@Jamie, Jotamon & Doza
April 15th, 2072 10:51am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>. Analyze 5, Stealth 5, Exploit - Mute 5, Sniffer 3, Agent 4

Now that the drone is empty, I'm through here. Paraku races back to her commlink and disconnects. Her RAS override disonnects and her eyes open as Doza picks her up. Jamie yelps as she ends up over her shoulder as Doza moves off. "Put me down. I can run on my own."

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:30 The Drunken Drone]

Molly and Pixel have worked together to resurrect the tacnet that had temporarily glitched with the EMC jamming. As the corporate goons gun down Hansai Jones, the tacnet clicks back into being.

There are very few sensors left outside. Pixel is shown as being up one of the lampposts, and is the main outside observer. The four weapon platforms are in ruins. Many of Molly's drones are burning with black acrid smoke, several have exploded. Pixel's land based drone, the doberman Alpha, has retreated into the junkyard after blowing a hole through the junkyard wall. Her aerial drone can be seen on the tacnet hugging the nap of the earth, although the trailing plumes of black smoke leading away from the Drunken Drone are dead give-aways.

The corporate goons have suffered badly though.

There are two squads marked Alpha and Beta. Alpha squad has 8 remaining troops, and Beta has 7. Each originally had two fire elementals, and only one is left. The three snipers were labeled Bandit 1, 2 and 3. Bandit 1 has vanished off the map and cannot be seen. Bandits 2 and 3 are marked as combat kills. Each squad had four LAW missiles, and they have all been used.

Alpha Squad is now invading the cafe, although with the grenade going off near them, it is not clear what the state of the four near the the entrance is. The other four have moved to the windows and have just attached small shaped charges, as their original attempts to smash through them failed.

Beta Squad is engaged in a gunfight with those patrons that fled the bar on their own. Some what incredibly, of the four that fled, only one has dropped. Their lorry had raced to pick them up, twin machine guns poking above the head lights, and a turret spitting fire from above its cab. The lorry appears to be seriously heavily armored and is now driving out of the compound, as Beta Squad spray it some what unimpressively with their assault rifles. The diminished fire elemental was chasing the lorry, pounding upon a magical barrier surrounding it.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:31 The Drunken Drone]

Dealer watches as the first man to try to come through the door is hurled back by his hail of bullets. In the gray world of ultrasound, its hard to tell if any of them actually penetrated, but its not likely he's getting up any time soon.

Everything begins to move in what seems like slow as his wired reflexes kick in at full. Somewhere to his left, Hansai Jones hits the floor. Hopefully he's not dead. Dead KE officers are not what needs to be here when the rest of the force responds to the distress signal.

Dealer's earbuds muffle a string of throaty booms as more of the door frame disintegrates under heavy shot, moments before grenade of some sort floats to the doorway. Only a timely glance away and the best flare and audio compensation on the market save his senses as it goes off in the middle of the remaining three corp-sec at the door.

I guess Copperhead is still alive.

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:31 The Drunken Drone]
Pixel's datasphere tracks the unfolding combat with the top-down view from Marvin and a pair of feeds from her combat drones Alpha and Eddie. Snuggled into her fresh hiding spot atop a junk pile near the yard's edge she huddles down and directs her drones.

Eddie's system readout was a mess of warnings and alerts as his systems were on the verge of complete failure and his ammo bins read completely empty.

Alpha wasn't doing too much better. He was sporting a deffinate limp, possibly leaking some hydrolics, and critically low on ammo, but he was out of the immediate engagement zone at least.

<<@Molly, Hansai, Team: Alright boyos, Alpha and Eddie are in bad shape and low ammo. Not much more they can do now.>>

Checking her other feeds, she finally turns attention from the battle outside to the breach-in-progress. Pepe, her flyspy, still hung in a back corner of the ceiling where he'd been watching over the meeting for her. She sees Hansai go down and the runners starting to return fire.

Drek! Hansai! Oh, this isn't good. Not good at all. There's gotta be something left, he needs more backup Pronto! Hmmm... maybe Molly's still got something in the back that can fight...

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:31 The Drunken Drone]

Dealer refocuses on the doorway where the corpsec just got hammered by Copperhead's grenade.

Time to hitem hard, before they can recover from their mistake, while their still committed to the door

As he scans towards the door, he notices figures mucking about with the windows, beating on them.

That's not going to work. Deal with them later. Finish the present threat now.

He doesn't have to wait long for the chance as targets flood the doorway. One more corpsec breaks in hard and to the right, and Dealer cuts off a long burst that trails behind the goon, yet he emerges somehow unscathed, like something out of the fragging vids. His partner buttonhooks the door to the left, and that extra step to turn the corner is all it takes for the smartgun system to adjust to the angular momentum. Rounds punch into and in at least one case through his armor, but the shooter keeps moving anyhow.

These guys have got to be riding high on something. Figure out what later...

As the last of the flash is still dying away, it looks like the figures at the window are being much more methodical now...

Wonder what they're...oh...oohhhhh"OH DREK! GET DOWN!"

Dealer drops behind the soy-pizza dispenser, tries to make himself very small, and reflects hastily on the probability of a Soy-Ultra-Supreme stopping bits of flying masonry. At least the dispenser seems solid...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:15 The Drunken Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

After receiving Molly's kiss and word of caution, Demon gives a reassuring grin to her.

"Ma belle hôtesse, the last thing I would ever dream of doing is disappointing a lady. I give you my word that I will be careful."

With that, he quickly climbs up the pole into the carnage above....

[April 15th 2072; 23:00:30 The Drunken Drone]

With Molly's and Pixel's all-clear, Demon pops his wireless function back on.

One of the things Demon often regrets most in life is cybering his eyes and ears. After the procedure (and plucking out compatible 'ware from a few âmes malheureuses, life just is no longer as vivid. Scenes, sounds, pictures and music lack that particular je nais se quoi.

This, however, is not one of those times.

The pastiche of sensory data that now replaced of his eyes and ears provides usable data in what would have been utter chaos without his cyberware. Visual and infrared spectra outline the expanding "hot smoke" cloud that the méchants de l'heure are hiding withing. His ultrasound sonar outlines the area while his spacial recognizer pinpoints the location incoming targets. Finally, his aural dampeners mercifully make the cacophony of battle bearable.

Seeing the targets so close almost makes him regret picking the sniper rifle as his current weapon of choice. It is like bringing a scalpel to a swordfight. Fortunately, his "scalpel" is loaded with APDS rounds---and from the looks of those voulons-à-être coléoptères, it is probably the right tool for the job. He squeezes the trigger twice, unloading two rounds towards Dealer's target before taking cover near the wounded Hansai.

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:31 The Drunken Drone]

The comm line to Molly wasn't getting a response. Hmmm, that's not good.

