[16:03 January 1st, 2072; TransGeni laboratories at 68th Avenue and Kenmore, Downtown]

Dahlia’s smile lingered Mr. Watson left the room, not quite grasping the fact that some of what she had just said could have been construed as a subtle form of intimidation. She had what she wanted, at least in terms of a semi-regular source of lucrative income. And there would even be a job within a few days. Naturally, the dwarf’s negligence in regards to politeness was completely lost to Dahlia. Who knew if Watson would attribute that to a strong polite streak or some form of mental instability? Eh.

“I’ll make a few calls,” the woman affirmed, snapping her bag shut. She exchanged the usual pleasantries with Mr. Reynolds before the meeting concluded, giving and receiving the appropriate com-codes for later contact. And after leaving the TransGeni laboratories, Dahlia actually did take the time to take care of a handful of household errands. And it was only after those errands were done and Dahlia had started contemplating calling Sage that she even thought about calling Seti about the job opportunity. After all, she had worked with the sniper before, and it would be easier to work with someone familiar for at least the first job from her new employer. Dahlia checked her comlink’s clock, 20:18, and made the call.

“Seti, we’ve got ah-amel. But, this is a team-level job. Find some people,” Dahlia could hear some background noise through the comlink as the sniper replied.

"I think I may have found just the folks. I'll give you a call,” he said, before ending the call. Excellent. And that was taken care of. Now for the conclusion of her evening. Dahlia dialed Sage’s number.

[20:18 January 1st, 2072; Club Penumbra, International District, Seattle]

"Also freelance, but I get some work every now and again." Seti looked pointedly at the bodies lying on the floor. "You handle yourself well. I wouldn't mind having your help on a more...permanent basis." He glanced at Silver, standing over the body of the barback. "That goes for your friend, too. Can always use a mage by our side."

As if to punctuate his statement, Seti's commlink chirped. Looking at the AR, he saw that it was Dahlia. His stomach started churning lightly. Oh god. What now? "uh, Hold on." He picked up the line.

"Seti, we've got ah-amel. This is a team-level job. Find some people."
"I think I may have found just the folks. I'll give you a call."

Seti looked at the ork, and smiled.

"...stupid ugly motherless son-of-a-dog, you...."

"Maria!" Jesus Christ, this woman! "That's enough, huh? C'mon, let's get you home."

As he and Maria walked out the door, he surreptitiously beamed his contact info to the two other fighters.

Seti:

Maria turns to you as her cab pulls up to the curb, an expression of regret on her face.

"Um...listen, I had a good time tonight, and you seem like a good guy and all, but I really don't think this is gonna work out. I prefer someone a little more laid back, you're kinda a bit too intense for me. I think we should just be friends, what do you say?"

She pinches your cheek and coos. "You take care of yourself now, cutie pie! Someday you will make a lucky girl very happy! Byeeeee!"

She steps into the taxi, and like that, she's gone.

Roadie walks out of the club, ignoring the good-natured back-slapping he got from some of the more appreciative folks in the crowd and came to stand next to Seti as his walking boob-job got into a cab and left. He chuckled.

"No luck for you tonight at all, eh bub?"

Being called little sister by a glowing ten year old always amused Silk and immediately lifted her mood.

“It’s good to see you A, I’m ok, just finished an assignment and decided to stop moping and see what the night had to offer…fancy trying the Citadel again? I know it’s not much of a challenge for you but it keeps me on my toes and I could do with something like that…”

Aria replied with a cheeky grin “Sounds ok to me…I promise not to cheat too much! Do you mind if another friend joins us? You’ve not met her before but I promise she’ll be good company…calls herself Summer…she’s a technoshaman from south of the city…bit shy and she’s only a kid really but then I know you don’t mind kids!”

“Of course, that would be fine…” Great, another one who can do shit with the matrix that shouldn’t be possible, ah well, Silk knew that her skills lay elsewhere and she doesn’t really have anything to prove to Aria or anyone else…at least for now, perhaps tomorrow she should start looking for work again…

…but now’s time to have fun…

“Race you then…” and with a flash of light her icon exited the node for the Citadel game zone…she wasn’t really surprised to see Aria and an Alice in Wonderland icon waiting for her when she got there…

The barback was on the brink of death but Silver managed to pull him back just in time. But it took a heavy toll on the mage. He crashed to the floor hard as the the vast energies he needed to gather to stabilize the ravaged body hit him with the backlash. Slowly pulling himself up again the white-haired elf looked at the results of his effort. The man was still heavily wounded and needed mecial care but he wasn't bleeding any more and seemed to be out of immediate danger.

Shakely rising to his feet and gesturing for a bystander to call an ambulance, Silver saw the strange couple walk out the door, where the large-breasted girl blew the guy off. A smile of disbelief appeared on the elf's face. He was to intense for her? Wasn't she the one picking fights with armed criminals?

He noticed the guy had sent him his contact information, which identified him as Seti. It looked like Silver had managed to find some shadowrunners after all. Maybe he could work a bit with them, get deeper into the scene, develop some contacts. He would do absolutely everything to find the faintest trace of Aurora.

But first he needed to get some sleep.

Dahlia:

Your commlink patches the call through to your favorite joyboy, who picks up after a few rings.

"Hello baby doll, how are you? Haven't seen you in like forever. Busy creating a super virus that will threaten the very survival of metahumanity, I'd bet. Bad, bad girl."

Silver:

The healing spell took its toll on your body, and you know you'll be feeling the hurt when you wake up tomorrow morning, but at least you've pulled the young man out from the danger zone. Someone gives you a congratulatory slap on the back, and you turn to find the bartender standing behind you, smiling from ear to ear.

"Well done, son! That was some mighty slick mojo you pulled there. You saved my boy's life, I owe you one. Arigato gozaimasu! You come in here on my shift, all drinks are on the house, you hear?"

[16:09 January 1st, 2072; Pedestrian intersection, Downtown]

When Sage answered, Dahlia had reached a busy intersection in front of a shopping center--just another face in the sea of metahumanity. A wide smile tugged at her lips as the joyboy spoke. No doubt most of Sage’s knowledge of science came from cheesy trids and the occasional matrix game. And perhaps Dahlia had joked about being a mad scientist to the extent that he seemed to be under the impression that it was an elaborate in-joke between Dahlia and himself. But, it was so funny how close his teasing came to the truth. Dahlia took a cursory look around the intersection. At that point, Dahlia should have looked just like any wageslave. And she didn't have any reason to believe that someone might be tailing her, and nothing illegal on her person. But, the woman reasoned that she should remain in the habit of checking her surroundings. From what she could see, on the surface the crowd was completely composed of the tired workforce of Seattle--in all its varying shapes, sizes, flavors and metatypes. But, nothing out of the ordinary. Still talking, the woman continued to examine the crowd milling around her.

“What if I have been?” she asked, letting a pause settle at the end of the question before continuing, still a part of the flow of people around her. “I’m taking a little break from the lab right now, you know,” Dahlia let the end of that sentence trail off. Sage could pick up on the insinuations; after all, it was part of the job. Still listening to the call, Dahlia made a note to run a few sample swabs over the escalator rails in the nearby shopping center in a few days. After all, it never hurt to have a backup culture or two, if only to round out the samples in the lab and provide some variety. After all, she'd be doing serious work, soon. And someone might eventually get suspicious if the same strain was left at the scene of a few crimes. She'd need a full stock.

A bad, bad girl indeed.

Silk:

It's been awhile since you've visited the Citadel...with the dark cloud that's recently settled into your life, you just haven't been in the mood for mass produced entertainment lately. But misery only begets more misery, and it does no good to wallow in the past...it is the New Year, after all, and you're in the company of friends. As usual, this corner of the Matrix is teeming with enthusiastic gamers hopping from one virtual reality playground to another, competing with one another to earn a spot on the leaderboards. You discover that the Citadel has unveiled a new game from its repertoire since the last time you were here. With a few quick Matrix commands, you access the game's description text to see what it's all about.

Have you ever wanted to be a shadowrunner? Do you have the skills it takes to survive as a professional criminal, a deniable asset used by the megacorporations to sabotage and undercut the operations of their competitors? There's only one way to find out if you would survive in the shadows, and that's to play Shadow Ops. A new game developed by Ascendant Studios, Shadow Ops is one of a kind, a fully interactive virtual world where you take on the role of a shadowrunner and embark on missions given to you by a mysterious employer known only as Mr. Johnson. Shadow Ops is programmed with some of the most advanced artificial intelligence on the market today, and each mission is designed to challenge you, the player, in all your faculties to see if you have what it takes to be a professional criminal-for-hire. Gamers who place on the leaderboard will receive a special award from the founder of Ascendant Studios himself. What are you waiting for? Play Shadow Ops now!

Hmm, what do you know, a game where you might actually be able to beat Aria for once. A quick glance at the activity log shows that this game has been immensely popular week over week since its release.

"No luck for you tonight at all, eh bub?"

Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY? Seti was blown away. He wasn't the one who had started a fight--a firefight, at that--with connected criminals. Hell, she isn't even that interesting...but the blow-off still stung.

"I guess not. Geez." At least I don't have to meet her cat. "Tell ya what. Let's head back inside, and I'll buy you and Silver some drinks, and we can discuss business. I'm pretty sure we'll need to get to know each other better, anyway," and thoughts of Dahlia--Dahlia got a job without me...she's becoming more terrifying every passing day--holding test-tubes and wearing a huge, horrifying grin flew through his head. "If this upcoming job is as...involved as I'm afraid it's going to be. For one, we should talk about where to get a respirator that'll fit you."

