@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:40 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

The diminished assault squad continued their assault. One of them snatches at his belt for an RPG, attaches it to the end of his assault rifle and fired it though the window. Behind his helmet there is a drug crazed snarl as the Kamikaze drug course through him.

Inside the drone, Hansai was standing still with his Katana glinting in the reflected lights of the fires outside. Standing in the stance "open on all eight sides", a stance against which the practitioner has not committed himself to an action by striking a pose, or taking a stance. Every opportunity, every action was open to him. There were no obstacles, there was no fear, there was only awareness and calm. His eyes half closed as he listened and felt with his senses to glimpse the future. He had descended into that state of mind known by the ancient Samuria as "mizu no kokoro".

As the member of Beta squad finger moved on the trigger, Hansai was already moving. Possible futures opened to his enhanced perception, and his Katana struck. The katana hit the grenade, on the stem just behind the main body. With a projection of chi, the grenade's motion was reversed and it flew back out of the window where it exploded. The whole event took less than heartbeat.

Almost simultaneously with the grenade, two more of the corporates lept into the building through the windows, their guns blazing. Hansai was open to their moves, and stuck at one of them. The military armor was strong, and even Hansai's magical Katana was not able to penetrate it. The blow was enough though to knock the armored man off his feet, and while the body was still falling, Hansai's weapon reversed in his hands. As the body hit the ground, Hansai struck again, both hands on the handle a vertically straight down blow. This time the armor was penetrated, and even the drugs were not enough to keep the corporate moving.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:40 QX Net show]

"...I thought they were nice customers. They had cute french accents. That horrible man, I can't believe it was Gamma, he was there talking to the other customers for an hour before they walked in. Just before trouble started one of them asked me to call the Knight Errant. Is that the act of a criminal? Mind you that troll: Copperhead her name is. I can see might be up to no good, but the other two where nice. Gracie says they saved her baby..."

We interrupt this interview with Marie Fournier, a surviver of the Gamma/Demon/Ember/Copperhead assault on the Jucy Lucy. We have breaking news that there is a gun fight involving the four criminals at a known criminal establishment on the edge of the Redmond Barrens. Our on the scene drone has live footage...

Cuts to scene of the outside of the Drunken Drone.

[April 15th 2072; 23:00:40 KMGG, 24 hours a day live Music news.]
..."I can't believe he's dead" The simsense view of Miss Tangent shows a truly beautiful young lady although her lovely eyes were red with crying. "I haven't worked there long but he was a lovely man. Truly caring of his staff, and his customers. Everyone says so. The killers didn't look like killers. One of them was kind of cute". The interviewer nodded and handed Miss Tangent a clean hanky with the KMGG logo on it. "So in Mr Allanby's will, it hands his business to Novatech Industries, along with the back catalog for Jet Black. How do you feel about this? Do you think this will have an impact on the Concrete Spectres?"...

We interrupt this interview with Miss Tangent, the former secretary of Allanby, the late manager of the hottest, novahot Concrete Spectres to bring you live footage of the arrest of Allanby's killers.

Cuts to the scene of the outside of the Drunken Drone.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:40 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

Fraggin' corpers think they can just do whatever they fraggin want! rages Copperhead silently through gritted tusks.

"Well frag you, you fraggers!" she screams suddenly and loudly, spitting saliva as she pumps two more rounds from the Enfield into Beta 3 as he tries to get back to his feet.

As he drops back down, she angrily commands the air spirit, Find the fraggin' sniper! Seek! Destroy!

Then something whizzes past her head and back out the door again with a 'CRUMP'. Suddenly there are armored men coming through the windows. The cop moves fast, but with the cram pumping through her veins she too is fast. She steps away from the door, letting the shotgun drop against torso at the end of its harness. Her right arm arcs back, hand razors snicking into place as she pulls raw mana into her grip. Then her hand strikes cobra-like forward, mana exploding from her metal fingers as she drives them into the nearest corper's aura.

Ssstrike fasst, ssstrike true! hisses an unseen, but familiar voice in her head.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:42 The Drunken Drone]

It all goes quiet in the Drunken Drone. Outside can be heard a single shot, then nothing apart from the crackling of the flames. For a moment no one moves. Hands that had been firing weapons as fast as mortal man can, are still. Voices that were yelling directions and warnings were silent.

!!BANG!!

The explosions were horrific. Each of the armored bodies explodes. Most of the shaped charge was directed inwards, turning the contents of the armor into a gory soup. Even so, there was a shock wave, and flying debris from the bodies.

Then it was all silent again, except for the sobbing of the stripper from the bar. Hansai's ARO flashes around him "Knight Errant officer under attack, Backup on route".

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:42 The Drunken Drone]

Dealer scowls behind his respirator as the sniper drops out of sight behind the scrap heap. He death would have made this firefight worth it. There is a special hatred he reserves for people who use magic against him, and he's pretty sure the number of cybered-up snipers who allow spirits to possess them, and are connected to this Teague person and this assault, are minimal. When you add in recent bullet holes, the selection gets even narrower. He sincerely hopes the spirit Copperhead just sent kills her painfully and slowly, but never count on a mage.

People talk. Between a few favors from the Vory, and Hansai's KE connections (plus the connections to the Yakuza Dealer strongly suspects Hansai has) people are going to talk more than they would normally. And one day, she's going to die in a dark alley.

Or in bed. But Demon would hate washing the blood off his sheets.

It speaks volumes to his hatred that throughout this thought process he has been engaging targets by rote. When he snaps back from thoughts of vengeance, two more betas are dead in the parking lot, the pile of brass has gotten somewhat larger, and his smartgun informs him he is down to 30 rounds in this magazine. Incidentally, it looks like the last few who tried to storm the windows are dead at the hands of the others.

You know, for a mage, Copperhead is alright. Hmm lets see...killed that one guy with a grenade, avoided a flurry of gunfire and hand grenades, gunned down those other two outside the window, blew a hole in the wall for cover, killed two more beats, and then those last two. Oh, and managed to not get shot by a sniper, wounding her in return before her mysterious escape. If only I was recording this in simsense, I could retire on royalties from the vid.

Oh well. I see that KMGG has the same idea. I'll advise Ingelman to buy on my portfolio with them. Well, to restart the portfolio anyhow.

"Czzkt: Say, Pixel, is it safe to go out back yet or does the hacker still have the turrets up? Because it looks like we could get out unnoticed and maybe grab some ----"

WHAAM. Dealer recoils as the shockwaves slam into him. Dust, smoke, a quick trip to the floor. When he can refocus his eyes he sees that all of the assault team have had suicide rigs installed, and they just went off. At least it explains why they weren't retreating after the first set got killed. It also means that several hundred thousand nuyen of equipment will not be going on the black market, and there won't be any interrogation. Its a sloppy way to clean house - fused armor suits with mysteriously liquified men in them holding shattered assault rifles are not exactly a clean crime scene - but when you own PR firms, its probably good enough.

He pats his cargo pocket, checking if the commlink he took off them earlier is still there, and then stumbles to his feet peering through the settling haze for the other team members...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:40, The Utterly Hammered Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon moves over towards a cafe window in a pained crouch. His biomonitor keeps screaming digitized medical jargon at him, while his armor's auto-injector pumps mostly ineffectual painkillers into him---usually the worst thing he has to worry about during a run is the occasional migraine that might disrupt his aim. While they are incredibly useful in combating headaches, they fall far from the mark of doing anything with regard to internal bleeding and fractured bones. Nevertheless, his camarades need him in the fight, and this is also proving to be the second most interesting thing that he has seen this evening.

Ah, Mademoiselle Fourier, if only I could have made you come for me before all of this.

He drops Arc d'Morte at his side and pulls out another tool in his arsenal, Chevalier Noir. If the sniper rifle was the scalpel, the assault rifle was a maul---an inelegant albeit somewhat appropriate weapon in this particular situation. Switching over to full auto mode, he pops up and lays down a spread of suppressive fire in hopes that the others would be able to take advantage of whatever mistakes his fire would cause his enemies to make. However, he frowns when he sees that all of his shots fly wide of his targets.