[Pepe, sneak back into Molly's area <coordinates transmitted> and see what's going on there.] The little flyspy beams back with a suave Frenchie's accent [Oui madame, que vous le souhaitez. Une furtive Recon venir jusqu'à.]

[Eddie, emergency landing <coordinates by Alpha>, then cut engine and power down] A deep resonating robotic voice replied from the drone, [Order Acknowledged. Initiating Landing sequence.]

I hope that cuts the smoke trail. Just need to get Beanie over there to pick him and Alpha up now. And somehow save Hansai's cute derrier. Maybe Molly's too if need be. And I suppose I better look after the thug squad in there... *sigh* And I didn't even get my pie Pixel's face droops a bit at that last thought.

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:31 The Drunken Drone]

Things were moving faster than Ember could have possibly anticipated...damn it, he wasn't a real runner and this was proving that perhaps an early retirement (preferably alive) would be on the books very soon. He dismissed the clutter of thoughts from his mind, and the splitting headache from resummoning Tempest so soon, they wouldn't help him now...

~Tempete, ma cheri, we must deal with these invaders so that I may help Monsieur Hansai, we cannot afford more police deaths on our hands. Please defeat those attackers...~

Struggling to stay low in the flying debris and other chaos Ember made his way across to the battered body of their latest employer. He allowed his mind to slip into the state of calm where he could view the astral and prepare to attempt a healing spell...

@Jamie, Jotamon & Doza
April 15th, 2072 10:51am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle

With the drone disabled you have a small window to cross the road and slip into the open light industrial unit. Behind you the van is struggling over the kerb to follow but thankfully it will have to move around to the road entrance somewhere beyond - there's no way it can ram the concrete barrier at the road edge but it proves no hiderance to you on foot.

Metahuman workers look on in surprise as you burst in through a personnel door. A storage area is off to your left and ahead there are consumer electronics coming off conveyors and being wrapped and stacked by drone workers...it looks clear for now but you suspect any security in here will be moving to intercept you soon...

@ 2072 World - An interlude
An office in Downtown, 15 APR 23:00:31

Late nights, lots of soykaf. Max Greer was used to it. He had been pulling this routine for ten years, and likely would for another twenty. Horizon could crow all they wanted about employee care - it just meant the soykaf was premium, and they made you go to some "balance" counselor every month. It definitely didn't mean anyone in middle management was leaving before midnight, at least not unless they were checked out. Max knew that leaving before the boss, or coming in after her, was a fine way to make sure you stayed in middle management. And at Seattle Creative Investments LLC, (a proud horizon subsidiary) the boss didn't leave until midnight.

As an agent sorted his AR messages, Max glanced through the information feeds coming from various media subsidiaries. There was that ongoing story about the Toxic Terror and the Lucy Jucy, but that was about it. Other departments had already snapped up various obvious investment opportunities - shorting on the owners, and buying in modest amounts for a trifecta of companies that look like they were already being contact for repair. No one knew how to bounce on KE on this one: on one side they had failed, and had hammered the drek out of a hotel. On the other, Brackhaven was sure as hell going to cough up a wad of money to improve downtown security, and KE Seattle still held that contract.

Then it hit him. TOXIC terror gamma. The rational knew that there was nothing a respirator would do against a toxic spirit. But the masses weren't exactly rational, now were they?

<<@Diana, Perceptions Dept: I need a media blitz, around three days, about the horrors of toxic mages. How they could be infecting your kids, all that drek. Something with particularly nasty sounding diseases. Latin would be good. The unstated theme running through it should be that this stuff is airborne, but filterable. Nothing so crass as saying it..but SAY it. Thanks. >>

<<@BlackPool 33, BUY on the following respirator companies. Price points and auto-trade parameters to follow>>

Looked like it'd be another late night...better get another soykaf. Fortunately, his staff hadn't left either. Can't leave before the boss, after all.

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:31 The Drunken Drone]

Warned by Snake about the four corp goons at the window, Copperhead is able to make sense of the suddenly restored tacnet data. She crouches low behind the cafe booth, leaning over the injured Hansai as a hail of broken glass patters off her armored back like water off a duck.

The air spirit's finds it's initial attempts to engulf the nearest goon foiled by his suit's chemical seal. It hisses as it adjusts it tactics, adopting the more subtle tactic of forming images in the swirling smoke in an attempt to confuse him.

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:32 The Drunken Drone]

Dealer emerges from behind the pizza dispenser as the last of the glass tinkles to the floor around him, and kicks off at a dead sprint towards the windows. He flies through the smoke and the masonry dust as the corpsec are still moving to take advantage of their new firing points. As his legs pump furiously in between heartbeats, he readies a frag grenade.

Gotta get to the window before they start closing up on the breach...gotta get there...if they firing line the windows, this becomes a gunfight we're gonna get hurt in...

Heartbeat


Almost there...

Heartbeat

As Dealer reaches the window he drops a grenade outside, barely any delay on it, and kicks off the wall, converting his momentum into a prodigious flying leap backwards over a table knocked over by the breach. He barely clears the table when the loud krump of a detonating grenade is added to the cacophony of the fight.

Hope it killed some of you bastards. Not likely in that nifty armor though...

Then he hits the floor behind the table.


Definitely going to have some bruises tomorrow.

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:32 The Drunken Drone]

C'mon Pepe, get me a feed on Molly. I've still got eyes on Hansai and the goon squad seems to be having trouble, thankfully. That sniper may still be looking for me and my backup's down. Right, better head for the rest of the boyos. I just hope Molly's got them ready for startup.

With a quick peak around from her hiding space, Pixel flits out, working her way towards the cafe one hiding spot at a time, the ruthenium of her armor working overtime in concert with her innate powers of concealment. At the next stop she pulls up her AR feeds again and spins over to Beanie. Grabbing the virtual controlsticks she works on quietly easing her van back from the fight to go pick up the much-wounded Eddie. The left-over static from her tumble with emm386 wasn't helping matters, but there wasn't time to fix it just yet.

Eddie's feed was offline now, but it had shown a 'safe' touchdown on a torn up old cracked tan leather bucket seat with some unsavory-looking stains on it. Note to self: when I get out of this mess, have Jeeves disenfect Eddie before beginning repairs.

There still no word from Molly either...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:32 The Drunken Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

A cold, satisfied grin cuts across Demon's face as he watches the results of his handiwork. Blood, brains and various viscera exploded from the merde petit porcelet d'entreprise as the bullets hammered home into his inadequately armored head. He mentally reminds himself to review the video recording of the fight for that particular scene. Ah, a veritable work of art...even the ultrasonic medium gives it a particular Guillauminesque touch in shades of gray...

He takes a moment to glance over at Hansai, appreciating the oddity of the situation. A wave of corporate chiens de salaires are coming to kill them, while another of their kind who represents their billet d'or out of this macabre comedy of errors is bleeding out on the floor and likely to call down another wave of the crétins décérébrés that would try to kill them. At least Copperhead had managed to move to Hansai's side. She would keep him safe, and he would be loathe to insinuate otherwise to his amazonian camarade.

