A sharp dressed man tried to hide his nerves as he mentally checked the safety on his Smartlink. The Pat down was less thorough than he expected when he boarded the yacht from his rented fishing boat. His employer meeting with him in person was unexpected, and unsettling.
A thick man in a white suit sat on the deck, surrounded by armed men. He spoke with a slight Spanish accent,"I suppose you know why I'm here"
The guest tried to tell himself that everything was all right. He was here to help. They were going to work together to get this straight. None of this was his fault. He was a valuable asset. He looked into the eyes of the man in front of him, and he knew.
The Beretta 200 was in burst fire mode. His wired reflexes were grabbing the pistol as soon as it ejected from his leg. The man in front of him was still in mid blink, as the reticle in his cyber eye locked on. But in the midst of this frenzy, there was a faint sound. a low ringing, and a splitting of air. He never saw the blade that separated his head from his shoulders, and as his world spun to darkness he thought, whoever was behind him was damn good.

Heka
Somewhere, in a night of drunken debauchery, a message was left in Heka's comm,<<This is Rachel Vance, You've bought some items from me recently. Anyway, theres a new player in town who's looking for magic types. Supposed to be serious work for serious cred, so I'm passing the word along. If you're interested, Ive got details>>

Lefty
When Lefty met with Lenny to get resupplied with ammo, He told Lefty about a job opportunity tomorrow night. The rumor mill said it was big time, next level kind of stuff. He gave him a time and some coordinates in case he was interested.

Professor
A message from Zoltan flashes on the Professor's comm<<Not to distract you from your quest, But theres a large gathering of talent going down. you could could use some more connections, not to mention the cred involved>>

Otto
Salman Sime is yelling at Otto, and Otto hadn't quite realized that he had answered his com,"Are you drunk? I'm trying to talk business. If you want to pay some bills, don't miss the boat. Literally. I know you need this, can you pull yourself together by tomorrow?"

Oswald
<<(Mission Control@Oswald) I bear good news. I have found a group of rebels gathering offshore. they are establishing a foothold in this area and need assistance. this my be a valuable tool in saving our ship. They may speak in code, for they can trust no one. If you can record the meeting, I can help make sense of it. Here are the coordinates where there vessel will be waiting tomorrow night>>

Caper
A new voice mail from Koala, this time a breathy Spanish female,"Are you in the mood for something a little different? I could really use you on this job.I can promise a big pay off. I've attached a file with the details "

Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Commander Shankles read the text three times, encoding the relevant positioning data into his exceptional memory before wiping all trace of it from his computer banks.
Hrmm.. Rebels again. Hope they fair better than the last... batch? I can't seem to... to... To action!

"Danny! Roll out the cannon so we can slap it on the sky-pod. Then get your ass over here so I can stuff you full of explosives! You're going to be my emissary!"
"..mmmm-dammit-Riggs-if-you-want-to-get-yourself-killed-go-ahead-but-leave-me-out-of-it-mmm.."
"No dice."

Main lobby, Seattle Central Library

Professor stretched himself after hours of fruitless research. The irony of The Blind Man's moniker was never so evident as when Professor ran up against yet another false lead. He mused, "It's the rest of us who are blind."

Zoltan's message came through, and Professor replied immediately. <<@Zoltan: Sure thing. I'm at a dead end at the moment anyway. Send me time and location and any other details you have.>>

The dwarf carefully extricated himself from the tangle of limbs in the bed, and shambled over to where his bathrobe was hanging. He slipped it on and headed towards the kitchen, idly scratching at a nugget of white powder hanging at his nostril. It had been some pretty good stuff.

He set up the drones for breakfast and began looking for his comm to scan the morning news while the soykaf percolated. He finally found it in the pocket of his jacket, hanging on the back of the chair--he couldn't quite remember when they got home last night, but apparently he'd been in too much of a rush to hang his clothes properly. They were discarded in a trail to the bedroom. I'll have to get this suit pressed, he thought idly, working the glasses onto his face and bringing up his comm messages. He saw one from Rachel--odd, since she rarely contacted him--and brought it up.

Serious work? Well that wasn't too interesting. If he'd wanted "serious" work he'd have stayed a corp puppet. But serious cred? That was a different story. Heka thought it over for a moment, then shrugged to himself and dialed Rachel's commcode.

Lefty thanked Lenny, and made a note on his commlink to attend the meeting. Cred was starting to get a little thin, but he wasn't going to tell his fence that. He didn't want to start getting 5 cents on the 'yen on gear just because he was desperate. He kicked his bike into gear, and went home to watch some trid and wait for the meeting tomorrow.

Otto nonchalantly waves the remainder of a double scotch at the barman, making the ice chink to catch attention. The barman nods and begins to retrieve an unlabeled bottle from the bottom shelf.

"I don't have that many bills to pay and more, Shalman." Otto replies, his slurring noticeably even through the sub-vocal pickup of the comlink on his ear.

"You still have a bar tab," Salman reminds him. Otto hangs his head, looking down at his scuffed brown shoes and sighs heavily. "I'm sending you the meeting details. Clean yourself up, be there and at least act sober."

"Screw you." Otto says out loud causing the barman to stop pouring and give a disapproving look. Otto shakes his head, waves at his ear and then points to the glass.

"I'll take that as a yes." Salman says before dropping the connection.

Hans sat eyes glazed over while he listened to the message. Someday he'd have to meet Koala face to face and buy him, er her, or it. Whatever it was a bottle of beer or whatever for tipping him off to get out of London when he did.

... I've attached a file with details."

