[21:04 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town]

Dahlia paused, nodding once or twice to the biker as she stopped walking. The woman let her hands leave her coat pockets, leaving the knives inside, in a rough mirror gesture of non-aggression. In contrast to the troll, Dahlia’s appearance practically screamed vanilla wage-slave. If not for the slightly off-kilter grin on her face, and contacts, she probably would have looked like a little lost civilian.

“That’s good enough for me. The job’s essentially wrangling a few runners who have split up and gone to ground. Johnson wants them back alive, but they’ll be well trained. The team isn’t completely put together, yet. But, there will be at least a sniper, yourself, another brick, and me,” She kept her voice low enough that no one other than the biker and herself should have heard the conversation. But, with cyber augmentations these days, who really knew?

“I’d like to round up a sneak and some matrix support to round out the team. Perhaps a rigger or a magician, if we can manage it. If this sounds like something you’re interested, I can send you some more of the particulars. There’s a preliminary meeting in the works on the fifth of the month, if you’re interested,” Dahlia reached into her coat and produced a comlink from an interior pocket, waiting for the troll’s response.

Dahlia
[21:04 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town

The troll splayed his legs wide to either side of the bike and supported it in an upright position as he retracted the stand. He leaned forward over the handlebars and studied the woman as she spoke. The troll grinned.

“Sounds like a fun job to me,” he said, wiring his own commlink info over to Dahlia. “I can go ahead and meet you at the meeting on the fifth. No problems there. Can’t say I could recommend anyone with the skill-sets you’re lookin’ for. But, I’m sure there’s someone crawling around lookin’ for work.”

He started the bike and let it idle in the middle of the street. “You want a ride to where you’re headin’? Or do you prefer broadcasting yourself as a target to the locals and gangers?”

[21:12 January 1st, 2072; Ruined Warehouse]

Akecheta liked what he was hearing. This could turn out to be exactly what he needed, an in to the local shadow scene and a somewhat reliable basis for aquiring jobs.

"Sure Mr. Okayama, I'm always up for some work. Just send a note my way when you need something done."

After that the troll hesitated for moment, not being sure if he was dismissed for today or if there was still more to be said.

"So I'm done for now? Or is there something else?" he finally asked.

Silk
[14:25 January 1st, 2072; ShadowSEA Node]
Thirty seconds had not passed before Silk was recieving a response to her message to He-Who-Sees-Within.

<<Greetings. I am amenable to work at present. Where and when should we meet to discuss specifics? I am free today.>>

[12:25 January 5th 2072; Back Alley Workshop, Seattle]
Ultima slipped inside the workshop and rapped on the side of the doorframe to get the attention of the man at the opposite side of the room. The man was Abdul, her fixer, and one of the few people in this city with whom she had any sort of a working relationship. He beamed at her, the warmth of his smile touching even his dark, beady eyes. His swarthy complexion was lightened only by all the hours he spent indoors in his workshop and well away from the Daystar. A neatly trimmed goatee framed a smile that seemed all teeth.

"Ah! Assalamu alaikum, Ultima! It is so good to see you once again! I apologize for how long it took for me to respond to your message, but I have been terribly, terribly busy."

As if to underscore the truth of the man's words, a commlink resting on his counter began buzzing. With a glance down at the display indicating the caller, he grimaced and shook his head, ignoring it. This prompted some amazement from Ultima and she raised an eyebrow. Adbul never just ignored a caller.

Adbul must have understood her expression, for he sighed and held his hands outwards plaintively. "He will not leave me alone. Some people think loyalties should be forever, even when the heart itself changes. I have left my old life behind. The Prophet Muhammed, peace be unto him, would agree that some ties should be severed in order to keep true to one's faith."

Ultima nodded fervently. Abdul was speaking of himself, but his words were striking entirely too close to home. "I fully agree with you. I think we both have walked a similar path. Even when it would be easier to stray from it, it is still the right one, and therefore must be followed."

Abdul placed both hands on his stomach and gave a heartiful laugh. "Maybe you have not submitted to Allah, but surely he blesses you with great wisdom, Ximena." Abdul knew Ultima's real name, and while he didn't use it too often, he'd made no indications that he would ever use the knowledge against her. He took his discretion far too seriously. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to visit the mosque with me?"

She grinned. Abdul had tried his well-meaning if ham-fisted conversion attempts before, and always she'd politely rebuffed his attempts. "No, thank you. I am flattered, but you know that my mosque, my faith, it's always with me. I don't need a building to find closeness with God."

Abdul laughed again. "I think perhaps you are slightly wrong about that, my friend." His grin faded abruptly, and a shrewd expression came over him, one that meant he was getting into a more business-like candor. "In fact, I do have a business proposal for you, something that would be in your field of expertise. Would you like for me to go on?" Ultima just nodded, crossed her arms, and listened.

Abdul fiddled with his commlink for a few moments. A transluscent, rectangular blue screen flickered into existence in her AR, indicating incoming data. She accepted it, and was given the address of a building, as well as images of it from various angles. It looked like a squat, five story apartment building. It also looked as if it were practically falling apart before her eyes, even in the still photograph. Windows and doors were boarded up, and a crack ran up the side of the building all the way from the foundation to the roof.

"This building is on the edge of Redmond. Due to some uncertainties involving ownership, and some unfortunate data loss due to the Crash in '65, nobody legally owns it. There are some squatters in it, or were as of a few weeks ago. Some interested parties are undergoing gentrification of the area, trying to push some of the nasty stuff deeper into the Barrens while snatching up dirt-cheap real estate. There are visionaries like yourself who see potential in the old and delapidated buildings in that area. See what you can do about bringing that building down. Legally nobody can do it, since nobody owns it, so it is merely in the way. The people living in it will just scream Squatter's Rights, or something. While I pity them and the circumstances forcing them to live in such a building, I cannot help but think that living in there is unsafe for them. Perhaps you can talk them around to the wisdom of relocation, as you do what you need to do. It needs to be a controlled demolition, otherwise the property is useless. And... the Johnson wishes to remain out of this, and wants you to go through me. I have agreed to this. Say... 7500 nuyen for a week's work? I can't imagine it would take you any longer than that."

Ultima knew halfway through the pitch she was going to take it. Something about this job seemed right to her. She examined the photograph and saw only the potential for a new building, for new development. She also imagined this gentrification project as breathing much-needed life into the decaying infrastruction of the Redmond district. She had seen for herself what a festering sore it was turning into. Maybe, just maybe, she could help in her small way. Surely God would smile upon her for doing this.

"I'm in," she said. "Forward me all the data you have on the building. And see if the Johnson can open up an expense account. After all, plastic explosives aren't cheap."

Abdul grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Indeed they are not. And wouldn't you know it, I just happened to get a shipment in just a week ago..."

Akecheta
[21:15 January 1st, 2072; Ruined Warehouse

Mr. Okayama smiled at the troll. “Very well. I will be in contact with you in short order.”

The Johnson looked over to the individual next to the garage door and made a raising motion. The lackey slid the door up to let Akecheta back out into the coming night.