Of course, all of this would be meaningless if they died. He draws his APDS-loaded Kompakt with his free hand and slides it over to Hansai---giving the corporate lackey temporary clearance to use the weapon.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:33 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

<<[Molly]Pixel...Help! He's...Arrgh...Noooo...The landline>> Pixel's commlink flashes a priority signal from Molly, then it stops suddenly.

Some Pixies can have good eyesight though, and it is either through well trained perceptions, or good luck that through the scene of carnage and devastation, Pixel spots a figure that has climbed to the roof of the Drunken Drone. There is one of those moments: Pixel looks at the Sniper. The Sniper looks at Pixel. Time seems to pause, then the sniper begins to squeeze the trigger.

!! BOOM !!

The explosion of a grenade just underneath the Sniper causes her to jerk the gun just as the trigger is being pulled, and hole the size of Pixel's body appears in the car nearest her. Cursing under her breath the Sniper realigns the weapon.

Even in the military armor that these corporate attackers wore, a fragmentation grenade is nothing to laugh about. Alpha squad had only four active members left on the tacnet, and two of them are in the way of just such a grenade. All four members of Alpha squad had their own grenades in their hand, and were obviously about to throw them through the window. As Dealer's grenade explodes one of them is killed immediately, dropping his grenade, and the other is knocked back as the blood, brains and gore of his colleague are sprayed upon him.

The other two members of Alpha squad were less affected, and both tossed grenades through the broken window hardly exposing themselves to answering fire.

Meanwhile in the carpark, Beta squad were engaging in a desultory last exchange of bullets with the fleeing smugglers, while their fire elemental turned and charged the cafe.

Inside the Drunken Drone, The pile of dead or unconscious had grown, the air was full of smoke and debris, but the Kevlar wall papered walls were still holding. Hansai Jones has just finished applying a trauma patch to his mangled left arm, and is shielded by the considerable bulk of Copperhead from the main threat. Dealer was still in mid jump as the grenade exploded and was assisted by the shock wave towards the back where Demon was wielding his seriously lethal sniper rifle.

Ember's vacated body was under the same table that Copperhead and Hansai were lurking in.

April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

Jotamon, with the heavy child over his shoulder limps into the warehouse. Fortunately his ware had stopped the bleeding, but this could get old fast.

"Out" he waves his very big and very dangerous looking pistol at the man in the fork lift. "I need to borrow your wheels. Don't worry I'll give them back". Getting in the forklift, Jotamon is reminded of a scene from The Matrix, an old fashioned 2D movie that he and Doza loved.

"Can you fly one these?" "Not yet" replied Trinity. "Operator I need a download".

<<Engage Pilot program>> Jotamon instructed his ware, and his MoveByWire began to work.

Jotamon raised the load on the forklift, to give better cover, and raced it (a somewhat optimistic term perhaps) towards the entrance on the other side, while checking for signs of guards, copters, drones, or other unpleasantries

April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle

Doza grinned to herself as she heard Jotamon quoting The Matrix under his breath. It had been too long since they had had time to watch such old classics. Moving Jamie slightly, she slings the 'Knight's strap over her shoulder and draws one of her Crusaders. Wincing slightly she jogs after the forklift as Jotamon clips a packing carton, causing it to spin away and several workers to dive out of its path.

"His driving's as good as ever, I see"

"A least it offers some cover and everyone is too busy getting out of the way to pose any threat." With this thought Doza scans the area, security were sure to be attracted by the cries of alarm. Hoping to get clear of the building without further incidents she picks up the pace.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:33 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

As the last of the glass tinkles to the floor Copperhead risks a glance over the table at the shattered remains of the cafe. Four bodies lie sprawled by the doorway, but she doesn't spot anyone at the windows. She also doesn't notice the pair of grenades rolling across the floor. Resting the big shotgun across her knees she fumbles in one of the armor suit's pouches with her left hand and pulls out an auto-injector. While Snake had taught her how to move fast, the spell had proven difficult to cast. It was also too powerful for her little sustaining focus and the strain of maintaining it herself had outweighed any benefits of the added speed.

So, cram addict or corpse?

Not much of a choice she thinks as she presses the auto-injector against her neck. She hisses as the amphetamine rushes into brain and the room swirls as time slows around her.

She hauls the gun back up, blinking to focus her eyes. As she does, she spots some flames licking at the doorframe, then gasps as a vaguely humanoid pillar of fire bursts into the room. Her finger clenches involuntarily on the gun's trigger.

"Ember, get your astral butt back here right now. Dere's a fraggin' fire elemental here."

Spirit, I beg your help. Please assist me against this creature of flame.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:33 The Seriously Smashed Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

As a flood of data poured over the TacNet link, Demon notes the data on the sniper aiming at Pixel and a single thought crosses his mind.

Save the hacker, save the day? Sounds like fun.

Running his tongue across the top of his teeth, Demon bolts from cover with sniper rifle and smart pack in hand. He jumps through a window, passing by two perplexed voyous and then leaps up on a car. Using the TacNet information, he looks for his target and mentally crosses his fingers with the hope that he actually gets a chance to get off a shot or two...

April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

<<Fat Tony: Its me. Listen Tony the fecal matter has well and truly hit the rotating blades. And they are spinning fast... No I don't know how they are, but they have drones, copters, hackers and they are after me because I was shopping in the wrong place, and they are cleaning up.

I'm running now, and their Copter is just about here. Do you know anyone near <ARO link to this warehouse>. You do! Issac you say Issac Mercer. Yeah I heard of him... good guy. OK do what you can Tony. I owe you.>>

@Jamie, Jotamon & Doza
April 15th, 2072 10:51am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>. Analyze 5, Stealth 5, Exploit - Mute 5, Sniffer 3, Agent 4

Jamie gets bounced around as they move into the warehouse. Jotomon commandeers a forklift and uses it for cover. All well and good until bullets really start flying. We need to get out of here.

"Put me down. You're slowing us both down. And I can't take cover from your shoulder when security shows up."

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:33-35 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Dealer lets out a not-quite-soft groan as he recovers his breath after that last set of acrobatics. Behind the upturned table he decides to take a half second breather as he mics the team:

"Czzkt - are we safe for tacnet yet? And whats up with Molly and Pixel?"

He can't quite make out the reply - something about a big fragging sniper rifle-but figures its a yes. Appropriate Tac-AROs start jumping onto his AR overlay.
What they don't show is two hand grenades that just got chucked through the far window.

Seems safe to get up

Dealer rocks to his feet, taking stock of the situation while slamming a fresh magazine in his rifle. Looks like Hansai isn't dead - though that damn KE ARO is still blaring, so, maybe 4 minutes from now we need to be getting the frag out - and everyone is still standing. Or crouching. Or, in Ember's case, doing that freaky mage drek where they go limp and Astral.