Hans trashes the voicemail and returns his attention to the AR window in front of him describing the history of the piece. It appears that is was made by a displaced Sasquatch of a name he could pronounce if he wanted to but skimmed over anyway. This isn't really his bag but it paid to keep an eye on the scene. It was mostly sticks, mud and what appear to be the small bones of birds plastered in a vortex circling in to frame a single piece of styrofoam cut to the shape of a man. He opened up the attached file over it, Ohhh, a boat. Nothing like being a captive audience that can be thrown over board if you start trouble, or if it's a trap. No, Koala stayed above that, better than I did...still.

"I don't like this...", he muttered and a woman in a sleek black dress, hair up tight in the librarian bun shot him a severe look and returned, "Well then maybe you should leave and go someplace with flashy neon bullshit that doesn't tap into the metahuman consciousness!". Hans gaped at her for a second and considered telling her he wasn't talking about the picture, but he may as well have been so he shrugged put his hands behind his freshly shaved head and padded out the door trying to bring up a map of the sound and wondering how far he could swim if he had to.

Late at night, outside Seattle Central Library

Professor stepped out into the typical acidic drizzle of a Seattle evening, turned up the collar of his coat, and hailed a robo-cab. The tingling sensation in the nape of his neck was strong tonight. He decided to do a little evasion to see if he could drop any tail that might be following him. Cab, bus, subway, backtrack with cab, walk some back alleys to his condo. It felt as if he had shaken whatever was bothering him... the tingling was almost gone. What a life. Hunter becomes hunted.

Once at home, he checked the building security, made sure blinds were closed, and poured himself a stiff scotch to help him think. Meeting on a boat in the Sound? Chummer, that's the way to buy a one-way ticket. He figured he would do some investigation in the morning. Now all he had to do was calm down enough to sleep. That was getting more difficult the closer he felt he was to the Blind Man. "This city is his base. I can feel it."

Early morning, Professor's condo

He rose after a relatively short but deep sleep, ate a frugal breakfast, and set to work. "'El Viajero', huh? Let's see..."
Professor searched for information on a vessel by that name. Owner, registration, itinerary... whatever.

Rear right corner of Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett, After midnight

The hanging fluorescent lights overhead bowed out to the sides, being forced away by the mass of the small armored dirigible roped in place from ceiling to floor. The alternating stripes of white and black created around the blimp seemed not inappropriate to the beleaguered scientist at the moment.
"This stinks."
Oswald pushed himself out from under the hanging drone, rolling until he lay near the ever-waiting manservant drone he liked to call Danny.
"Danny help me up."
"...mmm-whatever-you-say-chief-mmm..." the robot hummed back.

The frail little robot bent down and grabbed Oswald from under his arms, then pulled the elderly man upright, sending the rolling board on which he lay sliding some few feet behind.
"Ahhh, dammit, Danny. It's too god damned dark under that monstrosity! Grab some work lamps off the back shelf while I get more coffee."

Oswald walked stiffly over to the makeshift kitchen area in what must have once been the warehouse's break room. The work had not been going well. Oswald had managed to rip the rigger cocoon out of his Rover 2068 with no problems, but he was getting frustrated with his efforts to attach it to the GTS Tower drone. The thing obviously wasn't designed for hanging operation. That wasn't going to stop Ozzy though. Oswald was good like MacGyver - like double MacGyver. He was going to make this thing happen... eventually. But first..

"Coffee," he barked wearily at the kitchen's Soy Processing Unit. "Black as a country sky."
The little machine burbled and spit as it produced yet another nauseating cup of Soykaff, bitter as the man himself.
"Fake-ass planet with its fake-ass coffee..." Oswald groaned outwardly.
This weaksauce beverage wasn't going to cut it. He turned toward the door and yelled,
"Danny! Leave the lights there! I need you to drive to the store and pick up some some Go Pills!"
"..mmm-come-on-Riggs-jump-in-the-car-mmm.." the robot hummed distantly.
Oswald got up and walked to the door, moving still towards where the SUV was parked and the ever-obedient drone was headed.
"Oh, is poor Danny too scared to go to the store by his 'ittle self? Fine fine. I'll come along. I need to get out of here anyway. Come back at this with a fresh start. All this wasted time, I'm not going to be able to prep you up with the explosives."
"...mmm-I'm-gonna-be-a-grandfather-mmm..." the robot hummed, as deadpan as ever.
"Don't celebrate too much, Danny. I'm taking the passenger seat. You sit on the floor."

Well wasn't this just so very interesting. A boat in the middle of the Sound, late at night, with active jamming. This certainly was not your typical meet. Which, on one hand, was just fine; Heka hated "typical." But on the other hand, if things went completely to shit then it could end up being a very bad night indeed. He deliberated it over most of the day, finally deciding to go for it. He hadn't pissed anyone off badly enough to want to drown him in the Sound... so although the Johnson was paranoid, he wasn't out specifically to get Heka. That sounded fine.

Getting out there would be easy, but magical support? Not so great. Heka didn't have a water spirit bound. Going through his things, he couldn't find any spare binding materials, and he had no cash available to buy any; he'd have to summon one up before the meet and go without binding. Tsk tsk.

With those considerations out of the way, it was down to the last important bit of planning: what to wear. Well the Ulysses will keep me warm, but if I end up having to swim my way home--Heaven forbid!--it'll drag me down. But the Synergist would just be seen as trying too hard. Maybe if I take these trousers with this shirt...