The word on the street...

"Psst, hey fella, didja hear? There's some smokin' hot young gun shaking up the underground cage fighting scene, scoring upsets left and right like nobody's business. They say he moves like flowing water and punches like an avalanche, but all that zen bullshit aside, ain't no one be denying that this boy is wicked good at his trade. Rumor has it, he ain't packing nothing that the man upstairs didn't give him...got no metal in him, and some of our more magically inclined sources swear he's not awakened either. No one knows how he's doing it, but he's doing it, taking down the biggest and meanest fighters in the Seattle pits like a stack of dominoes, one after another after another. Everybody's puttin' their money down on this kid...he's gone eleven oh so far, and no one knows when his hot streak is gonna burn out, but you better cash in on it before it does."

[21:01: Friday, January 1, 2072: Shitty 2nd Floor Walk-up above a "Massage Parlour", 192nd and 5th Ave, Loveland, Puyallup]

A broken alarm lies scattered in a hallway as a lean form rolls heavily out of bed.

Well that was smart, now I get to buy a new alarm.

Groaning as he stretches Doc hauls himself to his feet and says a silent prayer his food processor wouldn't avenge the alarm by denying him caffeine.
Heading to his "kitchen" he hears the muffled sounds of Loveland through his dirty and barred window. Music from the dive bar on the corner, street vendors trying to sell cheap knockoffs to young soldiers from the Fort, whores defending their corner from would-be interlopers, gangers revving their engines and readying death for each other over a dirty streetcorner.

At least they aren't my problem until Tuesday. Man I have got to get them to quit putting all my shifts for the week on the same damned day.

Pouring his hot soykaf into a mug half full of whiskey Doc slumps into a threadbare armchair and checks his messages.


Nothing from Skuzz, figures that worthless Trogg wouldn't have found me any work. Probably works for Tamanous the way he reacted when I told him no more jobs moving organs.

Flipping on the trid, highlights of the Rose Bowl play as Doc considers his mug thoughtfully.
I have got to make some better contacts. He glances out his window at the neon signs and filth below. That's not going to happen here. I need to find a place to see and be seen. He winces at the coming realization. Time to go clubbing. (muttering)"Dammit."


... twenty minutes and a quick shower later Doc is headed out the door and on his way to the metro station down the block watching people around him try to hide their desperation behind bravado and boisterous partying.

Every muscle in Silver's body felt stretched and torn from the strain of the powerful spell but he pulled himself together and gave the bartender a smile. "I'm glad I could help. Your apprentice will feel this day for some time but he should be completely fine after a week or two in the hospital."
Aching he set down on the now empty table that Seti and his date had been occupying earlier. "I really could use a drink now..."

New Years Day, a marker of new beginnings, of new challenges and opportunities... of new audits.

"Ouch! Hey, what's going on?! What are you doing?"

"Damn slitch, you're lucky I'm just tossing your ass on the street. Not a fuckin' real payment in three months. You think I wouldn't notice those payments never went through?"

"Not my fault if my bank is a pain. I'll call them, tell them to make sure it goes through."

"How stupid you think I am? I already checked, fuckin' account doesn't even exist. So get out of here before I decide to take it out of your hide, instead of just your stuff."

Mask scrambles around on the ground, hands groping as though looking for something in the dark. Eventually she finds the steps, but by then the door has slammed loudly, followed by the audible click of the lock to keep non-residents out of the complex. She gives a sigh, rubbing her backside where she landed hard on the concrete. "Guess that means it's time to move." she mutters to herself. She keeps her hands on the building, and slowly makes her way around it, into the alley next to it, her progress slow as she takes very careful steps, her bare feet touching the ground softly first to make sure she isn't stepping on anything sharp.

Eventually she reaches a dumpster. She crouches down next to it, having to lie flat to reach underneath it "Come on..." she gropes around, looking for something. She doesn't seem to find it, slowly crawling under the dumpster "This is really going to..." she starts, right when her hand finally falls on the small tote bag. She gives a sigh of relief as she pulls herself back out from under the dumpster. 'I need to remember to put clothing in here next time.' she thinks to herself as she stands up, reaching into the bag to pull out a pair of sunglasses and a small metal rod. She puts on the glasses, even though it is the middle of the night, covering her remarkable eyes. The rod she holds in her left hand and gives a flick, causing it to extend into a poll several feet long, allowing her to use it like a cane, waving it in front of her just over the ground, occasionally tapping it as she makes her way back out of the alleyway.

She certainly stands out, even in a world where vibrant multi-color hair that moves is common. Her long pure white hair currently has some gunk in it from the alley, causing it to mat on her right side, her only clothing is a light, white nightshirt that barely reaches her thighs and is far too thin to be remotely comfortable in the cold January air, and already has several stains and a distinct smell about it thanks to crawling under the dumpster. Her bare feet cringe at the frigid ground, and her sunglasses and walking stick speak of a blind person in a world where cybernetic eyes cost next to nothing. She went from living the high (Or at least halfway decent) to looking like a homeless person in five minutes flat, though to be fair, she is now homeless.

"I need to get off the street, quick." she murmurs to herself. She's young, around 16 or 17, and quite pretty, and this isn't exactly the safest part of the city. Being dressed as she is, people might get the wrong idea, and being blind, people might think to take advantage of her. She stops before continuing out of the alleyway, remembering to pull a pair of gloves out of her tote bag and put them on after blowing into her hands to try and warm them up. Ready, she begins to walk along the sidewalk in a random direction, moving slowly so as not to step on anything, but trying to look purposeful, despite not yet having any clue where she should go.

She pulls up some various sites, posting requests for a place to stay for a couple days.

Silk smiled to herself and warped her icon over to the game entrance zone, with the look of advanced urban decay and even the evocative smell of wet cityscape, this seems to have been well designed.

“Heh Aria, this one looks good and its getting rave reviews…how about we show these noobs how it should really be done, I could do with a bit of tension busting!”

“Sounds ok to me” Aria looked around the node and then laughing, morphed herself in to a huge orc samurai in antique armour, halberd in hand and a light machine gun slung over her back… “as long as I don’t have to play entirely by the rules… Why don’t you take the ninja and Summer can play the mage?”

Silk paid the small deposit and morphed the game avatar over her icon, testing the edge of the monoblade with her digital thumb and catching the coppery smell of blood.

“Great, let’s go and see what Mr J has to offer an enterprising trio”

[16:10 January 1st, 2072; Everton Suites 6A, Seattle]
Ultima pushed the last of her boxes into the corner of her new apartment, though new only to her; this building had obviously been built well before she was born, with all the foundation cracks, peeling paint, and musty smells of things ancient and forgotten to go with it. As a plus, it had at least come with some scant furnishings - a ripped synthleather couch, a small table and a chair in the kitchen, a bedframe sans mattress in the bedroom - though the quality of them left much to be desired.

The woman had caught a glance at the news during her abrupt move. Though relieved the police seemed to be taking a hands-off approach to the case, doubtless she would be suspect numero uno if they ever changed her mind. She was a SINless illegal immigrant with a checkered past and a dubious skillset. There probably wouldn't even be a trial. She'd just vanish into the system like bad paperwork, never to be seen again. Well, Ultima wasn't going to let that happen.

I'm away, now. Need to keep my head down and my eyes open. Hopefully I can stay away from whoever is going to miss all that product.

Ah, yes. She'd had to trade some of it - a few pills here, a handful of doses there - to get enough help on-the-fly to move so suddenly. The cred she'd obtained on Enrique's credstick had helped, but most of that was gone after various expenses and the initial deposit on this place. She had enough Psyche and Red Mesc to get her fixes when the cravings came calling as they did, at least for a time. But how long would that last?

The hispanic woman walked over to the double doors at the far end of the apartment. They opened out onto a balcony just as her previous place had. However, the view from here wasn't of a delapidated, rotting neighborhood on the doorstep of hell, but of the ocean some distance off. Maybe a mile from the docks, she could see over the ships and cargo containers out to the seemingly endless stretch of blue-green ocean that disappeared off into the horizon. This close to sunset the sun was a molten orange ball getting ready to take the plunge into that oceanic abyss. Gulls circled and wheeled overhead, occasionally giving their whistling cries. With a satisfied half-grin, she walked back inside the apartment to lift a box she'd set out of the way, then brought it back outside.

This is a nice place. Maybe I can work to keep it.

She opened the box and pulled out some electronics, wire, and a some explosive charges. When she was done, anybody who climbed onto this balcony unannounced and unwanted would simultaneously find it dropping out from underneath them while ball bearings tore holes through their flesh, assuming the blast didn't send pieces of them flying out onto the streets in the first place. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure after all.

The woman worked mechanically, like a programmed automaton, not thinking about the task she was doing as she had done it so many times before. Letting her muscle memory take over, she concentrated on composing a voice message to her fixer, Abdul.

<<Assalamu alaikum, Abdul. I have not heard from you in ages. I was wondering if you had any jobs suited for me lined up, or if you've heard any word on things that need doing. I am in need of work and thought you might know of something. And many blessings to you for the last "present" you had for me. I put it to good use when it was needed. You are a reliable associate and I speak well of your name. I hope to hear from you soon. Ultima.>>

Dahlia:

Two days later, you find yourself sitting at a conference room at TransGeni labs, after receiving a summons from Mr. Watson through your commlink earlier that day. You wait patiently for the dwarf, your thoughts wandering to your home experiments as you idle, wondering about the next new cocktail you're going to synthesize for your pet pathogens. A few minutes later, Watson walks in through the doors, brisk and ready for business. He activates the holo-projector in the middle of the conference table, and turns to you as the corporate logo of Evo shimmers into the air.