At least Copperhead has that big fragging shotgun out, and some spirit running around outside...no clue what the skinny bugger is doing. Typical mage. Automatic weapons 5 yards away and he's communing with nature or some drek

His quick visual tour of the cafe ends at his feet...yes, that is most certainly a grenade.

And where there's one, there's two...and there's number two on that table over there. Here we go again

Moving with skill built of years of second story work, Dealer effortlessly snatches the grenade at his feet and sprints by the 1st window, tossing it back out on the way. As he flashes past the door, he grabs the second grenade off the table without even needing to think about it. He is in the zone, if such a thing exists for grabbing grenades at a dead run through the middle of a rapidly disintegrating bar, and doesn't even break his stride. He reaches the second window and drops it back out the far side...just in time to see Demon dive through the window and scamper up a car and line up his shots. He doesn't bother with sub-vocalization.

"Frenchy! Get behind the car!"

As his voice trails off, Dealer notices two things. One is a third grenade. The other is a fire elemental that seems to have come into the cafe behind him.

No time! Cover! Beer Fridge! Dive!

He esconces himself behind the commercial cooler full of Azzie-Pabst and waits for the earth shattering kaboom...which comes moments later. Ice cold suds, and a good chunk of masonry spray across his back, punching into it painfully. There is something numb and cold back there. Which either means hes bleeding, or there's beer trickling over whats going to be a very nasty series of bruises.

There's no time to find out though, as his eyes focus on the third grenade, and he desperately rolls to heavier cover.

April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

<<Doza/Jamie: OK we have very few choices. We have to get away from here. I am slowed with an assault rifle round in my belly, hence the forklift, and we have the kid to keep alive.

By sheer good luck, My friend Fat Tony has a guy a couple of hundred yards away, so we have one more person to help us. I don't know what transport he has, but we could just boost a car.

Doza: you said your Mr J has a car waiting for us.

Jamie it's kind of up to you:

• Keep running / boost a car, hope to outrun a helicopter
• Get in Mr Js car

My thought is that we should get in Mr J's car, but I'll go with whatever you want to do.>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:33-35 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

As his eyes focus on the third grenade, Dealer makes one final effort. His back screaming with the fresh pains of the recent injuries, he rolls out the window, and over the forms of what the tac net had marked Alpha 3 and Alpha 4. If they're still alive, he'll worry about killing them in a second. He hugs the dirt and lets the chameleon cloak do the rest. Moments later the muffled krump of a frag grenade going off inside tells him that this was the right decision.

His biomonitor helpfully informs him that he is not bleeding, and that the residual alcohol levels on his skin advise against him driving.

This is turning into one hell of a night.

@Jamie, Jotamon & Doza
April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>. Analyze 5, Stealth 5, Exploit - Mute 5, Sniffer 3, Agent 4

<<Mareno, Doza We really don't have a choice. We don't have the resources to hold off the forces arranged against this kid. The best we can hope for is to talk to the Johnson and hope he has good intentions for the kid. If we knew what was so important about him, we could expose it and hope the Powers-that-Be will come his defense. Since we don't know anything about him, that leaves option A.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

In the carpack, the jamming suddenly stopped, and the street lights switched off. The only lights now were the burning of vehicles, and the remnants of the weapons platforms. Beta squad, suddenly moving in a much more coordinated fashion as their tacnet clicked back into place, split into three groups, moving toward's the Cafe. A combination of suppressing fire, and multiple grenades looked to be in the very near future.

The Alpha squad, although very groggy from the severe beating they had taken, looked revitalised by the tacnet coming back on line with the promise of support. Deciding that the Cafe was too hard to take on their own, they turned towards the exterior targets: Demon, Dealer and Pixel.

In the bar, where the guests were mostly huddling, the windows opened, and a number of assault rifles pointed out of them and began to open fire mostly on Alpha Squad.

The sniper on the roof, considers her options. A pixie under a truck. A sniper on a car roof. A crazy fast gun nut near Alpha Squad. Professional curtesy demands only one response. Triggering a thermal smoke grenade, she takes a shot at Demon then rolls away under the cover of the smoke.

The lights flicked and died inside the Drunken Drone as well, but their was still plenty of illumination from the twisting inferno that had just entered the building. The lino on the floor was beginning to burn with an acrid and probably cancer causing fumes from elemental's presence. The door frame was beginning to sag as the UPVC melted.

"I'll hold keep it occupied, you lot hit it" As he said this Hansai tumbled over Copperhead, his magically katana shimmering in the reflected light of the elemental. The twisting fire formed a giant fist which shot towards Hansai. Hardly seeming to move Hansai was somehow not where the fist was aimed at. The elemental charged a whole body slam, intending to engulf him in the fiery maw, but Hansai spun and twisted in the air as the fiery form moved underneath. All of this was a little surreal with the ARO "Knight Errant officer under attack, Backup on route" screaming a flashing blue around him.

Meanwhile Ember and Tempest looked at each other on the astral plane. "You go high, I'll go low" said Ember twirling his astrally. Tempest nodded in agreement, then shot towards the elemental. At first it seemed that the elemental was a match for them. Three opponents were too many for it though. Although it twisted and turned the blows were coming in from every side, and its form began to shrink.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

With the cram running through her system and tacnet and astral data from Snake flowing into her senses, Coppehead feels that she is finally coming up to speed. Then Hansai, whom she had assumed was too badly injured to move, charges the fire elemental. Ember still seemed out of it but the elemental was swatting at the air so she hoped that meant he was attacking it on the astral.

Time to join the big leagues she thinks stepping out from behind the battered table.

She starts to sway, her arms waving fluidly from side to side. Then she steps forward on her right leg, and thrusts out her arm towards the flailing spirit.

"Hey hotstuff, suck on this", she shrieks pouring all the mana she can into the stunbolt, then gritting her teeth, she draws her hand back and repeats the gesture.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Dealer is already coming to his feet moments after the last grenade goes off inside the bar. No time to consider whether or not the rest of the team is shredded meat or not, as the two shooters marked Alpha begin to stumble to their feet mere feet away. Fortunately, Dealer has a lot of experience getting back on his feet - both literally and metaphorically, come to think of it - and some high end cyber doesn't hurt. He is already upright before the first target has even gotten fully off the ground.

Firing nearly point blank into the back of the first enemy, the sabots slamming home don't even have the time to reach terminal velocity, and the milspec armor is studded with tungsten darts. It still doesn't change the fact that a load of kinetic energy just got dumped into the system. Blood vessels burst, nerves die, and hairline fractures appear in inconvenient places throughout the poor bastard's physiology. Alpha 3 collapses in an unmoving heap.