Early morning, Professor's condo

Scanning through the Matrix was turning up some interesting stuff on this boat, but nothing of any apparent use. Aside from the Obvious Spanish translation of "the Traveller", the boat is a Harlan and Wolfe Classique III and was registered to a Julia Florez in Cal Free. The Name and SIN seem to be faked, and payments for the boat were made from a law firm called,"Durgess and Kletze". This too seems to be fake, But the front is still paying rent at a Marina in San Francisco. Actual Video feeds from the Marina show no sign of the ship being there in the last six months.

Otto's apartment, 5:45pm.

Otto is slumped unconscious on his faded and threadbare tan cordaroy couch. His shirt is half unbuttoned and his jacket lays crumpled near the front door. One shoe, laces splayed like an autopsy, clings by a thread to his right foot. His left foot is bare, its shoe lies neatly nearby with a tightly rolled sock inside. His mouth is open allowing a silver sliver of droop to trickle down his cheek and create a small damp puddle on the couch.

There is a barely audible single beep from his com unit signifying his wake up alarm. Otto doesn't move.

Three seconds later there is another beep. Still no movement.

Three seconds later, the beep is louder and more insistent, continuing to beep every second. Five seconds later, the beep would be audible from the hallway and still Otto has not moved.

Eighteen months ago, not long after his wife walked out, Otto found himself sleeping through his morning alarm. After the third time being late to a meeting he decided he needed something a little more reliable.

"You want what?" Salman asks.

"I want some kind of code, linked into my com unit alarm to help me wake up." Otto replies.

"You can't just up the volume?"

"Tried that. Need something a little more powerful."

Salman sighs heavily. "Ok, leave it with me. I'll ask some of my coding friends."

Fifteen seconds after the very first beep, with no response from the user, the com unit alarm calls a private subroutine. Otto's body spasms, his wired reflexes firing his arms and legs to flail randomly. The shoe on his right foot is flung across the room, slamming against the far wall and leaving an ugly black scar.

Otto finally reaches consciousness as his body lands on the floor. He lies there for a moment to catch his breath and allowing last remnants of the jolt awake to fade.

Pulling himself to his feet, he staggers into the bathroom.


Fauntleroy Terminal, later that same evening

The #431 Bus from Renton stops at the #17 terminal. The doors hiss open and out steps a short woman in her 50's wearing a floral dress and carrying several bags. Behind her, Otto follows looking much better. His hair is combed back and moused, giving it a wet look. His shirt is clean and newly pressed. His suit, while slightly rumpled is covered mostly by a long black greatcoat. His shoes stand out as not matching his outfit, they are still scuffed and marked with grime. Walking briskly to the pier, Otto finds the man he was looking for in his usual spot.

A simple green plastic chair sits atop a stained picnic blanket. On the seat sits an old frail man. The top of his head is bald, but he sports a long white beard flecked with a few grey lines. He wears old black suit pants and a bleached white shirt with rolled up sleeves exposing black and wrinkled hands, stained from years of shoe polish. His black loafers shine with a mirror finish.

"Good evening, George." Otto says, to the man.

"Good evening, Sir." George replies, jumping to his feet with the spring of a much younger man. "Take a seat and I'll clean those shoes right up!"

Otto settles into the chair, places his feet onto the small wooden box George pulls from under the seat and then rests his head in his hands. "I'll just have a nap while you do your work, won't be long." Otto says.

"Right you are, sir." George replies, prying a tin of shoe cleaner open.

Otto steps from his body, into the Astral.

Hans' Apartment

Hans awakes in the early morning darkness made heavier still by the drapes obscuring the window leading onto the fire escape. It is the smells that bother him so much really. The city itself is vibrant enough to make the move bearable, but the smells of the sea are different here, the smells of people are different here. The omnipresent smell of garbage presses into his nostrils no matter where he goes. Sigh....I could be on my way to espresso right now with Jenn. Two blocks away from the gallery and... he recalls with a sneer the woman at Gallery SNAFU yesterday after his unintentional honesty and be somewhere I could do some of the sneering without drawing attention. Not to mention in a gallery that did more that plaster shit smears up on a wall and call it gold because they're above appreciating the masters.

He rolls out of bed in the darkness sidestepping around improvised fork and knife caltrops littering the floor. Checks the crude line behind the curtain securing the flashpak's activator. All's well. Ping. The room returns to him in stark contrast, bed piles of crap on the floor, clothes in a heap at the end of the bed, HK stuck to the wall by the window standing out....ping. Nope no one in the room but him. Makes his way to the closet, pulls the small flashlight from the top of the rack and separates the racks of cheap street clothes he picked up at the thrift store when he first got here. Clicking the light on he pans it over the back of the closet admiringly. A sketch on yellowed paper is hung there. In energetic strokes the image of a lion at rest with his head on his paws becomes illuminated. He pauses and admires it, sometimes leaning in and tracing the curve of a single brush mark in the air just above the work. Then finally he turns his nose to it, breathes deeply in the now ancient smell of the paper and ink. Closing his eyes and reveling in the scent that obliterates the paranoid days and nights of the last month he clicks the light back off and strolls to get a cup of the sofkaf brewing in the small kitchen around the corner. Ping. Clear. A smile creeps onto his now bare shaven face. Flashing neon indeed. Fucking twit.

Streets of Seattle

He spends the rest of the day jumping buses back and forth across the city and keeping his senses alert to anyone who might be conspicuously on the same random path as he is. Finally he strolls through a shabby but very alive district of theater folks on the south side of town and makes a few purchases. A shoulder length violet wig in a woman's cut, making sure it covers his ears and the bangs hang low enough to shade his eyebrows a bit. Some eye makeup, rouge and a kerchief with swirling chinese dragons adorning it. Deciding that should be enough he starts a winding path back to the buses back to the east side of the city. He decides to run a quick search on the 'trix in regards to this boat and marina

decides it is probably a boat and in the marina he found on the map of the city.