Damien, you are better than this. My God, what I would give for a Mitsubishi Yakusoku MRL and a healthy stock of high explosive rockets...

The familiar thud of sniper rifle slugs impacting near Dealer derails his train of thought.

It appears that my talented counterpart is still alive, and now she is cheating on me.

However, Dealer's chosen negative epithet suddenly derails that train of thought as well.

Why is it that everybody hates whores?

He gives a mental shrug and turns his attention back on the battle. Seeing his suppressive fire fail and not wanting to waste expensive ammo, he changes tactics from team player to death dealer. He spots one of the incoming corporate crétins and fires a long, wide burst at him. He watches with bloodthirsty glee as the bullets hammer home into the âme malheureuse, and cackles when a pair of slugs detonate the head of the voyou.

"Haha, C'EST ce que je parle! MERDE!!! Nous ne perdrons pas!"

Gaining new life at seeing his target die, he switches back over to semi-automatic mode and fires a shot at another incoming chien de porc. The bullet catches him square in the chest, and Demon laughs mercilessly as he watches the goon fall flat on his ass.

"Venez le chercher!"

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

Copperhead senses the corper's spirit fading as her blow strikes true. As he pitches backwards towards the floor, he suddenly blows up.

Caught completely unawares, she manages one short thought Da frag?, then is knocked back by the blast. On the positive side, her few wobbly steps take her away from the other goon, so when he also explodes she only catches the edge of the wave. Shaking her head, she realises that all she can hear is the ringing of her ears.

<<Pixel, I sure hope you ain't dead after all da trouble we just gone through to save yer ass.>>

Brushing herself down and wiping drool from her chin, she recovers a tiny bit of composure and turns to Hansai.

"You gonna be okay dere, Mista' H? And can you keep yer pals off our tails while we does a runner?" she asks, nodding at the ARO above his head and the tumbling countdown.

She reaches out for the air spirit but it is gone, either chasing the sniper or having fulfilled its services. A tusky grin slowly spread across her face. They were all still alive.

"Molly?"

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

Merde, there was nothing else that adequatly described this debacle. Ember was distracted from his hunt of the sniper mage by the sudden detonations and the brief fleeing spirits of the former corpers through the astral. Perhaps she would escape, perhaps not, but he sensed that he might be needed inside given the amount of pain that was radiating from the cafe.

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

The beautiful black leather clad woman known as Siran climbed onto the boat. Her dress sense was impeccable, it looked almost as though she was starring in a movie. Long black hair held back with a pony tail, and tight leather cat suit underneath it. A sword, a number of belt weapons, and a pouch were at her hip. The weapons had a skill motif woven through them. The cat suit looked as though it had cost 1000 nuyen, and was sprayed on. A handbag suitable for a night out at the Penumbra decorated her waist.

As she got on the boat, she waved a hand. "Olukan's blessing on this trip. May His hand hide this boat". As she said that, the outside of the boat shimmered slightly, and a faint mist rose from the water. Small octopi could be seen cavorting just under the boat. "My blessing on you all. May the curses of the foe fall upon this stone" She through the stone in the air, and it morphed. Black tendrils sprouted from it as it hung in the air for a moment. A large eye with no iris formed in the center. The stone descended, and Siran placed it in her pouch. "Finally the curse of my heart upon our foes. May their hearts fail, and their weapons jam".

Siran sat and looked around the boat. A competent crew, should be good enough to do the task at hand.

Checking over her equipment, getting ready for the job ahead didn't take long. When Siran was found ship wrecked 6 months ago, she had some tattered armor, a few foci and an encrypted data chip. The dock rats that found her and stole her foci had given her a few kicks in the bargain and left her for dead. It was either the kick to the head, or the days drifting on the open sea, but Siran had very few memories from before. Crawling into a storm drain, she had summoned a weak spirit to care for her. The spirit brought her food and water, and tended to her wounds. Three weeks later, memory-less, but knowing she had lost part of herself, she chased down the foci. The fools though that they were jewels, and had pawned them. After the pawnshop owner had been...interrogated...the fools were found, and Siran made an example of them. It had taken until the last run to get enough money together to buy a decent set of gear: A good quality sword, a few belt weapons and some grenades were visible. The small watertight satchel slung over her shoulder held a small number of other essentials.


She looked again at the crew and gave a little start as she penetrated the illusion woven by Robert. A Nosferatu. Well that is interesting. An ace in the hole, as long as he didn't go blood crazed and kill everyone. Siran considered the idea of shopping him for the bounty. The bounty was for a serious amount of money, but some faded memory of her past reminded her that conflict in a crew never ended well. She clung to the memory trying to see faces, images in it, but to no avail. Just the memory of white hot violence and death. Still while the Nosferatu was part of the same crew she was, she would hold her tongue.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00- 23:02, The Utterly Hammered Drone ]

Dealer staggered through the settling dust, a small feed of the KMGG drone outside blaring mutely in the corner of his goggles. It looked like everyone was, if not alright, still on their feet. Which was good, because he was in no condition to try and carry anyone out. Even under the best of circumstances, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to carry Copperhead period; and as an aching ribcage and what hopefully wasn't a concussion indicated this was not the best of circumstances. A small part of his mind reflected that it was amazing the stripper had survived all of this unscratched. Particularly as she was unarmored, to say the least. An old saying about children and fools ran through his head.

Let Mr. J there deal with her. Its what they pay him for anyhow. Well, that, and apparently his ability to play baseball with hand grenades.

After a few drunken stumbles, he regained his balance. Pixel was saying something about a panic room. Neat little AROs popped up indicating the pathway there, joining the ticker for Firewatch arrival.

Media was here 45 seconds after the assault began. 45 Fragging seconds. With a damn hardened drone, otherwise the EMP would have fried it. We were set up. Or Hansai was careless and got tailed here. Or Teague never lost the trail on these guys to begin with. Three bad options. One long night ahead.

Drek, what time is morning nautical twilight anyhow...oh, thank you trodes. So. 6 hours, give or take, before daylight. Going to need more ammo.

Running more on muscle memory and that hazy thought, Dealer waited for Pixel to cut the drone feed. A pained, staggering sprint out back and back in, carrying a can of ex-ex, a can of copkillers, and a bandoleer of various grenades. Even punch drunk, six seconds was more than enough time for his still humming muscles and the wiring underneath, to complete that piece of improvised logistics.

Molly owes us anyhow. Speaking of which...

Dealer watched as the others brought up Molly. Looked like she'd been hit with something nasty. Judging by the desperate attempts at revival, and their failure, it was neurological. Meh.


The things you remember from a higher education...but I guess that rules her out of setting us up. Maybe I should muzzle check her, just in case. The barrel on this thing is still pretty hot, be damned hard to fake a coma through that on an eyelid. Pixel would probably crash everything I own though. Better not.

At least she won't be telling anybody anything that doesn't need telling. Not that it helps. I get the feeling trying to cash in on these guys would just get me killed anyhow. That and they might let me kill that sniper. And hey, the Vory are still paying for this one. Looks like I'm in it for the long haul.

With that thought, he grabbed his bag of tricks, and limped his way to the panic room. A little rest, a little first aid, they would go a long way. And there were quite a few questions he needed to ask..

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

The Henry VIII loomed over the approaching small boat, in a manner doing justice to the word loomed that is not usually conveyed in cheap action novels. If it weren't for the tacnet feeds streaming in from Silk's drones, the approaching runners would have little but blank gray slate with some perilously hard to see rope ladders in front of them. As it was, the drones provided a much better view.

The stacks of connexes on the deck were being systematically checked by crew members with drone assistance. The connexes cast long shadows into the valleys between rows and the walkways around them, but a combination of well lighting and a waxing moon provided enough illumination to see by. Nonetheless, at each spot the crew or one of the drones flicked on a high powered flashlight to inspect the lashings and the tie downs. Every now and again the leader would point something out, and either a seaman or a drone would make some adjustment to lashing. A landsman might think that the crew would be complacent an distracted by the nearing port. Most landsmen have never seen a 40 foot shipping container surge forward when a ship stops, and very few have seen a pile of them fall over and crush a man. The change in perspective does wonders for attention to detail.