Dealer rapidly spins to see Alpha 4 has actually made it to his knees, and fires off a hasty burst. Alpha 4 is bowled over by the raw impact. Amazingly, he is still moving. Nonetheless, he is doing little more than trying to drag himself away. Dealer considers finishing him, then decides its not worth it. Well, killing the little fragger would be great, but staying around for Beta squad, who are advancing in bounds from cover to cover, seems like a bad idea.

Back through the window then.

As Dealer rolls over the tattered sill, he catches a glimpse of Demon jerking backwards unnaturally, and for a fraction of a fraction of a second, a slight gray mist trails behind the sniper on Ultrasound.

Sniper is still out there then. Demon's dead or dying. Need to finish this around the bar fast so we can deal with Beta from range.

With that thought, he completes his roll into the bar and gets the hell out of the way of the window. Looking up, its chaos. And Mages. It had to be mages. He barely registers as a stray round form other cafe guests ricochets off the window sill where he was a moment ago.

<<@ GRP Suicide Kings: Demon is down. Probably dead. I can't win outside against them all. Finish the fragging fire man with your mage drek, I'll keep them out of the cafe and see if we can help Pixel a little. And that Sniper is pretty fragging good>>

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:38 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Copperhead's stun bolts slam into the Fire Elemental. One of them is deflected, but the other hits it deep where its chest would be if it was a man, and the Fire Elemental crumples, leaving behind a smoldering poisonous mess where the lino is melted, and plastic furniture smokes.

Hansai tumbles away from the Fire Elemental, breathing hard. His arm is bandaged and useless, but the medical drugs have already kicked in, and he is moving freer.

<<Aerial FireWatch backup arrives in 93...92...91 seconds>> he puts on the tacnet. <<They don't know its you, but you don't want to be here when they arrive>>

Alpha Squad reload their assault rifles, while Beta squad advances in small groups, each group covering the other. The machine like precision of their attack is straight out of text book. It looks professional and deadly. The windows of the Drunken Drone are sprayed with automatic fire, while the areas that Demon and Pixel are lurking in, are saturated with lead.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36 The Seriously Smashed Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

After hopping up on the car, Demon gets ready to "shoot and scoot." His ears pick up a strong ultrasound source, and he takes a moment to scan the area to find his target. When he finally does, he notices three things. First, the sniper is indeed the source of the sound. Second, it is a woman. Third, she has taken the opportunity switch targets and is now lining up a shot on him.

Merde.

He dives off the top of the car and hits the ground, rolling behind a slagged car for cover. A moment later, he gets the wind knocked out of him as a slug smashes him from behind. The force of the blow slams him down to the ground. His biomonitor starts screaming across his PAN warnings about hemorrhaging, fractured bones, and other medical jargon that he assumed meant that he was bubbling up blood all over the parking lot.

A sniper, a woman, and a magnificent shot? I think I might be in love...

Training, experience, and a strong desire to have that bouillabasse keep him going.

<<@ Group: Not dead, just angry . Pixel, mon ami, please tell me that you are a woman? I would prefer that the first bullet I have ever taken for another be for a demoiselle en détresse.>>

April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

Isaac sipped at his soykaf with little interest. It was only there to keep his mind awake as he went over streams of data. Information on The Circle as he called them, the people who had caused the fall of his family, rushed past his eyes. Lead upon lead with many of them ending up at dead ends. “I’ll find you, count on that” he muttered softly to himself as a message appeared in the corner of his glasses. It was from Fat Tony, something about pulling one of his boys out of the fryer. Isaac took a deep breath as he walked to the trunk of his car and quickly took out the covered hvbar he kept there. Throwing it under the passenger seat as he started the car Isaac drove to meet his new job and could sense the trouble in the air as he got closer.

<<Mr. Jotamon, my name is Isaac Mercer and I hear you’re having a wee bit of a conflict problem. My car may not be fast but it’s pretty well armored and it will blend on the streets. Get in fast bud before this gets any worse.>>

As he got within running distance of the building Isaac took out his hvar, lowered the passenger window and stuck it out ready to put down suppressive fire.

<<Got my gun out the window ready to meet any of your friends so don’t freak.>>

April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle
[Pan=Hidden. Id = <Information not available>]

<<Hey Issac. Pleased to meet you: Heard good things about you. The situation is complex. There are three of us, two wounded, and Doza's a troll. We can't fit in your car.

Doza's Mr J has offered us a lift out of here, so we are going to take it. Can you tail us at some distance? I'll keep you informed where we are.

This whole situation is crazy, and having an ace in the hole could just save our asses.>>


While saying this Jotamon carried on steering the Forklift through the warehouse, keeping an eye out for security.

<<Let me fill you in on what happened

• I go shopping in Touristville in the barrens
• Kid runs into me: spilling said shopping
• Goons chase after kid: I drop goons
• Jamie comes over to help
• Doza turns up on a run: she is there to collect kid
• Sniper takes out unconscious goons (tidying up, or another interested party?)
• We flee in Jamie's car, with unconscious kid
• Doza goes separately
• We get ambushed on freeway with black van full of goons and a sniper drone
• Nasty fight, I took a bullet. I tell you next time I go shopping, I'm wearing that military armour. No messing. No Ifs..No buts...
• We mostly dealt with that fight (riggers still alive, drone dumped it's ammo)
• While hacking the drone, I found that a copter is on its way with many people with guns
• Doza's Mr J has said "get in the car if you want to live", so I guess we are going to get in the car
• I call Fat Tony for help, and he sent you

>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36 The Seriously Smashed Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon chuckles silently to himself---a painful action to take, but he cannot help himself.

I must be getting old...at least it only hurts when I breathe. Time to fall back.

He reaches into his smartpack, grabs a thermal smoke grenade, and pops it near him. Might as give the chiens de porc a taste of their own medicine. He then whips the gun back up, manages off a shot at one of the incoming voyous before falling back towards the cafe.

<<@ group: Falling back to the cafe door. Unfortunately, I am coming in hot.>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36 Astral Space @ The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Ember rammed the head of his glowing spear into the elemental as Copperhead’s mana blasts shredded its aura. He paused to take stock of the situation as there was a momentary lull in the violence…even without the FAB polluting the astral there was a danger that this event would leave lasting impressions and he would have to move fast before things became even more difficult

~Tempete, ma cheri, our work is not yet done…they are coming and they seek our deaths. Let us go and spread the fear in them…if they doubt they will be weaker and more susceptible to our wrath~

In the debris and floating dust of the café Ember’s ghostly form manifested

“I am going to try and delay the advance of the other attackers so that we can get Pixel in here, it seems this crumbling fortress is all the protection we have at the moment and hopefully it won’t become a trap. I will cause as much of a distraction as I can.”