"Okay, listen up. TransGeni has a number of facilities throughout the greater Seattle metroplex, each with their own research and developmental focus. One of these facilities is located in Northgate, and they specialize in genetic engineering and bionics, with an eye towards combat applications. Essentially, they're the quarterback for TransGeni's super soldier program, and they're responsible for filling orders from client organizations for biologically enhanced shock troops or augmenting their existing soldiers with top of the line bionic implants."

He pauses. "Have you ever heard of the Shadow Wars? It's a corp-sponsered urban gladiator game where shadowrunners and gangers and mercs compete with each other in a battle to the death for a five million dollar jackpot. Grisly stuff, but you know how Joe Wageslave likes to get his rocks off by seeing other people kill each other for money and glory. Anyway, TransGeni is fielding its own team for the Shadow Wars this year - the grunts at marketing came up with the idea, said it was an opportunity for us to showcase our product for potential customers. Problem is, the team we're supposed to sponsor broke out of the facility last week, and we have no idea where they are. I want you to track them down and bring them back. Our net came down pretty fast once we discovered that they're gone, and I doubt they've had time to leave Seattle, so they should still be in the city somewhere. They're trained to split up when they go to ground, so you'll have to hunt each of them down individually. Does this sound like something you think you could handle?"

[21:05: Friday, January 1, 2072: 192nd and 6th, Loveland, Puyallup]

Walking with a purpose for the metro station with hunched shoulders, Doc attempts to master the look of a man unconcerned but aware. Mostly he looks like a man who really wants to get out of the cold as soon as he can. He glances as a go-ganger with unfamiliar colors goes roaring by on some souped-up hog.
I need to learn who's who around here, and fast. Maybe Skuzz can set me up with a decent Knowsoft to...
Doc thoughts trail off as he nearly collides with a young woman stepping from an alley. "Hey." Turning his head to see who he nearly collided with he notices three things, she is young, very young, she is blind and she smells like the alley she just stepped out of.
Keep moving Johhny-boy, this ain't your problem. She just one more desperate person in Puyallup, you've walked by a dozen since you left the apartment
Of course, they had winter clothes on, and weren't teenage elves in a neighborhood full of thugs and pimps, and they could all see
Taking on other people's problems ain't your job though. You're barely treading water yourself, now you're gonna start taking in charity cases? You do enough on your shifts at the hospital. Your in no shape to be taking in strays.
Doc watches as the girl tugs on some gloves and rubs her hands together to warm them against the cold.
(muttering)"Fuck."
Good boy, John.
Yeah, sure. Real good, so much for making contacts tonight. At least I don't have to go to that god-awful Penumbra.
Tapping the girl cautiously on her shoulder as she begins taking a few tentative steps Doc clears his throat.
"Excuse me, miss. You look like you could use some help... or a jacket", looking down, "...or shoes."

[21:05: Friday, January 1, 2072: 192nd and 6th, Loveland, Puyallup]

Mask turns her head to face Doc when he taps her on the shoulder, and looks a bit frightened, she takes a step back, nearly tripping over something, and holds up her cane in front of her, placing her free hand on it as well. "Don't..." she starts, but stops when he speaks. After a moment she relaxes, lowering her arms. Despite being unable to see, she managed to face the newcomer fairly directly. "Oh." She stands on one foot for a moment, rubbing one foot against the top of the other to try and keep it warm.

She seems to be weighing up her options, and Doc or would be, if she wasn't now looking about two feet to his side. Finally she replies in a small voice "All three would be nice." Her cane finally reaches the ground again, making a slight 'clink' sound as the metal hits concrete "Maybe somewhere to stay?" she says hopefully, adding "Somewhere warm." Though he didn't know it, she'd only been outside less than ten minutes, but her toes were already losing feeling, heat being sucked away by the unforgiving ground.

[Appearing on a Trid screen near you]

A large explosion fills the screen, followed by the sound of automatic weapons being fired. Anyone experiencing the ad with simsense feels the heat of the explosion, tastes the tang of gunpowder on the air, and gets a sense of fear mixed with adrenaline. A voice speaks, easily decernable over the continued din of battle "Are you looking for true excitement? Are you tired of the fake entertainment of Hollywood?" A death scream punctuates the pitch, vision shaken by explosions slowly settling on what looks like an abandoned street that just saw a small war being fought. "Are you bored with the timidness of Urban Brawl? Are you ready to see something that will really get your heart pumping?" Simsense uses experience just such a feeling as their heart beings to race. "Then get ready for the greatest sport to ever hit the Trid. Get ready for: Shadow Wars." a rush of adrenaline mixes with a cooling sensation as the street grows brighter, and dark letters appear on the screen Shadow Wars, tilted so as to look like they are being cast by something that cannot be seen.

"Watch as teams of elite combatants," The screen flies over to what looks like three paramilitary soldiers sneaking through woods

"hopped up wannabes," vision now flies to three gangsters, standing out in the open, rather unwisely as the soldiers get closer

"devious shadowrunners," vision pans around to a building, zooming in on one of the upper windows, through which a man in a black trenchcoat stands, a sniper rifle pointing towards the two previous groups

"and everyone inbetween fights it out in an abandoned city" Flying away from the impending battle, the camera gives an eagle eye view of what looks like a partially ruined city, vegetation claiming parts of it.

"for an astounding prize of 5 million nuyen! But teams won't just have each other to watch out for. Enforcers will be roaming the city as well, and while usually neutral, they are worth a million nuyen bounty for any brave enough to take down one of these elite combatants." Vision fades for a moment, and then a person in armor that would make military units cry appears, fear floods those with simsense. The armored person hefts up what looks like an assault cannon with ease, despite so obviously not being a troll, the barrel pointing right at the camera.

"And even the viewers will have a chance to participate." The terrifying figure fades to black, and is replaced by a family, children included, sitting in front of the Trid. "Vote on your favorite Players to give them additional prizes, or perhaps even special help from a handy air drop. Order in the next 5 minutes, and we'll add in our Player Eye^tm feed for no additional cost."

While shorter ads appear, this full length one still shows up quite often. It seems whatever company is behind this is keen on getting a large audience. A node has of course appeared to allow people to purchase various viewing packages. Everything from the most basic package which allows viewing of the eagle eye drones only, to the most premium package which includes full access to every camera out there, including simsense hookup where available. Somewhat harder to find so that people don't click on it by mistake, is a signup node, allowing potential Players to view the rules and sign up as individual contestants, partial, or full teams. There are several pages of disclaimers about how Shadow Wars^tm is not responsible for lost of life or limb, among a number of other things.

"All three would be nice. Maybe somewhere to stay? "Somewhere warm."


"Sure, let's get you off the street."
Doc takes her hand in his and moves to the street side of the pavement. Old habits kick in along with his Reflexes. The world slows down as Doc scans the block and a half ahead. Carefully, but steadily he leads the young woman down the block, eyeing the drunken soldiers and pimps as he passes them by. The whores on the street corner give him a wink and a knowing smirk. It doesn't register until he's on the steps up what he must have looked like. A well dressed man in fancy clothes leading an attractive and desperate looking girl about in Loveland at night.

Great., he winces, switching his Reflexes off, Now they think I'm recruiting her for a mob run whorehouse. At least they'll quit bothering me when I walk by.

Stopping in the hall he turns to the girl. "Wait here a moment" Sizing up the girl, Doc stabs the buttons on the vending machine and a set of flats sealed in plastic drop to the bottom of the chute.
"Okay here we are." Doc fumbles the key into the 'quaint' old mechanical lock to his apartment and swing the door open. "It isn't much, but it's home. Uh, you can call me Doc."

Doc Leads her to the bathroom and places her hand on the folding door of the tiny shower stall "Here, you can get yourself cleaned up. Soap and shampoo are on a shelf on your left. Right-hand knob is the hot water. There's a towel on the back of the bathroom door. Oh, and I got you some flats to put on for now." he says, holding up the package, waggling it to rustle the plastic then placing it on the sink. "You can stay here tonight, I'll dig up an old Jacket for you in the morning. It'll be big on you, but it'll keep you warm. Then maybe we can find you a women's shelter in the morning. How does that sound?"

Shutting the bathroom door he calls back, "Oh, you should probably only use warm water, not hot, in case you have frostbite. Afterwards I can check you for injuries, I'm, uh... a nurse."
Facepalming Nice John, that wasn't the creepiest thing you've ever said to a girl. She's probably trying to pry the bars off the bathroom window.

I should call Siobhan, maybe she knows a good shelter. This girl's an elf, she'll help her...

[16:35 January 1st, 2072; Everton Suites 6A, Seattle]
After Ultima had finished wiring the balcony (and the front door) with traps, she took a moment to celebrate her move up in the world. Leaning against the railing on the balcony, she had watched the sun make its slow, incremental descent down into the ocean and vanish, smoking cigarettes as she enjoyed the show.

If ever I doubt that God had made this to be such a beautiful world, all I have to do is watch the sunset, and my faith is reaffirmed.

With a final puff of her cigarette, the woman flicked the butt off into the distance and then went back inside.

