@E:PL/Chi Town / All
[July 8th, 2072, 20:21 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead sighs, blowing air out of the respirator with a mechanical hiss. The adrenaline burst from the fight and seeing the bug spirit is fading. As her heart rate settles back to normal she regards the ork hacker with a disdainful look, fortunately concealed behind her goggles and mask.

Great, I thought I was only babysitting a couple of teenagers, not a spacecase hacker and a ditzy blond. Who still hasn't responded to my ping!

She shakes Ælias roughly, pulling him to his feet.

"Hey, earth to BTL-boy! Dat was a fragging bug spirit dere. We gots to find da dumb blond and get da frag outta here before it comes back wid a few friends."

I am definitely charging Argent extra for this! she thinks to herself as she picks her way through the debris, scanning for any sign of their missing team-mate.

[Tuesday June 14th, 2072; Approaching Elliot Avenue West, Downtown Seattle, from the Sound]

Her heart beat faster as the nightrunner crested another swell. After the debacle in April on the Henry VIII she wasn’t keen on being on the open water again but they had agreed that this was the best approach to the target. If all went well they would hopefully waltz out of the front door when they left. Of course this was a shadowrun so the chances of that were slim, still they had planned for other eventualities.

The lights of Downtown were off to their right and she briefly allowed herself to feel the thrum of life from the sprawl. She noted with interest that the looming bulk of the Arc, vast even at this distance, had more lights on that it had the previous time she was coming in from the west. Perhaps the fear of the place was gradually receding and more was being occupied? She vaguely wondered if the bitter memories of that time would ever truly fade, and along with it the new found fear of the technomancers. She forcibly returned her attention to the dark shoreline ahead.

With a gentle scrape of the keel the nightrunner beached and the small team of runners dropped soundlessly into the wash. Silk felt rather than saw their spread and only the pings on her tactical feed allowed her to locate the others as they moved, cloaked, up the beach and across the now abandoned parkland before the railway tracks.

The smell of brine lingered with her as she crouched in some withered vegetation to do a last check on her equipment. She brushed her fingers lightly across her weapons, sensation only marginally reduced by the ultra-thin gloves she was wearing. The two layers of chameleon coating did an interesting little dance as they reacted to one another before she synced them through her ‘link. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use them today. Although her natural inclinations had been drummed out of her with the death of her mother, and reinforced by Requiem’s training, she still felt reluctance to deliberately attack another. In particular she felt for the poor saps that they normally came up against in the course of their work; individuals who were trying to earn a living at the heartless beck and call of their corporate masters.

Diagnostics run, tools checked and ready, the team ghosted across the intervening land to their target. It was a four storey office building separated from the shore by the freight tracks that they crossed in sequence with the fast moving cargo trains. The noise, even at this late hour, would add an additional level of security to their approach. Their legwork suggested that on paper this was a low level facility for Sintec and that any resistance should be minimal…of course their other information courtesy of Fractal said that this would be anything but. If their quarry were inside they would be well guarded. Wards prevented an astral sweep so they were relying on a faded set of blueprints that would be verified by a radar sweep once they were on station.

Now for the most unnerving part of the operation, Silk unfurled the wing suit and felt the gentle tug as Bale’s magic boosted her into the air. Her skin tingled as she rode the aerial currents towards the roof. Her senses stretched to their maximum, she absorbed the patterns and let them guide her movements until she landed with a tiny scrunch of gravel.

***
The feed from the tiny drone ahead of her showed that the office below was clear. The duct was impossibly small but no trouble for her enhanced body to deal with. The fibre optic cable led back past her to the roof top providing a breach of the wifi protection that the corp had so carefully installed.
Her fingertips grazed the grille, testing for the minute vibrations that might indicate movement.

<<Breach in 10. Control confirm, do you have the alarms offline?>>
<<Confirmed, breach when ready>>

With Riptide’s reassuring voice in her ears she eased the grille out and with a whispery slither dropped to the floor, her chameleon coated armour making her barely visible in the muted night time lighting.

She set the ultrawideband radar unit down on its tripod and engaged the sweep mode. A rapid pass would hopefully go undetected and confirm the accuracy of their three dimensional model data. She watched as the results plotted themselves on her AR overlay, discrepancies picked out in orange and living personnel highlighted in red…so Fractal’s intel had been correct, this place was much more significant than an office unit.

***
The wind raced in from the Sound through the cut out pane of polyglass along with a flurry of rain drops. With Riptide in control of the alarm feeds to the security spider they had a window of opportunity to make their strike before they were detected. The others lowered themselves down from the roof and cautiously swept their weapons around the room. Silk glanced back from the doorway and slipped into the corridor past the motionless cleaning drone, the self-diagnostic light blinking where it had been put into a perpetual loop.

Taking point she moved at a smooth lope down the centre of the corridor away from the possibility of ricochets and to give her maximum time to respond to anyone stepping out of a side room. Her AR overlay scanned ahead and behind with sub windows for the recon drones and the viewpoints of her fellow runners.

They were three minutes into the insertion and everything was quiet…perhaps too quiet. No signs of wageslaves working late or any security staff. It was almost as if this level was unoccupied…the serried ranks of corp cubicles standing forlorn in the dim blue light.

In the emergency stairwell Silk dispensed with the stairs and simply dropped down the well, trusting in her magic to see her safely down. It was just as well she did as a security guard was heading back up the stairs and she caught a brief glimpse of his bemused face as he sensed the air movement beside him but failed to spot the illusive glimmer of the ruthenium working overtime to conceal Silk’s drop.

The guard turned away as her micro drone buzzed round the corner and she regretfully lined up the targeting reticule on his back and squeezed off a burst. The gun coughed and the gel rounds slammed into his back and hurled him forwards. Requiem, making a more conventional use of the stairs, eased the guard to the floor whilst slipping a tranq patch over his carotid to complete Silk’s handiwork.

<<One down. Start the countdown, we have two minutes to locate the package.>>

***
It was immediately obvious that this was the floor they needed to be on. Gone was the energy saving lighting, everything was bright and sterile, and on the third floor rather than the stereotypical underground lair.

Lab coated technicians looked up in surprise as the gas canisters bounced and rolled before beginning to hiss their intoxicating payload into the atmosphere. With the aircon set to recycle it would fill this level within seconds. One slightly more alert guard reached for a weapon and Bale executed him for his trouble. Silk winced as the lethal rounds abruptly and prematurely ended his existence. She briefly wondered who he was and whether anyone would miss him at the end of the shift…

<<Spider is on to me, I’m bugging out, virus propagating now – sever any connections to the on-site matrix>> Riptide’s alert ensured that they intensified their efforts, and in the next room Silk stopped worrying about what the sec guard’s family might think…they had been doing the world a favour…

@E:PL/Chi Town / All
[July 8th, 2072, 20:21 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Ælias snaps back into focus, having spaced out again watching the trail of his message to the Refugees disappear up into the sky, off to bounce around satellite systems and land somewhere back in Seattle. It made him feel a little nostalgic for his studio and the wonder of the Resonance within it.

"Oh, drek, sorry Copper, there was a signal out there, ya know? Not far off, scrambled like soyeggs, but there. Maybe Jess found it too... but don't worry, I will find her, eazy sleazy," Ælias responds with a smile at the troll, silver cap on his tusk gleaming in his wide mouth.

Focusing back on the shadow at his side, the Crack, he gives the sprite the last task he owed him:

<< Hey buddy, here is signal signature of my friend. She wandered off somewhere, can you find her for me? >>

With a small pulse of acknowledgement, the sprite takes off again, leaving Ælias alone in his head with Tank, a comfortable, if intimidating sprite, who seemed content just waiting around, looking imposing. Ælias doubted Tank very much wanted to leave the confines of his bio-node anyways, the environment wasn't somewhere he would be without a lot of cred on the line either.

@E:PL/Chi Town / All
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Jess sighed. She was used to working alone, and liked it that way. She wasn't much for people pestering her when she was trying to concentrate. Still, for this job at least they were her team, and it was going to be better to use them than ignore them.

<<I'm fine. We've got 3 figures to our west, moving south. They look organised and well armed. They seem to know where they're going. I'm going to go out on a limb and say they're our competition>>

Jess looks at the lightly armoured 'wastelander' getup that she equipped herself in, at the figures in the distance, and then down at her teammates below.