Avoiding the lingering areas of FAB he swept out of the café area to assess their foes…

~Those ones…~

Reaching into the fabric of the astral he felt for the plane that connected to the Korrigan and four of the implike beings appeared at his will

~One foe for each of you. Manifest before their eyes and scream and wail until they do not know which way to turn…~

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36-39 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Dealer turns his attention away from the mages fighting with the fire elemental. Its their business and they can stick to it. Serves em right to have to deal with things like that.

Besides, if one of them dies, we still have another mage. And they might be worth 200-500k for a still shot. We only have one Pixel though.

With that thought in mind, he rapidly scoops a commlink off of one of the fallen shock troops, prepared to slave it to Pixel-net. After all, it should still be running as if the user was on, right? Wrong. A glaring "enter password" screen puts dreams of having pixel hack the enemy network to rest. Dealer slams the off button and throws it in a cargo pocket in frustration.

Time to get back to what I'm good at.

Noticing that the blasted windows are disintegrating under a constant hail of gunfire, Dealer decides that shooting from them is likely to have him go down like Demon. Who is, against all odds, apparently still alive and kicking. Or shooting, as it were. So, that's good.

A quick scan of the interior reveals an area of the wall where about two bricks worth of masonry have disintegrated, leaving only the wall paper in place. One point blank blast of gunfire later, and Dealer is crouching behind an impromptu firing slit. Just enough visibility to see Beta coming in, plenty of cover...the only disadvantage is there's no way to see Alpha other than the tacnet AROs. It is, all in all, not the worst trade off.

The position quickly proves its worth as one of the Beta assault troops starts his rush, only to be knocked over by a hail of bullets as Dealer sweeps the path of advance from the mousehole.

@Jotamon, Jamie, Doza & Isaac
April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle

As you cautiously approach the Global Couriers van, an aged step van, the side door slides open with a quiet hiss of hydraulics. The inside has been fitted out with folding seats along the walls and some sort of partition blocks off the back quarter of the cargo area. A closed rigger cocoon occupies the side of the van behind where the driver would normally have sat. Beyond an open partition you can see two humanoid drones are in the front seats and one turns to face you as you lurk in the doorway.

“Only two of you were expected. You can all be accommodated however.” The voice is metallic and decidedly less than reassuring

It gestures at Jotamon “You are carrying a tracking device, it will be temporarily disabled when you enter the van. This was anticipated and two other vehicles are also jammed to create multiple targets for the people tracking you. Your pursuers will be in visual range in the next three minutes, we suggest you hurry.”

@ 2072 Open World
[April 15th 2072; 23:45. 4200 meters off shore, Puget Sound]


The superfreighter Henry VIII drove in towards Seattle's docks at a leisurely 20 knots. Friendly banter between the crew and the KE Port Authority bounced back and forth on the Matrix.

The officer of the watch reflected that this had not always been the case. When KE had first taken this contract from the 'Star, they had been a bunch of hard asses. And if the Tir hadn't opened Portland up to trade, they probably still would be. But they had, and now the shipping was drying up; between political pressure to make the docks an attractive option, and the raw human factor of talking to the same crews repeatedly, the KE had grown somewhat softer. Oh, they were still more competent than the 'Star, and better equipped, but now they were a good deal more...manageable.

<<@ Henry VIII; we have your registration confirmed, and Foxbat Limited acknowledges they will be covering your docking fees at Pier 3. Proceed to the marked ARO, a tug will meet you there; the following options are up to bid on tow (Rollback Enabled), KE bears no responsibility for reimbursement for towing or liability for incidents which may occur as a result of negligence on the behalf of the towing company or the vessel in question, negligence may be defined as...>>

The watch officer forwarded it to the lawyers after the second negligence, and sent the skipper the list of tugs up for bid. Looks like the city was growing desperate; the prices were half of what a good tug would have charged a few years ago before the new Tir. Such was life.

Of course, there was a reason for that. The raw mathematics of travel times and profit factor meant most cargo would offloaded in Portland, and the Seattle area was still a thoroughly saturated market as shipping companies fought for the regional scraps of what used to be the premier port in the pacific northwest. Less and less ships were coming in, which meant less and less work for the tug crews.

Which is why when Bored Glory lost the bidding process and turned back to port, an unnaturally slow turn left a well stealthed speedboat in its wake. And the fact that Seattle runs WERE less profitable explained why a similarly stealthy ship's boat slipped away from the Superfreighter and moved to meet it.

On board, men and women checked commlinks, inspected credsticks, and surreptitiously patted concealed weapons. Not everything was going to go through customs tonight.

@Jotamon, Jamie, & Doza

April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle

Isaac carefully puts his rifle in the back seat while turning on its safety. <<Follow the leader, gotcha.>> He starts the engine and gives himself enough distance from the others to not make it look like he’s follow them. <<I’ll start up a few seconds after you and try to keep some traffic between us.>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:36 Astral Space @ The Seriously Smashed Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon walks through the door, professional dignity, sheer willpower and residual adrenaline giving him the strength to keep from stumbling to the ground and hocking up a crimson mouthful of foaming blood. Instead, he leans against the most intact---or least pulverized---wall he can find, drops his smartpack to the ground and uses his sniper rifle as a crutch. He flips the gang a thumbs-up sign, giving a pained grin hidden behind his chameleon suit and respirator.

"Vive la résistance, non? Should we take flight before Hansai's comrades arrive, or give them the Word of Cambronne and go down with a blaze of glory?"

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:39 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Dealer glances over at Demon as he stumbles through the door, and shakes his head slightly at the Frenchman's insouciant manner.

"I have no intention of dying like the Old Guard. 90 seconds is a lifetime to get out...if Pixel survives, we can use her van and be gone in half that. So, lets go with "Audacity, Audacity, always Audacity" instead, and get back to fragging shooting!"

Dealer briefly wonders if that went over the comms net, and then peer back down his weapon to follow his own advice.

<<Aces and Eights, Dealer Internal Net: Warning; 12 rounds remaining this magazine. You have 72x APDS remaining overall. Barrel temperature rising. Recommend reduced rate of fire>>


Damn it. Need to cut back.

With that thought in mind Dealer begins to engage Beta 2 as the assault trooper runs past his fallen comrade. A short three round burst to track the target, and then once he sure of his point of aim, he fires off another tight group of bullets...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:39 The Seriously Smashed Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]


Demon feels a momentary, involuntary twinge in his buttocks and sighs at Dealer missing the point. Ugh, Americans and their lack of sentimentality. No wonder they have never produced a true work of art. They have no soul.

"I mean, of course, to shout 'Merde!' defiantly at the lèche-bottes and fight on no matter the odds."

Looking at Hansai, a thought strikes him.

"Monsieur Knight Errant, if you would be so kind as to deliver this message to the talented tireur d'élite who managed to hit me once you catch her, I would be greatly indebted to you."

He fires off a quickly scrawled text message to Hansai.