Hails a cab to drop him off five blocks from home where he makes quick work



of the back streets to his building. Feeling pretty confident no one could have followed him he makes his way home to shower and prepare for the meet.

Hans' Apartment

In his apartment later that night HK stuck to the wall by his bathroom mirror he begins work on plucking his eyebrows applying makeup and adjusting his wig while listening to an old Kate Nash album.



It could be better he thinks admiring his profile in the mirror adjusting the fake cleavage in his jumpsuit, "And I'm a...passable bird" the high female voice helped he admitted, "You probably don't wanna be a Britt though...ahh fuck it I'm probably just being paranoid, if Koala wanted to nail ya he'd never have let you run in the first place..."

He pulled the kerchief up over the bridge of his nose and cinched the back. Checked the Morrissey with a quick touch. Fulled loaded with Gel Rounds, two spare clips of regular ammo in his side pockets. Smoke grenade in the cargo pockets. Cuffs in the other. Kill the lights loosen the HK from the wall. Ping. Still alone, piles of boxes filled with cheap glassware from the thrift store still in places around the room. What am I doing...? He slapped the HK above the door to the apartment told it to stick there and walked out the door bringing up a map of the route to the sounds, called a cab a few blocks away for ten minutes from now to drop him off at a bar about a ten minute walk from the meet, locked up the pad and out.

He sings pitch perfect as he practices his womanly sashay on the way to the cab, "And I'm singin' uh-oh on a Friday night and I hope everything's gonna be alright..."

Professor's Condo, late morning

Professor commits the plans of a Harlan and Wolfe Classique III to memory. Never know when you might have to tell what door to run through.

<<@Zoltan: I'm going to need some water transport to the meet this evening. Maybe a bit of exploration beforehand too. Can you arrange for a small watercraft rental for 10 pm tonight in the Sound? I'll cover the cost.>>

Tacoma Docks

Lefty pulled away from the dock slowly in the small boat he had managed to rent for this meeting. He had certainly been to odder places for a first meeting, but this one was near the top. Why go all the way out here on a boat, when a meeting like this could take place in the matrix? The concern for physical security was a bit disconcerting."Still", he thought,"At least this means when I show up they'll have something to take away."

Lefty was loaded out as much as he felt was possibly to aid in intimidation for the meeting. Uzi under the shoulder, Predator in the small of his back, and '97 on a sling. "If this is an ambush for someone I pissed off, at least I won't go down without a fight." There was also, of course, the one weapon they couldn't take away. Or at least, couldn't take away without removing his arm first.

Lefty opened up the engine once he cleared the docks, and followed the directional finder in his AR view towards where the coordinates for the meeting was to take place.

Pier 59, Seattle - 10:27 PM
PAN: Hidden

Heka stood on the outcropping just beyond the Seattle Aquarium, looking out across the water. The mescaline was just hitting its peak, and the few stars he could see through the haze of chemicals and pollution over the Sound trembled and sang to him. The pounding surf was a language, speech that he could almost comprehend. Everything was alive. It was beautiful.

He opened his eyes to the astral and all of that teeming life began to glow in his vision, the chorus of the Earth blazing in his ears. He planted his feet in the sand, spread his arms wide, and added his voice to the song; he shouted the tune, first merging his voice with it and then slowly, subtly, altering the song being sung and leading it into a new form. Soon it was not a tale of the Earth's presence in all things; it became a chant, a summons of power, as Heka forced himself upon the sea and took control.

He sang, and called, and within a minute a new voice answered him. It was a counterpoint to his harmony, a servile answer to his demands, and the owner of the voice rose from the sea and stood before him. He bade it to manifest and looked over his servitor. It was stout, like him, but nearly two meters tall. Its features were a mix of amphibian and fish, with glistening green scales and sharp fangs, nearly tusks, protruding from its snout. Seaweed hung from it, dripping water. Sharp claws tipped its webbed fingers and toes.

"You will take me out to the Sound, little demon," Heka told the spirit. Clumsily he got up on the spirit's back, piggyback style, and pointed out towards the water. "Go."

Just before 11pm, Puget sound

A good distance from shore, "El Viajero" Floats quietly in the dark, dangerously close to Shiawase's man made island and its surrounding sea border. Anyone approaching would notice the dim lights on deck, a few circling roto drones, and a small fishing boat nearby that seems almost unmanned. Six armed suits wait on the yacht to greet the guests as they arrive and escort them to the seating on deck. On the Astral plane the scene is much more vibrant. A shimmering ward Barrier Surrounds the ship like a sheath of magic, and a wind spirit swirls around the ship like a ghost, bored, but vigilant.

10:47 PM, middle of Puget Sound

As the dwarf gets closer to the coordinates in the message he'd received, he frowns a bit at the ward he can see placed around the boat. Clearly whoever set this up is very concerned about their security. Heka would prefer to be able to just stride up to the boat but that may not be an issue. But if he had the spirit take him back to rent a boat, he'd miss the meeting. Decisions, decisions...

Reining the spirit in like an errant horse, Heka considers the ward for a few moments; with a shake of his head he urges the spirit forward slowly. At the edge of the barrier the dwarf puts his hands up against the astral energies. He pushes--not with his hands, but his will--and tells the ward to open for him, to let him through.