At the bow, a small team of mechanics scurried around one of the tow lines the tug had attached. It was clear that something wasn't working the way it was supposed to be, and at least one of them was vigorously gesturing at the tug crew. Messages of escalating intensity concerning the competence, parentage, and pay of each of the opposite parties were most likely being vigorously exchanged.

Intermittently, crew members who were not involved with the cargo or the actual sailing of the ship would appear well away from the cargo and maintenance teams. Several had to be shooed back from the bow initially - the urge to see friendly shore alleviated with curses from the mechanics and the knowledge that until the tow line was fixed, that shore wouldn't be any closer. By now most had returned inside, though a few were engaged in a conversation, a smoke, and more often than not, both.

The bridge itself was well lit, and inside there was a controlled scurrying as the ships officers and the helmsman guided the behemoth and held her steady against the tide. The helmsman had an archaic wheel form the look of it. He was clearly using a control panel in front of him, but the fact that the wheel existed, and probably worked, was a testament to the skipper.

Finally, a keen eye might spot an actual signal flag, made out of real cloth, bearing a beer mug upon it. It was an old tradition, often discouraged, and seen less and less with the prevalence of chipheads, skillwires, and drones, but apparently the captain believed in it still. Siran recognized the call for what it was, a simple declaration from captain to crew: "Boys, if you get her in to port tonight, I'm standing the rounds at whatever bar I choose. So give me a few good more hours, just a few more, and it'll be another successful trip."

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

Khalil was used to rough weather and rain but combine that with a rocking boat and he was starting to feel rather sick. Not in a distracting way but enough that he was thinking of getting close to the edge of the boat in case. He could see the rest of the crew and began sizing them up and down for memories sake. Teams come and go but Khalil still liked having faces memorized. Never know when you would need a specific person for a specific skillset.

His own skills had been in high demand lately. Lots of hackers out there, few of those techno heads too, but not many could handle a fight like him. He grinned to himself with a mix of pride and amusement at how well things had been going as of late. So it goes, this luck will be followed by the dark times. Always is. He hums to himself as the matrix opens up before him and the physical world takes a backseat. Khalil leans against a wall as he talks to the others. <<Going VR ladies and gents, if you have any requests now is the time to ask.>> He begins looking for nodes to begin his digital assault while the others prep their gear.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:40, The Utterly Hammered Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

The wonderful thing about hearing is that it is truly 3-dimensional sense. You are not limited by having to point your ears particular direction---like eyes, or having to to be in contact with something---like touch or taste, and it even gives you direction---unlike smell. Ultrasound builds on that principle, and adds a new layer of pseudo-vision to the sense. It can be a little jarring at first, but being able to "see" in all directions at once is a talent well worth the effort to learn.

Demon "sees" the incoming goons---painted in shades of gray---while he is still shooting out the window. However, before he can bring his Chevalier Noir on them, they have another surprise.

BOOM

Thank goodness for aural dampers.

For a fraction of a moment, Demon "sees" the shockwave of force coming towards him. Then, he FEELS hit slam into him. The shockwave knocks him back into the wall and onto the floor, once again knocking the wind out of him as well as aggravating his previous wound from the sniper shot. Tears involuntarily well up in his eyes, but he chokes them back because he has enough experience in the world to recognize what that explosion means.

It is done.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00:42 The Drunken Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Taking a second to regain his breath, Demon pulls himself up to his feet. He pulls back the mask of his chameleon suit and takes off his respirator. He walks over to one of the former windows and spits a large, wet mix of blood, saliva and mucus outside of the truckstop. No need to add any more filth to Molly's establishment.

He cracks a grin as he looks over the team.

We are bloodied but not beaten, oui?

He covers his mouth as he suffers another fit of coughs. When he withdraws his hand, he sees large flecks of blood covering his chameleoned glove.

"Is there a doctor in the house?"

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

Silk pushed a stray lock of wet hair back out of her face and, taking a last breath of fresh air, placed her helm over her head so that she was totally enclosed in the AR world. She would never get used to breathing respirator air but on a job such precautions were neccessary - and not having your face visible was another thing worth a few sacrifices for. She cast her mind back over their improptu briefing in the van at the docks...

~~

"Hi, you can call me Silk. I may be relatively new at this but I've seen the some of the best at work and I know that a run lives or dies by its communications. I suggest that Kahlil takes responsibility for guiding us in, or I will if he prefers? We need to pool our technology so that we're operating at peak efficiency. I've got a SOTA Transys Bastion firewall program which is topping out at pre milspec, and with encryption to match I'm sure we can keep our comms secure. Just in case though I suggest we each pick a number from one to ten and use that as a call-sign, no point in using names if we don't have to? I've got a limited tacnet I'm happy to run for us so that Kahlil can concentrate on the difficult stuff...decentralised if your comms will take it?

Now, do we have a plan...?"

~~

She checked the magazine of the scorpion...enough narcojet in that to sink an elephant. Gel rounds in the smartgun and she was confident that nobody would die tonight at her hand, barring an unfortunate accident...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00-23:59 The Drunken Drone, Panic Room]

Dealer sat on one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs in Molly's panic room. That they weren't all dwarf sized showed considerable foresight on Molly's part. That they were as comfortable as they were either showed that she had income to spare from the gun-running trade, or that she had to use this room more than might be considered healthy.

Of course, that ends tonight. Even though the investigation on this place won't press to hard thanks to Hansai, there's no way the KE can afford not to give this place a thorough once over. Terrorist news running on half the nets, a SECOND ridiculous firefight on their turf in one night, the gunmen slipped away...again...they're going to need something big, something to show the people they're still in control. And that rack of weapons and ammo out back will make a great interview piece. "We intercepted the toxic terrorist at a favorite arms dealer, and stopped his transaction dead! Only the brave and timely actions of a KE hacker incapacitated the dangerous gun runner...more at 11" and its not like Molly is going to say anything otherwise right now is it? Of course, they'll want some other patsies too, which gives me an idea...just need to find what company funded this little jaunt...

In the mean time, handy vid feeds showed Hansai dealing with the Firewatch, and a while later, the detectives from KE. True to form they were performing very thoroughly. Or more appropriately, what looked very thorough to the news drones. Lots of emphasis on sterilization, and clean shots of evidence, and questioning witnesses while comforting the more media appropriate ones. Some quality real-time editing too: that stripper had looked a lot worse 5 minutes ago. On camera, the dust and tears had been reduced to tasteful emotional accents, rather than the grimy reality that added ten years to a face.

Dealer glanced away form the feed and busied himself with the matrix while he waited for the medic to set up shop.

<<@Zhukov:
Жуков, мне нужна информация. Этот пробег вы послали меня на находится в бедственном положении шибко - точно не в коде. Там какая-то крупные игроки, которых я здесь нужны такие вещи, вырытых на.Некоторые из них играют "над землей" или по крайней мере корпоративные, но я думаю, что большинство будет отображаться где-то, если Вы выглядите достаточно твердыми. Никто не остается, что большой, что чист.

Прежде всего, есть полицейский. Он больше, чем кажется на первый взгляд. Горячие дерьмо адепт-детектив для КЭ. Если я не скучаю по своей ставке, он либо якудза или имеет связи с ними. Я должен знать все об этом человеке. Я отошел от встречи с ним чуть не умер. Я должен знать своих врагов, и ад, я должен знать своих друзей.

Далее: Джонатан Тиг. Парень корпоративных большая шишка. Новатэк промышленности. Слово он безжалостный сын сука, и его выбрали люди получают опасность близко. Хотя ваш на него, что-нибудь на компанию было бы хорошо, как хорошо.

Существовал также японец-корпорации типа, по-видимому Тиг outed. Наверное, от сцены к настоящему времени, но если что-то появляется, да?

Кроме того, хакер по имени EMM386. Немного СУКА ПСИХ НЕНОРМАЛЬНЫЙ от того, что мой двухэтажных говорит, большие в pyshcotropic дерьмо. Он waxxed вашей J кстати, она в коме ..., там будет открытие здесь, пока она проснется. Если она проснется. Хорошие деньги. Только помните, кто вам сказал, в первую очередь.