<<@ Hansai: For the sniper---Ma dame de la nuit, nous nous sommes rencontrés à travers le champ de bataille à un relais routier. Je suis intrigué par votre compétence avec le fusil du tireur d'élite, et serait éternellement reconnaissant si vous m'accordez l'avantage de vous rencontrer une fois de plus. Peut-être vous pourrez même me permettre de pénétrer l'honneur que vous la prochaine fois. ~ D>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:39 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Dealer mentally laughs as he hears Demon's outraged reply.

At least if I die, I know my ass won't be half as chapped as his.

From there, the next few seconds are a blur. He rapidly picks out one of the advancing Beta squad who has exposed himself in the middle of his rush, and almost without thinking feels the light kick of the buttstock in his shoulder as he fires in short burts. Between the gas vent and some unnaturally augmented muscles, its feels no worse than firing a BB gun.

The magazine goes dry and the bolt blows back completely open. The smartgun automatically ejects the empty magazine. A new one is in the well, bolt sliding forward, before it hits the ground. An instinctive motion, barely registering the break in Dealer's mind before he picks a target the tacnet has marked as injured, and fires again.

Three more casings join the rapidly growing pile one the floor, and only after one of the hot casings bounces off his shoulder does Dealer pause to survey the damage...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:39 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Copperhead manages a "Huh?" at the banter between the two crazy men, one of whom is bleeding badly.

She shakes her head. Cyberware really does frag you up, she thinks in her amphetamine induced clarity while scooping up a pair of frag grenades from the bodies of the corpers lying in the doorway. She stuffs one into the camo suit's webbing and pulls the pin on the other.

Spirit, deliver this grenade to the advancing opponents. Be quick and return immediately to the astral as this one could hurt even you, she requests silently. She lets the spoon fly free and drops the grenade. It floats in mid-air for a split-second before being whisked out the door by the spirit's invisible hand and flown unerringly towards the advancing goons of beta team where it drops suddenly to the gound before exploding.

She then leans around the door and fires two rounds from the big gun at the nearest target highlighted by Pixel's tacnet. It's intended more as a distraction than with any hope of hitting anything, but she is pleased to see the goon she targetted get knocked on his ass. She quickly ducks back inside as couple of light rounds from the suppressing fire bounce off her armor.

<<Come on Pixsel! Copss iss on dere way. We needss to leave like yesterday!>>

@ 2072 Open World
[April 13th 2072; 00:45. Crash site, just south of the Tir Border]

FrogScotch's vision came back in waves, blurred scenes before a return to black. The Elf didn't know how long she'd been out. It was still dark out. It'd been dark when she started, hadn't it? Probably. Made a certain...kinda sense...

Blink

She woke up again. Or had her mind just wandered? A distant part of her was screaming that this wasn't good, this was the sort of thing that happened before you died. That numbing thought brought her back to some sort lucidity as she looked around. Shattered T-Bird. Fire. Wires that would have been sparking in the vids, but without a power source in the real world, just hung like dead snakes. Control panel was still there, but dead.

Only the containerized emergency beacon was still displaying as powered on. Don't hit that. not with this cargo. Drek. Cargo. Was he still alive? Frogscotch couldn't tell, couldn't turn her head more than a few degrees.

Then she saw the medikit by her right arm. Someone had opened it. Hell, someone had taken every last trauma patch out of it. And it was a big medikit to begin with, the kind you find on the backs of trolls and in vehicles where the occupants don't expect there to be a doc nearby any time soon. And now it was fragging empty. Who had done that?

As she looked down, she came to the dawning realization that she had. From her waist up was a wall of trauma patches. Which was horrifying. But not as much as the sudden realization that they were all there to numb out the fact that she was missing her left leg from the hip down, and that part of the T-bird's chassis was lying across her crushed pelvis.

She hit the emergency beacon, sending her position out to the world, to friend, foe, and any vaguely interested party. Then she screamed. Then she passed out.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:39 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Dealer paused as the piece of brass bounced off of his shoulder. As the spinning casing dropped to the ground, he had a somewhat tangential thought:

There's not going to be anyway to cover up the forensics on this one. But hey, there's gonna be so much drek lying around that no one will want to waste the effort on figuring it out. And whoever these people are, they probably don't want a real thorough investigation.

Then it was back to looking down his weapon. The assault rifle was singing tonight. Oh, he had used them often enough, but the nature of his work had rarely required such a consistent volume of accurate fire. Usually a few bursts on target, and then it was time to get the frag out. In the middle of this firefight, he was finding a real affinity for the weapon. Outside, Beta squad could testify to that.

Beta 2 had died almost on top of his partner, and as Dealer took in the scene, the Tac-net helpfully informed him that Beta 2's face plate had been penetrated. The chances of survival after an APDS went through that were...minimal.

Beta 1 had struggled heroically to get out of the field of fire. Even in his wounded state he had been quick on his feet, using the fallen beta 2 as a human shield which absorbed the first burst. Unfortunately for him, his grip slipped,and the second burst blasted through his weakened chest plate. Sucking chest wounds can be treated, or at least mitigated with proper care until real attention can be brought to bear, but the middle of a fire swept parking lot was not going to be the place for it. In all likelihood Beta 2 would die under the shattered streetlights of the Drunken Drone.

Beta 4 had fared better. A glancing blow, a sprained ankle, and a fall that would have left a broken nose if he wasn't in armor. But he was, and was still in the fight.

It looked like Ember's spirit had scared the rest of them into hiding, and Copperhead had put one of them on the ground.

So, she finally got something with that big freaking gun. Not bad for a mage. Gah...

But Beta 7 was still up, and while he wasn't foolish enough to charge the guns alone, he was still pretty exposed. Which, Dealer reflected, was bad news for Beta 7. But first, to finish the target at hand...

@AppliedCheese
[April 15th 2072; 23:45. 4200 meters off shore, Puget Sound]

The behemoth Henry VIII loomed above them even at this distance. Although there weren’t any stars for it to blot out tonight the weather had cleared and the little stealthed boat rocked in the swell. The tiny drone suckered firmly to the bow transmitted a flow of data back to Silk highlighting the incoming vessel with AROs that indicated optimum firing distances, directional shift caused by the currents, wind factors and a host of other flows that might affect the tactical situation.

She traced the patterns in the waves and felt her magic absorbing the information, relaying far more to her senses than the crude tacnet could ever hope to achieve.

She shifted the smartgun on her hip and hunkered down against the breeze that was whipping chop off the water. Her chameleon coated armour was all very well but she was considering buying a more insulated version if she had other jobs that left her this exposed.