OOC: If you have anything you want to do on your own volition I have no problems going through it with you. Or if you want to attempt to get into Dahlia’s run we can see about getting you worked in there. Or we can just cover some time until Mr. Okayama is ready to continue with his work.

[14:34 January 1st, 2072; Coffee Shop, University Campus, Downtown Seattle]

Excellent, things were moving…hopefully He-Who-Sees-Within would be as fast as his response.

<<I’m downtown in the university district. How about meeting in Ravenna Park? If we make the meet early enough we should be there before the really dangerous predators come out to play. Shall we say at 3.30? Call me when you arrive and I’ll ping you my exact location.>>

Silk flashed the attendants a reasonable tip for her coffee, not ostentatious and not too low, just enough to be unnoticeable, and headed back out in to the drizzle and already fading light. She wanted to scope out the park and find a suitable location where they could talk without being overheard.

[21:05 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town]

Dahlia sent over the information she’d been given from Mr. Watson, as well as her own contact number. With that done, the comlink disappeared back into the woman’s dark winter coat. She had to pause for a heartbeat or so, considering the troll’s offer. On one hand, Dahlia had to at least maintain some sense of normalcy, the illusion of normalcy, in her life. On the other hand, it was a long walk back to the apartment. The woman’s facial expression didn’t change as the thoughts darted through her head. It was more like she had just frozen in time for a few seconds.

“I’d appreciate the lift,” Dahlia named an intersection a handful of streets into Renton—hopefully far enough into the neighborhood that the worst she’d have to deal with would be a couple of snot-nosed kids looking for their kicks. But, it was still a few blocks from the woman’s apartment. If by chance Asim looked out his window, he wouldn't see his sister pulling up to the apartment in the company of a go-ganger.

As the woman hopped onto the back of the bike she asked, “What should I call you?”

[21:15 January 1st, 2072; Ruined Warehouse]

After briefly raising his hand for an indicated salute Akecheta put his helmet on, jumped back on his motorcycle and drove out of the warehouse.



OOC: I have no special plans for Akecheta at the moment. I'd definitely be interested in joining the crew for Dahlia's job but it seems Akecheta would be a bit redundant there as you alredy have two 'bricks'. Waiting for Mr. Okayama would be fine with me too but I'd prefer to get at least one more player into that storyline, it get's a bit lonely otherwise. ;) I'm surprised anyway that nobody answered the call for that yet.

Silk
[14:34 January 1st, 2072; Coffee Shop, University Campus, Downtown Seattle]
He-Who-Sees-Within replied back promptly:

<<Agreed. I will be there around 3:30. I will message you when I arrive.>>

[18:40 January 7th 2072; Crumbling Apartment Building, Redmond]
Dozer scratched the stubble of his shaven head with the barrel of his revolver as he watched Ultima shifting some boxes around on the back of his pickup truck.

"Not that I'm ungrateful for the work or anything," Dozer began, "but when I saw you buzzing me on my comm I figured it was a booty call. I didn't expect you'd be putting me to work."

Ultima tsked in vexation, and gave him a look over her shoulder caught somewhere halfway between amusement and mild frustration. "What, you're particular all of a sudden? And all that talk about you being a bad guy..." Her tone was only lightly mocking, meant to prod his ego rather than insult him.

Dozer blinked at her comment, then just sighed and gave a shrug. "I am. I guess. Fuck, for what you're paying me for a few day's help I'd have punched my mama in the face, God rest her soul." He gestured vaguely over in the ruined apartment building's direction with his gun. "But when you said you wanna run a buncha squatters out into the street and then blow up where they're staying, I thought to myself, surely this chica has better things to do with her time. I mean, what's the point?"

Ultima slid an elongated, hard plastic case towards her, inputting the correct combination on the numeric sliders to disengage the locks. When she opened the case, she revealed what was very obviously a grenade launcher set into imprinted foam. "The point is," she began, totally ignoring his sudden looks of shock and dismay, "is that we're paid not to ask those questions. Comprende?" She snapped open the launcher and started sliding microgrenades inside of the chambers of the rotating cylinder.

"No. No comprende. Fuck me, is that a grenade launcher?"

"Si. But I am only going to use it if we can't talk them out of leaving."

"Okay. Uh. So...uh. What do you want me to do?"

Ultima regarded the ork in front of her for a few moments before answering. His full attention was on the apartment building for the moment, and not her. She examined his features: his shaven head; his strong, jutting jawline; the little goatee he wore down off his chin; the broadness of his shoulders and the thickness of his muscles; the overabundance of tattoos depicting flames, guns, and naked women. Not her normal type, no. But she did find him somewhat attractive in that alpha-male, hairy-chested, brute neanderthal sort of way. If she was truly as malleable and suggestible as he'd claimed she was a couple of nights ago, she could see how she ended up in his bed.

"Just go and knock on the door and talk to them. Last I read most of them are orks so hopefully they'll listen to you. Tell them something, like the building is unsafe and it's going to fall down and kill them all. We have to take it down so nobody gets hurt. Don't hurt anybody if you can help it, but make it clear they don't have a choice."

"Whatever you say, doll-face." Dozer grinned at her.

Ultima rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "Ugh, don't call me that."

Dozer was already on his way over to the apartment building however. Ultima sat on the back of the pick-up truck's bed and lit up a cigarette, staring up at the sky. There was a break in the cloud cover, and she could just barely make out some stars. She leaned back on her elbows in the bed of the truck and watched them as they vanished behind the grey cloud cover, then reappeared in turn.

She got lost in watching this heavenly display when Dozer returned. She hadn't even heard him walk back up.

"Yo, uh. I chatted with 'em. Only about twenty of them left in there, all on the ground floor. The upper floors have caved in. Can't even get up to the third, fourth, or fifth floors anymore. Oh, and they told me to go get fucked, and slammed the door in my face. So yeah, what now?"

Ultima hopped off the truck and flicked her cigarette away into a puddle of rainwater; the cherry hissed right before it winked out. She grabbed up the grenade launcher, as well as a bandolier full of microgrenades, which she slung over chest.

"What now is, you make sure none of them try to kill me. I'll make them leave."

Ultima approached the outside of the building, and with a loud THOOMP! she fired one of those microgrenades through a gap in one of the boarded up windows. It crashed through what remained of the window pane. Rather than being followed up by an explosion, there was the sound of a loud pop, and greenish smoke began to waft out from between the boards. From within, the sounds of coughing could be heard.

Dozer whistled through his teeth. "Teargas? You're going to flush them out with teargas?"

"Hey, it works. Just make sure when they leave they keep on running. We tried to be diplomatic about this."

Together, she and the ork circled the building, and when she found an opening in the windows, she fired a cannister of teargas inside. After a few, the entire bottom floor of the apartment building was billowing that greenish smoke, and people were scattering out of the front entrance, crying and gagging, rubbing eyes that had a hard time focusing.