Последнее является личное одолжение: женский снайпер выстрелил в меня. Был запущен с связанными дух, midcaliber винтовки, полный
>>

<<@Kell : Hey, I'm watching the news. You and the forensics department are going to be pulling an all nighter huh? Here's a tip. Mr. toxic had himself a pretty lil sniper along for the ride. Check the roof, you'll find some expended cartridges there, mid caliber rifle. Should be some sabot petals as well. Pointing out to where they were attacking from. You'll find some more on the scrap heap to, going to match a neat hole in the back of one of the guys out by the car. She ran circles around them. Rumor is, someone hit her before she and Gamma bugged out. You'll find her blood out on the scrap heap as well, probably a nice trail of it. It'll let you net a big case I think. Free info. All I want is her name.>>

<<@ Ingelman : I need you to set up a black pool to short sell on Novatech. It's going to go directly against their recent acquisitions, but trust me on this one. I'll tell you when. While you setting up, send me anything you find on them, yeah?>>

Dealer glanced up from the terminal. Time to to let the medikit get to work...

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

<OK Issac we are about to be jammed. Can you follow us astrally or something? Helicopter here in 3 mins apparently>>

As Jotamon gets in the vehicle, he scans the vehicle, looking for concealed turrets.

"Thank you for the information on the tracker. Do you know where it is?" Might as well be polite even to robots he thinks

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

As Jamie starts to pound on Doza's back, yelling in her ear to be put down, they burst out of the back of the warehouse into the street beyond. Doza gratefully dumps her onto her feet lending a steadying hand until Jamie catches her balance and they follow Jotamon to the open van door.

They arrive in time to hear a voice talking about disabling trackers and only having a short time before they are in visual range of their pursuers. With that they scramble into the van and begin to settle themselves into the seats. Doza quietly checks both her gun and her respirator, it's not that she has any reason not to trust her Mr Johnson, just that this whole run has already taken some unexpected twists. If there are going to be any more surprises she intends to be ready!

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]

It was quiet in the Panic Room. AR Video feeds from outside where visible on the wall. Knight Errant were doing their thing: a horde of forensic experts were ripping the Smashed Drone apart bit by bit. Emergency hydraulic jacks had been put in place to support the remnants of the bar. Three lorries escorted by Panzers had rolled out their contents making a quick emergency control room. Plastic sheeting was being wrapped around the bar and cafe.

The press were having a field day

"...and here at the Terrorist capital of Seattle we interview Captain Wang Woo an independent terrorist specialist. Captain can you tell us how the search is going?" The camera flips to an attractive looking female wearing composite armor, but the helmet off, showing her crew-cut. Her appearance was only enhanced by the micro scar faintly visible on her cheek.

"I'll keep it simple. As you know Knight Errant followed a tip off to locate Gamma and his local gang <AR link to Gamma, Ember, Copperhead and Dealer>. She shrugs. "Gamma and his accomplishes got away, but they were tracked down here" Captain Woo gestures around. Interviews with the hostages that Knight Errant's brave actions freed, lead them to believe that the Gang were meeting with another <ARO link to poor quality image of Dealer> An unnamed Knight Errant source told me they've had this place under passive observation for some time, but when Gamma's Gang turned up, they decided to raid it. It looks like some other corporate had the same idea. As far as I can see there was a firefight. At the moment the same source said Knight Errant are working on the hypothesis that Gamma's gang used some nasty blood magic to kill all the raiders. You really don't want to look inside the suits." Captain Woo gives a mock shudder. The other corporate attacked too soon, and didn't seal off the exits, so Gamma's gang got away."

"They won't get far: every camera in the city has their face, and as you know there is a large reward for each member. I suspect that their "friends" and "allies" will turn them in soon."

In the panic room, Demon was just getting out the Autodoc, and pressing his ribs to check they didn't hurt so much, the others were gathering around a table.

Pixel had gathered data on the Warehouse in which Allanby kept his records, and had a video feed of the outside. The purple dinosaur waved its hands over the table that the group were gathered around.

"So the warehouse is around 5km away. Molly has a van, and a few motor bikes outside. As far as I can tell there is no heat around here, but Knight Errant might have aerial watchers. I've just spent a while making sure my drones aren't being followed. I've sent one over to look at the warehouse. Here is the video feed:"

The AR changes to that of a warehouse in the middle of a warehouse district. There are thermal images from the two guards, with their dog, that are patrolling the outside.

"The security is run by Hound Force. They are a middle of the road security company. The dog is a hell hound, but he is only there one hour in three as far as I can tell from their records. There are 3 guards in total: one's inside. There doesn't appear to much in the way of the Matrix inside: I've located two public terminals, and the guards PANs. The guard's have biomonitors, but I own their PANs. Hound Force have a spider, who regularly checks the guards. If we time an attack just after a check, then I suspect we will have a fair amount of time before the spider returns. I might be able to deflect him, but he is capable and thorough."

"The warehouses around are mostly abandoned. This one " Pixel points to the warehouse to the west of the target "is an anomaly. There is quite a high security presence, and I have seen a couple of unmarked vans move in and out. According to the records it is unoccupied. It's either Teague's men, or mobsters. I don't want to get any mob angry at me, so let's be careful whatever we try".

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]

Copperhead kept it together long enough to help Ember patch up the wounded. Demon had taken a round from the sniper. It was clean, but messy so after patching him up they had found helped him into the autodoc to recover a bit while they waited out the initial search for them. However, that hadn't taken long and then she had started to feel trapped and even claustrophobic in what, at least to to her anyway, felt like too small a room. She knew it was mainly the drugs in her system, but knowing didn't help.

Watching the trid hadn't helped either. They were now firmly associated with Gamma and all the so-called 'witness statements' had been nothing but a pack of lies. She needed to be calm and centred, especially amongst these professionals, but felt like she was burning up in the heavy camo armor. So she had stripped that off, then even the form fitting suit until she was wearing just her Cyberpirate top and hotpants. These rather skimpy, figure hugging items of clothing certainly didn't leave much to the imagination and showed off the stunning pattern of scales on her cyberarms and dermal plating.

"I's just too hot, don't be getting no ideas" she admonishes her team-mates. Then she finds a corner of the room and sits down cross-legged and closes her eyes to try and communes with Snake. She struggles past the drugs and headache, finally reaching the astral and leaving her twitching, drug-fuelled body behind.

Snake wasn't happy. Drugsss? You foolisssh child! I have shown you the way of Snake, yet you ignore it for a quick fixssss.

She kept quiet, letting the serpent berate her. She knew she deserved it and also that Snake would eventually calm down and share some of her secrets. But only if she stayed focused and paid close attention. After about half an hour, she opened her eyes. Although the drugs were still in her system, she felt calmer, wiser even, and joined the others as they discussed their plans for raiding the warehouse.

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]

Dealer finished up his work with the medikit, looking at the now empty casing of what had been a rather large supply of pain relievers, anti-inflammatories, instant ice packs, bandages, Smart-Stiching and more. The Spray-On-Skin in particular had seen a lot of use with Demon. It had set in a sickly yellow opaque color. Dealer knew that was the usual color, but it didn't normally flake off like that.

Really, what were the odds that I'd be the best medic on the team? I barely remember CPR from that one life-guarding course in high school. Wasn't that a waste too - turns out the beach body is the attractive part, not the job. But it doesn't look like the mages are going to do anything. Typical. Mysteries of the universe, re-attach para-limbs to the unnatural, but can't be bothered to lift a finger for this damn migraine.

The news feeds were not unexpected, though Dealer couldn't help but curse when he saw that he was now on video. It wasn't a great shot, and actioneer business clothes weren't exactly a rarity around these parts, but that sort of thing was never good.

Sloppy. Rookie mistake. Didn't even bother nano-pasting up before the meet...what other basics have I fragged up tonight?

As the news went on, he had some choice words about Ms Woo "Independent Terror Expert my ass. They got some beach bunny in armor, gave her a haircut an a scar tat, and now she'll play her part. Frag you.", giving a somewhat useless gesture to the screen before turning in to the group.