She’d left work early to be here, Katie was covering for her but yet again favours would be owed. But then that was the way of the world, not just the shadows. This run wasn’t exactly likely to further her goals but it would keep the nuyen flowing and help her to hone her skills in an unusual situation…

@I'm On A Boat!
[April 15th 2072; 23:47. 4000 meters off shore, Puget Sound]

As the Henry VIII slowed to a crawl and met up with its tug Prize Pull in the distance, the second craft out of its wake pulled up a few hundred meters away from the bobbing speedster where Silk was sheltering against the stiff breeze. Or rather, for the trained seaman on the boat, it was a stiff breeze. Kunk, the helmsman, seemed to be enjoying himself. For everyone else, it was a whipping cold wind, mixed with colder ocean spray. The figures piled in next to Silk shifted and muttered as a fresh wave crested the bow.

As heads came back up from the most recent drenching, the far craft gave two IR flashes, and then a stream of additional tac-net data flooded the AR. Kunk gave a final nod, and turned to his assembled crew:

"Alright, everything's set. The tug over there is about to experience winch issues, issues a good crew will clear in about...oh..five minutes. That's when me and the boys will bring you in. It looks like our friends over there have confirmed the good captain is on the bridge right now, and if you look to your tacnet, you'll see the 3 points where the stealth rope ladders are there for your entry, just like you asked for. No one should be watching after the bribe, but ole Henry is a tight ship, so you never know. Give use the signal when your ready for us to come in for pick up. We'll be sitting about 90 seconds out. Alright chummers. Good luck.", Kunk looked thoughtful for a moment and added "Oh, one last thing, in case any of you forgot: We don't do extraction once your cross into territorial waters. If your in under 2400m from the docks, we aren't coming in where the KE can light us up nice and legal. At least out further they got to be subtle about it...in there...your on your own"

A broad yellow line ARO'd across the waves delineated exactly the point in question. There were a few soft curses as members of the team realized just how much closer that looked in reality than it had when viewed top-down while in the comfort of an apartment just outside the SeaTac. But you didn't hire amateurs for a job like this, and they quickly reviewed the target profile, more as way to ignore the now slashing water and the dangerously close yellow line than because it really needed reviewing:

<<Target: Carl Greggerson - Photo File Attached, Involuntary extraction. Target is needed alive and in good physical shape>>
<<Human, Male, Age 53, Employed by Halo Lines Shipping (no known mega affiliation), Captain of Doenitz class super-freighter: HENRY VIII>>
<<CPT Greggerson is one of the top 13% of freighter skippers who execute regular Portland runs. Over thirty years at sea, almost all of it on merchantmen, including at the last 15 in with Seattle as an established port of call. Known for superior seamanship, a reluctance to rely on technology, and iron discipline among his crew. He represents a dying breed of seaman, but he is very, very good at what he does. (file continues) >>

Two very wet minutes later, and the team was on the final approach to the Henry VIII, and another chance to walk away paid or dead.

@I'm On A Boat!
[April 15th 2072; 23:47. 4000 meters off shore, Puget Sound]

Robert gazed out across the inky ocean, counting the crests as the small boat topped each one. Six hundred twenty-two. Six hundred twenty-three. Six hundred twenty-four... The thermal regulators on his ruthenium armor kept him uncomfortably warm, but the sheer number of eyes in the tiny boat continued to send chills up his spine. Surely somebody would see through his disguise, there had to be at least three other mages on board. He remained as still as he could, the best way to remain unknown was to avoid being noticed in the first place.

Kunk went into his spiel, repeating all sorts of things they already knew. Sixty-six words, eight contractions, one acronym. Six hundred ninety-seven waves. Three ladders. One target. Robert felt his attention slipping. He checked his rifle to keep his mind busy, resisting the urge to remove the magazine and confirm that none of the rounds had slipped out. Safety is operational. Seven hundred and five. Bolt slides clean. Seven hundred and six.

They couldn't get to those ladders fast enough.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:38 The Drunken Drone's Network]

Pixel huddles under the Lorry, automatic fire ricocheting all around here. Her finger's fly over the tiny keyboard of her commlink, and her perception's blur.

The tacnet for the incoming group of corporate soldiers was solid and robust, but nothing special. Mana swirls around Pixel, a vortex appearing on the astral plane as she focus's on the task at hand. AR icons are pulled apart, information cross referenced, packets sniffed. "Aha" she mumbles and tries a zero day exploit for which a patch had been submitted two days ago, a malformed packet with a hash 1 bit out of sequence. It worked and Pixel followed the packet into the commlink.

As expected the tacnet was running over a cryptographic link. Pulling out her decryption program, Pixel tuned it to the network and set it running.

Time to see what's happening on the Drunken Drone's network she thinks. Logging into the network, Pixel sees it in ruins. Most of the security software has been crashed, and Molly's icon is there: a techno fetish dwarf. Looking closer, Pixel could see that there were tiny Integrated Circuit chips crawling over the icon, crawling through the ears, eyes, nose, mouse. A look of terror was frozen on the slumped icon.

"I'm coming for you, Pixel" was hovering in the air, formed out of tiny Integrated Circuits.

Pixel was about to rush over to Molly's Icon and see what she could do to remove the circuits, when she pauses, and scans Molly. A homemade databomb. A nasty one. With Psychotropic modifications.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:40, The Utterly Hammered Drone]

Dealer surveyed the scene with grim satisfaction, and got ready to send more tungsten down range into the oncoming betas when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, out on the scrap-heap. It looked like a blurry form, rising out the scrap heap, in a very odd configuration...that looked like...exactly like someone in..a perfect...kneeling...marksman...stance

SNIPER!

The world seemed to slow down. In perfect detail, he could see the long rifle track across the Drunken Drone, resting with the muzzle pointing at him.

God, she has to be insanely fast to get there from the roof where she shot Demon

For a moment, it almost seemed as if the world stood still, and he could see the very blossom of the the round erupting from the sniper's rifle. almost in a trance, he ever so slightly adjusted his position, and the first round slammed through brick and kevlar wall paper to exit where his right shoulder had been milliseconds before.

Had to be Magic. A mage! A god damned mage! trying to kill ME!

The second round went through the same hole, and missed the same way. Dealer managed to think straight long enough to tag her profile, and upload it to the tacnet with a thought. Not the most useful profile, but it was something. The he cut loose.

"DIE! YOU FRAGGING!" clack-clack-clack "MAGE!" clack-clack-clack "WHORE!" clack-clack clack.

Amidst the hail of fire he could see at least two rounds impact on the hated sniper, and felt ecstatic joy at watching her form recoil from the strikes. When Urban Brawl players scored points, they didn't feel half as happy as Dealer did watching the sniper mage slam backwards. His joy was cut short as she popped a thermal smoke grenade and tried to disappear. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was a keen sixth sense brought on by hatred for the sniper.

Maybe it was that lazy mage b**** couldn't bother to do her research. Using thermal against ultrasound. Fool.

Whatever it was, Dealer's sight picture was still tracking.

I hope when you die, the spirit your wearing torments your soul in hell for eternity.