10:47 PM, middle of Puget Sound

The dwarf astride his water demon, slides up to the ship in its shimmering shield. The Spirit of air swoops down as an eagle made of clouds, streaming wispy trails in its wake. It makes a pass of Heka, emitting a long and lyrical scream. The ward begins to part at Heka's touch, and inside he is greeted by another of the magical world. the figure of a man, his form hovering large and beastly, gestures to the two to come aboard. As the Dwarf is delivered to the vessel, his spirit sees its task as complete, and vanishes beneath the waves.

10:55 PM, Puget sound

Lefty pulls his small boat up to the much larger vessel. "Well", he thought to himself. "They aren't messing around with security." He pushed the Assault Rifle over his shoulder and climbed up onto the larger boat.

"I presume you're going to want this?" He said to the Guards, opening his jacket to show the Uzi under his shoulder.

22:30 Puget Sound

Professor takes possession of the rented boat and moves out into the Sound. Keeping his perceptions open to the astral, he approaches the Classique and circles it, looking for anomalies from the standard design. Interesting that it is so close to corporate territory.

After a detailed survey of the environs, he approaches the boat and moves up to a loading port and revs down to a halt beside the ladder. He waits for acknowledgment to board the boat. He makes ready a belay rope to tie off to the larger boat. He ensures that his Power Focus is deactivated as he passes through the protective barrier. Once through hre activates it again.

10:56 PM, hovering over Puget sound

Oswald hung suspended over the water. Hanging out and hanging back. He watched the small black rental dingy piloted by his robot as it cut engines and the bot stood to move towards the front of the boat. Commander Shankles hadn't flown himself in years. In fact, he couldn't quite remember the last time. But doing so this time was a breeze. Who would have thought that this drone blimp could carry a passenger, and an armored seat as well? Certainly not a sane man.. But he had fixed it up nicely. Gotten the perfect balance. He even draped a spare black bedsheet over the gun so as not to appear threatening. Hopefully these rebels appreciated that..

"Come on Danny boy... give him the rope."

He had spent a good portion of that evening providing the robot with instruction and practicing it with the dingy's outboard motor. It was almost enough to make him nostalgic.

"Alright Danny, hold the stick steady. Right. Right. Now slowly squeeze the throttle -TOO MUCH! Danny! Release the throttle! Danny!!"
"..mmm-no-I-just-got-this-boat-mmm..."
"It's alright Danny. I'll tie some more buoys to the front.."

Docks on the Pugeot Sound 10:00 pm

Hans walked to the docks and stopped dead in his tracks. Checked the indicator for the meet coordinates again. You've got to be kidding me... How did I not realize that this was in the middle of the water not on it?! Frag me! Letting out a heavy sigh he fortified himself and began strolling very demurely along the docks looking for either a less than well defended boat, or an establishment that might be open renting boats at this odd hour. Great, first job interview in the new city and you're probably going to have to steal a boat to get there...great...

10:03 Seattle marina

Caper
Discreetly scrambling for transport, Hans scans the docks. Several small sailing ships are dark and vacant. A fishing style vessel seems to be occupied by one large and wobbly man pissing over the side. Another peir over is a couple of speedboats and a handful of rowdy party goers hanging out on the dock. There is still some foot traffic, but not much on the docks themselves. The water seems relitively calm as well, a few small crafts comming and going. Cameras are sparse, but present. Any other security seems to be left to the ships owners.

10:57 "El Viajero", in the Sound

The Professor is met cordially by the armed guards. A dark man in a muscle stuffed suit gives him a once over and motions towards the deck, where seating has been arranged and two women in cocktail dresses wait to serve from a small wet bar. A finely dressed dwarf has already arrived, and seems to be making himself comfortable. Shortly behind him, Lefty boards the ship. The welcome wagon takes a little more care with him, relieving him of the assault rifle and sub-machine gun. They assure him that his property will be safely returned. The men seem like fairly competent security. They were all human save for one troll, who seemed to be guarding the door that led below deck. No obvious weaponry larger than the SMG's, that were slung over the shoulders of three of them. Glasses hid their eyes. The only obvious cyber was the troll's hand, and perhaps arm, and another guard with a gleaming chrome skull. On the Astral plane, the gentlemen are nearly shadows silhouetted in the light of the magical ward. Their souls clinging to what little remains from their birth.
As a small craft approaches, piloted by a ManServant, one of the men looked to the Troll quizzically. The Troll hit a button by the door, some kind of intercom system,"You guys expecting a robot?"
A voice replied,"we are aware of the situation, It's green"
The Troll nods, and a light skinned guard with shaggy brown hair takes the rope from the robot and helps him aboard.

10:58 "El Viajero", in Puget Sound

"Well... I'm not dead or in chains. Guess this wasn't Blind Man's trap." Professor scans the room, nods to the two others already there, and goes to the bar. "Perrier water, please, with a twist of lemon."

He takes his drink and joins the other dwarf. "Hmm... Awakened. And something else. I haven't seen that before, a -shift- in his aura. Is he on something?" "Good evening."

Otto opens his eyes, and smiles at the shining brown tinted reflection he spies in his shoes. "Once again, very nice work."

"Thankyou sir."

Otto stands and dips a credstick into the small slot in the wooden box. He walks down the peir, looking left and right until he spies the water taxi. He walks over and asks the orc captain, "You up for a fare?"

"Yeah." Comes the guttural reply, "Step on."

Otto leaps the short gap and rocks the small four seat water taxi only slightly. "Heading into the middle of the sound, meeting on a boat for a party." Otto says.