Dozer harried them by pointing his revolver straight up into the air and firing off a few shots. "C'mon! Keep on moving! Don't stop! Find somewhere else to go to sleep!" He lowered his voice and spoke to Ultima, "Man, I can't help but think I'm going to hell, running a bunch of poor fuckers out into the streets like this."

Ultima had the grenade launcher open again, sliding more cannisters into the chambers, though she was regarding the building as if to see if she even needed to bother. "You said it yourself, it's unsafe. When is the second story going to give and crush those people? You saw some children running out of there. You want to stay up at nights wishing you had made them leave so they wouldn't get killed?"

Dozer obviously wrestled with this. A conflicted look passed over his face, and suddenly he growled. "Fuck it. I guess you're right. But I don't have to like it, what I'm doing here."

Ultima reached up and patted him lightly, affectionately on the side of his cheek. "You don't have to like it, papucho. You've just got to do what I tell you."

Dahlia
[21:07 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town

The troll shifted his gaze from side-to-side as he let the woman think. He was in no rush and was perfectly at home where others did not want to tread. After the woman boarded behind him, he shot off into the night; cutting his way through the piles of garbage and undetermined substances that littered the way.

“Most call me Scar, yourself?” He half-shouted into the window as they rode to the intersection that she had indicated.

OOC: Dahlia; do you want me to GM Akecheta over into your storyline to get him involved with the rest of the players since no one seems interested in pairing up with him at the moment. That’ll give us the opportunity to put the players in touch with each other for the most part and also set the frame-work for future runs/plots.

[15:25 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]

Whilst Silk kept a wary eye out for would be assailants or anyone paying an undue amount of interest in her she moved cautiously through the trees at the edge of the park looking for a spot that would act as a natural white noise generator for anyone trying to listening in.

Having found a likely spot she settled herself to wait for her contact, huddling back against the rough bark of an ancient oak in order to avoid the worst of the weather. She deployed her spider drones in to the branches to effectively give herself three hundred and sixty degree vision and, keeping their AR windows in view, she began to browse ShadowSEA for a maglock primer and began an agent search for the latest published research on maglock technology.

If this run was to move quickly she would need some additional equipment…it might be worth seeing if some of the stashes set up by Balefire last year were undisturbed. They would be a ready boost of cash if she needed to employ some other runners in order to make this happen. For now the boost to her rep would be more important than any cash incentive.

She had been out of the shadows for too long and if she was to find out the truth about what had happened eighteen months ago she would need those contacts.

Silk
[15:29 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]
ShadowSEA was a reliable source for info dumps and stolen caches of paydata. Though obsolescence occasionally caused some of it to become increasingly irrelevant, a complicated system of agents running analytical algorithms, user ratings, and date monitoring kept the community on the fore of various fields of engineering and science.

The maglock primer was easy: a "How To Bust Open Maglocks in Twenty Easy Steps!" download was free to all, giving readers the ropes and the fundamentals of bypassing maglocks using basic hardware skills.

As for the research, the best that ShadowSEA had to offer was a knowsoft that had been uploaded by a fellow user several months ago. Though not as fresh as it once had been, it still seemed to be useful, and had gotten some nice comments and feedbacks from runners who'd had the occasion to use it on a mission. As it was slightly dated, it was also free to download.

After several long minutes of having seen nothing but the wind blowing through the trees, and no sign of people through her spider drones, Silk got a message from He-Who-Sees-Within:

<<I'm here. Where are you?>>

Dahlia's team:

It's the fifth day of the new year, and you all find yourselves assembled in Dahlia's apartment, clumped together in a now very cramped living room, an uncomfortable motley crew of killers, mercenaries, and thieves. Asim had gone off to the Seattle Waterfront Arcade with some of his school friends, so the apartment is empty save for the expert parties gathered here for the singular purpose of taking on the TransGeni job. You all hail from different backgrounds, you all bring different skill sets to the table, and most of you have never worked with any of the others before. Still, the fates have brought you all together, here, now, and only time will determine whether or not your combined capacity will be enough to see this task to the end.

Dahlia had had the foresight to make an audiovisual recording of her meeting with Watson earlier that week, which she uploaded to her trideo unit and is now preparing to replay for the group. As you all watch on, a fuzzy, low resolution image of the dwarf fizzles into the air with a crackle of static noise, the scene reproduced exactly as captured by the Egyptian woman's AR goggle cam.

"Your targets are four highly trained and extremely dangerous operatives who are the product of some of TransGeni's most cutting edge genetic engineering and bionic augmentation efforts. They are all in peak physical condition, and all have been educated in the science of small scale urban warfare and tactical espionage."

The dwarf toggles a few AR buttons on his entoptic display, and an image of a good looking Amerindian ork in his mid twenties shimmers into view above the conference table's holoprojector.

"Alex Connor, codename Windwalker. Unarmed combat and infiltration specialist. He is an adept who follows the Warrior's Way. Loves to drink, loves to fight, and is the one least likely to be able to keep a low profile out of the four. Knowing Connor, he'll probably be the one you'll get a lead on first, but don't let him see you coming, because he's very good at disappearing even though he sucks at staying that way."

A wiry and bookish human man with a pair of thick bifocals and unkempt brown hair.

"James Hastings, codename Monk. He's the team's magical talent, and though he might look like the kind of pasty-faced geek who got beat up every single day as a schoolboy, he is, or rather, was one of our best combat mages. Underestimate him at your own risk."

A short and chubby teenage girl with bubblegum pink hair and mischievous eyes.

"Anna Soren, codename Lassie. She is not as young as she looks, and she's a wizard with all things electronic. She's the team's tech and tactical support. Has a serious violent streak beneath that innocent face, and a fetish for roto-drones for some reason."

A slender, pretty Latina woman with a wicked-looking scar running down the left side of her face.

"Maxine Foster, codename Hellcat. Team leader and possibly the most dangerous woman in Seattle. If it has a trigger and a barrel, she knows how to shoot it, and her aim is good enough to shoot the balls off a fly. Be careful with this one."

Watson switches off the holoprojection and turns to look directly into the camera.

"A full dossier on each member of the team will be transferred to your commlink. Again, we need you to bring them in alive, but I'm sure you don't need me to stress the importance of this point. I am ninety-five percent certain that they are split up, since that's what they've been trained to do, but understand that they will be checking in with one another at regular intervals, and once you capture one of them, you have at most twenty four hours before the rest are alerted to this fact. If you have any questions or need any resources, you know how to contact me. Assemble your team and get it done."

The projection fades as the recording comes to an end.

Ultima:

A melodic chime on your commlink notifies you that you have a message waiting. A quick scan of the subject header reveals that it's from Abdul. You open it up in an AR window and watch the text scroll through your field of vision.

#Greetings Ximena, I understand that you are currently looking for work, and I have come into some information that may pique your interest. There's a new player who just moved into town, an enigmatic man who calls himself the Collector. No one knows where he came from, but rumors are, he is tremendously well connected and his influence reaches far indeed. He has made it known to the community of which I am a part that he is in the market for skilled shadowrunners who can get the job done. If you like, I can put your name forward and try to arrange a meet. I cannot vouch for the integrity of this Collector, and can only testify that he's a man of great resource and even greater mystery. Let me know if you wish to move forward with this opportunity.