She decided tonight she was going to go into the city, maybe to drum up some work, or to make contacts. Too long she had been living in that hellhole on the edge of the Barrens, partially as a penance, partially to hide or maybe lose herself in it. Though dire circumstances (completely self-inflicted ones at that) had uprooted her and caused her to flee, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Already she was happier, if almost completely broke. It could be a turning point, this day.

The commlink still showed no messages. Abdul must not have gotten her voicemail yet, or if he did he was perhaps too busy. Ultima did recall in the handful of times she had met the eccentric former jihadist in person that he had seemed quite the workaholic, juggling multiple commcalls while checking the specs on orders she had placed with him. Still, he was worth waiting for. In the end he always came through.

With an inward sigh she undressed and went into the bathroom. She started the shower and let it run so that the water would warm up before she stepped in. The tiled floor was cold beneath her bare feet, and she wrinkled her toes against the surface to try and warm them. But her attention wasn't necessarily on the floor, but on the face staring back at her in the mirror.

The scars I remember. All those close calls, it's a wonder I'm not dead yet. But... when did I start to look so... tired? These dark spots under my eyes, I never used to have these. I look so thin, like I'm sick, wasting away. Mierda, how did I get like this?

Ultima stared disbelievingly at herself in the mirror until the steam from the shower created an obscuring film over the image, causing her reflection to spread out into an unrecognizable, fuzzy blob of color. Wiping it away did no good, leaving smears and streaks of condensation that caused the image to only get worse.

With another sigh she entered the hot spray of the shower, nearly oblivious to the fact that the hot water was turned up all the way. With the way some of her Talents went, she barely felt it. A normal person would have run out of the tub screaming, but she merely rested her head against the wall and let the water rinse off the day's dirt, anxiety, and apprehension. For a while she just stood there and watched through a steamy fog as the water circled the drain and then vanished.

---------

[17:40]
The woman suited up in the manner she did when going out into a dangerous and unpredictable world. She wore her full body Urban Explorer suit, covered over with a light knee-length trenchcoat that served to hide any contraband she tended to take with her. A thigh holster strapped around her leg held her trusty, modified Ruger, and a hidden pocket in the coat held a couple of spare speedloaders. A pair of goggles and a nearly mandatory rebreather did much to obscure her face while still maintaining a facade of being a normal, law-abiding citizen. A backwards Seattle Seahawks cap served to hide her hair while making her appear to be just a normal denizen of this city, helping her to blend in. Last but not least she grabbed a small pack of pocket electronics tools, held together in a beige plastic casing, just in case she came across anything that her other Talents could help her with.

Ultima gave herself a final glance in the bathroom mirror. Satisfied, she then walked out the front door, shutting it behind her, and with a thought she activated the "safety measures" she had put into place.

Time to see what we can find.

04:32 January 1st, 2072; Tradition Lake View, Apartment 6-3, Renton

Silk stretched and her jaws creaked as she stifled a yawn. Well, that had been a good start to the new year after all! Summer seemed like a nice kid and Aria was Aria, she’d enjoyed the company and the game had been fun. They’d even managed to make some progress on an imaginary run and they could pick up where they’d left off later in the week.

She stumbled over to the couch and collapsed on it without bothering to fold it out in to a bed, wincing as the dust wafted out…she’d have to get up again all to soon, during the run she’d decided it was past time to get a new place and dump this shit hole…but that would need some cash. She had asked Aria to keep an eye out on ShadowSEA for a job that might suit her and before she succumbed to sleep she sent a quick text to Bishop.

<<Morning. Hope you’ve been enjoying the holiday. Do you have anything going that I could help with? I could do with a new crash pad. Call you soon. S >>

Silk
[12:15 January 1st, 2072; Tradition Lake View, Apartment 6-3, Renton]

Silk slept soundly on the couch, the only noises in the apartment being the patter of a light drizzle on the windowpanes and her soft, feminine snores. While daytime activity was in full swing outside and on the street, she was still recovering from her Matrix gaming binge from the night before, and taking full advantage of the fact that school was out, at least until the new semester started in a couple more weeks.

While Silk worked on her eighth hour of sleep, the commlink next to her on the floor begin to vibrate. A brief, tinkling chime and a blinking blue LED indicated that a message had been sent to her account, waiting to be read.

The message was a text, from Mr. Bishop himself, in response to the one she had sent before bed.

<<Ms. Waters,>> it began. Mr. Bishop was one of the handful in contact with the local shadow community who knew her name, but he'd always been on the level with her, and gave no indication that he would use such privileged information against her. In fact, despite his occasional departures from law and order, he seemed to be a regular librarian who encouraged hard work and research in order to excel in academia.

<<I wasn't expecting to hear from you during Winter Break. I always thought students were eager to be away as much as possible. But as it stands I have, indeed, come across something that needs doing. Come down to the campus library in person, say around 13:30? We'll talk there. The library's officially closed but the door will be open for you. And Ms. Waters, wear that lovely dress you had on a few weeks ago. It was...interesting.>>

Half the time he acted all paternal towards Silk, like a mentor or a guide, and the other half of the time he was a dirty old lech. The dichotomy was unnerving, especially since he could go from one routine to the other without warning or notice. He did keep his hands to himself, though; if he toed the line of etiquette, he at least never crossed it.

[21:15: Friday, January 1, 2072: Shitty 2nd floor walk-up above a "Massage Parlour", Lovetown, Puyallup]

The girl was cleaning herself up in the bathroom while Doc wrestled with his supposed "fold out" loveseat. A twitch of his eye brought the soft blue of his chronometer.
Siobhán should be off shift soon...

Pulling up his contacts list Doc scrolled to the elf's picture and winked at the "msg" icon
Siobhán, it's John. Found a homeless elf girl, young, no winter clothes. Staying at my place tonight, need help. Do you know any women's shelters in Tarislar she could go to?

It had taken two months before she had even addressed him by name, the elves in Tarislar had long memories and some righteous grudges. Doc couldn't blame them after what they'd been through, but it made working there hard for a human. He worked hard and fought off gangers looking to score drugs with the rest of the staff. One thing he'd learned in the military, you fight by a man's side long enough it doesn't matter what he looks like or how many horns there are on his head. Still, the staff was wary of him, he'd always be an outsider there.
Sighing Doc slumped into his armchair and pulled up an old friend, his worn and dog-eared copy of Herodotus, to wait for the girl to finish, sending a quick order to his food processor to make more soykaf as an afterthought.

As Doc takes Mask's gloved hand, he quickly notices that the gloves aren't just for warmth, they also provide self defense as he feels the metal contacts in the palms. The girl doesn't speak as she is lead on, but before long her teeth do begin to chatter. It is a rare stroke of good luck for her that someone found her and was kind enough to take her off the streets, though how pure his intentions are still remain to be seen. About halfway through the walk she gives up using her cane, collapsing it and stuffing it into her bag so that she can huddle the free arm for warmth, trusting that she won't be lead into a wall, walking right next to him to try and capitalize on his body heat a bit.

She stands in the bathroom, rubbing her arms, teeth still chattering. She simply nods through most of the conversation, not entirely sure she'd be able to muster any words around her teeth. When she hears the door close, she removes her sunglasses first, setting them next to the flats, revealing her pure white eyes in the mirror, then her bag goes next to them, her commlink inside switched on so she'll be able to find it if she needs. Next she gets into the shower stall, not taking off her clothing until the (supposedly) frosted glass door is closed. She was fairly sure she'd heard him leave, and that he wasn't in the room, but it paid to be safe, especially since the chattering of her own teeth made it hard to hear. After fumbling for the shower nob for a few moments, the hot water turns on, not too hot at the advice of her host, at least not at first, she slowly turns it up as the shower lengthens.

Some minutes after the water starts a loud 'ewww' can be heard from within as she finds the dollop of gunk in her hair. It's a good half an hour (or until the hot water runs out) before the water is finally turned off, and another ten minutes or so before the bathroom door is finally opened. Her sunglasses are back on and she is wearing the flats, her other stuff all in her tote bag, except for her cane, which she is once again using to find her way around, though she moves it much more slowly now that she is indoors to prevent knocking anything over.

Once she finds Doc again, she finally responds to his comments properly "A shelter is okay, though I just need a bit of time to set up a new place." She also holds out her left hand for him to inspect, or at least holds out her left hand palm up, in his general direction, after switching her cane over to her right hand. "You said Doc earlier right? But you're a nurse?" she asks somewhat suspiciously. It takes a few moments longer before she remembers her manners "Oh, and I'm Jillian. I don't suppose you have a spare bed somewhere?" she asks a bit apprehensively. She still can't be entirely sure that he's done all this out of the kindness of his heart. In fact she rather expects she might need to use her gloves before morning.

"A shelter is okay, though I just need a bit of time to set up a new place. You said Doc earlier right? But you're a nurse? Oh, and I'm Jillian. I don't suppose you have a spare bed somewhere?"
She also holds out her left hand for him to inspect, or at least holds out her left hand palm up, in his general direction, after switching her cane over to her right hand.