<<Given our relative strengths and weaknesses I'm going to suggest that a frontal assault is definitely not the way to go here. I'm going to recommend we follow them from a good distance. They should lead us to where we want to go. Then we can look at a social engineered approach of their group and take them down at close range. We can't match them in a firefight. Fortunately, we don't look too threatening so we could be able to get quite close provided they're not operating 'shoot on sight'. Might even be worth setting Ælias up as a dummy target and have them come to us. They won't shoot at us if we stay close as they'd risk damaging their target. I'm open to ideas>>

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead considers the information her companions have provided. Well maybe these two aren't a complete waste of space after all.

<<Yeah, I ain't planning no frontal assaults. Especially as I'd end up leading da fragging charge. Following dem seems like a good idea. Dat way, at least dey is likely to flush out anything dat is waitin' ta jump us. But I ain't too keen on letting em get der hands on da kids. I'd prefer ta takes them out just before we gets where we're going. As for looking non-threatening, I can maybe summon enough juice ta change my appearance and maybe even get a little itsy bitsy snake spirit ta help us. An jes fer my info, can either of you two actually handle a gun?>>

Frag, I sure wish Dealer hadn't up and left at the last minute. I'm supposed to be magic support, not the fragging street sam.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:31:20; Heading towards Reading, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

<<@ Lianne: My darling, you are too good to me. Next time I am in Marseilles, I shall indulge you with dinner, drinks, and your choice of entertainment afterwards.>>

Gemeaux looks up after sending his "thank you note" to his fixer.

"So it might be wise to get in touch with Mademoiselle Argent? I would do it myself, but I do not have her address. Perhaps I could have it?"

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:31:20; Heading towards Reading, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

Mordred displays the commcode she had contacted him with. Presuming it was actually hers, anyway. "There you go." Replacing the commlink in his pocket, the adept finds an empty spot of the garage floor and begins stretching. It was probably smarter to let Gemeaux (or anyone else who knew how to talk to people) explain that they police were after them. Which could be a bad thing or a terrible thing, depending on how badly the cops took the deaths of their own. Though they had successfully retrieved Collot and his son from the church.

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:20, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Scratch moved cautiously onto the dock, wary of the precarious timbers under foot and the creaking from the decayed wood. This place hadn't been used in what looked like centuries and once again she wondered what Col thought he was doing dragging her out here. If she wasn't so worried about Summer she would never have considered risking her neck like this. She just silently thanked the Gods that her gift enabled her to step lightly where others would fear to go...

...now where the hell was Col?

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]

A surly looking dwarf who looks like a Tolkienesque sterotype of his race shows you where you can stash your ill gotten wheels. He mutters under his breath constantly and from what you can hear of it would make an interesting study in profanity. There is nobody else about and you get the distinct impression that this place doesn't normally see much business during daylight hours.

Mordred's comm number connects you almost instantly with Argent and her worried visage is projected into AR between you

"What has happened? My sources tell me that there was an incident when you reached the UK...? Are the Collots unhurt? Monsieur Hill, I trust that you were discrete in your entry into the country so there must be a leak - in your organisation or mine, who can tell? Don't tell me where you are, I'm not sure this link is secure. Do you need assistance to reach your target? I have contacts in the UK who might be able to assist you in getting where you need to go..."

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

With increased caution you begin to pick your way south once more. Bursts of encyrpted comm chatter come back your way but the interference is obscene and without getting closer you are not sure that you could make anything intelligable from it without hours of predictive software on a nexus.

Ælias' contacts back home do manage to break through the encryption on the data burst that was sent to them and they return the unscrambled version of the comm fragment. It's terse military jargon but seems to indicate that the team are heading south to a point somewhere near the Cermak blast site...singularly close to your target. A brief slip up from one of the voices, along with a number of choice expletives, does indicate that they aren't being paid enough to drag people out of this hellhole...

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[February 9h, 2072, 01:12:07 Seattle docks, near an abandoned warehouse]
PAN=OFF, SIN: Burt Price

Silvio tosses his cigarette, looks around and asks him Yo, Marcello, you really sure this is the place?

It's in the middle of the night, I'm cold, wet, have a fucking hangover, these damn druggies are late again and Silvio can't keep his trap shut.

Yes, I am sure. And stop playing with your shotgun. This is supposed to be a pickup, not a massacre. My name's Mark, for the hundreth time.

Might as well tease you a bit while we're waiting.

Mark has hit Silvio's two favorite topics, respect and respect, so he bites. See, that's where you're wrong. Look at you, no obvious cyber, no huge gun in your hand, your jacket doesn't even show a hint of those toy guns you're packing. These sons-of-bitches see you, they're not gonna show any respect. And then we will have to "massacre" them, as you put it. Bad for biz. Silvio lights another cigarette. Least you didn't come in a goddamn suit like last time! Don't matter it's armored if it don't look like it. And start getting used to that name; my uncle calls you Marcello, so that's your name. You don't wanna disrespect him, do you?

Silvio's uncle, a nice friendly guy, or so Mark had thought, until that night after the attack when he woke up to see Mr. Moltisanti stand next to his hospital bed - long after visiting hours -, grim look on his face, telling him how important family is and sticking together and not talking to outsiders, the police in particular. That had been the first time, he had been called Marcello - little Marcus. And the first time he had seen that kind of certified cred. For "his inconvenience." Getting more than a dozend rounds pumped into your arm and losing it on a dirty factory floor - yeah, really not that convenient.

Meanwhile, Silvio is still going on, unaware that Mark was lost in thoughts ... at least could've brought that SMG of yours. That's instant respect. Don't know why you ain't got a shotgun, though. You're a natural. First time I fired one of them buggers, I nearly...

Natural? Never felt anything that unnatural before. My arm and... that thing Mark punches the warehouse wall with his right fist, the armored plasteel easily taking a chunk out of the weather-worn concrete. trying to coordinate; while the smartgun system tells me everything I never wanted to know about it and a small lump of artificial nerves whispers in my ears, lying, telling me I had done that a hundred times before.

Mark feels likes vomitting but sees the approaching van just in time. No time for weakness. Gets you no respect. Bad for biz.

Showtime. Let's see if we can bill them for our time. 17 minutes in this weather should be worth something, no?

Fucking headache, I need a drink.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:31:20; Heading towards Reading, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

"Ah, Mademoiselle Argent, I presume? I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I am Gemeaux, the bodyguard employed by Monsieur Hill for this particular expedition. The Collots are safe and sound, for the time being, and we have met up with the two other agents you have employed to bring them safely to their destination. Unfortunately, it appears we have attracted the attention of the local police. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we would be grateful to meet with whatever allies you might have in this country."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:23, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

"What are you looking for there darlin'?" A tight, thin voice seemed to screech out of the darkness around Scratch. She was so focused on the treacherous footing which threatened to send even a woman of her particular skills to an icy bath 15 feet below that the voice from out of the darkness took her by surprise; fear coursed through her at the unfamiliar voice until she located what appeared to be a wizened and grizzled old fisherman sitting on an oil can by the tall rectangular building occupying the end of the wharf, probably some old cannery or something similar from the machinery adorning the high walls.

"W..w..who are you?!" Scratch detested the obvious lapse of self-control that she displayed in that split second and it served to spur her to a fairly aggressive tone, perhaps aided and abetted by the frustration of not having found Col on the docks like she expected, in the middle of the night with Summer out in the city all by herself. "Whoever you are scram! I have no need for people tonight and I'm not the easy mark I appear to be..." She realized that probably wasn't the best tone but there was nothing for it, and it might serve to make this man not think of her as an easy repast to slake a hard days work.

"No, m'gel, who are YOU? It's not all the time that I see a young lady like yourself poking and blundering around my docks, not even in the day. Who are you and what are you looking for girl?"

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 23:30:23, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]

<<All requests coming in on normal frequencies commander. ETA to mid-point capture three minutes fifty-two seconds and counting. Ground Commander Zhetof requests that you drop additional supplies by the armored battalion; they are taking heavier fire than expected.>>

The software which governed the game was crude by her standards but Lefey took a huge amount of pleasure at being able to play such an easy concept while asleep. She didn't come here every night, no the nights of true freedom were too precious to fritter away in virtual battles with blithely unaware opponents who's neural chemistry evoked comparisons of the plodding cart horse and the formula one race cars of the past century; it was the absolute ability to relieve stress in a warm bath of code that swam in and out of her mind's eye more rapid than light had any right to do under real word physics.