[Jan 5th, Dahlia's Apartment]

Scar sat silently with the motley group of runners that had come together to pursue their quarry. He hated jobs that required a lot of subtlety as it certainly did not suit a hulking troll. But money was money, and he was willing to give it a crack to have a few more nuyen to drop. Though it seemed he would have to invest in some non-lethal means of neutralizing their quarry.

For the most part, he sat quietly and studied the display intently as the recording of the dwarf detailed each of the individuals.

"Knowing that, probably would be best to find their locations ahead of time before moving against any of them. Then move from target to target quickly to secure them."

[15:30 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]

Silk flagged up a map with her location and fired it over to He-Who-Sees-Within’s commlink and waited for him to come to her. She eased the taser out of her bag and secured it inside the pocket of her jacket…it paid to be prepared and those who weren’t paranoid enough in this business usually wound up dead…of course that happened to the paranoid too…

Silk
[15:30 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]
<<Oh. There you are.>> That was the only reply from He-Who-Sees-Within, then he went quiet.

For long moments, Silk saw nor heard nothing, not with her normal senses, and not with her drones' sensors. It wasn't until she heard the crackling of leaves being tread upon to her right that she turned her attentions to that direction. Suddenly, as if forming out of nowhere, He-Who-Sees-Within just...appeared.

He looked young still, but with just enough years on him to give him a wise-seeming accent to his dark features. He was obviously an Amerind, what with his swarthy complexion and his long, raven black hair, not to mention the tribal-chic clothes he wore. The man wore a necklace of some sort of teeth around his neck, and he was carrying what seemed to be a walking staff. Flashing her a mischevious grin, he adjusted a small pair of spectacles on his face that seemed to be one of his few open concessions to modernity.

"You're...not what I expected. Cuter, I think." He-Who-Sees-Within gave just a momentary chuckle, but then he schooled his expression to one more professional, if with just a hint of warmness to it. "Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you, nor be rude. I am He-Who-Sees-Within. Forgive me if I scared you. I find it useful to use an invisibility spell when I'm meeting a new employer for the first time. It helps to be careful."

As he extended his hand towards her in a gesture of cordial welcoming, he tilted his head to the side as if regarding her. His eyes appeared to be focused on something perhaps beyond or through her, however.

Roadie narrowed his eyes at the other ganger. The trog looked vaguely familiar, like he'd seen him someplace else before -- but he certainly wasn't a Rager. His tats and colors announced him as a Spike. . . which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The Ragers and Spikes weren't exactly allies (Hell, they weren't exactly friends either!), but they weren't enemies for that matter. It was going to be an interesting run.

The big ork shook his head as the troll finished talking. "Nah, bro, findin' all of 'em's a waste of time. As soon as we nab one the rest'll rabbit, sure as sure. We should go for the dangerous types first, bag them up and get 'em out of the way so that if the rest try to band back together to fight us then they're outta their big guns."

[15:34 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]

Mages! Silk thought to herself, not that she hadn't done similar things herself in the past, but it was too wet and cold for playing games...

"I find it always pays to be careful and I'm glad you follow the same approach, and thanks for the compliment but let's get down to some business..." she paused to gather her thoughts and shake the water off her collar again...

"I've been employed to aquire an item and possibly some data from a local business and I need someone qualified to check out their magical security before I go...I don't want any nasty surprises! Depending on your rates I'd like you to check out the building for any wards or spirit patrols and possibly back me up on the run itself, not neccessarily in the flesh. If that sounds of interest then I can fill you in on more details and we can negotiate your fee."

[21:07 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town ]

Dahlia shrugged, not that the biker could see it, “Just Dahlia is fine.” She hadn’t yet earned a street name from work, and wasn’t the type of person capable of thinking up a moniker for herself.

After Scar dropped her off at the designated intersection, Dahlia watched the biker speed back off to his own destination. Then, she put her hands back in her coat pockets and began the short walk back to her own apartment. There was work to be done.

OOC: Grimm, I’m fine with that. But, this team already has a large amount of muscle. It would be interesting if everyone crossed paths while working. But, it might get boring for someone if there isn’t enough fighting to go around for three people.

[January 5th, 2072; Summeroaks Apartments 29C, Renton]

Dahlia waited for the recording to finish up, eyeing the assembled crew in the room. There was a lot of muscle in her apartment. And judging by the colors, the ones called Rhodes and Scar were gangers—not that Dahlia could identify which gangs either belonged to. If anything, the woman was disconcertingly nonplused by the fact that a bunch of killers were hanging around her living room.

The apartment itself was almost painfully typical. All of the walls had the original AR displays, and the original neutral paintjob underneath. And even those seemed a little too bare—like something should have been there. Seti would notice that Dahlia had conspicuously taken down the few pictures of Asim and herself that had once decorated the walls. There were a few more beers and drinks in the refrigerator than normal. But, the vials of bee venom were still there, lurking in one of the corners behind some sort of red punch. Some things never change.

Otherwise, most of the furniture matched; but, the rooms gave off almost a…soulless feeling. It was like everything in the apartment had been picked out by a computer-generated algorithm instead of someone’s personal tastes. It had all the trappings of what middle-class life should be like, what it was expected to be like, but in an almost superficial manner. And there were still cracks in the façade.

Supposing someone were to poke around the apartment, they may or may not find a few points of interest—first of which would probably be the clearly-labeled venom vials in the refrigerator. Down the hall, Dahlia’s room gives off the same vibe of almost forced, deliberate normalcy in variations of a cool blue-grey. In the way that most people’s bedrooms can instantly give an observer a feeling for the type of person sleeps there, the woman’s room revealed nothing of her. It may as well have been empty, for how frigidly sterile it would look. If anyone went snooping, they’d only find a nasty-looking injection dagger resting under the bed pillows.

In comparison, the other bedroom would probably seem like a relieving piece of actual normalcy. From the clothing strewn in hap-hazard piles in the corners of the room to the AR posters of Urban Brawl stars and Miracle Shooter hype materials, the entire room screamed twelve-year-old boy. It was a mess; but, a mess that could be empathized with. There were even a scuffed up looking guitar and skateboard leaning against the wall, emblazoned with decals painstakingly chosen to imply coolness. The room practically screamed of a boy’s bumbling early adolescence.

Back in the living room, Dahlia drummed her fingers against her leg. “I’d like to catch all of them unaware, if it’s possible. We don’t exactly have a lot of magic or matrix support in this group, and it would be a safer bet to get an idea of where everyone is hiding before we move in.”

Silk
[15:34 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]
"I am amenable to that," replied He-Who-Sees-Within with a gracious nod. "Do you want to negotiate the terms here, or would you like to sit down somewhere? Not that I don't enjoy nature." He grinned and reached to a nearby tree, giving it an affectionate pat. "I just find it more conducive to a formal business arrangement if there's shelter involved."