As the bathroom door swings open Doc dog-ears an already worn page in his book and set it down as he takes the young woman's hand." It's just a nickname, but it's nice to meet you Jillian. And yes, I'm a surgical nurse at Deireadh an Tuartheil, in Tarislar. There's soykaf if you're interested and flavored soy-protein mix, every color of the rainbow. I'm afraid that's the best my pantry can offer." He says as he leads her to a folding chair at a small card table in the corner. "There's a fold out loveseat you can use tonight... uh, it's just to your right a couple feet. It's comfortable enough, it served as my bed when I first arrived in Seattle for a couple months."
Doc fills a mug half with soykaf and half with whiskey and settles into the other folding chair at the table. "So, do you have someone you need to contact who can put you up long term? If not, my friend at the hospital can probably find something for you for a little while. I sent her message while you were cleaning up, so hopefully we'll hear something by morning." Taking a sip of his Irish coffee, Doc looks the girl up and down, trying to figure her out.
She doesn't look malnourished, and she couldn't have been staying on the streets long in that shift she was wearing. Did she escape from some low-end pimp or an abusive boyfriend? Maybe she got her hands on those gloves, zapped him and ran... Hmm

Mask replies "Yes, anything warm, I'm not too picky right now." She seems visibly relieved that the loveseat was being offered as her bed, and once she recieves her drink, she cups it in her hand, simply sipping at it more than really drinking it. While the shower cured her of the cold, chills like that leave a bit of an impression on a person. She seems to think about the question for a few moments before finally answering "Yeah, I think I have someone I can contact, though it may be a couple days till they can help. Getting in touch with them can be a be a bit spotty sometimes." She takes another ship from her drink and then gives a big yawn, perhaps a bit overly theatrical, it isn't that late, but then again, who knows when she last got a good night sleep. "That sounds alright so long as it isn't too far or I can get a ride or something."

She shows no markings of abuse of any kind, and her previous clothing left most of her legs and arms exposed, and her face is similarly free of injury. "Until then I could use some sleep... and plenty of blankets please?" She doesn't seem particularly keen in continuing conversation at the moment, though she is otherwise being fairly polite, though given the situation that perhaps isn't so surprising.

She gives Doc a chance to inspect her other hand and her feet for any frostbite, but doesn't seem interested in being inspected any closer than that. Once her bed is ready, she snuggles under the blankets, and seems to fall asleep quite quickly. While her body rests through, her mind remains quite active, flitting around the matrix, attempting to get herself a new place to live, spoofing one program after another. Before focusing on the living space itself though, she works on getting some clothing delivered to Doc's house.

[22:00: Friday, January 1, 2072: Shitty 2nd Floor walk-up above a "Massage Parlour", Lovetown, Puyallup]
After cleaning up from the snack Doc checks her limbs until he is satisfied she didn't sustain any frostbite.
She could have only been on the streets for a few minutes then. Bare feet on concrete in January is a quick way to lose toes.
"Ok, well I'll be up all night. My job keeps me on an odd sleep schedule, so if you wake up and need anything just give a holler. I'll be in my room." He says as he heaps a couple blankets on the loveseat/bed.
After getting his guest settled into the fold-out bed with a heavy synthetic-wool blanket and a comforter he double checks the locks on his door, grabs his book and heads to his room, audibly shutting his door.

With the door now shut Doc slides a heavy bag of gear out from under his bed. Taking out a his Colt and Taser he loads both and sets them on the nightstand.
No sense in taking chances in case there is someone after her...

Doc pops in his stereo buds and logs onto an account linked to one of his fake IDs.
If I can't go out and make contacts, at least I can try to get that worthless fixer of mine to find me some work.


Winking at the voicemail option by Skuzz's icon, Doc records his message.
Skuzz, it's Doc. Listen I didn't mean anything by that whole, 'no more organ shipments' thing. I'm just sick of the same job over and over, you know? I'm looking for some variety, maybe work with a team that actually needs a medic. Gimme a call, or we can meet and hash out something.
Glancing at his account balance in another AR window, Doc can't help but sigh.
Shit, hell have me checking organ shipments by the end of the week.

Man I nee to have some fun. I'm going to turn into a mushroom if I hide out in my place till Tuesday.
Bringing up Chop's contact info he fires off a quick text message.
Hey Chop, been a couple weeks. Want to grab a beer this weekend, maybe play some pool? Let me know what you're up to.

Winking the AR windows into transparency Doc settles back on his bed and returns to his Herodotus.

[09:20: Satuday, January 2nd, 2072: Shitty 2nd Floor walk-up above a "Massage Parlour, Lovetown, Puyallup]

Stretching Doc logs off of a local med-tech/EMT forum and heads out into the livingroom to check on his houseguest.
If I'm lucky, she really is blind and didn't take me for everything I had during the night
He quietly glances over to the fold-out bed while he grabs some soy for the food processor.

Rhodes snorted at the mention of a respirator, but did follow Seti back into Penumbra. He nodded to the booth where the botched date had begun, and where the silver-haired pretty boy was sitting with his head down on the table. He flexed his fists and cracked his knuckles; his blood was up and he was ready for a fight. Or a beer. He slid into one of the chairs -- it creaked a bit, but held -- then rolled his shoulders as he settled in.

"So. You said something about a drink. And a job."

[12:27 January 1st, 2072; Tradition Lake View, Apartment 6-3, Renton]

The blinking commlink finally roused Silk to consciousness and she swore as she read through the brief text and then again when she checked the time stamp on her SPU. At least it was the holidays and traffic should be fairly light after the revels of last night. But she vowed to herself again though that she would get a place closer to the university…the bus was going to be a bitch! It wasn’t a problem for virtual commuting but there were still times when she needed to be there in the flesh.

She sent a mental command to the antiquated home hub and vaguely hoped that the soykaf would be drinkable this morning, er afternoon, and then stumbled towards the shower cubicle to wash the fug of sleep away. She remembered briefly that it hadn’t been like this once and she’d always been alert and refreshed after sleeping but now she just felt drained.

While the luke warm water, another reason to ditch this joint, washed over her, she dialled up her commlink to show her the latest headlines and check her search parameters on her ongoing search for the mercs who had attacked them eighteen months ago and more importantly who had been behind them…still nothing, not that she expected it, if Aria hadn’t turned anything up yet then it was unlikely her cheap off-the-shelf agent would do better. At least she was doing something now, after burning off her anger in the game zone last night she felt calmer and more in control than she had done for a while.

Stepping out of the shower she considered her limited clothing options…she was damned if she was going to wear her best dress even if Bishop might have wanted her to…it looked like it was damn cold out there and the rain was probably acidic again, so worn jeans, tee shirt and jacket went on over her armour and she slipped the taser out from under the bed and dropped it in to her bag just in case.

Cranking the music volume up on her link she stepped out of her apartment and headed for the lift…assuming it was working…it was time to get proactive…

Silk
[13:42 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]
True to her instincts, traffic was light and almost reserved, the full activity of this Metroplex having been scaled back for the New Years holiday while people slept off their hangovers and drug binges. The bus she took meandered along its predetermined route, but Renton was just shy of only twenty kilometers from the University. It wasn't long before she was let out just a half a block away from the library, on the edges of the Seattle University campus itself.

Silk walked through one of the tidiest campuses that regular Knight-Errant patrols could protect and generous private and corporate donations could buy. Real trees, though leafless as of right now, stood tall at regular intervals as she traversed the sidewalk. When they awoke in the spring and summer, they would provide leafy shade along the sidewalk from the sometimes harsh sun. Genetic engineering by some of the best minds at Evo ensured that not even infrequent direct sunlight nor acid rain would cause the trees to falter in this task. Other greenery was strategically placed throughout the campus to ensure that no matter where one looked there was a moment worthy of immortalizing in photography.

She made her way towards the library, approaching the wading pool and the sparkling fountains in front of the building. As she did, a Knight-Errant cruiser creeped down the road that bisected the campus. Distinctly, Silk could tell that the two officers were watching her. One of them pressed a hand to his ear and started talking; though she could not make out what he said, it was obvious he was calling something in or speaking into his radio. Seconds later, an aerial drone appeared ahead from beyond one of the buildings and hovered over the trees for a moment, its rotor blades chopping the air with a quiet, rapid-fire whiskwhiskwhiskwhisk. Moments it stayed there in mid-air, peering down at Silk. And then just as abruptly, it flied back in the direction it had appeared, and the patrol car gained speed at a forward gesture from the officer in the passenger seat.

Once again, Silk was all alone on the sidewalk in front of the campus library. Though the doors were shut, she could see a light on through the glass building facade. Somebody was in there, waiting for her.

[03:25 January 2nd, 2072; Everton Suites 6A, Seattle]
Ultima shut the front door to her apartment behind her and leaned up against it for a moment. She let forth a huge sigh of relief that she'd been holding unknowingly, and the tension gushed out of her like a wrung sponge. She tossed her hat aside while she pulled the goggles off her head, and for a few moments she just stood there, rubbing her tired, itchy eyes.

Mierda. That was too close. Need to be more careful.

Her night out had started slow. She'd heard from various sources in hushed whispers that the shadow community still rallied around a club called Penumbra, which sat in the shadow of the former Renraku Arcology - now the SCIRE. When she had approached it, however, the club was cordoned off by a Knight-Errant police barricade, and detectives on the scene were taking statements from those club-goers who had been in attendance. All she could figure out was that there was some sort of shooting.

Just as well I showed up too late. I'm not looking for any trouble.

Thwarted in her attempt to follow up on her only reasonable lead, she had wandered the streets of Downtown, and at one point she ducked into a seedy-looking pawnshop tucked away on a dark avenue a few turns from a major boulevard. Places like that were havens for junk electronics and the odd firearm. Oh, she had enjoyed looking at the rustic, dusty remnants of ancient electronics and obsolete tech. What she had walked out with, however, were old-school, real paper print copies of two works of literature: Graham Green's The Destructors, and Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk.