Copperhead's revelation made him snort to avoid laughing. "Unless Demon has some unique tastes, I don't think you need to worry about us getting hot and bothered. Anyhow now that Pixel has said her bit, lets get to it. Oh, one more thing Pixel. I still have this. Do what you can with it" Dealer slides the powered-off commlink from the unfortunate Alpha to the the purple dinosaur before turning to the AROs she had laid out.

His first thoughts flicked to who owned that particular piece of turf. It wouldn't matter - they were going in, one way or another - but it didn't hurt to know who would need some reparations when this was all over. Or at least what type of hit men would be coming to pay back the favor.

"Alright, this should be a clean and easy one. Three guards and a hellhound, plus some mean cameras. They've got over a mile of perimeter, so even if they're stepping out and not just mosying, we've got at least 15 minutes after they go by. May not even need to fire a shot. The guy inside...well, thats a big warehouse, its late, and he's probably glued to some vid feed. If we can beat the sensors, we can beat him. If not...well, I've got a taser in the bag, and if worst comes to worst, quite a few silencers.

I see pixel has nicely highlighted the known cameras as well. it'd be nice to know what they're running, but I'm pretty sure me and Demon are damned hard to see on visible light or thermal",Dealer shakes a can of wi-fi inhibitor spray paint, "and so long as Demon doesn't mind stripping in front of the group, this handy, ubiquitous and cheap RF paint will soak up pretty much everything short of a dedicated military radar. UWB and mm wave are, comparatively, easy. Don't forget to leave the ear your commlink is on clean for the skin link. Hope your not allergic to latex."

Dealer pauses for a moment, as much to watch people's faces as to refocus on the ARO. Then he begins tracing on it with his finger:

"Guess that's a fence, but electric doesn't seem quite the style for a mid grade place. We'll find out for sure when we get there, unless Pixel has some more data. What we really need to know is if that thing has an alarm on it? If not, some rubber, some wire cutters and we're through. Got'em in the bag If so...well, she got the tac-net, didn't she? Other than that, way in should be clean. No way they'd use trip sensor or seismic out here. I mean, Pixel, check, but it'd be false alarming like a mother. So, if we can wait for the guards to go by, ideally after a spider check, we get through the fence and work our way to the building."

Dealer grimaces at the next part, the scowl causing his unhooked respirator to flap.

"No doubt they'll have some watchers. Cheating little bastards. Mages, that's you."

"Now, as I see it, we need an inside team and an outside team. Looks like there's some good overwatch from the buildings to the west. We stick together, circle the place to make sure our friends aren't watching here too, then we set up to go in.

1. Guards turn the northern loop.
2. Pixel makes sure the spider is away. Some neat looping feed drek with the cameras would work too.
3. Mages clear the astral.
4. Inside team goes through the fence. Outside team makes sure they aren't missing anything.
5. If that building has a maglock on any of those doors, we're golden. We'll fiber it first to make sure we don't bump heads with the guy inside.
6. Jack this thing in to the data-jack. Laser link it out. Errm...hmm...who has a laser link? Not all at once now. Okay. Maybe we just broadcast tight burst out
7. Outside tells us when its safe to come back.
8. Out we go.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Anything I'm missing that will get us mowed down and make some poor schlub a million richer? If not, i assume myself and Demon are going in...who else is where else?"

@ I'm On A Boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:47 SS Henry VIII Matrix Space]

There are many ways to watch the matrix. From the purists who insist on watching it in base code..the really insane can still wtahc it in binary, but the human mind has long since been surpassed in trying to understand it at that level; it'd be like watching the color blue only to find out what your looking at is a commercial airline...to your every day user who see's a shimmering mirage built on the backs of millions of man-hours of coding, power userss who trip through their own realities, and IT techs who strip it down to little more than spreadsheets of ports, data flow, nodes, signal strength and a dozen other tech-mysteries that can tell you how healthy a network is. Suffice to say, the runner's searching the Henry's matrix space are watching it in their own way.

But the data doesn't change whether you paint it in 1's and 0's or an attractive theme of your own choosing. The deck is blaring with active commlinks, each of them transmitting location, ID, job, bioinformation, and very often feeds to the surrounding area. Privacy on a ship is never great, and those working deck ops are fine with forsaking it if it means the Auto-drainage system will automatically cut off if you get your ankle caught in it. The riotous cacophony of data is being routed through one node, located in what appears to physically be a small trash can sized pillar at the front of the ship. Based on the raw data being shunted back and forth, it is likely fast and responsive, and working on a centralized net arhcictecture - common sense says it can control the drones if a work party isn't.

Short, high data transmissions from a passive node on the bridge confirm pre-run schematics that the commo node is located there. Information seems to go in and out via a powerful antenna-dish relay series on top of the superstructure.

Aside from these obvious nodes, there is occasional minor leakage emanating form within the ship. Likely it is the product of smaller scale nodes running local nets in the bowels.

As for individuals, it seems almost a matter of preference whether they stay active or not when leaving the deck. Several go passive. Some don't. The tac-net confirms one male-female pair that come up, get shooed away from the bow, and then drop out of view entirely as they go back inside. Doubtless there's a regulation against that, but sometime metahumanity will risk an ass-chewing. Especially when they can smell the barn, and aren't otherwise occupied.

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 The Drunken Drone]

A dirty white old van slowly cruises through the streets near Redmond, going nowhere in particular. The front seat is empty, but that's nothing new in these vans. They're often remote-rigged these days. Just another small-time delivery truck going about it's business.

Inside in the cargo compartment was a scene less typical. A bench nestled up against each of the sides, a molded plasteel set that didn't look overly comfy to say the least. Mounted on the walls above those were an array of small tool cabinets and other cases. Near the front was a pair of drone launching bays, both empty. From the ceiling hung a track-mounted mechanical crane arm. Currently it clutched the battered shell of an LEBD-1 that sported a number of bullet holes.
Sitting in the middle of the floor space was a doberman drone, it's classic dog-breed paintjob scored and marred. Access ports all over were popped open and wires and bits hung out of some. The left rear leg was in pieces with a small slick of hydrolic fluid pooled around it's remains. Hunkered over this was a humanoid drone, a Renraku Manservant, carefully putting the doberbot back together.

Sitting cross-legged on the bench was Pixel, her ruthenium suit covered in soot and dirt and her hair looking rather the worse for wear. Her attention was primarily focused on the AR control screen in front of her showing a vid feed of the repairs in progress as she used the manservant as a surrogate to perform the actual labor.

Her datasphere has a number of other feeds in a cloud around her main work. The vid from the Drunken drone's lobby is prominent and she keeps glancing that way. At least Hansai's alright for now. I hope Molly's going to be ok... Marvin's recon of the warehouse plays in another window. Several windows show views of a small panic room where the runners are currently holed up, with focus given to the viewpoint of a purple dinosaur toy.

When Dealer slides over the commlink, the pixie's interest piques for a moment. "Hmmm, nice find there. I'll want to get that thing in person though. If you power it up it'll probably either set off a homing signal, or trigger a data-bomb and wipe itself. Or both. I'll need to get at the optical storage directly to get anything useful off it without setting those off. You can hand it over to my drones when you meet up with them at the warehouse."

The dino sits back on it's haunches. "Speaking of that place, you should be able to just use the optical jack on the commlinks Hansai provided to get the warehouse nexus online enough for me to access. Assuming it's a fairly standard hardware interface. If it's not, we'll either grab the whole thing or I'll have to walk you through patching a line into it. Or send in Jeeves I suppose."

Her tummy rumbles and Pixel wraps a hand around her midsection. All that, and I didn't even get the last slice of Molly's pie. Poor Mol's. She pulls up a small window with a text file labelled "To Do" and adds "Send Molly get-well-soon package". While she has the AR keypad up she cracks a faint smile and sends off a text.

<<@Demon: Je dois vous donner le crédit pour cette cascade. J'ai peut-être été une base peu hors sujet vous. Non beaucoup de gars réellement faire bon prendre une balle pour une dame. Comment vous sentez-vous? >>

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]


<<@ Pixel : You know, for someone we just expended a good deal of ammunition and blood saving, you're awful reticent to show your face. >>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 23:00-24:00 The Drunken Drone, Panic Room]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon draws out a cigarette from his smart pack and lights it on the still-smoking barrel of Chevalier Noir. He takes a long drag off of it and skillfully exhales a smoke ring followed by a dart of smoke. He lets the nicotine seep into his system, taking a bit of the edge off his painful souvenirs of battle.