As the boat pulls gently from the pier, he reaches over the gunwale and scoops a handful of sea water into his right hand. As the boat picks up speed and the water drips onto his lap, Otto touches his lips to the metal bracelet on his left wrist and then covers his right.

Taking a deep breath, Otto lifts his hands, as if praying then breathes out heavily, and more water drops onto his lap. He expels the air in his lungs as fast as he can, spraying some of the droplets into the air. The droplets swarm and form into a shifting mist.

The boat swerves and the captain swears. Otto ignores the commotion, his full attention on the forming spirit. The spirit holds suspended in the air for a moment, then fades like mist in the morning sun. Otto takes another breath, and touches his wrist to his lips again.

"Sorry about that," Otto says. "Just making sure I have my life jacket on. You of all people should know about water saftey."

The orc only nods, speeding the boat a little more and hoping the drunk mage gets off his boat sooner rather than later.

10:05 - Seattle Marina

There has got to be a dinghy or something around here...what are the odds the keys will be in it? Whatever...

Hans takes one last look around the docks and then walks hesitantly towards the man on the fishing boat. Entering earshot he makes a small lady like clearing noise in his throat and calls out in high register,"Uh,...Hey Sir? Sir?", he waits until the drunk sailor turns and waves, "Hey! I really hate to bother you sir, but I'm really in a bit of a spot. See I was supposed to meet some friends here earlier for a boat party on the sound but it seems like I got lost and missed 'em! Ah I can't believe I did it but, y'know I'm new here in town and just got a bit turned upside down...you don't think" he trails off and then lowers his head letting the hair of the wig fall down around his face a little more, pushes it back up and raises his eyes to meet the man's, "maybe you could do a lady a favor? I know where they are I just need a lift out there, I'd be so thankful!" He all but mewls the last bit pouring everything into his doe eyed act, and praying it will get him off this dock before he loses this job and any foothold on getting his life back together.

10:58 Still hanging above Puget Sound

"Haha! Alright, they took him aboard, the rubes... Oh, wait. I forgot. No explosives. Why did I send him again? Oh yeah. The message."
This Longhaul... is keeping me from moving my memories from short-term to mid/long-term.. That happens when you don't sleep. That's.. that's medically accurate.. I've got to do a better job of keeping on top of things. I've got to remember the message.


"Hello. This is the Commander speaking. I have it under good authority that your short-term goals are compatible with my own and as such I am willing and ready to provide logistical, technical and medical support to whatever agents you have assigned to this mission. As you can tell, I do not prefer to operate in person, however I am capable of such if called upon to preform. If acceptable I would like to have my assistant sit in on your meeting and receive information on my behalf. Using whatever com-codes provided, I will assist your agents directly. I should be able to provide the team with specialized tools and ranged support on demand. If you absolutely need me to attend this meeting in person, simply inform my assistant and he will signal me. I am nearby. Otherwise, simply tell my assistant to leave when you are finished. Don't worry about him. Ol' Danny might shoot like a greenskin, but he's reliable enough on his own." "..mmm-what's-that-supposed-to-mean-mm.." "Oh Danny! You're so sensitive! Go ahead and erase that last part" "..mmm-can-we-do-that-now-mm.." "Anyway, I'll be a page away if you need me. See you on the job."

"Evening," Heka says to the new arrival with a smile. As mentioned he has clearly taken a moment to take care of the essentials--a highball glass is in one hand, a lit cigarillo in the other. "You here for the festivities too, then?"He eyes the sec crew as they relieve Lefty of his gear. Fine beads of sea water dot his hair and his oiled greatcoat, buttoned tight to keep late night winds out. Beyond Lefty he sees something that makes his eyes go wide. An automaton of some sort is dragged on deck, and gives a speech.
"Great Ghostwalker's scaly nutsack, what the hell is that?" he mutters in a low voice, afraid the robot might overhear.

10:06 - Seattle Marina

The Drunken fisherman eyeballs the strange woman that wants him to drag his boat back out into the water. She's not too terrible on the eyes, but she's gonna have to click off some cred if she thinks he's gonna untie this rig again,"Alright lady, here's...here's what. You got 100, you got yourself a ride out to ..uh..to your friends. "

10:59, aboard "El Viajero", on Puget Sound

The disparity in clothing gives Professor a first clue as to the approach he and the other dwarf might take to any task assigned them. Professor sports 'actionwear' with lots of pockets, rather than the finer clothing of his companion. "Yes, I'm here for the ..." Professor turns at Heka's interjection, and stares a moment before composing himself. The drone/robot explains itself, and Professor sits back, a smile on his face. "This should be interesting."

Fisherman's Boat Pugeot Sound - 10:30

Hans attempts to beam appreciation, it is not hard, "Thanks chummer!" He scrambles nimbly up the boat without a hand from the tipsy man passes off the creds and the coordinates of El Viajero. On the trip he chats with the man about being a fisherman as best he can keeping it light, throwing in the occasional question about whether he's been chased back to port by sea monsters or rogue water sprites basically chattering away like he's nervous and alone on a boat with a man he doesn't know. When they finally reach the Viajero he thanks the man with a weak hug and thanks then darts off the deck of one boat scrambling to the deck of the other like an old sea hand. He pauses for the bodyguards to check him/her out and does a weak curtsy, especially weak in a jump suit better for darting through traffic. "I believe I'm expected at this party gents!" when he's waved through he takes quick stock of the odd assembly, orders a cup of rooibos tea then turns to get a better look at them all while it is being prepared.