She'd found it strange, how when she was running her fingers over the spines of all those old books they'd seemed to call to her. Her hand was drawn to them as if a lodestone were latching onto steel. She'd even closed her eyes, and she could still feel that pull, a nearly electric buzz crawling up her hand down to her elbow, and growing in strength as her touch landed on them. Something was significant about them, and Ultima felt as if it had something to do with her Talents. Though she felt as if they were important, the clerk behind the counter obviously had not. He sold them to her for five and smirked as though he were ripping her off. Ultima slotted him the funds out of Enrique's old certified cred stick and then left quickly.

Aimlessly she wandered throughout the city, ducking down back alleys and streets that ran off the main thoroughfares. She occasionally checked ShadowSEA, and after a few hours she found a post by a small crew with almost no Reputation, asking for somebody skilled with manipulating hardware and electronic devices, and on short notice. Ultima wasted no time responding to them, and quickly assured them that she was a fit for the skillset they were looking for.

And so some hours later, well into the evening and just shy of morning hours, she rendezvoused with the shadow team, a couple of humans and an ork, all of them full of swagger and bravado, and completely lacking in any sort of plan. She met them in an alley behind Jericho's Electronics, an independent electronics store, staring dumbfounded at the maglock that was barring their entry through the back. After a few moments of negotiation, they agreed to give her a 25% cut of the haul. With that, Ultima pulled out the pocket electronics toolkit and set to work. In less than a minute she'd cracked open the maglock and rearranged the wires and components within. The light flashed from red to green. She stopped them short of rushing in while she also bypassed the fire alarm wired to the door. Then, she gave the all clear.

She expected the team to just grab the loot and then run out. However, when she saw them smashing shelves and trashing what gear they weren't snatching up, she figured it for the property destruction job that it really was. Putting her knowledge of building construction to use, she quickly investigated the environs and discovered that this business was tapped into area gas lines, pulling heat from natural gas instead of using electric heat pumps.

Ultima told the team to go ahead and leave, that she would take care of their needing to cause sufficient destruction to the property. Though looking back on it, she figured she might've gotten carried away. A fire axe near the back exit helped her puncture enough holes in the gas lines to fill every cubic meter of the building with gas. Smashing apart a few electronics, she was able to contrive a device based on capacitors set in a circuit loop that would cause a sufficient electric spark to turn the building into a ball of flame after igniting the gas. And she based all of this around a commlink she turned into a timer, with a ticking countdown of five minutes.

During the whole process, she felt nothing short of rapture, of purpose. Whatever the World's reason for causing damage to this building, for whatever purpose some outside party had for making sure this property was no longer commercially viable, Ultima saw nothing but an opportunity for something new to be born. With an ecstacy that straddled the line somewhere between physical gratification and a religious experience, she set the wheels in motion for this building's Destruction, assured in the knowledge that with time, God would make something beautiful take its place.

It was as she was dashing out of the rear exit to finally escape that she saw the lights of Knight-Errant police cars flashing off of the walls of that back alley. Motion sensors within had set off a silent alarm, and now the building was being investigated. Ultima attempted to sneak away without being detected, but her heart sank down into her boots when she heard the words every runner dreads being shouted at her from behind:

"Freeze!"

She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly raised her hands to the air. Every square centimeter of her skin had suddenly started to sweat despite the cool evening air. Mentally, she was keeping track of how long she had before the building nearby turned into a mushroom cloud.

"Ten...nine...eight...seven..."
"Get down on the ground, now!"
"...six...five...four..."
"I SAID... get down on the ground...NOW!"
"...three...two...ONE!"

She started running, as fast as she could will her legs to carry her. The building erupted. Sound and fury accompanied an incinerating wave of heat and a shower of glass particles. The cop's gun went off, and as sure as rain is wet that round would have gone into her back had the detonation not distracted him in the course of taking aim. With the police in the area now momentarily distracted, Ultima ran as fast and as far as she could while staying to the dark, dangerous alleys.

For hours she eluded police capture while meandering her way back towards her apartment. She flipped through various local news outlets on her comm, and one of the top stories was the sudden eruption of Jericho's Electronics, and the police search for the culprit. Already the news media was blasting Knight-Errant for letting the vandal escape, and user-submitted feedback was already wailing for Lone Star's return, that crime had never been this bad when they were around.

By the time she arrived back at her apartment, she figured she was safe once again. The woman was now both physically and mentally drained. The Psyche had long worn off, but the need for a fix had been kept at bay by her constant adrenaline supply and the anxiety of avoiding arrest. Now, she was too tired to think about getting a fix. All she wanted was to go to bed.

Ultima slouched on her way to the bedroom, articles of clothing she pulled off leaving a trail on the way. However, she stopped short when a message came through on her commlink:

<<Ultima: Nice work out there. We know it was short notice, but you did alright. Hope to work with you again soon. Here's your share, and the others agreed a little something else on top for going above and beyond what the job entailed. Mr. J was pleased.>>

5000 hit her bank account all at once, and Ultima gave a satisfied, if sleepy, grin to herself.

She was asleep before she even hit the matress.

Silk smiled briefly as the cruiser slid away down the esplanade…at least she belonged somewhere…if it wasn’t for what had happened to Balefire she may have even considered giving up running and making a safer and potentially more lucrative career under Evo. The stuff they were doing here was cutting edge and almost as much of a buzz as slipping through a corp perimeter and dodging security. She dashed the traitorous thoughts angrily from her mind…she needed to be faster and stronger, and more dangerous…she would find out who did this, who had sent the mercs and she would make them pay!

She turned towards the library entrance, unconsciously logging the approach in her mind and checking for any telltales that might indicate everything was not as it seemed, second nature now…time to see what Mr Bishop had to offer her.

Silk
[13:42 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]
Mr. Bishop was found in a small conference room often used by students for "group study." He sat at a long table, chatting quietly with a nicely suited, middle-aged ork woman with her hair in a bun and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with coke-bottle lenses that had never been in style. When Silk entered the room, Mr. Bishop took one look at her attire and clucked disapprovingly. But even so he rose and walked around the table to the door, shutting it behind her.

Bishop himself was a man approaching his golden years, with the flabby jowls and skin blemishes to match. He wore his stark white hair long despite his greatly receded hairline, and always kept his squinting eyes hidden behind specially tinted prescription sunglasses. A thick, white beard that left his upper lip bare covered his chin and encircled lips that always seemed to be pulled into a grin, even if just barely. The years had put a bit of a stomach on what one could tell had formerly been a hale and youthful physique.

"Nice to see you, Ms. Waters." Only a hint of disappointment made it through his voice. He must have really been looking forward to that dress. "Please, have a seat and we'll explain everything."

At a nod from Bishop, the ork woman reached underneath the table and toggled on a white noise generator. Installed at the behest of students, the WNGs ensured that precious graduate-level research didn't fall into the hands of rival students or researchers looking to take discoveries and make them their own. They also served just as well to mask conversations touching on legally sensitive topics.

"I went ahead and looked at your registration for the Spring Semester. You've got some prerequisite classes, all the better for Seattle U. to milk you for your sponsor's cash, I suppose. Now I also noticed that you have an Electronic Engineering course, and a high level one, coming up. This woman," and he nodded over to the ork lady at his side, so far remaining quiet, "is Dr. Fleming. She will be teaching that class. She has an offer that... I believe you'll want to listen to. Ladies," he said with a nod, excusing himself. He rose from his seat and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Dr. Fleming cleared her throat, looking a bit uncomfortable and out of her element. "Yes. Well. I'll get down to it. I pulled your academic records, and while you show great promise and aptitude, your grades seem to go up and down almost unpredictably. I'm thinking maybe there's trouble at home," she asked with a hint of a question, prying without trying to appear to do so. Clearing her throat again, she continued. "Yes, anyway. I'm willing to waive your attendance in the course and give you an A on it, as well as a stipend out of the 'teacher assistant' fund if you take on a job. Of course, with the stipulation that you are doing this on your own and I know nothing of this, and that I will deny your involvement if you are caught. So, are you interested? Shall I continue?" Dr. Fleming watched Silk's face closely as she awaited the reply.

[15:22 January 3st, 2072; TransGeni Conference Room, Downtown]

Ah, Shadow Wars. Dahlia only had the vaguest understanding of the…sport. Even if sports and the like held none of the woman’s interest, it was almost impossible to escape the trid commercials. Asim and his little friends seemed to be getting excited about it; Dahlia had overheard a few telecom calls that indicated as much. But, that’s where her familiarity with it ended. She made a note to find out Asim’s favorite team at some time in the near future as she listened to Mr. Watson’s briefing.

“I have no problem with a job like this,” Dahlia adopted a smile. Maybe she’d even get to take a peak at the sort of augmentations that the corporations were working on.

“As it stands, I only have the impression that one of my…acquaintances is interested in the work. He’s usually quite sufficient at getting a team together. But—” Dahlia paused, tapping her index finger against her lips.

“In order to complete this job in an expeditious manner, I may need a few people to supplement my usual teammates. Would that be doable?” She cocked her head at an angle. If it was just one or two people, Seti, whoever he dragged along, and Dahlia could probably take care of it. But, it sounded like the targets were trained enough to make things a little complicated, if not outright difficult for just a handful of moonlighting shadowrunners.

“Oh, and would it be possible for me to get some more information on the targets? Dossiers? Medical histories? Allergies?” the woman inquired. No doubt some of that would be beyond her clearance level. But, she could hardly start a search with just a few tidbits of information.

[11:47 January 1st, 2072; In front of an apartment house, some unnamed street corner, Redmond]

"Rent is 400 a month plus a 100 extra in your case."