"The tireur d'élite, she is good, non? I am ready to give credit where credit is due. Perhaps I should see what the damage is."

He peels himself out of his chameleon suit and body armor, stripping down to his sous-vêtements---a tanktop and boxer brief tandem that was once black but is now stained with hints of red. He reaches behind to the spot on his back where most of the pain is radiating, and surmises what happened. The armor stayed intact, but the bullet broke skin, flesh and bone before bouncing back out. The force of the blow that slammed him into the ground had also fractured his front ribs as well as badly bruised his chest.

He follows the other woozily into Molly's panic room---putting out the cigarette before entering out of courtesy to his host and fellow guests, and lets the others treat his wounds. He watches as Dealer applies the "spray-on-skin" and raises an eyebrow when he notices the way that the spray is settling on his wounds.

"Perhaps it is time to throw out that can, yes?"

Afterwards, he climbs into the auto-doc. The soft sound of medical equipment whirring about him---as well as the hefty dose of anesthesia---helps him drift off to sleep. His mind takes pity on his suffering body, and draws him into dreamland built off of memories from easier days of his childhood. He is on a picnic with his mother in a cross between Parc Borély and the beach at Pointe Rouge. Since she worked nights and he was a SIN-less whore's whelp who was home-schooled by hand-me-down trids, they were a frequent and happy occurrence. They would often dine on pan-bagnat and demi of bourgogne grand ordinaire. Here she would tell her son tales of his father. One day, he was a dashing pirate who sailed the high seas and terrorized any corper who sailed across his path. Another time, he was a prince from a faraway land who sacrificed his life to save his subjects. Once, she even told him that he was a mage who had ventured into the breach between the physical and astral with the intention of saving the world.

He wakes up from the pleasant dreams of yesterday when the auto-doc's "all-done" alarm goes off. He climbs out of the device, testing his ribs. Still tender, but at least I can breathe comfortably once again.

He listens to Knight Errant's amusingly vehement libel campaign against him and then to Pixel's rundown of the next situation. He shrugs when Dealer suggests that he enter the complex.

"I would prefer to fight first from afar, but if we must wade into their midst...'Une fois de plus dans la brèche, mes chers amis, une fois de plus; soit près du mur avec nos propres morts.'

"But first, has anyone seen any wine? Any vintage will do. I would like to indulge in at least one of life's joys before taking off on another perilous quest."

When he receives Pixel's message, he grins and sends her a reply.

<<@ Pixel: Que puis-je dire? Ma mère, elle m'a porté à être d'une noble l'esprit en dépit de mon droit d'aînesse humble. Je vais vivre, ce qui est tout ce que je peut faire un homme peut demander. Et ne vous inquiétez pas, ma dame mystérieuse, je ne trahirai pas le secret de votre sexe pour les autres.>>

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]

Copperhead contributes to the developing plan with the occasional "Huh?", "Uhuh" and "Sounds good ta me" as she puts her layers of armor back on. She checks all her gear and reloads the shotgun, sticking to regular ammo for now. While trying to appear serious and professional, she can't resist striking a pose for the three men and asking, "Hey guys. Does my ass look big in dis?"

While she didn't get shot, her ears are still ringing from the grenade blasts, although her hearing is slowly getting better. Note to self: get new buds with damps as well as enhancers. She is also still amped on cram and is slowly developing a major headache from the increased blood flow through her system. Snake was right. As always! she chides herself. At least her mentor was still talking to her, if only to lecture her on the risks of drugs.

"I can maybe get mama Snake to help us wid another spirit. Although dis headache is killing me. So much for better living through drugs, although I guess I is still alive."

She composes a quick message to Cutter and fires it off. <<Hey babe. All that stuff about us on the news is a bunch of crap. But you knew that already, right. Can you to ask Slater if he can dig up anything on a corper named Teague, a cop by the name of Hansai Jones and that little shit of a dwarf Allenby that got himself capped to set us up. Also, someone is gunning for us big time. The corpers that attacked us at the Drunked Drone had serious gear, were hopped up kamikaze or similar and had bombs in their chests. They might have been from Teague's corp but would be good to know for sure. Just make sure you tell that knife ears to be careful. I don't want some corp hacker or black IC blowing his brains out. Also, can you drop by Lenny's. He's holding a package for me and right now I ain't too keen on picking it up myself. I don't think he'd hand me over to KE, but he is a rat shaman after all. It'll take a big chunk out of our savings but might just save my ass. I got some stuff still to do tonight and need to keep a low profile, but I'll see you soon. Hugs!>>

@Dysfunctional Family (Doza, Jotamon, Jamie & Isaac)
[April 15th, 2072 10:52am; Dearborn; Downtown Seattle]

The van door closes behind you with another hiss of hydraulics and there is a whir of air circulation and an exhalation as the outside street air is rapidly vented away, presumably along with any contaminants and rogue RFID tags…

“The tracker ID is unknown but you are emitting multiple wifi signals that are now being contained. For matrix access you may use the following router {ID tag:*****}. I have been instructed to take you wherever you want to go or to a safe house on the Renton border, Sixty Two Avenue South. I am told to tell you that the package will be retrieved this evening once the heat has had time to be distracted.”

You feel the smooth motion of the van pulling away from the curb and AR visual displays of the exterior show you two inconspicuous sedans also pulling away and diverting in different directions – your decoys? The suspension on this thing is clearly better than the outside view would suggest as you barely feel anything from inside. Only the display screens give you a real impression of movement, otherwise you might still be sitting at the edge of the Dearborn.

“We appear to have a tail. Vehicle recog is ninety two point seven per cent certain that the jackrabbit indicated…” an ARO lights up Isaac’s car four or five vehicles behind you “has been following us for the past four point six minutes. Preparing to evade…”

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]

Ember watched the others as they dealt with the adrenalin let down. They were a professional group, even with Copperhead’s levity, and he was pleased that he had real runners backing him up…or rather be in this together, this was no longer his fight alone, that petit merde Teague had screwed them all.

He listened to Dealer’s plan and simply nodded to his appointed task on the astral. This one clearly did not like or trust mages but would not let it affect his work, for that he had Ember’s respect.

“We need to move quickly before Teague has a chance to reach this warehouse before us. Between Copperhead and I we can summon help to remain undetected and deal with the threat posed by the guards. Hopefully we can evade detection this time and avoid any more complications…

…now does anyone know how Teague found us? We attempted to wash our trail clear but if there’s something we’re missing we need to eliminate the risk or potentially face this all over again. He clearly has significant resources…suicide troops and spirit possessed snipers?”

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

"Mademoiselle Copperhead, you look lovely. If anything, it complements your backside quite nicely."

Listening to Aria talk about Teague, a thought occurs to Demon.

"Perhaps that question is not so difficult to answer. Knight Errant appears to be the reoccurring theme of our current pièce---I mean, play. Allanby called them at his office. They arrived at the hotel where we crossed paths with Gamma. Hansai works for them. Finally, they have now arrived at Madame Molly's establishment after Hansai's sword sounded its alarm. If this Teague has the resources to send a corporate hit squad against us, is it not possible that he has a mole in Knight Errant? If so, then so long as Monsieur Hansai carries his blade or anything else from his employer Teague will know where we are."

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]

<<@ Hansai (via giftlink, routing protocols set up to gift link only when talking with Hansai): Mr. Drake. I don't want to know the MCT politics behind all of this. I don't even want to know what other data is in this jackpoint behind the evidence. That's professional courtesy. I don't even mind if, at the end of the day, there's no exonerating evidence in this warehouse. I suspect, rather strongly, that though it may help put down our mutual enemy chances are there's never going to be a media blitz apologizing for the mistaken identity even if we do find perfect evidence. That's fine. I know you have many codes you need to fulfill as well, and that master-less men are not your first priority nor do they rate the bushido. But they are your ronin now, and they have taken heads, FOR YOU. Your seneschal there is likely brain dead - FOR YOU. Avenging the partner YOU didn't protect. If they die, it should be from enemies to their front. They deserve that much.