Mentally granting acceptance of the information and informing the commander that she had enough resource points to give him the needed armor Lefay's mood felt steadily more stable. It had been a bad day, Dad had come home from work, he had actually been SUMMONED to work in the meat, instead of telecommuting as always and the mood in the house had gone from calm and reassuring, if restraining, to combative and tense in a split-second. Something bad had happened but she had no idea what, and not knowing had a habit of driving Lefay up one wall and down another when you came right down to it.

So she had come to Dust, a world where she could mash electronic soldiers that held the electronic egos of underdeveloped boys with overdeveloped pride till she could figure out what had happened and also to follow up on her original goal, carried over from the previous night. Someone, no... some girl... it had definitely felt female in nature, had sent her a stream while she had been playing the game. Normally she would have passed over the game as just another fad for overly large amounts of testosterone but that undeniably feminine thread of resonance had her hooked. Something about it felt... familiar. Now all she could do was wait, wait and hope that the resonance would come again so she could trace her to her source, find out why she had contacted her, and what it could mean. That, most of all had driven her to play into the middle of the night, ruthlessly crushing battlefield after battlefield with all her resonant power.

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:42, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]

The thread crept into her vision from nowhere and yet everywhere, just as she launched another blistering assault to claim the last victory point. <<FINALLY!>> Lefay's mental exultation at having received the waited for thread of resonance reverberated back down the connection with more force than intended and the budding young techno had the definite impression of someone clapping their hands over their ears for a few seconds that seemed years before the connection once more resolved into a peaceful stream, crystal clear and yet immeasurably deep.

The pause stretched for a while and finally SHE, appeared, a small girl, probably no more than six or seven years of age, wearing a nightie and holding onto a stuffed teddy bear much larger than herself, improbably held up by one grubby little hand, who's expressions changed rapidly and would have normally been the stuff of nightmares; not a sleeping companion.

<< Why do you keep knocking?>> The girl motioned to a tangle of tendrils trailing off of Lefay that she had never quite noticed before, insignificant and ethereal when looked at head on, but strong like a spider's web when seen from the corner of her eye. <<I've been looking for them... have you too?>>

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]

Anselm nods in agreement with his bodyguard's statement, "I know you weren't aware of my taking another on in the task of aiding the Collots across to the destination but it has already been proved a more prudent decision; I did not properly reflect on the level of avarice which can be accrued by the less morally inclined... I vouch for his good behavior, as he comes well-recommended and vetted from my contacts. Moreover, my entry into the country was entirely unremarked, so I do not believe it to have been leaked from my organization... I told no-one of our destination besides Charles here," Anselm motioned curtly to the woozy ork, "and only just made the decision to redirect to the priory. I believe the source must lie with you and your organization or perhaps a third party as it seems your two agents new exactly where to find me... I must enforce how unpleasant it is to have been traced so easily. Assume from here on though, that none can be trusted..."

After muttering several strings of what appear to be latin, the mage brusquely turned to the two newly arrived members of the entourage. Anselm dropped all pretense of a pious, fumbling monk and instantly became a commanding professional, "I normally offer professional courtesy so I will ask you politely and of your own free will... Will you submit to the Lord's eye? He see's all, but sometimes his servants are given the ability to look into thoughts of their contemporaries in order to shine the light on darkness. I will not hold it against you if you don't, but I cannot trust any of you until I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are not servants of the Accuser." Anselm appeared to grow larger while speaking, not so much in size but in his absolute aura of force of character, not threatening but a promise of divine surety.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]
PAN=Active; SIN:Nina Okada

It has been quite the trip to get this far. It also feels very nice to finally step out, stretch the legs, and finally enjoy some breathing room. No more cramped spaces and bumpy roads. Speaking of bumping into things, the woman will in fact bump shoulders with Mr. Collot. "So," There is a subtle smile on her face and a curious look in her eye. "Where is Mrs. Collot~?" The shadowrunner will be letting the sniper and the mage discuss via commlink with their employer. Tsubaki is interested in digging around elsewhere. It's a very important question to ask, isn't it? A father and son on the run and the mother is no where in sight. If anyone is concerned, Tsubaki certainly will be.

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[April 12th, 2072, 23:30:24, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS, Middle Waterway, King Salmon Marine, 700 E 11th st]
PAN=OFF, SIN: Burt Price

"There's always two stories... and then there's the truth..." The words echoed hollowly in Mark's ears as Silvio backed the Zemlya-Poltava Crest quietly into the slip, kicking up a faintly luminescent wave in the dim light cast more by the glow of an ever-awakened city than the faint sliver of a moon that was just reaching its zenith high above the darkened bay.

The past two months seemed to be summed by the phrase Judge Pendersen had uttered after hearing Mark's testimony in the dock. That had been an unfortunate bit of business, the truck showing up as planned, the drugs all there and complete, the money handed over... and then the drek hitting the fan in the most spectacular way... lights, camera and action all seemed to have been called at once as he had heard Silvio shout out to run, felt the bean bag rounds hit his head and arms, thought how life was a waste and then... nothing. The arrest records were the real downside, Mark had later learned that Uncle Moltisanti had sent a team of consultants to the first judge's house and the trial had been moved to another more attentive person, but where consultations could rearrange men's minds, the records were a point in Knight Errant's blackbook of keeping crime in check, and so were well isolated from the attentions of receptive individuals.

Mark hadn't cracked though, and the sentence was light, light enough to look good to the outside public but so light as to not really have mattered in the long run, not for that much contraband. Tonight though, only a week out of the slammer, so-called daisytown by the family for it's notorious luxury of a holding location, was to be Mark and Silvio's welcome home, as well as their test. Recent tensions between the Vory and the Yakuza immigrant populace had allowed Silvio's uncle to see a chance to get revenge for the family; naturally, Mark had been the first man picked to be Silvio's right hand man. Who better to help a shot against the people who had caused all the fighting in the first place? Not that it was precisely the outsiders that had caused it, but their intelligence, slipped to the traitorous Finnigan and Ciarnelli families.... that had given the blood traitors the ammunition they needed to kill Mr.Bigio. So tonight was payback, a load of goodies, sent with love, to be packed into the newest of the container ships that the Yaks loved so much for the ease of transporting human product from the rim of fire, for the delectation of the masses of Seattle, Salish, and worst perhaps of all, Tir Tairngire. Tonight was a night for blood and the welcome gift that Mark and Silvio had both been given to help the four other men in the boat escort their goods felt warm, as if the potential for violence cradled lovingly against his arms foretold of the violence that could erupt, given it's owners need: a brand new Heckler and Koch Urban Combat Series submachine gun.

Prison had changed the man, or perhaps the realization that he was now, like those he hated so much, a criminal. The revulsion that Mark felt, welled up inside him as the motor cut off and the quite lap, lap, lap of the waves took over the cadence of the night. The figures waiting on the docks stood motionless, calmly looking down, a line came into Mark's head, unbidden...

"My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori."

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
April 18th 2072, 22:39:12 in an armored limo pulling away from "The Blazers", Seattles in-restaurant of the week, maybe just half-week
SIN = OFF, ID Burt Price

Mark, after three doses of his favourite drink - if you don't count straight up Bushmill's -, Brandy Alexander, sinks comfortably happy into his seat inside the limousine. Silvio, hyper as always, tries to get him to smoke, while Mr. Moltisanti - he's got a first name, Johnny, but nobody uses it - looks at him, an unspoken question in his face.

It is him who addresses the problem first; of course, the alpha male - however well-mannered - never needs permission to speak his mind So, we're all happy with the agreeement?

Sivio, pushing a huge Cuban cigar into Mark's face, is happy to agree, can't take a hint Fucking A! We're gonna make a killing with those chips!

Moltisanti looks at Silvio, then at Mark, pauses a moment, seemingly disappointed by the fact that nobody disagrees, then continues So, we're all happy with getting ass-raped by ten percent by those fucking chinks?! He stresses the last few words, shocking Silvio into silence, unusual silence.

It is Mark, who speaks up as if he had expected that exact words... Well, fourteen point seven percent to be precise. I took the liberty of cross-referencing our expected revenue versus police crack-downs, estimated worth of merchandise in the greater Seattle area and general decline in expenditures on non-essential goods - such as BTLs - over the last decade while we were drinking to the continued health of Mr. Myagi and his offspring. My agent indicates there is a 17% chance that I might be off by around 2.3 percentage points, but nevertheless, I don't feel too comfortable with the intrusion into our profit lines. I guess non-verbal negotiation tactics are called for?