The ganger in front of him wasn't actually that small, but standing next to Akecheta's hulking figure made him seem like a child in comparison. He and his four companions wore leather jackets that had been dyed in an ugly bright blue color. "Bluebirds" they called themselves. Who the fuck takes a gang named Bluebirds seriously? But he had been told they controlled this block and functioned as some kind of landlord for the empty apartments.

"What the fuck do you mean, in my case?" Akecheta growled at him through his tusks. The weasly norm paled a bit, obviously unnerved by the Beast's glowing crimson eyes and wild black and red lion mane but after a reassuring glance to his fellow gangers the man, who was identified as "Burner" by a patch on the back of his jacket, straightened up and looked the troll in the eye. The effect was slightly diminished by him having to get on tiptoes and tilt his head back to do that.

"You're big, even for a trog. You're gonna break stuff that we'll need to fix."

Akecheta decided to ignore the racial slur. Most trolls' skin was as thick in the metaphorical meaning as it was in the literal. It's hard to get angry over a word you hear a dozen times a day. Normally he'd still kick this sucker's teeth in of course, just out of principle, but he really needed a place to live and nobody here would be asking for a SIN.

"I doubt there's anything worth fixing in that shithole anyway. Tell you what: You forget this extra fee and I'll replace anything that gets broken."

"Fine. We'll come knocking on the first of every month. And don't think you can delay payment or anything by telling me some sad sob story about how you just need to find work and your family's sick and yadda yadda. I get that every day. You don't pay and you gonna have a worse problem than finding a new place to live, you understand me?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. Keep strangers out of my rooms and you'll geet your damned money."

Akecheta blew past the gangers and made his way up the stairs, which creaked dangerously under his weight. He didn't even need to think about trying the elevator, one door had been forcibly removed from the frame and cut open cables dangled out of a hole in the wall.
Opening the door to his new home with the scratched maglock keycard Burner had given him, the troll entered the apartment. He was greeted by a smell so vile it made him want to vomit. Did something die in here? Or Someone? He quickly discovered that the smell wasn't the worst thing. The two small rooms looked like a garbage dump. From pizza boxes and chinese takeout cartons to destroyed furniture and broken dishes he found all kinds of drek in his wonderful new home.

His first order of business was opening up all the windows and throwing out the rotting rugs that covered the floor. How long was this fucking thing empty? Or did the guy before me just have no sense of smell? After he cleaned out the rest of the garbage that littered everything from the floors to the cupboards and closets he could at least breathe without fainting.

Now that the trash was gone he got his first real look at the apartment. It still wasn't much of a sight. A cheap tiny kitchen with the barest neccessities of equipment, and a slightly less tiny bedroom with a run-down sofa bed that seemed much to small for his large stature. A dirty bathroom where he would have to leave the door open to fit on the toilet seat. No AR overlay of course, he could be lucky if he had any matrix connection here at all.

Well it has one thing going for it at least. I don't think the fucking Lakota are going to find me here for a while.

Sighing the massive troll let himself fall on the bed. To his surprise it withstood the onslaught of about 900 pounds of muscle fairly well. Staring at the wall he absently watched a small cockroach crawl over the cracked wallpaper while he pondered his situation.

He seriously needed to find a job of some kind. At the current rate his money wouldn't even cover the food for very long, not to mention next month's rent. But the only thing he'd ever learned in his life was how to hurt people.

Guess you can't shake what you are. There has to be work for a guy like me in a city like this.

Groaning the Beast got up and moved towards the door, grabbing his black leather jacket on the way out. No sense in sitting around and hoping for a miracle. He would look around, maybe search for some seedy bar, talk to other people like him..

[13:44 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]

Silk ignored the offer to open up, not to a complete stranger, and began formulating her reply whilst simultaneously sub dividing her conciousness and running a quick search on the matrix for information on Dr Fleming. Her speed meant that she couldn't be as thorough as she would like, however, and beyond the corp blurb on the university servers there was nothing so far...

<<Aria, can you do a spot of digging on a Dr Fleming here at the university when you have a spare moment? I hate to ask but I like going in blind to a situation even less! I'll owe you one! Thanks, S>>

Now, try not to sound sycophantic...

"Dr Fleming, I appreciate your offer and I can assure you that I would be the model of discretion in anything that I assisted you with. I would still like to attend the course if possible and time permits, the knowledge is more important to me than the grades, but a guaranteed A would certainly ease any unpleasantness with my sponsors. Whilst I would not admit to this under normal academic circumstances, but I take pride in my ability not to get caught so please do continue..."

Silk
[13:46 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]
Dr. Fleming beamed a gracious smile at Silk in response to her words. The ork woman clasped her hands together and held them against her chest, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Thank you Lord for giving me this well-mannered, talented, and very ambitious student!"

Looking back at Silk, Dr. Fleming continued.

"Well then. Down to business." She cleared her throat and then went into the pitch. "There's a company based here in the Seattle area called Deadbolt Security Products, and they specialize in locks: traditional, maglocks, biometric locks, and even some cutting edge designs. On the fifth floor of their building, not fifteen kilometers from here, is where they are doing some of their design research. The holy grail for a company like theirs, or any for that matter, is the crack-proof lock. They've claimed to be developing one of these, one impervious to outside tampering or cracking. Only one with the proper key or authentication would be able to bypass it. So of course there is a professional interest in a lock such as this. I want you to...acquire the prototype they have for that lock, and if possible, get the design research and the schematics for it off of their servers. For this I can give you 5,000 out of my student assistant budget, plus another 1,000 if you get the data, but the prototype is of paramount importance. And another thing: please don't...harm anyone. My conscience couldn't live with it. Just in and out, like someone's shadow."

As Dr. Fleming went on with her pitch, Aria responded back to Silk's inquiry and began dumping information in her lap. Silk focused two full sets of attention on each conversant, taking in Aria's input while listening closely to the ork woman's pitch.

<<Dr. Janet Agnes Fleming, undergrad at Seattle University with a B.S. in Electronic Engineering; a double Masters in Security Design and Hardware Design from the highly acclaimed Jefferson College in Atlanta, CAS.; Ph.D. in Electrical Engineering there as well. Her thesis was on locks and similar security deterrents, and improving their design. Pushing 50 years old, had two litters of four children each. Husband died three years ago. She's a devoted Methodist Christian woman who gives exactly ten percent of all her earnings to her church. Hobbies are literature, philosophy, and jazz music. Oh, uh... and here's a profile from some alt-community dating service. She's also into groups, S&M, watersports. I found some photos and video she posted on there if you'd like to see. She's got a little tattoo just below her bikini line...>>

[13:42 January 3rd, 2072; Everton Suites 6A, Seattle]
Ultima sat in a plastic patio chair out on the balcony, methodically filling the metal pail next to her with cigarette butts smoked down to the filter. A cold, cutting wind blew, but she wore nothing but a sports bra and a pair of sleeping shorts. She'd done nothing all day. There had been no commcalls, no text messages, no voice messages. Nobody knocked on her door. Nobody had responded to any posts she'd made on ShadowSEA or any other VPNs she occasionally checked.

She'd had to have her fix early in the morning, practically swallowing Psyche down with her bowl of FoofyPuffs. The dizziness, nausea, and general malaise had been there with her when she woke up, and already she was chasing that Demon away, or at the very least, distracting it for a time.

The hyperconcentration that came with the Psyche tablet did enable her to focus on some pleasure reading, however. As she worked her way through yet another pack of cigarettes - and she had come prepared for this Off Day, having bought a carton of smokes the night before - she read page after page in the dog-eared copy of Fight Club.

The protagonist's plight resonated with her. Here was a man who sought his own Destruction, to hit bottom, so that he could find freedom in his own life and start over. More than that, he wanted to promote a sort of social anarchy, to bring the System down to its knees so that a new, pure society could be formed from its ashes. Ultima likened this man's goals to Shiva the Destroyer, and felt as though he were a kindred spirit.

But she could not help but feel as though his destructive tendencies were borne out of a world-weary cynicism and spite. He did not necessarily want to destroy in order to make the world a better place, but to punish it for robbing him of his humanity. It was punative, his lashing out, and his actions seethed of a hatred underneath the surface of his conscious mind. Ultima, on the other hand, sought to bring about Destruction so that new and beautiful things could fill in the void. Even the Earth itself had been formed from the remains of a star long dead, long forgotten, that had become a supernova. Surely, this was God's hand at work.

Halfway through the book, she marked a page and set the novel aside. She stared at the gulls soaring in the distance for a time, and thought about her life, how she'd gotten here, and how she had no idea where she was going. Ultima trusted that God was guiding her path, and that she tried to do the right thing always, even ad-hoc. She knew that God was always with her.

But why then did she feel so... alone? The closest thing she'd had to metahuman contact was Enrique, and he was probably laid up on some slab in the morgue with a tag around his toe. She felt cut off and isolated from the mass of humanity. The list of people whose names she knew was incredibly short, but the list of people she knew as friends was shorter still - there were no names on it. All of the friends, family, enemies, and lovers she'd ever had she left behind in Caracas when she ran. Now, in this new city, rife with possibilities and potential, she felt not a single personable connection to any of the millions of people in it. She knew her fixer, of course, but that was purely a business relationship, and he still hadn't gotten back to her after her last message to him.

A dark voice deep inside of her, one that she heard sometimes in these vulnerable moments, whispered into her brain, Like anybody would want to be friends, or more, with a scarred, junkie puta like you. You're lucky even God wants you. You are alone because you deserve to be. Quit wanting something you have no rights to.