Again, he gave Silk that tilted, regarding look. "You called me because you need magical and astral asistance, which means you can't do it yourself. You are an adept, I take it?"

Dahlia‘s Meeting
[January 5th, 2072; Summeroaks Apartments 29C, Renton]

Scar studied the orc intently, taking in his own colors and markings with the Ragers. He too felt as though he had seen the orc before, though he was not entirely sure. The few times he had been in Rager territory was to visit the Crying Wall to pay his respects to those that lost their lives due to meta-human hatred. He had worked with some Ragers off and on with some work, but largely the gangs did not strive to get in each others way. The Spikes were still recovering from their long, tedious war with the Ancients and they really had no beef for the territory.

“Yah man, we definitely should take out the heaviest hitters first. But if they are checkin’ in with each other say.. every 12 hours or so? If we can go from location to location, neutralize them, and scoop them all up within an hour. We can grab ‘em before they alert each other as to what’s going on. Yanno? That’s my theory anyways.”

The troll shifted a bit in the seat with a beer in his hand, running a fingertip in a circle around the top of the can. He took a long draw from the can, crumpled it up and tossed it in the general direction of the garbage can. His eyes narrowed as he thought for a moment and he swore to himself, hauling himself to his feet to pick the trash up and put it into the receptacle. He shifted his way past the others gathered in the living room and sat back down.

Akecheta
[The Night of January 2nd, 2072; Akecheta‘s Squat, Redmond]

The maned troll shifted around in his sleep as his mind cycled through the noises attempting to invade his sleep. Many of the inhabitants of the area would retreat to whatever safe little niche of Redmond they had carved out for themselves to weather the night. The psychotic or truly brave would still roam the streets late into the night. They were the sources of the gun fire, the screams of pain, and the roar of engines that echoed through the buildings. The overwhelming smell of sewage seemed to hang around the apartment that Akecheta currently called his home. He felt he might as well have been living in a toilet for all the good it did. Not that any of the toilets in the building had worked in the last 60 years anyways.

Like every night, the troll slept with a firearm nearby. It would not have been surprising if he had needed it at some point in the near future. That type of threat and disturbance was easy for Akecheta to nullify. What was not so easy was what his dreams were showing him.

*
The air was sharply cold as the troll made his way through the deep forest and brush. He felt almost at home, which was not entirely unexpected with his Amerindian roots. What he was not expecting was to come face-to-face with an apparition of an orcish woman. Her eyes stared through him as only Lilly’s could. For a brief moment, he felt a surge of warmth that he had not experienced since their last embrace. He reached for her and they were about to embrace wh…Beep…Beep…Beep…
*

The troll’s eyes snapped open to the indicating sound of a file sitting in his Inbox. The remnants of the dream slowly fell away, but he could still see her eyes staring straight into his soul. Day was dawning over Redmond.

[The Night of January 2nd, 2072; Akecheta‘s Squat, Redmond]

Lilly! The troll sat upright in his bed, cold sweat on his body, clutching his chest. The pain was as bad as the first time he'd seen her dead body. He dreamed of her often, felt his loss over and over again when he woke up and found her missing, but it never dulled, never lost it's edge. He would always be tortured by these memories. And I deserve it!, he thought, the feeling of guilt rising that was his companion throughout every day.

Forcing himself to tho think of something else he shifted his attention to the noise that pulled him from his dreams. To lazy to put on the trodes he used manual control to check his inbox.

[Night of January 2nd, 2072; Loftus's Shop]

"Call me 'The Doctor,'" Martin told the dwarf, Loftus. Martin had taken time to use a mask spell to disguise his features.

"The Doctor, eh," the dwarf snorted dismissively, "What can I do for you, Doctor?" Loftus the talismonger looked over the counter filled with irrelevant gewgaws and cheap metal knickknacks meant to impress the mundies.

"Once...long ago," Martin began, "You had a friend; Gabber...he called himself. He 'died' after a run about 30 years ago, but you know different. Gabber contacted you personally over the years to let you know he was okay."

Loftus squinted and said, "Yeah...Let's say that's so. What's it to you, chummer?"

"Gabber taught me nearly everything I know...and someone murdered him. Magic was involved. I tracked the magic to Seattle," Martin loomed now, trying to exude menace.

The dwarf waved him off, "Don't bother trying to threaten me, boy. And let's drop the pretense. I know who you are. Gabber told me you might come. He left me a message too...Doctor." Loftus pointed towards his head.

Martin rocked back on his heels while Loftus continued, "You think he grabbed that book by himself? There was a scramble for that black thing and he managed to get it.”

Loftus sighed, “Nearly killed him though. Most in the shadows thought Gabber dead. I'm surprised he got away for so long. That book scared Gabber; he’d read it. Every once in a while he’d get me a message to track something down. If I could do it without being found out, I’d do it. I wanted no part of his damned ruse.”

Loftus said, “His dream sending asked me to help you as best I could.”

Martin nodded, "Da...Gabber asked me to find the book and destroy it…and to find you. But mostly, I want the drekhead who killed him."

Loftus waved a hand, “Bah! You don’t know what you’re getting into, kid,” the dwarf gripped the counter and added, “Look…Gabber saved my tuckus more than a couple times so I owe him…but I ain’t getting my own head blown off to help his ki…”

Martin scowled and Loftus corrected himself, “…to help you track down that bad mojo. Whoever got Gabber is beyond my powers and definitely beyond yours.”

“I want them dwarf. I want them bad. I want to see them in jail,” Martin growled.

Loftus growled back, “Idiot! They won’t be fraggers you put in jail. They tracked a dead man and stole a book he’d carefully hidden for over 30 years. They’ll have mojo of their own and it’ll be bad stuff. Don’t you get it? They have killed and will kill for that book. If you can’t or won’t match them vicious for vicious, you’re a dead man yourself.”

Martin ground his teeth, “Fine.” Inside he wondered if he had it in him to kill. He’d only learned Manabolt after his dad died as an idle exercise in fantasy if he did meet his father’s murderer. And Ph.D.’s typically didn’t get into knock-down to the death dragouts…except metaphorically.

Martin tried to gather the core of his anger and pain at his father’s murder, “I want them, Loftus. Dead…jail. It doesn’t matter. They killed my…killed Gabber.”

Then Martin sagged a bit and his fire went out a little, “But I don’t know where to start.”

Loftus nodded, "I do, kid. And you're not going to like it. Gabber wouldn't have neither. You're going to have to start a shadow life. Wait here."

The dwarf talismonger went into the back and came out a moment later with a small package that he passed over to Martin.

Martin frowned and inquired, "What's this?"

"Don't open it here, kid," Loftus whispered, "Go home. You have a place right? Somewhere legit?"

Martin nodded.

"You'll need a less reputable hole to go to then. These will help. Your dad asked me to get them."

Now Martin was curious...what were they?

Loftus kept on, "And...you'll need money to keep up your lifestyle. You got a job?"

Martin shook his head.

“All right…I know a guy. Needs some mojo to back him up on a job. Lemme reach out to him. I’ll vouch for you this one time. But you’ll need to get your own work after this.”