Mr. Moltisanti smiles while Mark can't help but think You did expect that kind of speech, didn't you? Smiled three years ago when I told you I was saving for business school, hoping I'd come back as a tool you could use for your criminal empire? Well, here I am.

Silvio finally catches up on the general drift this conversation is taking So, we gonna blow some Chinese shit up, or what?

Well, considering what we just did to that freighter a few days ago, let me be really polite.. D'uh, you fuckwit!

Even more polite than in his thoughts, Mark looks at Silvio, nods, and answers Not exactly, but we might want to persue some more aggresive negotiation tactics than is usually the case.

Mark understands Silvio, basically; they had both spent their time in prison and the recent action had been something completely different. It was horrible, granted, but also liberating. Strange, killing all those people aboard the Xilung didn't seem like the atrocity it was. Dozens of bodies - of the innocent, knowing and definately guilty varity all mixed up - floating around the sea didn't seem too bad, it was a neccesary action, like a corp buying up another, letting men go, dooming families to poverty and hunger. And somehow, like some kind of drug, it called for more.

Mr. Moltisanti just looks at Mark, smiles and continues , seemingly switching topics in mid-conversation I'll enjoy a few hours with my Goomah, peace, quiet, safety. For a few hours at least. Why don't you guys drop off here, Tony'll get you home or whereever. Enjoy a quiet night.

Nice. Might as well have said "Switch cars, Tony knows where Myagi's misstress lives, kill the sucker. With a silencer; sneak in and out, make them doubt their security." Smooth as always.

As the limo pulls over, Mark nods at Mr. Moltisanti, grabs Silvio by the arm Come on, Sil. Good thing I got my toys on me, right?

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:42, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

The whole time, LeFay had been preoccupied by the thought of meeting the girl who contacted her recently. Not that Dust didn't have its own charm. But Morgan was wanted to play with something other than virtual soldiers. A puzzle which had haunted her for six years now. That sudden, strange burst of energy she had just sent through the connection was more reminder of the mystery than she needed. Really hope no one noticed that.

"Huh?" Morgan regretted the word almost as soon as it came out of her mouth. She had so hoped to sound coherent in front of the sender. Maybe she would have asked an actual question, if she hadn't been busy staring at the girl and her plush demon. Just take a moment to compose yourself. And remember, words this time. LeFay stepped closer. "Because I need answers." She stared at a gloved hand and the thread trailing off each finger. "I don't know. Should I be looking for them?" The witch tapped into what had become a sixth sense, willing herself to see what the tendrils truly were, to look at the code that dictated their nature.

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead drops to the back of the trio of runners, letting the more stealthy members keep tabs on the other group while she focuses on trying not to give away their position.

Wish I could summon up an air spirit to conceal us, but I don't want to risk magic unless the drek really hits the fan.

Keeping her voice low, she whispers to the orc hacker, "Ssst, Ælias. Any luck in decoding their comms? I don't wanna start a shooting match only ta find out dey is one of da other extraction teams!>>

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:23, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]

Scowling uselessly into the darkness Scratch tried to make out more details of the fisherman and whether or not he posed a threat. “I’m Beth…” taking the name that was being broadcast by her fake SIN “my friend Col said he’d meet me here…and when I catch up with him I’m gonna make him regret dragging me out here” she said that loudly enough that hopefully Col would hear her wherever he had hidden himself – and he’d bloody better be here!

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]

Argent pales when Gemeaux steps into the view of the AR image… “Mes Dieux! Vous etes morts!*” barely picked up by the mic. “Monsieur Hill, you were not as discrete as you might imagine. I was looking for you coming into the country and the Collots were facial recogged at the airport, a quick extrapolation and that is how I knew to send your other companions to you at the church…of course I didn’t know they would be bailing you out quite so soon but I suspected that there would be trouble along the way. I am not doubting your skills, but many eyes will make for a safer journey. If you assume that every strangers’ pair of eyes are watching you then you will probably be at the level of paranoia required for the blighted Kingdom that you find yourselves in. Big Brother is very much a fact of life there and everyone spies on everyone else! I think I need to speak to you all in person. Can you send me a watcher to guide me to you? You know where I am, I do not have that luxury.”

As Tsubaki takes Collot aside he looks at her with a penetrating gaze and his son gurgles and tries to pat her face. “Mademoiselle Nina, I am sad to say that my wife could not cope with the fear of who and what I am, what I became. The persecution of my kind was not confined to the Americas or Far East, there are unenlightened throughout the world ready to prey on our fears.”

* I apologise to anyone who actually speaks French, but you get the gist?!?

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
April 18th 2072, 22:43:07 Seattle, inside yet another Mercury Comet on these streets
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Tony, who had been trailing his boss's limo, picks up Mark and Silvio and takes the first one left. Letting the car's - hopefully upgraded - auto-pilot take over, he turns around to the other men. Ok boys, we got a little excitement planned for tonight. Hope you didn't get overboard with the drinking. The last sentence is clearly directed at Mark, whom he looks in the eyes for a moment before continuing. First, this car's just been sweeped. It's clean. So, that Chinese clown's finally out-lived everybody's patience and he's going for the long sleep tonight. Sucker's going to his misstress tonight, happens we know where she lives. I've been to your apartments tonight and brought your guns. He makes a pause for the protests that he is sure are coming.

Silvio, true to his hot-head nature, goes off first. You what?! You can't just break into my apartment! What do yot think you are, you little piece of shit. The fuck, you just can't do that!

Tony had expected to be insulted but he wouldn't take it Now listen up, it was your uncle, OUR BOSS, who ordered it. This thing has to be kept secret, so you didn't have to know about it until now. And we don't have the time to get your stuff now. Got it? How 'bout you, Marcello?

Silvio opens his mouth, shuts it again, looks out of the window.

Mark nods, Sounds logical. You didn't by any chance have the time to clean my place up a bit? Haven't gotten round to doing so since Cindy left.
Sure, you deal with criminals, gotta expect them to violate your rights just the same they violate everybody else's. As long as it helps the bottom line. Just another corp, really.

Tony decides there's no time for jokes Cute. Now, cut it. Plan's simple. Joker always spends the entire night at his girl's place, so we can hit him when he's asleep. Far as we know, it's just the guy and his girl inside, two very bored guards in a car in front. I disable the alarms and watch the backdoor, you two get inside. Marcello, you shoot the sucker with your silenced gun. Slitch wakes up, geek her too. Silvio, you watch his back. Things go smooth, you don't fire a shot. Shit hits the fan, you still don't fire a shot. Things go south so hard, they can't be handled silently, that's when you start firing, no sooner. And it's Marcello's call if that time has come, he's in charge for this one. Noticing the disappointment in Silvio's face, Tony adds Don't worry, you'll get your chance next time. Now for tonight's details...

Holograms showing their mark, his misstress and the location and schematics of her house appear in the car...

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:25:30 Leaving Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]

Jack gave the troll the once over. This was especially difficult as he was seeing two of them. This may have had something to do with a petty server who disagreed with some harmless pinching that occurred a while back when Jack first started out in the area. Occasionally she spiked the drink with something a bit harder, or perhaps the drink was hitting him on an empty stomach.
"Hey, you like you don't take crap from anyone. I reshpect that. Whass yer name my good man?"

Jack tasted something like copper. She did it to me again, great. Jack stopped with his drink to look around and see if he could spot the culprit. He moved very slowly and intentionally as to not cause the room to spin any faster than it was already going.

Somewhat pathetically, and quitely Jacked whimpered. "You get me there in one piece and I'll take a nap my good man. She spiked my drink again...I think..."

Jack heard Hawke let out a light chuckle. Jack made a mental note to watch who was pouring the drinks more carefully, and not be anywhere near the opposite sex after having as much as he did his first night out. He knew it would be a good half hour before this feeling would go away.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux cocks an eyebrow when he hears Argent's whisper.

I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting her... Must be some chatter from Shiawase's bloodhounds in Marseilles...

He gives Argent a reassuring smile, "Madame, I assure you that whatever nonsense spouted about my capture or death by third rate 'bounty hunters' is complete nonsense. Still, have we met before? I like to think that I never forget a face, especially one quite as charming as yours..."

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]

Argent looks hard at Gemeaux, at least that is the appearance through the AR interface,

"We will talk more when I reach you. I don't think we've met, and I know nothing of these bounty hunters..." she breaks off, "yes, we will talk more soon, I should be with you momentarily if Monsieur Hill can facilitate..."