The water taxi bounds over the gentle waves of the Sound. Salt spray begins to cover Otto with a thin silver covering. He flicks the collar of his coat up to protect himself a little more from the night air. In the distance he can see his destination, floating silently and almost invisible amongst the reflected city lights. He points, directing the taxi captain who nods and adjusts his heading.

Within a minute the captain cuts the engines and quickly slows, judging the distance perfectly and nestling the taxi gently alongside the much larger boat.

"Thankyou, Captain." Otto says, dipping his credstick into the payment slot, ignoring the Orc's sneer. As soon as Otto's feet leave the deck of the taxi, it roar away into the night.

Otto straightens onto the deck of "El Viajero" and a bulky human stands several paces away. "My name is Vince Otto. I believe I'm expected?" The man looks him up and down then points him towards the main deck. "They are waiting for you over there."

Otto steps around the cabin and carefully removes his coat. "Apologies for my tardiness." He says to the group in general.

11:00 on deck of El Viajero, on Puget Sound

Professor studies the people assembled on the deck, sees everyone has some refreshments, and notes the appointed time has arrived. He stands and raises his drink to the others.

"It appears our host is giving us some time to get acquainted before we are introduced to the reason for our assembly here. My name is Professor. Primarily I collect, memorize and analyze data: physical, astral and virtual. If we have a mage or two in the group, I can be adapted to fill a number of secondary roles. I've spent a fair bit of time outside the embrace of the city, and feel comfortable there."

11:00 on deck of El Viajero, on Puget Sound

Lefty waved to the Professor, a glint of metal showing between his sleeve and gloved hand.

"Howdy Professor, my friends call me Lefty. My talents lie in the meat world, but I'm glad to hear there are people here who can handle the other two. Not having a mage can cause problems..."

Lefty subconsciously rubbed at his arm, clearly remembering an unpleasant memory.

"That said, if you need someone dealt with in a direct 'physical' manner, I'm your man."

11:01 on deck of El Viajero, on Puget Sound


As the small, slightly hunched android made it's way across the deck to where the rest of the team had gathered, the front speaker started to fuzz a little, then hiss, and finally come to life.

"We get signal. Main screen turn on. Hahahahaha! Gosper's algorithm?! That transformation's older'n I am! Heh heh ehh. Must've known I was coming and left the door open for me!"

The robot stopped walking and it's head swooped 360 degrees.

"Weeeeelll, let me take a look'a'ch'all! Hmm all right. Okay. Yeah. Woah! Almost didn't see you down there Jack! Heh heh heehh- well. Name's Oswald. You can call me Oz if you want. I am wonderfully wiz when it comes to making things work. Ha-ha-heh. Mechanical, digital, physiological - If it exists I can fix it. Need to disguise a vehicle in enemy colors? I got a place for that. Need somebody shot from a mile away? Let's just say I'm glad I broke the jamming pattern. I was sick of lookin' at you through a crosshairs.. Anyway, I'll quiet up now and let you get to your business."

With that the android began shuffling again towards the railing where the refreshments were gathered, quietly humming out, "..mmm-I-was-just-starting-to-like-the-old-coot-mm.." only to be met by "I can still hear you Danny..." in response.

11:01 on deck of El Viajero, on Puget Sound

"Well," Heka says with a smile. He stands and raises his highball glass at the robot. "He's a tough act to follow, isn't he? But I'll do my best. I am Heka, magician, at your service. I'm a bit more subtle than your typical combat mage, so don't expect giant fireballs or bolts of electricity. That's not what I do. But what I do, I do well." He takes his seat.

11:01 on deck of El Viajero, on Puget Sound

"Pleased to meet everyone." Otto says, nodding to each member of the assembled group, pausing a little too long at the android. "My name is Otto," he pauses, thinking, "I too am a mage. While I'm much more comfortable with investigations, when push comes to shove, and it usually does, I can shove pretty hard."

11:02pm "El Viajero", Puget sound

As the guests make there introductions and get comfortable, the six guards spread out to different locations around the deck. The troll moves slightly to the left and the door behind him slides open. A fat man in a white suit emerges at a slow and confident gait. He is followed by a rail of a woman in the shrewdest business attire to date. Her eyes were blank silver spheres that seemed dead in the sockets, yet she strolled forward as surefooted as the man ahead of her. He Took a seat across from the new arrivals to his ship, and one of the women at the bar scurried over with a gin and tonic,"Welcome amigos. I'm sure we all want to get down to business, so I'll skip the small talk. I make a living taking your kind of work to the next level. I have collected resources around the globe, and am always looking to expand this network. I had recently expanded into your fine city, and I was off to a good start, but I seem to have hit a snag. The team I had here has gone missing. I don't know the details, I just know that plans are behind schedule. The most urgent of which is a shipment of Ares cargo that was highjacked on my behalf a week ago, and never arrived at the shipyard for export. This is what I need your assistance with. If things go well, I can promise many more opportunities in the near future."

So you don't care about the other team - I get it, Otto thinks to himself before shifting his weight forward a little.

"I'm sure we'll have a whole bunch of logistics questions if we take you up on your offer, but I'm sure your assistant can help with those," Otto smiles and winks at the well dressed woman. "So I'll cut to the chase as well. What kind of value do you place on this shipment?"

11:01 El Viajero, Puget sound

"What an interesting group of characters we've got here! I suppose you'll all be calling me Caper." He shakes hands gingerly or nods to each in turn appropriately and offers a little wave to the strange bot sitting on the deck, apparently talking to itself... that's a little disconcerting. "My, hmmm specialty is getting in and getting out, blending in and never being seen if at all possible if ya catch my drift, I'm not gonna be all that fancy on the steel but I'll hold my own, and I'm not that wild behind a wheel but..." at this moment their benefactor enters the deck cutting short the rest of his response.