Ultima shook her head, trying to will away that inner voice, to banish it from her mind before it ruined what remained of her day. And yet the barbs, desultory as they were, were viscious enough to pierce the skin. Once inside, they were hard to remove. It was almost like self-flagellation for the soul, this negative voice that excoriated her at times for her faults and her weaknesses.

She'd never needed another person to feel validated as an individual. But she did need somebody to feel whole. Maybe she would go back out tonight, not to find work, but to maybe find a friend. Wouldn't that be nice? And it would show that inner voice that she was worth being a friend to.

[13:48 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]

Silk didn't have to give the task much thought...this was just the kind of thing she needed, something to test her skills against and sharpen her edge...

"Dr Fleming, this sounds like exactly something I would be able to assist you with and the terms are quite acceptable. I would want to subcontract out matrix support and possible astral recon but I would acquire those services out of the budget you mentioned, although we may wish to discuss reasonable expenses incurred for those people..."

<<Aria, I know you don't do overwatch anymore but perhaps you could put the word out that I'm looking for a hacker or techno to assist me on a B&E job near here?"

Now...just need to think up a shopping list of gear and info for the run itself, better to get it done soon while the holiday period is still on...

[13:48 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]
"I understand, dear," Dr. Fleming replied. "If you can give me a reasonable list of expenses I'll see about giving you the money for them. But please do keep it reasonable. I don't have much in the budget, especially after I set aside the amount to pay you."

Aria was instantaneous in her reply: <<I will get right on it, Silk. I might have seen some posts over at ShadowSEA looking for jobs.>>

Dr. Fleming continued. "Now there is no strict timeline on this, and school doesn't start back for another couple of weeks. I would like to have the prototype by then, if at all possible. Do you have any other questions?"

[13:48 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]

Silk smiled,

"Not at the moment Dr Fleming, although if you could provide me with the number you would like me to contact you on then I will get on to the research required for a delicate job of this kind."

<<Thanks Aria, it's appreciated...I don't tell you often enough that I couldn't do all this without you!>>

[12:38 P.M. January 1st, 2072; Rust Ring Garage; Tacoma]

The troll yawned hard as he opened his eyes. The feeling of last night’s drink still coursed through him, making him a bit wobbly on his feet. He squinted as he checked the time before heading out of the side-room he had converted to a bedroom. The welcoming percolation of a Harley greeted him from outside of the building. Scar flung open the garage door and beckoned the troll to pull his bike in.

“Nothin’ big man. Just some bullet holes that need patched.”

The troll nodded and retrieved a can of beer from the combination fridge that was wedged into the corner. “Alright brother, shouldn’t be too long. I’ll give you a price on materials once the work is done.”

Scar traced his finger across the side of the bike and series of punctures from whatever firefight he missed.

“Patching and refinishing,” the mechanic muttered to himself as he set to work on it.

[13:51 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]

Silk began mentally jotting down some of the additional items she might need for this run, most of which she'd been meaning to pick up for a while but hadn't had sufficient motivation...

Gecko tape gloves, should be able to pick those up in an extreme sports store she knew of down town...a runabout for transport, she wasn't taking the bus to a run, so a second hand jackrabbit should do the trick. Perhaps dredge the matrix for specs on maglocks and make sure she was aware of the cutting edge, thankfully remembering all this stuff had never been a problem for her...

This was going to be fun!

[19:47 January 1st, 2072; The Muddy River Bar, Redmond]

The Beast was bored. He'd been staring at the stained drywall for about two hours now and he had reached his sixth beer. Of course he wasn't feeling anything yet, he needed quite a bit more than that to get even remotely drunk. Sometimes his strong physique was a curse, he gloomily thought.
He studied the lonely AR-picture on the walll once again. It still pictured the same kitchy old west scene as it did when he first laid eyes on it. No surprise there. But the etablishment didn't offer much else in the way of entertainment.

Typical for Redmond, the Muddy River Bar was pretty much a shithole. At least the name was fitting, considering the beer definitely looked muddy.
One side of the room was occupied by the long bar which tried to display the western theme the owner had chosen by having a wide mirror on the wall behind it and a large shelf of various liquors. The remaining space was filled with two pool tables and a couple of shabby small tables with creaking chairs. Most of them empty, business didn't seem to go too good here. But it had the look of a bar that might be frequented by the type of shady character's he was looking for. He needed work and he was ready to break an arm or a leg for some quick cash. But so far he'd had absolutely no luck.

"You sure you don't know anyone who might need some muscle? There'd be some nuyen in it for you if you can refer me to someone.", he asked the barkeep, a fat ork in a ridicoulus cowboy outfit, once again.

"Like I told you three times already, this ain't a job market here! Just shut up about it!", the man responded and spat some chewing tabacco on the ground. It didn't stand out much on the dirty floor.

"Fine, if you don't want my money...get me another beer at least!" Receiving his drink the Beast stared at the wall again. Still the same boring AR-picture. Still the same smoke stains. Still the same desperate situation.

This whole shit seemed so easy when I had the syndicate giving me work and looking out for me. Now the same fuckers wanna see me dead and I'm sitting in this goddamn ugly city and can't find a job. I thought this was the metropolis of shadowrunners? There's gotta be a way into that scene. But I can't ask any of my old contacts, they're all more loyal to the Lakota Mafia than to me. I need to think of some other way.

Unfortunately thinking was not exactly what he was known for...

[15:47 January 3st, 2072; The Streets, Downtown]

Dahlia left the TransGeni building flush with data. Of course, Watson couldn’t offer her any leads; if TransGeni had any, they would have followed those up first. But, she had a basic dossier on each target, along with medical information, tucked away on her comlink. And that would have to be good enough for now. She’d suss out the allergy information later that evening and start brewing up some tailor-made goodies for each target—a personal touch.

Stepping out onto the streets of downtown proper, Dahlia made a cursory pat close to the hidden injection dagger and vibroblade—rather unnoticeable thanks to the heavy, grey winter coat she wore. She wasn’t quite to the point where carrying a gun at all times felt comfortable. But, it wouldn’t take much for Dahlia to make that transition. Not that many people would find it all that suspicious for her to carry a weapon for self defence. After all, she worked late shift at a hospital, and didn’t exactly live in the nicest of neighborhoods.

It was unfortunate that the dwarf didn’t have any standing operatives on hand; he said something about getting back to the woman on the matter in a matter of days. Hopefully either Seti would either wrangle up a team, or some muscle would surface in another way. They’d need someone who knew their way around electronics, hopefully a B&E specialist, and a couple of thugs couldn’t hurt, either.

The woman pulled on a pair of synthleather gloves and sighed, the breath of air leaving her mouth in a white puff. Maybe she’d go and see if Doc M knew a few degenerates who’d like in on a job. Of course, that meant a brief trip home to arm up for a trip into the really bad parts of town. But, what could she do?

Shoving her gloved hands into the pockets of her coat, Dahlia began walking.

Silk
[13:51 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]
Dr. Fleming reached down to the commlink that was in the purse in the seat next to her. "One moment, dearie," she said to Silk. After a moment, Silk had an incoming message that consisted of nothing but a commcode.

"Mr. Bishop was nice enough to set me up with a secure line. He's...quite resourceful, that man. That number should be safe to call. You keep in touch with me that way. When you get your list together, or you just need to coordinate with me, you send a message there or give me a call. I may pick up. If not leave a voice or text message. I will get back to you as soon as I can. Now, if there aren't any other questions..?" Dr. Fleming raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking if there were, indeed, any more.

Aria sent Silk a response, puncuated at the end by a large, animated smiley emoticon modeled off of her persona:

<<Anytime.>> was all it said.

[13:52 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]

"No more questions at the moment, although I may have more once I begin formulating my approach. It will be a pleasure working for you Dr Fleming."

Silk waited for Dr Fleming to stand and then offered her hand...

Akecheta
[20:07 January 1st, 2072; The Muddy River Bar, Redmond]
Desperation and desolation were the norm for the inhabitants of Redmond. One had to be careful as the hooks of both could work their way into what was left of the soul of the individual who called it home. Akecheta could feel much of the same from the people around him in the dive where he sucked down the local swill. The bartender was no help and most of the other locals seemed to be giving the troll a wide berth as they moved in and out.

As he was about to pull out, an incoming hail on his commlink indicated a message awaited him.

OOC: Assuming you answer the hail, rather than waiting to go back and forth. If you choose not to, disregard.

A masked transmission is waiting in queue. Keying it up brings a blacked out screen and an electronically altered voice with the following offer..

”Mr. Troll. Your conversation with the barkeep caught my attention. I have a job that needs performed right here in Redmond. It is of a very time sensitive nature however, and I will need to know within a half hour if you accept it or not. Otherwise, I will need to find another.

Some Italian mobsters captured one of my men during some work he was performing on my behalf. He is currently being held in the Bargain Basement in a condoplex where they are having their fun with him and attempting to get information. There is currently no more than a half-dozen lightly armed Mafioso holding him.

My offer is 6000 nuyen for the return of my man alive. If he is dead, I will pay you half. This is a bit more than I typically offer but due to the rushed nature, I feel it is only fair. Attached to this communication is my business contact information. If you have not responded within thirty minutes of this transmission, I will assume you do not want the job.”

OOC: Bear with me, I’m an experienced storyteller/game master/dungeon master but I haven’t done it for 4th ed Shadowrun. So if you decide to pursue this storyline be aware there might be turbulence as I learn what I’m doing.