[Tuesday June 14th, 2072; Sintec Facility, Downtown Seattle]

The maglock was isolated from the system so Riptide had no access to it. Silk crouched down and with a deft swipe of a laser cutter freed the cover plate to expose the delicate circuitry beyond. Allowing her breathing to slow she extended her fingertips out, hovering them just above the guts of the machine. She traced the patterns in her mind, discerning the necessary changes that would trigger the door to open. With a flash of clarity she extended a microelectronics probe and with a flurry of movements that belied her stillness the door indicator changed to a steady green.

The air hissed out as the seals were broken, a waft of metallic gasses that had nothing to do with the narcotics they had pumped into the nearby rooms. Although the lighting was bright Silk wasn’t concerned about being seen as she slunk down the short corridor. Her suit would mask any thermal signature and the ruthenium polymers rendered her all but invisible. A subtle change in the flooring warned her of a pressure sensor, presumably to activate the door ahead.

Riptides warning about the system spider and alarm flashed across her vision and galvanised the team into speed over stealth. Silk gestured for Requiem to come forward, his hardened military armour making him the obvious choice to barge into the unknown. His wires allowed him to glide forward with unnatural grace, his own chameleon system blending into the hard white floor tiles and plastisol corridor walls.

They ghosted through, Requiem automatically peeling to left while Silk slipped to the right in a crouch. They were on a raised balcony overlooking a lab on the floor below them. Large pieces of air handling units and ductwork obscured their view but they could still see the sensory tanks and a glass enclosed operating theatre. Silks augmented vision did her little favours here and she had to force down the desire to gag at the sights below them.

As she watched guards scrambling to stop their incursion she became aware of the lack of the typical blaze of wifi signals, her tactical network was frantically signalling that it had lost contact with the others as they entered the room. She briefly regretted not having time to change to some more vindictive ammo before she gently squeezed the trigger of the smartgun and sent a flurry of sound suppressed fire towards their foes. She made the mental switch after seeing what was happening below, these were no longer people just doing their jobs, now they were the enemy.

The staccato bark of Requiem’s rifle dropped two of their assailants in a welter of blood, the armour piercing rounds being far more effective than the gel rounds from Silk’s weapon. As Bale joined them he too took a startled moment to take in the scene and then, what could be seen of his face locked in a rictus of anger and pain, he fired on the guards. They took the hint and retreated back to seek better cover.

To cut them off Silk launcher herself into the air, did a flip to bring her feet back under her and landed neatly on the roof of the operating theatre. The glass held, as she had suspected it would, and she found herself looking down into the acne covered face of the junior tech inside. On the table behind him was a girl, somewhere in her mid-teens. Silk’s facial recog flagged her as Emma, one of their targets who was taken in the raid on the Freedom hacker tribe. Silk knew that she would remember the look on that girl’s face in many sleepless nights to come. Her pallid shaved head had numerous surgical probes rammed into it and she appeared almost skeletal, wasted away under the barrage of Gods knew what tortures she had been subjected to.

Without any feeling of pity Silk drew her sidearm and fired through the glass at the tech. The sabotted rounds were barely deflected by the transition through the glass. At close range she witnessed the ruin of his hopes and dreams and couldn’t find it in herself to care… She would berate herself for her unprofessionalism later; he wasn’t a threat after all, and there were more pressing targets but she was filled with contempt for this corper and what he was doing to that poor girl…perhaps there were benefits to the detachment that Requiem had been trying to drum into her, she might not have forgotten herself for that brief moment…

A whirring sound made her jerk her head away from the grisly scene below her,

“Drone! Rail drone incoming!” she yelled at the others, mentally cursing their reliance on tech to communicate urgent messages. The intensive training they had been through however meant that they were in tune with one another, and although they probably couldn’t hear her through her respirator and over the sound of gunfire, they saw the threat almost as quickly as she did.

The runners scattered, Riptide retreating to guard their exit whilst Bale and Requiem split along either side of the gantry. Requiem charged down the stairs towards the retreating guards, relying on his armour and concealment to foil their attempts to bring him down. Bale stood tall and faced the drone. Flinging an arm out he let rip a scintillating bar of light that shrieked as it super cooled the air it passed through. The drone came to an abrupt halt and he was just turning away having killed it when the high velocity rounds spat from the underslung machine gun and stitched a pattern across the wall and then him.

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:01:36; Everett, Everett Medical Center, Reception Area]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

She'd let a few breaths go, any normal citizen would have gawked at the sight, and gawk she did. Her mind immediately went about calculations without her say-so, two or more bodies, a particularly brutal scuffle, she ventured a guess that the orderlies wouldn't be returning home to loved ones, that much blood pointed to murder. She scanned for spatter marks in comparison to the calmly stagnant pool of crimson ichor, that would tell her if it was a blunt force trauma or a simple blade that was used. All of these thoughts came about in a matter of seconds, and every second she wished she wasn't thinking about it.

She turned back to where Sport had been standing, thankfully dealing with the putrescent clerk that would've no doubt had something to say to KE if they'd bailed. Again she looked to the puddle of living essence on the floor before her, paying Knight Errant no mind, wolves could smell fear, and she preferred to have it associated with the brutality of the scene. Saint waited for her companion to return before she'd move.

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:01:47; Everett, Everett Medical Center, Reception Area]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Looking at him, puss still running from her ear, the nurse seems unfazed by what has happened right in front of her. Depends on what yer paying, sweety. Fer nothing, well, nothing's happened and KE just felt like popping by. What's that info worth to you? Maybe something DID happen, who knows?

Adrian just shakes his head, turns away from the mercenary nurse and goes back to his companion. Oh, Ti-Tsang, please guide us back out of here. Looking at the blood stain in front of him, he adds I will pray for them, as I am sure you will, please guide her and to safety; and me, if you care for such a worthless servant as this one.

Looking at Saint, who seems just as shell-shocked as he is - maybe she's not as much hardened by the streets as he thought she'd be - he decides to take her by the arm once more and guides her towards the exit.

Knowing she won't hear his inner monologue, he nevertheless makes her a promise, one he can't break We make it out of here, I tell you all I know about this, I vow.

Just before the exit, a young KE officer stops them. Adrian hopes that he will see reason. Sorry, but what happened here? I've just accompanied my friend here to an appointment. I think all that blood got to her. Didn't know this area was this dangerous... Honest interest, some shock - mostly his own - and the desie to just leave, is this enough to get them away?

All that blood, a girl with an exploding head, that perverted magician's office, I just wanna curl up and sleep. Like really long.

Suddenly, a jolt of understanding hits him. Did his yidam, Ti-Tsang, allow herself to feel this way when her mother was condemned to hell? NO! What did she do? Fight, that is pray, with all her soul. So shall I. Not for my sake, but hers! Looking at Saint, then turning back at the 'hospital', he adds And whoever else's is at stake.

[Tuesday June 14th, 2072; Sintec Facility, Downtown Seattle]

Silk spun round as Bale fell and time seemed to dilate. With calm determination she levelled her Scorpion at the drone that had killed him and fired. Normally the tiny calibre rounds would have been deflected but in this case they had been replaced by tungsten penetrators that easily found the ammo drum of the machine gun and cooked off what remained of its supply. Molten shards of weapon went whickering through the overhead ductwork.

Miraculously Bale struggled to his feet and waved a feeble all clear down at them but it was evident that he would now be as much of a hindrance to their escape as the recumbent test subjects around the room.
With precious time slipping away Requiem drew his customised hand cannons, vicious matte black Guardians, and launched himself into the centre of the remaining guards. The gyros on his wrists stabilised the weapons as they danced a brutal weave of fire through the last defenders.

Silence momentarily fell apart from the pinging of hot metal above them and the breathless panting of the two remaining techs who were scrabbling out from behind the pods they had been cowering behind and were making for an adjoining room. With a silent snarl Silk leapt, swung off an overhead duct and with a deflection from a wall mounted cylinder, landed between them and the door. She mentally flipped the ruthenium coating on her armour and she became a figure of darkness, the coating seeming to absorb the light, apart that is from the feral glow of eyes in the faceplate of the helmet she wore.

The techs froze and then began to back away with their arms held clear of their bodies, only to bump into the armoured form of Requiem who had similarly appeared like a spectre behind them. With undignified whimpers they slipped to the floor with their hands cradled protectively around their heads.

