 PM, Redmond, Ferret's van

Ferret raises an eyebrow at the short dwarven woman standing next to the Prof. This was Amber. His mental image of her goes 'pop' as he looks her up and done.

5'9", nope. Although I guess 3'9" is more my height anyway. Red hair, nope. Although a dye job would fix that. Impressive chest, nope. Guess that just leaves 'agressive bisexual nymphomaniac'. Although that was probably a lie too.

He smiles a self-depreciating smile. Ah well, It's not like she's gonna be interested in a forty-plus hacker that lives in his van.

While his mind drifts, the other part of his brain is sniffing out her icon and keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding matrix nodes.

<<@team: Tell the messenger spirit that we got their boy and that if they want him back in one piece, they better keep to the fragging truce.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:43 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

Acme grit his teeth. Here it was, the first time he was really, really needed for the team and he was laid up. He groaned a bit and typed out on the keyboard, watching his credibility and usefulness to the team start to wash away.

<<@Oz: I know this sounds... like an excuse, but is there any way you can stall it for say... fifteen or twenty minutes? You have no idea how fucked up that snake made me. I'm just trying to clear my head a bit so I can actually cast without passing out. I promise, I'll eat fifteen aspirin and take three slap patches on my armpit if I can just get a little more clear-headed.>>

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 8:43 PM, Redmond, nearby Ferret's van

"Look," says Amber, waving in a nonchalant way with the barrel of her machine pistol. "We can stand here and argue about who did what to whom that broke whatever truce might have been building. But let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? We've got something... someone... you want. Surely that's reason enough for you to be reasonable, right?"

Sweet jesus. I've had some cold starts before, but this definitely brings new meaning to the phrase 'command performance'...