I have no talent for Japanese, though my linguasoft does, and poetry is never my strong suit:

Many houses stand
Duty for one may be many
Some thoughts flow freely

>>

Message completed, Dealer returned to the planning at hand. He, with more tact than usual, declined to comment on what layers of kevlar and ablative ceramics over dermal plating did to Copperhead's appearance. Namely, that short of some massive biosculpting, you could strip it bare or layer it with battleship armor - it was going to look the same.

"Demon, I was hoping there would be no shooting at all on this one. And if we need to seal any breaches, I'd prefer it was with their dead. No, I don't speak french, but once more into the breach translates without much thought. That said, if you want to be on the outside, I need someone to cover my back on the infil. Pixel, I'm thinking, is not well suited to a close range firefight. That leaves the two mages.

Say we set up the overwatch position with Demon, Pixel, and Ember, and I'll try to make the initial penetration. Once successful, I'll pull Copperhead along sicne she can at least use her magic to help hide us...can't believe I'm saying that...you guys keep our backsides clear by sabot, astral, and matrix. Still, no shooting till we have to on this one. We've already pissed off a lot of people tonight. Sound good?

Option two is we bring everyone in. Myself and Demon on point, the rest of you under the magic concealment. Gives us a little more oomph on the inside, but we'll be blind outside.

Pixel, you going to bring the van around up top? We're if not dying, at least bleeding, to see you. Actually, if you have a hack n crack tutorsoft, it would help greatly if you can't make it inside."

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 Molly's Panic Room]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon shrugs, "Dealer, I daresay whatever machinery you have had installed in you to make you move that fast has robbed you of your soul, or at least your sens de l'art. However, I will defer to mon frère Ember on this occasion. As personal as this danse macabre has become for us, it is even more intimate an entanglement for him. He turns to Ember with a sympathetic look on his face---and thoughts of the lovely Charlotte hopping aboard his train of thought.

"If you would have Teague's lèche-bottes wiped off the face of this earth, I will do it. However, I might need to make a few purchases first."

@Dysfunctional Family (Doza, Jotamon, Jamie & Isaac)
[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]

Jamie relaxes a moment once she gets in the stepvan. She breaks out the medkit and checks the boy over again. Hopefully, he’s not too hurt. While she’s plugs it in, she asks, “How’d we score an armored van with drone overwatch?”

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 24:00:00 The Drunken Drone]



Pixel raised a single eyebrow at that one and squeezed off a quick reply, keeping it as civil as she could. She's still got a job to do after all.

<<@Dealer: For someone whos face was just plastered over global news feeds, you're awefully inconsiderate of privacy matters. For that matter, I just expended a great deal more ammo then the lot of you combined, and put my brain on the line. Not to mention quite probably losing a second friend this evening already and almost a third. So I do hope you'll understand if I'm feeling somewhat cautious about physically associating myself too closely with your persons this evening.>>

"As far as the Knight Errant connection, I would agree there certainly seems to be a degree of influence there. Teague managed to frame you in thier eyes after all. I suspect your commlinks were tracked for the first firewatch raid that landed you on TV. The mess here at the Drone has me wondering about perhaps magical tracking? They obviously have someone throwing mojo for them."

She sits back in the bench and listens as Dealer lays out his ideas for entering the warehouse.

"hmpf, you're a bit off on my combat options. I should have Alpha back up and running at full capacity shortly. Though given his relative lethality, I think he's best held in reserve for a quiet entry attempt. As you'll recall I accounted for a good number of those goons before they stormed the place."

Checking the video feeds from news and a few cameras still functioning in the area shows plenty of KE personel still loitering around the Drunken Drone.

"I expect the cops will be busy upstairs for quite some time yet. If you boyos head out the escape route Molly suggested earlier I should be able to pick you up on the other end. No promises of comfortable seating however."

@I'm On A Boat!
[April 15th 2072; 23:48. 4000 meters off shore, Puget Sound]

Robert glanced up at the rapidly approaching ship. Better get to work. He closed his eyes, struggling to brush away the distractions of the "meat world" as the hackers liked to call it, and open his mind to the spirit world behind it. The suffuse false light of the gaiasphere illuminated the water's surface, the huddled bodies on both boats glimmering against their pale grey chariots, and a number of sparkling astral forms flitted about the skies.

He focused back on the real world, and rose to his feet. "Well, the good news is, the ship seems clear of any astral threats. The bad news: Knight Errant has a damned spiritual air force over on their side of that line. We need to be off that ship when it starts moving again."

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:05:00 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

<<Copperhead? It's Cutter. I'm OK. Slicer is in the hospital. Billy...well...Billy isn't OK. It was the Bloody Skulls. They had heard about the reward, and came to grab and torture us. I'm in hiding now. If you need to find me 'remember where your mum did her dirty laundry'. I'm throwing away the comm link after this. I warned Slater and he's gone into hiding too.

Your Mr Teague is a nasty piece of work. <Embedded link to similar stuff to that which Dealer got>. I heard he's just hired the Crimson Spike for a job in Tacoma, didn't get the details, but he paid well. Said there might be some Mafia involvement, but that he would pay the mob off. The have just detoured for a kebab at the Nippy Chippy. <Image of a couple of dozen bikers getting kebabs, and shooting drugs at a layby between the Barrens and Tacoma>. If you are in Tacoma I would get out.>>

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:05:00 The Seriously Smashed Drone]

There is dull clang as an armored metal fist slams into the wall. Copperhead's expression is one of fury mixed with sorrow. It takes her a long moment to get her cram-enhanced anger back under control. Finally she manages to grunt out a few words.

"Da Bloody Skulls hit da Crush' lookin fer us. Dey was gonna try and leverage a few of my chummers. Dey put one in da hospital an one in da morgue. Da rest either gone into hiding or are manning da barricades. Frag, dat's one more thing dis Teague gonna pay for."

She unclenches her hands and cricks her neck left and right as she slowly pulls herself back together.

"Worse. One of my buddies heard dat Teague hired da Crimson Spikes for a job in Tacoma. Check dis out: {image of a couple of dozen bikers getting kebabs, and shooting drugs at a layby between the Barrens and Tacoma} Aint dat where Allenby's warehouse is?"

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

<<[Encrypted message to Issac] I'm sorry something has come up. Can you detour and pick up some flowers when you come: Mum thinks that you are getting a little close and she's concerned that someone might object.>> Paranoid sometimes works and sometimes doesn't Jotamon thinks.Maybe that will be enough to get Issac to detour.

"We seem to be co-opted into your run, Doza, so do you want to fill us in on the details?" Jotamon asked. "Do you know who is trying to kill the boy and us?"

@SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:05:00 Panic Room]

<<@ Pixel: A valid point on the privacy. We haven't exactly been subtle. But you can understand how, after being on the receiving end of two full assaults now, nearly a third, both times when showing up at a spot, a little familiarity is appreciated. Logic dictates that since you were in the middle of the shooting, you weren't behind it, but there's something baseline reassuring about seeing the person your working with in a situation like this. Alright, we're headed up to the van. From what we just heard we don't have time to do this too clean. Any chance you can keep a tab on where that gang is at?>>

"Ah, everyone. We probably need to move before we see if we can add a street gang and the KE response to that to the night. Oh, to add to the fun, that warehouse? Definitely belongs to Two Toes. It'd be a hilarious parody of a mob name if he wasn't a vicious son of a bitch. Known for particularly gruesome revenge. All that classic mob movie drek. Except, you know, he's really still in power, at least until someone kills him. I don't have any one on speaking terms with the guy...he's shall we say, not all that big on open lines of communication between spheres of influence? Still, I wonder if he was really paid off or not. Be just like Teague to let these guys smash up the warehouse, then let the mob finish them off.

Also, no naked time. My handy trode net is informing me mm wave radar, in fact, goes through wifi inhibitor. I think it has a personality. I did my whole last run painted in the stuff and the knowsoft said frag all."

Dealer begins ascending to the surface, kit in hand, ready to make a quick rush to the van unobserved. As he climbs he mentions one other option:

"You know, the more I think about this, the more I think just killing Teague would solve a lot of this."