With containment temporarily in hand Silk approached one of the workstations and connecting her link, sent Herne into the system to dredge up all the information on their targets. A bleak tally was projected into Silk’s mind’s eye as the agent rifled the corp’s hardline system. It would seem that the test subjects in this room were the only ones here left alive of the original nine who had been taken.

While a meaningless stream of medical data filled the data files Silk gazed sorrowfully into one of the sensory pods at the victim strapped down inside. The face of the young man was set in a ghastly rictus that was painful to look at.

“We can’t just drag them out, who knows what will happen to them…” She pushed her gun into the temple of the older tech kneeling in an expanding pool “Wake them up now, don’t and you die.” The voice mask made her voice deeper, more threatening, but probably nothing compared to the looming barrel.

“I, I can’t…they are deeply immersed, the shock could kill them…”

“You are already killing them! We walk out with them now or you never walk out again.”

In hindsight this would probably sound melodramatic and over the top, but then Silk hadn’t brushed up on intimidation techniques and she didn’t have time for a more subtle argument. The gun was doing most of the talking for the quivering wageslave anyway. With a little bit of rough assistance from Requiem he made it to his feet and approached a central bank of computer equipment. What Silk vaguely recognised as brainwave maps slowly changed as he fiddled with the AR controls. In the pods they began to stir and dimly heard cries of distress filtered into the room.

“And turn the jamming off!”

Another flurry of commands and suddenly the tactical feeds blazed back into being as the severed wifi links re-enabled. Riptide’s voice immediately came across the comm.

<<We have company. Looks like a tactical team arriving at the front. They haven’t flagged this with KE so I guess they intend to deal with us themselves. I estimate we have five more minutes before they begin the assault>>

<<Ok. We knew the chances of making it look like we were never here were slim indeed. Judging by the feeds they don’t have enough people to sweep the building thoroughly yet so we will try and divert around them and still go with exit plan A. Get ready with those distractions. There is still a spider in here with us somewhere, we need to take out his eyes otherwise they will lead them straight to us>>

<<With the jamming off this system is mine! Attach the wifi bridge to a socket and I’ll flash this virus through it, should give us time while they reboot>>

Silk did as she was bid whilst Requiem and the limping Bale began to help the woozy victims out of their pods.

***
They staggered through the corridor on the floor below the lab, Requiem leading and the other three supporting the five test subjects. On cue the air was suddenly sucked backwards towards the impromptu hole in the ceiling they had just descended through. The white phosphorous would be spreading in an incandescent sheet across the lab, the automatic fire suppression systems would only spread the stuff around further. It would burn out any forensic evidence and hopefully destroy any data the corp had gathered so far.

They were hampered by the general condition, or lack of, of their targets who were weak and disorientated. Silk, who was barely able to get Emma to stand, looked worriedly at the girl, her condition was deteriorating rapidly and her breathing was coming in ragged gasps. They had hesitated to subject them to further chemicals but it looked like stims might be their only option.

Opium’s voice sounded in their ears <<The tac team obviously know about the fire, they are proceeding more cautiously and I would say they don’t yet know where you are. I am ready to neutralise their command vehicle when you are ready>>

Riptide’s response was decidedly less reserved <<Suckers are using last year’s encryption. I’ve broken in and I’ll tweak their tacnet to lead them on a wild dance. Once they split up I might even be able to get them to shoot each other!>>

Things were becoming ridiculously tight but Silk was still confident that they would make it out, the trick would be doing it without further harm coming to the innocents with them. Breaching the lift shaft ahead they prepared to descend to the parking garage below. The lifts themselves would have been fried by Riptide’s virus so they provided a handy escape route. Whilst she anticipated that the onsite spider would be trying to regain control of the system the virus was virulent enough to resist attempts to eradicate it, which, coupled with the fire above should buy them some time.

***
Silk eased herself through the impossibly small gap in the lift doors. The car park seemed to be deserted for now with no sign of their hunters. This grace period couldn’t last much longer before they called in significant reinforcements. Bale was struggling even further after using his power to help stabilise their charges down the precarious climb and Silk was concerned that he was hiding the extent of his injuries from them.

The corp motor pool was as expected, and stashed between them were the two Rovers they had arranged to be delivered this morning. They responded to the open commands and the runners gratefully bundled in with their charges in tow.

<<We are set, take out the command vehicle now>>

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

"I shall look forward to it," Gemeaux replies. "Ordinarily, I would tidy myself up a bit before introductions, but these are trying times. At the very least, I've a bottle of Côtes du Rhône in my luggage to add a touch of comfort to your arrival."

To meet two lovely women in one day is not normally a reason to celebrate, but given the situation I will take what I can get.

Gemeaux looks to Mr. Hill.

"Well, can you send an invitation to our employer, or must we make other arrangements?"

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

You scrabble along through the rubble, being careful not to turn an ankle on the loose, shifting debris. It is hard to be stealthy but you are sufficiently far back from the other group that they shouldn’t be aware of you. They don’t seem to have any eyes in the sky that Ælias can detect and Copperhead isn’t aware of any spirit cover.

About an hour later after you first discovered them you hear in the distance the tell-tale rumble of ethanol fuelled motors and the whoop and shout of some of the more technological residents as they scent prey. It would seem that your inadvertent advance party have stirred the wasp’s nest, so to speak, at least they will be able to soften up any possible opposition…

With the encryption broken Ælias easily comprehends a flying fragment of their comms as they respond to the attackers (you all hear the staccato bark of automatic fire)

<<…Shit, left fl$$k, enga$e that big basta$d!...frag you…they aren$$ pay$ng u$ enough for this $hit…fu$king…sort yourselves out, this isn$t a picnic, watch tha$...I’ll speak to Arg$nt about compen$$tio$ later…>>

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]

Argent smiled at Gemeaux through the AR interface

“Ma Cherie, save your wine, I will be with you in spirit rather than in the flesh…” she looks away briefly “merci, little one…Monsieur Hill’s watcher has reached me, I will be with you shortly”

Considering the fact that she has to cross the Atlantic following a small impressed form of astral energy she arrives with you surprisingly quickly, manifesting in the darkened garage as a being of light. In the flesh, being an elf, she is attractive enough, her astral form is glorious!

Manifested she appears to be over two meters tall, clad in antique garb replete with celtic jewelry and a leaf bladed short sword in a scabbard at her side which Monsieur Hill at least will recognise as a potent focus. The lock of silver hair glows prominently in the low light.

She stares hard at Gemeaux as if trying to pierce the mysteries of his soul…she then turns to the others in the room

“This is the first time that we have had a chance to meet other than via the matrix. I am sorry that your journey so far as been beset by danger. The Collots are in safe hands so for that I thank you on behalf of the Stillwater group. You cannot remain here long, we do not yet know how you were tracked to the church but it would seem that the opposition has significant resources aimed at finding the Collots, and perhaps the Clearwater location. I have people I trust in Oxford who I can put you in contact with, or you may use your own connections as you see fit.”

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead's head snaps up at the sounds of engines and gunfire. She had been keeping her gaze on the ground just ahead of her, carefully picking her way through the rubble to stay quiet and avoid twisting an ankle.

Here we go again. Action time!

She swings the big shotgun up to the ready and glances at Ælias.

"You got anything from der comms that might give us a clue what's going on and whether we should help dem or take dem out?"

"Jess, you da sneaky. Why not go..."

She breaks off when she realises the woman is already gone.

"Frag! Don't get yerself killed till I gets there."

She sets off towards the sounds of fighting. While she moves quickly, she tries her best to stay in cover.

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Jess has already gone, crawling through rubble and keeping low and out of sight, trying to draw a bead on the action. Their comms mentioned Argent so she's pretty sure they're friendly, or at least not an enemy. Hearing Copperhead's gusto behind her, she sends a silent message.

<<May be best to hang back and see how it plays out. If they win, we don't have to deal with it. If they lose, it can only make us look good when we bring in 2 team's work>>

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

The other group have been steadily making their way over to Ashland Avenue, presumably to cross the river ahead by one of the few remaining bridges. They were unfortunate enough to be in a fairly open spot which has allowed the ten or so bikers to approach them. As you watch from a vantage point further down what is left of the avenue you see more people flanking them from nearby buildings in a classic ambush pattern.

The group don’t seem to be terribly phased by their predicament though, pulling tightly together to see off the attackers and making the most of the building rubble, trying to back towards the side of the street where they will not be as surrounded.

The attackers are clearly one of the more advanced groups in the zone and you suspect they might be Unionists judging by what you can see from this distance and in the poor light. Why they would be this far out from their stronghold is open to a guess but they clearly had this junction watched enough to prepare.