[to be continued]

Akecheta
[06:43 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; Akecheta‘s Squat, Redmond]

The troll tried to push the memories from his mind as the sadness welled up within him. Those eyes constantly haunted him, but he knew how to take the pain away. His salvation lay there in the his inbox, waiting for his attention. Sheer, pure, unadulterated violence would stem the feelings of misery and loss. To lose himself in the rage of battle was just as blissful as exploring the velvety depths of some whore.. though not his Lilly.

He clicked open the message that waited for him and focused all of his attention on it.

*
From: Unknown
Source: Unknown
Subject: Business

Mr. B;

I have another package that needs recovered. Though this time it will not be a person but a truck that was hijacked by gangers. It is believed that they hold the guards prisoner at the current time. Their recovery, while it would be appreciated, is not inherently mandatory to the success of this job. We can find new personnel, but the truck is irreplaceable.

If this job interests you, please let me know and I can give you more specific information.

Mr. O.
*

[06:44 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; Akecheta‘s Squat, Redmond]

A cynical smile appeared on Akecheta's lips as the big troll read the message. An opportunity to drown his sorrow in blood was always welcome. Quickly he typed up a reply and sent it off.

Greetings Mr. O,

I'm interested and ready to start as soon as I get the information and a number regarding compensation.

Mr. B

As soon as he had pressend the 'send' button he realized that his tone could be interpreted as a bit rude if the japs did value politeness as much as he had read somewhere on the 'trix.
Well fuck that, I'm not hired for my pleasantness...

Whitout waiting for an answer he began to put on his armor and grabbed his weapons. The Praetor's grip in his hand sparked a feeling of anticipation. It was time to hunt again.




OOC: I'm moving to another city tomorrow so if I'm unlucky it could take a couple of days for me to reply. More likely than not I'll have opportunity to access the net somewhere for a quick answer but in case I don't I wanted to give you a heads-up.

[January 5th, Martin's Apartment, Seattle]


A message came up on the comlink for the Doctor.

From: Your Friend
Message: Come see me


That could only have been Loftus thought Martin. Of course...I don't have any crypto on this thing. To easy to hack these things without something nasty on them to stop it. Martin made himself over into the Doctor and hustled off to Loftus's shop.

The rains in Seattle bore down that morning and Martin...no he was the Doctor now...shook off the water frolm his coat as he came into the shop. There were some mundies in there hanging around looking to get a little vicarious thrill from seeing a real mage or shaman, but the Doctor ignored them. He looked around the shop himself and made like he was browsing until the mundies left...bored.

"All riight, Loftus. What have you got."

Loftus silently passes a card to him. "Go here. They need a mage. Pack heavy. You'll need it."

The Doctor nodded back and started to leave.

Loftus called out, "And kid...this is the real deal. Be ready."

[January 5th-two hours later, Dahlia's Apartment]

The Doctor knocked on the non-descript door. What the frag had Loftus found for him?

[January 5th, 2072; Summeroaks Apartments 29C, Renton]

The chime of the doorbell threw Dahlia off for a moment. She'd put out the word to a few key associates that she was looking for a little extra talent, and that they should show up at the meeting if they could. But, the woman hadn't actually expected anyone to come through for her on such short notice. Dahlia's expression seemed to freeze in time for a moment as the gears whirred away in her head.

And then she was at the door, opening it and answering with the sort of wide grin that should be reserved for Tupperware parties, not criminal meetings on planning abductions. "Yes?"

Akecheta
[06:48 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; Akecheta‘s Squat, Redmond]

It did not take Mr. Okayama long to return a message to Akecheta with the following information:

*
Mr. B.

The truck is currently located at a lightly fortified warehouse on the north side of Redmond. (Coordinates Attached). Outer fence is chain, likely electrified, with razorwire across the top. Only one normal access point via the front entry which appears to have a guard post. Internal defenses are unclear though likely. External, expect some resistance.

Offering 5000 for retrieval of truck and whatever personnel you can manage. An additional 500 per person retrieved alive. (Total of 2 captured)

Mr. O.
*

OOC: Not a problem man. Not too worried about it since no one else is really involved in this plot at the moment either way. Good luck with the move.

A youngish, but non-descript man stood at Dahlia's door. He wore a black coat and had brown, somewhat wild hair with thin nose and prominent cheeks.

"You are the one called Dahlia, correct? A friend of a friend told me you were looking for a mage. I am the Doctor," he announced tersely, "and a mage," he added unnecessarily.

[January 5th, 2072; Summeroaks Apartments 29C, Renton]

Dahlia's apartment seemed even more empty and souless than usual. Without Asim banging around, and all the pictures off the walls, it seemed a bit more...

This is how she feels. All the time. Thumb sitter, no wonder she's so creepy; there's nothing left. No wonder she wants to poison everyone.

Seti coughed in his fist. Dahlia and some new guy were still standing in the doorway, and it looked like the gangers were eyeing each other. The last thing we need is a gangwar here. "There is another way, of course. Rather than trying to hit one and then hone in on the others before they catch wise, why don't we gather them all in one place." He felt the eyes swivel towards him. The heat prickled his neck in this virus-house. "They're Runners, right? Which means they'll be looking for money, which means work. But they're inexperienced, right? Why don't we just give them a job? They'll all gather to meet the Johnson, and we can take them out then and there. Coordinated flanking attack."

[04:43 AM, January 2nd, 2072; Abandoned office block, Redmond barrens]

Distant gunshots pulled Copperhead from her sleep. She yawned and stretched on the lumpy mattress that served as the bed she shared with Cutter. The servos in her arms whined into wakefulness and she wove her hands lazily back and forth in front of her face. She still marvelled at these miracles of technology, admiring how the dirty orange light from the room's single bulb reflected off their scaled casings.

Like magic, she thought, then frowned as Snake hissed angrily in her mind.

Not magic. Technology.

Mumbling an apology to her mentor spirit, Copperhead rolled over and stood up. Cutter’s side of the bed was empty with no sign remaining of his body’s warmth. He’d obviously been up for a while. Shivering a little at the cold, she padded across the room naked, scratching at the dermal armor scales on her ribs and paused before the large piece of one-way glass that served as a mirror.

Cutter had scavenged it for her from an abandoned police station a couple of blocks away and hauled it all the way back on his own. She pushed her long copper hair back between her horns, while admiring her (in her eyes at least) perfect body . Short for a troll, she stood only slightly over two metres tall and weighed in at a slim 240 kilos. She performed a slow twirl and then with a sultry and tusky grin, and a wink, headed to the can.

Their squat was on the second floor of an old office building. They had dumped all the busted office furniture out the windows and then boarded them up with plascrete panels stripped from other parts of the building. One of Cutter’s ganger buddies had fixed up one of the toilets and rewired a couple of solar panels on the roof to give them enough power to run a few lights and a battered old hotel-room fridge - not that they really needed to run the fridge this time of year. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

Even though it was still dark out, she was awake now. So after dressing in sweats and tidying up the room, Copperhead carefully wove her trode net into her hair and loaded up an exercise sim. She worked out for an hour or so, then stripped off, washed and put on her street clothes: a camo-green Cyberpirate two-piece consisting of sports bra and hotpants, matched with a pair of battered black nyke sneakers that were all the rage a couple of years ago. It wasn't exactly the best outfit to wear in an unheated room, so she also wrapped the blanket off their bed around her shoulders to keep warm.