Hans slinks into a chair near the others and leans back in it watching and feeling a little sick owing nothing to the sea and everything to the steely eyed woman. He turns his head slightly to Otto when he speaks up, wasting no time mate, senor will probably love that mr. investigator...

11:03pm "El Viajero", Puget sound

An approving smile slides up to the corner of the Hosts mouth as he addresses Otto,"I'm sure there are many details to work out, but I estimate somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty thousand. Will that be sufficient to keep this conversation moving?"
The man in the large white suite drags his dark brown eyes slowly across the group for their response. A curl of black hair bounces close to his eyelashes, but he doesn't blink until he meets the gaze of all present. Otto's friendly gestures to the Blond seated next to the their possible employer have seemingly been ignored. Here eyes, and the rest of her body for that matter, are unmoving. It's hard to tell if she is even alive.

11:03pm "El Viajero", Puget sound

"Hmmmm.. So, your men and your shipment disappeared, or your men disappeared with your shipment? Also, since this happened a week ago, what makes you believe that it's not worlds away by now?"
The robot's front speaker spit out unbidden.
"To put it another way, how big is our theater of operation, and what do you know about the opposition?"

11:03pm "El Viajero", Puget sound

Professor meets the host's gaze and replies, "I'm still interested."

11:04 PM "El Viajero", Puget sound

The irony of this is not lost on Hans, tracking down missing goods lost after a team hired to swipe them disappears, right. Karma sure is a bitch... He cups his hands around the steaming tea cup and raises it to his mouth, lifts the kerchief and sips a bit, too hot and sets it back down. Switches to Ultrasound and pings the whole area to get an idea if there might be any assault teams lurking in the invisible spectrum ashamed he didn't think to do it earlier and holds senor's gaze. "I'm not saying I'm not in but the robot geezer's got a point I need to know more if I'm going to go off chasing something that maybe a trap if it hasn't been flipped yet because somebody on the megacorp side wants to track you down...."

11:04 PM "El Viajero", Puget Sound

"Well our friends have a point," Heka says. "Some more information would certainly be in order. However, I do think it safe to say that you have our interest." He smiles at their host and has a drink from his glass, thinkingMy share of thirty thousand would be quite handy to have.

11:05 PM "El Viajero", Puget Sound

The man in the white suit sips his cocktail as the questions begin.His demeanor is patient and thoughtful,"The details are sketchy. The team has split up and disappeared into their little shadows. I know the cargo went with a rigger named "Big Daddy Long Legs". Our man lost track of him going into Redmond. I don't know what went awry, or why the team split, so I'm starting with what I do know. I know that three truckloads of very restricted merchandise is still in limbo. My assistant has found no hits on their RFID tags or serial numbers. None of the local syndicates have turned up with these goods. And Ares is still actively looking for the stuff as well."
He pulls a thin commlink from his shirt pocket and sets it on the table. The holo projecter paints the faces of those watching in white light. In the display are several trideos of a older Troll in a dirty set of coveralls. His horns pointed foreward like a bull, accentuated by the fact his septum was pierced in the same fashion. Grey hair wisped around his shoulders. One shot of him was in a big rig. the others were street shots and what appeared to be a feed from some-one's cyber eyes. "What we know about B.D. here is this. He worked as a trucker and crane operator pre-crash. He operates out of the barrens somewhere near Glow City. We found him through a club owner named Swagger J. He runs a place called Twisters. It has taken me a while to get here and I have no feet on the ground at the moment. This is the role I wish for you all to fill. The number I mentioned earlier is for the stolen goods. Finding out what happened to the rigger is secondary, but could be worth money as well. If he has decided to take this cargo for his own purposes, I expect him to be terminated. I would offer cred for this as well, but I will need proof that he had turned. I don't want valuable assets killed for a few extra nuyen in your pocket. I hope you can appreciate that I would do the same for you in the future. "

11:05 PM "El Viajero", Puget Sound

Otto nods. "So we have at least," He holds up his index finger, "Ares." Then he holds up a second finger, "several local syndicates, and probably the police or other government agencies," He holds up a third finger. "Out activly looking for three stolen trucks." He pauses a little too long for dramatic effect. "That's a fair bit of heat."

"I assume you'd rather the trucks be shipped with a limited amount of fuss? So I have to ask, does that thirty K each include reasonable expenses?" Otto feels the heat of several eyes swivel towards him. Everyone keep calm, you know this guy is good for it. He thinks to himself while keeping eye contact with the Johnson.

11:05:45 PM "El Viajero", Puget Sound

The host's eyes went wide and a bit of a chuckle accompanied his voice,"Ah mi Dios! Thirty a piece! I could have purchased these goods from Ares directly for that cred. Or hired Lone star to steel it for me." He laughed along with a couple of his guards.

11:06 PM "El Viajero", Puget Sound

Professor smiles at our host and waits for the hilarity to settle. "Well, there certainly seems to be some room for discussion here. The original team obviously presents the likelihood of opposition to our success, and you have told us yourself, sir, that Ares is actively searching for the goods. This places us in between two determined opponents... not a good place to be. If we are to put ourselves into double danger, I would think a minimum of fifteen thousand each would be necessary to convince us to take on a major corporation and another team of runners. Possibly at the same time, as these things tend to go. Given that by your own description the three truckloads are of 'very restricted merchandise', I have no doubt you will profit handsomely even at this level of remuneration."