One of the trio goes down with what looks like a crossbow bolt through him and the chances of them making it out are dramatically reduced…

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:03:12; Everett, Everett Medical Center, Reception Area]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Looking both Saint and Adrian up and down, the young KE officer sneers at him. Don't know nuthing; yeah right, hear that all day long, Mister Taylor. Shocked by a little blood? Get a new life. The SIN check seems to have finished as he adds. And a new job. Doesn't like blood, works for Combat Cab, real drekhead. Anyway, what happened here, didn't involve a tazer, modded or not. Now stop steeling my time and get lost! Wanna know what happened, watch the Trid, category "Senseless violence nobody gives a frak about". And don't forget your friend. With a wink in Saint's direction, he waves them through.

So, where to next?

Accessing a list one of his coworkers has given him, labelled "midnite grub that won't kill you outright", Adrian finds an address in Everett and forwards it to Saint. How about we head there, grab some caf and I tell you why I thought we had to leave right away.?

Saint, still not talking to him, just nods and they head to their twin bikes.

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead moves up beside Jess and surveys the scene.

What a clusterfrag!

She is still gritting her teeth at Jess's rather mercenary comment when Ælias confirms the people they have been following are likely also working for Argent and then one of them goes down with what looks like a crossbow bolt sticking through him.

"Ah, shit. I ain't standin' here while some yahoos kills one of Argent's other teams. Jess can you try and distract dem fraggers dat is trying to ambush dem?"

<<@Ælias, Jess: Ælias can you let dem know da cavalry is on it's way. I is about to do somefin real stoopid.>>

Mama, could use some help here.

The spirit that responds is a pale shade of a thing, twisted and poisonous. She almost winces at its sickly appearance.

Sick em bikers!

As the sickly spirit speeds off, she straightens up to her full height and steps out of cover. She steadies the Enfield, drawing a bead on the nearest biker.

BOOM! whirclick BOOM! whrrclick roars the Enfield over the chatter of lighter automatic weapons and the whine of ethanol engines. She steps resolutely towards the fighting, the big gun twisting in her grasp as it barks again and again.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

Mordred stands, dusting off his jeans. "Well, it's nice to finally see you in person. Er, sort of." Something told the adept he could trust Argent. Or rather, that he had to, for now. To be fair, she was being more forthcoming than he would expect form an employer.

"Right. Down to business. Do you think it's still safe to bring them to Clearwater? Or do you have a different destination in mind? Wherever we need to go, some help would be welcome." Mordred felt like he had been flying blind since the shootout at the church.

Briefly, the adept felt the dragon's gaze upon him, a brief warning against depending too readily on the help of a stranger. I know. He nodded mentally. I'll look into it when I have more to go on.

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:17:12; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Saint had taken Adrian's invitation most stoically but had followed. That they both shared a taste in motorcycles - they both liked the Suzuki Mirage, although his was two years older and thus not as up to date as hers - had at least gotten a few positive remarks out of Saint, who had been icily silent after their hasted departure from the doctor's office. At least she had agreed to follow him here, sit down at the corner table and wait for the waitress, Pamela - but then, they all were called Pamela here, guess there was some kind of theme going on in this joint -, to take their order.

He had ordered a slice of Mississippi Mud Pie - don't know if they actually used any chocolate in the making thereof, but looking at the prices they better did! - and a cup of Prince of Wales tea - whatever a "Wales" was, did sound good though, a whale was a majestic and grand animal, (mostly extinct it had become, though) afterall - while Saint simply barked a "What he said!" at their waitress.

Saint seemed pissed off to him; pissed off and maybe, hopefully, willing to listen to a good - a good! - explanation.

Heh, I better dive right into it

Huh, Saint, there's something about Doctor Bailey I gotta talk about. And for that matter, I better tell you something about me first...

[June 21st, 2072; Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

Aria danced through her domain, her seat of power manifested as a gloriously impossible garden, reminiscent of what once was. Her icon showed her as a diminutive child but those meeting her here would recognise that she was anything but. Two more icons appeared in the node, the first a young girl reminiscent of the images of Alice, the second, a clumsy stilted figure, was by far the more interesting

“Greetings Old One, you have managed to find a new host to bring your consciousness to this place?” Her tone is flippant but the deference owed is conveyed in her posture. There is a pause whilst her words are relayed and a response comes…in the speed of the matrix this seems to be an interminable pause

“Yes. Why you persist in meeting in this false reality the humans have created is beyond me…no, no, spare me your arguments, I know how important it potentially is to this work. Will Salai or your master be joining us for this solstice gathering?”

She dropped her childlike demeanour…whilst it was fitting that others should see her so, there was a time and a place for all things

“No. He is still recovering from what Goldensnout did to him and the destruction of the original great work.”

“Whilst precipitous we have discussed His reasons; your master’s actions were provocative”

“That’s as may be, we learnt our lessons well, now Stillwater and the other enclaves take the risks for us whilst we focus our efforts in new directions. The information you brought us from Cerberus is promising. If we can integrate that with the experiences in the Stillwater node we will be a step closer to our goal.”

“I baulk at this idea of changing metahumanity so drastically but change is inevitable and if the timescales are as we fear then something must be done quickly. I mislike the reliance on technology but in this age it is a power that magic once was and may be the edge that is needed”

“There are others who pursue similar goals, if for different reasons, we can seek them out and see if they have what we need…”

Throughout this brief exchange Summer hovered on the side lines watching her elders discuss the great dream. Her visions were coming with greater frequency as the Resonance expanded into her mind and she had begun to pick up on the names they were bandying about with such unconcern…Goldensnout, Lofwyr? Cereberus, the AI that works for Celedyr? enough to make her wonder once again if these people were truly sane...but she was here for her own reasons. An explanation of the darkness she saw in her visions perhaps? She knew that she represented the future for them, not just because of her gifts but because of who she was.

She turned suddenly to a shadowed part of the mysterious garden

“Over there, there’s someone watching us!”

Aria turned in the direction she indicated a smiled gently back at Summer

“It’s ok little one…” and that still sounded incongruous from someone who appeared to be younger by far, the glorious illusions of the matrix, “I know who it is”

“But they are hardly there, I can only sense them not see them, it’s as if the matrix itself is concealing them”

“Another mystery for you to unravel then” and the smile is more provocative this time. The tinkling tones failing to conceal something that sounded much, much older.

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

The speck of the tiny spirit, reduced further by the pervasive unease in the astral sphere, races ahead, hissing violently. Although it is small, it should not be underestimated, particularly manifest at the foot of one of the bikers ahead who jerks backwards in fear – directly into a burst of fire from the beleaguered defenders.

Although Copperhead and Jess are some distance from the action, Copperhead’s emergence and roaring combat shotgun draw the attention of the ambushers who seem panicked by this sudden new threat, whirling round in confusion and scrambling for more cover. One is sufficiently slow that Copperhead catches him in the open and what’s left of him will probably feed the devil rats for a while.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

"Perhaps another time, then. Preferably under better circumstances," replies Gemeaux.

When Argent arrives in astral form, Gemeaux does his best to mask his surprise. He has tangled with the Awakened before, but usually in the familiar comforts of the physical realm. Seeing the woman's striking astral form is quite treat, and he takes care to remember it. It is normally a practice he reserves for particularly fetching feminine faces and figures, but he decides that this is a fitting time to make an exception.

As Argent examines Gemeaux, he grins and cocks an eyebrow.

"Do you see something you like, mon cher? If you have questions, please feel free to ask. I might be inclined to answer honestly. With regard to business, I am happy to accept whatever help your contacts can provide. I am running low on ammunition, and would be incredibly grateful if you could direct me towards a suitable vendor."

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]

Argent’s spectral form traces an ethereal arm towards Gemeaux

“Your face and your aura tell me different things, both of them confusing. I would say that we have met before except I know that we have not. I think this discussion must be postponed until the Collots are safer, but I look forward to meeting you in person once your task is complete. Perhaps you will consider coming to Seattle once you are done…there is plenty of work here for one such as yourself.

As to the matter of ammunition, that is more difficult. I have not been to the UK for many years and some of my contacts do not remember me with undue fondness. That is aside from the fact that with the restrictions on weaponry, ammunition is that much more difficult to acquire. Send the details to my ‘link and I will see what I can do.

There is a gentleman in Oxford who would possibly be of assistance to you. He specialises in movements around the UK and bypassing the bureaucratic nightmare of that system. I am sure Monsieur Hill will also have connections that he can draw on.”