She munched on one of the few remaining nutrisoy bars in the fridge and drank the last of their bottled water. Where the frag was Cutter anyway? He did occassionally disappear in the middle of the night, when some last minute 'work' came up. She tried calling his number but it went directly through to his answering machine. That usually did mean he was 'working', although he hadn’t mentioned anything to her last night. She considered going out to look for him, but didn't have a clue where to start. So instead, she settled down into a lotus position on the bed and swaying gently from side to side, opened her senses to the astral and communed with Snake.

[06:48 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; Outside of Akecheta‘s Squat, Redmond]

The Beasts thundering steps made the old house's stairway shake and tremble as the massive troll stormed downwards. Hopping on his black Suzuki Akecheta transferred the coordinates to his navigation software and drove off into the dawning morning light.

An old movie he'd seen a remake of on the 'trix came to his mind as the rays of the sun began to illuminate the dirty streets of the barrens. In it some elf had said something about a red sun rising as a sign of blood having been spilled that night.
Pretty stupid but the troll couldn't help but smile at the thought of turning the sun crimson through his bloody deeds.

Copperhead

[06:45ish A.M. January 2nd, 2072; Copperhead and Cutter’s Apartment; Redmond]

The troll shaman settled down into position to take on a meditative state. Even if her boyfriend was nowhere to be found, she could still work to become closer to Snake and reach deeper meaning and connection with the Astral. Just as she was about to let her spirit loose, her commlink indicated an incoming message.

<<Help. Captured. Coordinates -312.5; 219.1. Cutter.>>

A quick grid check revealed the coordinates to be a partially dilapidated, lightly fortified warehouse only a couple of miles down the road.

Akecheta

[06:55 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; The Streets of Redmond]

The troll moved with all the subtlety and grace as a herd of elephants as he barreled down to where his bike wait for him. He roared off down the street towards the coordinates Mr. O. had attached to the message. The filth of Redmond seemed to be deeper than normal, causing him to need to take detours around the transients and over what used to be sidewalks. The high-performance bike did not struggle much with the terrain but it was an annoyance to say the least.

OOC: Akecheta, I’m going to work Copperhead up a bit further in time to get you two on the same track. So bear with me while I do. My intention is for you two to meet at the target site.

Copperhead, I am fairly new to Shadowrun 4E. I’m just one of those people that believes in diving into things head first. So if I screw something up or get something wrong, just let me know so I can rectify the problem.

[15:37 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]

Silk thought for a moment before replying…”Yes, I’m an adept, but my magic is almost entirely focused inwards and I’m sensible enough to know that I can’t do everything by myself. I’m hoping to avoid any confrontation and whilst I reasonably confident of being able to bypass mundane security I can’t see a spirit coming until it’s crawling all over me and the guards are running.

And I like it out here…the thing about shitty weather is that nobody would be insane enough to be lurking in it unless they have to, makes spotting anyone following us easier to do. If you know somewhere nearby that’s a little drier we can talk as we walk?”

[06:47 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; Copperhead and Cutter’s Apartment; Redmond]

Startled from her trance by the worrying message, it takes Copperhead a moment to get her bearings. What? Cutter captured? How? Who? Frag, if they've hurt him they're gonna pay.

<<Hold tight, loverboy. There's a big, angry troll coming to get you out.>>

Couple of miles, shouldn't take me longer than 15-20 minutes to hoof it there.

Scrambling to her feet, she undoes all her tidying up as she grabs up her gear in a hurry. She stuffs her arms into her sleeveless long coat, checks that her telescoping staff is in the long pocket sewn inside and loads her battered old shotgun. A handful of extra shells go into her pockets and then she's out the door. She has to force herself to stop and take the time to lock the place up, and then shift the heavy metal panel that conceals the door into place.

Stepping out onto the street, she hurries off in the direction of the warehouse. She moves quickly but carefully. While the barrens are quiet this time of the morning, there could still be a few predators about. She curses at the red sun creeping over the horizon and crosses the street to keep in the shadows, composing a quick message to the only other person in the barrens she can trust, her talismonger and teacher.

<<Lenny. Cutter's in trouble. I'm going to see if I can help him out. If you don't hear back from me in a couple of hours, give these coordinates [-312.5; 219.1] to the Crushers.>>

[January 5th, 2072; Summeroaks Apartments 29C, Renton]

Dahlia paused for a moment after The Doctor’s response. The combination of the woman’s silence and rather blank expression probably would have made the situation awkward on their own. But, there was always a way to make it worse. Dahlia turned back into the apartment, all but shouting, “He’s a mage!” into the living room full of killers. She left the door open for The Doctor, returning to the meeting and fully expecting the mage to close the door behind him.

“If we could pull it off, that would be a very tidy plan, Seti,” Dahlia nodded. “The only problem will be setting it up to look legitimate enough. We won’t be able to fake anything over the matrix. Any ideas?”

[January 5th, 2072; Summeroaks Apartments 29C, Renton]

"Actually, I think it's better if we can't do it over the matrix. They've got a hacker, and from all accounts, he's better than anyone we could find." Seti took a sip from his drink. "I think it's better if we keep this as off-the-matrix as possible. Now that we have a mage, he can provide magical overwatch, so their mage doesn't see us coming. That's the only thing we'd have had to worry about. We geek their mage first, and pop an EMP grenade to cancel out any drones...anybody see a problem with this?"

Silk
[15:37 January 1st, 2072; Ravenna Park, Downtown Seattle]
He-Who-Sees-Within nodded to Silk and gave her a polite smile. "Indeed. There's a sort of coffee shop turned jazz lounge not a couple of blocks from here, called Common Grounds. It has a pleasant, ah... flavor in astral space that I enjoy being around. Many young, bohemian-style hipsters and college kids go there to recite poetry on open mic night, or just chill out. It's probably my favorite place to relax. We could go there. There's a booth all the way in the back where we'd have the privacy to discuss our business arrangements. And, I'll buy of course."

((Make an Intuition+Charisma roll))

Copperhead
[07:01 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; The Ruined Remnants of a Road; Redmond]

Copperhead secured her dwelling in the hopes that the scavengers and leeches of Redmond would not find their way into it. The measures they took to that end often accomplished that goal, but periodically she or Cutter would return to find the place ransacked.

Cutter had not replied to the message she had sent back, but that was not entirely surprising given the information she had just received. It took her about fifteen minutes to jog through the streets to where the warehouse sat. It stood ominously in the dawning light against a backlighting of the sun. A chain link fence wrapped the entire way around with what appeared to be a single guard near the entrance at the west side of the building. Various vehicles were parked in a lot between the warehouse and the fence.