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

The beast spirit flits in and out of the astral plane, biting at exposed flesh then retreating back to safety. What it lacks in strength it more than makes up for in enthousiasm.

Copperhead keeps the pressure on, moving ever closer to the gangers, where the big gun will be even more deadly. She keeps up her steady fire until the the first crossbow bolt clatters off a wall near her head.

She hears Snake's voice but Cutter's words, Don't stand in the open unless you like getting shot!

She takes their advice and quickly drops into cover, popping up to return fire based on the little scrap of a spirit's hissed information.

<<Ælias, how's da comms coming. I don't want dese guys shooting me by mistakes.>>

She glances around looking for Jess, but she is nowehere to be seen.

Eyes front, girl. Focus on your targets. Do your job and trust your team to do their's hisses her mentor with her lover's words again.

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

It was kind of funny, now that he considered it. A small handful of people in a conversation with a spectral figure, talking as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Even the garage staff were going about their own business. "Where can we find this gentleman?" Oxford was something of a detour, but it'd be worth it if the police weren't looking for them there.

[Tuesday June 14th, 2072; Under the Sintec Facility, Downtown Seattle]

Silk watched the tactical feed that indicated one of Opium’s aerial drones circling in towards the corpsec team’s Citymaster. A blinking light indicated the launch of the stick-on jammer that spiralled down and attached itself to the vehicle’s roof. Following pre-programmed instructions two micro drones detached themselves from the cradle they had been carried down in and headed for the wheel arches. The detonations would be barely audible from outside but hopefully the damage to the vehicle axels would prevent that vehicle at least from giving chase.

The Rovers they were in accelerated smoothly towards the exit ramp. If Riptide’s tinkering had done its work properly the barrier should have retracted, if not this was going to be a very short trip. Behind them two of the motor pool whirred into life as Riptide overrode their dog brains and programmed in decoy routes that would help to mask the runner’s escape.

Silk silently cursed to herself as they sped up the ramp. She prided herself and her team on being in and out of run with nobody being any the wiser. In this case the necessity of rescuing the test subjects meant that was impossible, but they were still leaving too much evidence of their presence behind them. They had prepped as much as possible to ensure anything they left behind wouldn’t lead directly back to them but there was always the chance of a slip up…and Sintec would be none too pleased with the removal of their prizes.

The Rover’s engines echoed eerily in the concrete confines of the parking garage, coupled with the squeal of the overlarge tyres as they fought for purchase against Requiem’s not so gentle driving style. As they made the final approach to the exit ramp Silk swore as Emma struck her in the side of the head, that quickly turned to concern as the girl began to writhe

“She’s fitting, damn, this medkit isn’t equipped to deal with the sort of abuse these people have been put through”

The other two captives looked at her in mute appeal. They still didn’t seem capable of coherent speech but she was fairly certain she understood their meaning.

“Stop the car, we need to get her stable before we head out. I know it’s a risk but I’m not prepared to leave her here to die.”

Requiem slung the car over to the side of the ramp and, muttering to himself, unlimbered his assault rifle and propped it on the window “Just in case the fraggers come down here…”

Bale’s concerned tones came over the comm from the Rover ahead of them

<<What’s the hold up?>>

<<One of the packages is in distress, administering aid, won’t be long…I hope>>

***

With rudimentary medical aid offered, about the best that could be achieved in the back of a vehicle with a portable medkit, Silk held Emma tight to stop her hurting herself. She felt tears of frustration in the corners of her eyes and she was glad of the inhuman helmet masking her from her fellow runners and the people they had come here to extract.

The pattern was becoming frayed and Silk felt more and more as if they were losing control of the situation. This was hardly helped by the sudden proliferation of red AROs across the tactical display

<<They’ve found you. Get out now>>

Opium’s worried communication was drowned out by Requiem’s more succinct “Shit!”

The delay with helping Emma had clearly given the corp tac team sufficient time to work out that the runners were still in the building. The feed coming in from Opium indicated a squad making its way around the outside of the building towards the garage exit whilst another team leapfrogged out of the service exit from inside. They were calm and professional, moving with purpose towards the stalled runners.

<<I’m releasing the cats. Engaging in 5. Switch to secondary frequencies>>

Opium’s terrifying cat drones, the size and ferocity of small tigers, would be bounding towards the corpers outside. With their ruthenium coatings coupled with the projected howls they hopefully wouldn’t realise what hit them. That just left the ones inside the garage to deal with…

***

Fire lanced towards the runners from the opposing team sheltering in the parked cars some twenty meters or so into the garage. The whickering thuds of stray rounds suggested that they were using armour penetrators which didn’t bode well at all for Silk and her crew. Whilst the Rovers they were in had a modicum of armour they hadn’t been subjected to the rigorous customisation that the team would normally have performed on their vehicles.

Emma’s struggles had subsided but now they had a new difficulty as repeated shots struck the rear wheels, shredding even the runflat tyres that would have withstood more conventional rounds. In desperation the runners had released thermal smoke grenades to mask their retreat.

“Out, get out now, follow him towards the ramp” Silk urged the bewildered test subjects as she staggered out with Emma, trying to support Emma as she did so. Keeping the now riddled Rover between them and their opposition was only possible because of the tactical positioning mapped over her vision. Ghostly AROs advised on the safest route out based on the current data.

Ahead of them Riptide and Bale were firing blindly over their heads towards the corpers in a vain attempt to provide them some additional cover. The staccato whisper of silenced fire echoed strangely in the underground space.

Suddenly Emma became a dead weight against Silk’s side and then collapsed forwards. Silk stumbled down beside her only to feel a searing heat across her shoulder and a haze come across her vision. The shock of the impact didn’t register as pain and looking down she could see where the round her cored cleanly through her upper torso. This was hopeless, she relied on mobility and hampered by their charges she was a sitting target. Looking down she could see that Emma’s troubles were over and she felt a pang of regret that she had been unable to save her…the other emotions would come later when the adrenalin wasn’t driving her on.

Bale took charge of the situation, his words overriding the confusion running through the team

<<We can’t do this by running, we have to take the fight back to them before they take out the packages. They aren’t equipped to deal with this combat and if we try to protect them directly they will get us all killed!>>

<<On it, Cobalt is inbound>>

The smoke swirled as a vaguely glimpsed shape sprang over Silk, it’s rear claws striking sparks from the roof of the stricken Rover as it launched forwards. The mounted high velocity rifle on its back shrieked in a rising crescendo with the dreadful howl projected from speakers in its maw. Silk engaged her chameleon suit once more, noting briefly the damage to the sensors and she leapt effortlessly upwards to cling like a gecko to an overhead beam. She nearly plunged back to the ground as her injured shoulder grated and only her innate sense of her body allowed her to cling to the metal.

Below her Requiem’s cloaked form charged back down the ramp with his Guardians blazing in a weird double flamed image, the muzzle flashes reflected in his suit. A round appeared from nowhere through the smoke and struck his leg and his biomonitor feed in Silk’s vision spiked an alarming amount. Despite that his wires drove him on, ignoring the injury…

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 10:47:20; Kreig's Motors, Reading, UK]'

Anselm shrugged uncomfortably, "Unfortunately, I do not know who to trust, especially in this area, as my contacts dont personally extend to this area of the world.... I think for the moment we should follow your plan." Anselm carefully saved his personal note to inquire with the fixer and bodyguard individually as to exactly why Argent thought she had known Gemeaux, a man who had, to Anselm's knowledge, never set foot in her corner of the world.

@Fortune's Forecast / Scratch
[April 18th, 2072, 00:31:23, Abandoned Wharf, 76th Pl W, Everett]


The old man on the dock seemed well at ease for all that he could not have been younger than his late eighties, and that served to unnerve Scratch even more, "My dear gel.... you would probably like to hurt him... at least thats what you have in mind no doubt. Its written plain as day on your face. Why should he come to you if you don't mind me asking. This is my home, and I don't much care for intruders poking about."

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:45, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

The young girl chortled deeply, <<Oh I think so, I think so indeed>> The emotive tone to the words reassured morgan though, in a way she couldn't understand, more the doting older sister (though the girl before her looked paradoxically younger) than impatient parental figure.

Suddenly the girl looked pained as her image faded and fluxed, <<HELP! Please help me! They ha...>>. The figure dissappeared instantly but morgan could faintly see a thin trail, almost like blood flowing off into the resonance...