As she was about to move forward to the complex; she noticed a rather large, hulking troll failing miserably at trying to make himself look small and unseen. It appeared as though he was sizing up the warehouse himself for reasons unbeknownst to her.

At that moment, her commlink indicated and a message from Lenny came in.

<<Will do. Be safe out there.>>

OOC: The entrance to the complex is towards the west. You and Akecheta are not really near each other but are both sort of the south-east of the warehouse. I realize its very deus ex machina-ish but I’d rather go this route than wait out a week of posting to get you guys on the same page.

[January 5th, 2072; Summeroaks Apartments 29C, Renton]



The Doctor walked in after Dahlia's announcement. He tried to radiate a cold professional aura about himself, pulling his thoughts inward.

"Possibly. "As I am late to the party, perhaps someone could fill me in on the job?" he inquired.

[07:16 A.M. January 2nd, 2072; The Ruined Remnants of a Road; Redmond]

Copperhead paused in the shadows near the warehouse to catch her breath. She squinted against the growing daylight, already feeling the tell-tale signs of a migraine at the back of her brain. She needed to do this before it got much brighter and the growing headache totally incapacitated her.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she almost grinned at the hulking figure of a troll failing miserably at trying to make himself look small and unseen. Intrigued, she circled as stealthily as she could towards him. Maybe he could help her, or maybe he was just another predator. She kept her shotgun at the ready just in case.

[January 1st, 2072; Haddleton Apartments, 13M, Renton]

Red sighed as she placed the grocery bags onto the small bar top that served as her dining room. That's the last time I try and carry my groceries on a bicycle without my pack... She was still scraping bits of jam off her boots from the 'accident' earlier on the road. That's also the last time that guy will cut anyone off. See how he likes his insurance premiums jumping through the roof! Red snagged one of the beers from her fridge and replaced it with her new groceries. She popped the top off the bottle with her ring and took a sip. "Ah. Much better."

She plopped down onto her small couch, centered in the middle of her apartment. The walls around her were bare. In fact, all of the walls in room 13 were as bare as the day she had moved in. Unless, of course, you switched over to AR. That was a different story. Each wall was covered in newsvids, streaming videos, blogs, online articles, clocks in different timezones, cartoons, instant messages, and forums. Red glanced casually over each area before holding up her hands and spreading them apart, enlarging one of the smaller windows. The top ten rock videos of the week were playing and she turned up the volume. Red quickly finished her beer before turning sideways on the couch and laying down, her eyes closing. She felt that familiar sensation of entering the Matrix in full VR, like a perpetual sneeze.

Blinking a couple times to clear her vision, Red examined her new surroundings. Her personal node was quite different from her apartment. It appeared to be a mixture of nature and technology. Large metallic trees reached up to a steel grey sky, while underfoot, tiny green resistors made up the grass. She smiled and settled down into the lotus position. Her own body had changed as well. She was now a deep, dark red. Her normal street clothes were gone. Silver lines crisscrossed her body, like metal serpents coiling around her body to save her modesty, but other than that she was nude. She closed her eyes once more as the silvery tendrils reached out into the matrix, seeking out the node she was searching for. Once found, all but that tendril fell back into place.

All of this happened at the speed of thought, and very soon Red was at the main Seattle host node. She grinned as thousands of other Icons walked, flew, hopped, and drove by. People watching in the Matrix was one of her favorite activities. She could spend an afternoon here, lost amidst the crowds. Today, she'd stay until she got the message she had been waiting for all day. She needed a job, badly. She was low on funds, had just enough for rent, and didn't really want to go off doing freelance info gathering, since that was really no guarantee of money. Sadly, she'd have to wait!

Akecheta and Copperhead
[07:20 AM, January 2nd, 2072; A Ruined Road; Redmond]

Akecheta skulked along the wall heading towards the warehouse when he noticed another troll sizing him up intently. She appeared to be armed but did not make any overly hostile maneuvers towards him; nor did it appear that she was attempting to conceal herself from him.

OOC: You both can pick up from this point RP wise.

Akecheta and Copperhead
[07:20 AM, January 2nd, 2072; A Ruined Road; Redmond]

Seeing that the big troll has spotted her, Copperhead holds up her left hand palm towards him, at the same time letting the muzzle of the shotgun drop towards the ground.

"Easy, chummer", she hisses in a low voice. "I ain't lookin fer no trouble." Well, not from you anyway.

"Friend of mine's in a spot of trouble. Some dudes are holdin him in there an' I need to get him out." She gestures towards the warehouse with her shotgun, squinting at the light reflecting off the aluminium siding.

"You look like you got some biz there too." She strikes what could be interpreted as a sultry pose. "Whatcha say; you scratch my back an' I scratch yours?"

[07:20 AM, January 2nd, 2072; A Ruined Road; Redmond]

Akecheta had been sizing up the warehouse, preparing for his usual subtle approach of barreling straight through the fence and possibly the wall too. The adrenalin was already pumping through his veins, making him jumpy and yearning for action. His wires were on fire and itching to burst into movement.

But then he saw another troll coming towards him. She was was small for one of their kind but at least as strange-looking as he was. She seemed to be covered in scales of some sort. Maybe some kind of reptilian fetish. But the thing that caught his attention the most was the shotgun she held at the ready. Quickly he brought up the Praetor, suspecting the woman to be a bounty hunter that had tracked him down. His red eyes were blazing and the nano-tattoos in his face unconsciously changed their shape to more aggressive forms. But before he'd made the decision to squeeze the trigger the female troll had already lowered her weapon and started to talk. And her words took all the anger and fighting spirit out of him in a moment.

She was trying to save a friend. Maybe even her friend. The same way Akecheta had tried to save Lilly only to see her killed before his very eyes. Normally The Beast would have taken the scaly troll down, just to be on the sure side and to keep her from interfering with his job. But Lilly would have wanted him to help her. Lilly wouldn't want other people to suffer like he was suffering now. And maybe in helping her he could find just the slightest bit of redemption.

His voice was rough when he answered, laden with remembrance and guilt.

"No problem, snake-lady. I need to get back some stuff in there anyway, grabbing your friend along the way ain't gonna be a big deal."

[07:20 AM, January 2nd, 2072; A Ruined Road; Redmond]

Copperhead lets out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. Up close the big troll was even more scary. And fast. His gun had been pointing at her so quickly, she thought he was going to shoot her before she could speak. Then, the anger had simply drained out of him and he sounded almost sad when he replied.

She gave him a genuine smile, dimples and all, when he called her snake-lady. "Name's Copperhead," she said, shaking her long hair for emphasis.

"You gotta name? An' what's da plan?"

She prattles on, perhaps nervous or just anxious about her friend. "I got me some mojo. I could go look inside in da astral, unless dey got a mage. See how many dey is and where dey be. Maybe talk to Snake. If she's feeling generous, maybe she'll lend me a spirit to help."

She crosses her scaled cyberarms across her chest, the shotgun resting in the crook of her left arm and, with a raised eyebrow, waits for the big troll to respond.