@ World - An Interlude
Same office, still downtown, SoyKaf #3

Max Greer was just finishing the parameters for the respirator deal, and by the numbers, he was going to make a killing. The Toxic Terror may be morally reprehensible, but damn he was good for business. It was yet to be seen how it would play out, but he had a good feeling on this one. More importantly, so did his boss. Which was important. He had spent a good deal of effort making sure that his idea floated harmlessly amongst senior management, so he was well positioned for credit. However, he let his boss take the reins in authorizing it, ostensibly so she could grab his limelight, but really because if it failed he would have top cover. Plus, he had already falsified a link conversation with a junior that would pin the blame on them for unethically greasing their numbers (in such a way that they looked real enough, and would only be found after a few days of checking), so his scape goat was lined up in both directions. It may have detracted slightly from work performance, but that's why you have junior staff, eh?

Still, best to keep morale up this late. Let them know they had done a good job. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to go to bed. Maybe even let everyone come in half an hour late tomorrow. He was just about to key the message out when the newest feed from the Drunken Drone kicked on.

Scratch the good news party. Back to work. At least this one was easier: cut some of the earlier footage of the bar front exploding under a hail of shots, splice it with the well demonstrated Firewatch advance..granted they hadn't actually been shooting or shot at, but that's what Light and Sound was for...mixed with the improbably attractive Ms. Woo, and KE and Brackhaven would both pay for that ad to run. Brave KE Firewatch, charging (unharmed of course) through a hail of fire as they performed with precision that showed them completely unfazed.

And if they didn't buy, hey Lonestar would definitely pay for the cut where it looked like Firewatch was cowering behind the trucks. Also, not strictly speaking, true...but since when was that an issue?

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

As Khalil surfed the digital sea he found a series of links between the dockworkers, their drones, and the deck ops node. << We have a tacnet running between all the workers and their metal brethren on the outside of the ship. I’m going to see if I can burn through their firewall and get an idea of what they’re tacnet can show us.>> Khalils matrix icon, a chaotic bush of fractals that would form in whatever tools his programs represented, turned a number of its edges into blade like arms as it began the process of slicing through the enemies defenses. As his conscious mind focused on the work at hand the back of his mind began to think of the moments before this job

----

“I can guide us just fine Silky. Best to have more eyes watching my back while mine are focused elsewhere so you can stick to the meat. Guess we’re having a show me yours I’ll show you mine moment eh? Alright well I’ve got an array of programs. Most one the edge of milspec while a few I sacrificed effectiveness for utility. I’m packing a modified Praetor for up close work loaded with explosive and taser rounds. Decentralized sounds good on me and I’ll take number nine. As for a plan I say I work on getting the security node. From their I should have eyes and ears all over the boat which will make finding the captain much easier. You guys will probably be doing most of the fighting if there is any but I’ll be ready to come in with support fire if you need it. If anyone else has more to say I’m all ears…”

----

Khalil could feel his arms shredding line after line of code and if one looked closely they could see a disconnected grin on the fractals ‘”face.” <<Should be through in a moment comrades. Give me a few more seconds….>>

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

Isaac nods and sends a message back to Jotamon <<Gotcha brother, I'll give you guys the slip. Just call me when you need back up ok?>>

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:05:00 The Seriously Smashed Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon walks over to Copperhead's side and places a slender, sympathetic hand upon her massive shoulder. For once, he makes a sincere and sterling effort to keep from slipping back into his native tongue.

"My lady, you have my sympathies for your loss and my weapons for your revenge. The shadows are a lonely place, making good friends worth more all the nuyen in this decrepit world. Those villains who steal them away through violence should be paid back in kind. The blood of these pig-dogs will be spilled, and I place my talents at your disposal if you would have them."

As Dealer offers his deux centimes on how to quickly end this increasingly morbid comedy of errors, a thought occurs to him.

Stories such as these are never sewn up cleanly. No matter the tailor, no matter the needle, there will always be frayed edges boasting stray threads that seek out and entangle its protagonists once more...

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:05:00 The Seriously Smashed Drone]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Marylin Monroe"]

Unsure how to respond to Demon's kind words, Copperhead reacts instinctively by wrapping her arms around him in a bone crushing hug. She releases him just as suddenly as she remembers his damaged ribs.

"Uh, sorry, um I mean thanks." she mumbles, looking suddenly very young and uncertain. "I, uh, I guess we should get going if we want to get dere before da Spikes."

She gives her gear a last check, quickly wiping tears from her eyes, before heading out after Dealer.

Frag, pull yourself together girl. Besides, he's not even your type.

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:12:00 Near Allanby's Warehouse, Tacoma]
The ride across town was...scary. There were more than the usual number of police drones, and even a roadblock. Pixel's aerial reconasiance had steered them around the worst of it. The rain was picking up, and as the team headed into Tacoma all they could see was the road, the wipers and street lights. At this time of night there was very little traffic.

Turning off the lights, the van was driven towards the warehouse furthest away from the one identified as Two Toe Tommy's place. An aerial scout by Pixel, and an astral scout by the Mages had confirmed that it's only occupants were some rats and couple of winos. The astral signature of the wino's was very weak, they didn't have long to live.

The timing had been fortunate and the two guard's with their dog were patrolling on the other side of Allanby's warehouse as the near silent and lightless black van slide into the warehouse yard: dodging broken bottles, disused BTL chip holders, and driving recklessly over discarded needles and used condoms. The warehouse door was locked with the simplest of padlocks. Without breaking into a sweat, the door was opened and the van slide inside.

Copperhead's feed of the Crimson Spikes showed that they had mostly finished their kebabs from the Nippy Chippy, but were having a bit of drug and BTL induced tussle over who got to carry tonight's victims. It looked like they had kidnapped two 18 year old girl, and were taking it in turns to terrify them. The girl's sobs could not be heard over the video feed, but the looks were heart-wrenching.

@ I'm On A Boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:48 SS Henry VIII 4000 meters off shore, Puget Sound]

As Khalil's avatar sliced through the code, parsing it and dicing it appropriately, the system's firewall grudgingly gave up its secrets. For a moment, Khalil was pinging an open port. Then he was in.


<<Welcome To Deck Net
Currently Subscribed (11x Cargo Users, 3x Senior Cargo Users, 3x Cargo Drones. 4x Maintenance Users, 2x Senior Maintenance Users. 2x Maintenance Drones..Select users for specific info)
Auto-Drainage is : off
Current tonnage on deck : 45,000
......
>>

The information rolled onwards, detailing bio data, maintenance status, stack balance, last time since inspection, mean time to failure estimates for various equipment, and substantially more. Despite being a massive network, the majority of the information was just that information and highlights useful for maintaining and balancing a cargo deck. The aspects of it used for crew interaction were, by tac net standards, rudimentary though the information would likely be of great use to the sailors during their daily work. With a User ID well in hand, this information was now piping into Khalil's link, ready for distribution to the rest of the team.

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:12:00 Near Allanby's Warehouse, Tacoma]

Dealer packed himself into the van next to the the bent form of the Renraku manservant, and let his legs sprawl across the floor, such as they could. His eyes, and his thoughts, flicked back and forth to the AR layout, his team mates, and the scene playing out at the Nippy Chippy. With the immediate flurry of action surrounding the firefight, recovery, impromptu planning session, and frantic search for information gone, the last traces of adrenalin drained away as the van moved to the next site. Muscles which had before been humming with tension and wires fell slack. Thoughts slowed down. The little aches and pains you didn't notice while engrossed started to come to the front.

Pixel. That was a surprise. I was thinking a dwarf. Wonder if she'll stay stable through this with Molly down. Probably. Either she's running on an even keel, or at least has the presence of mind to stay in the fight. Solid. Damn good too it seems. Slightly tetchy about the shooting thing...good sign I guess.

He glanced toward Copperhead, who's attempt to stuff into the van next to all the equipment would have been slightly comical in other circumstances. She didn't look happy

She's shook, but still standing. I think. Hope she see's that he friends died for that info, and doesn't waste it with blind vengeance. Can't really say that out loud though. Demon isn't helping matters either...both of them are going to be trigger happy. Not what we need right now.

Unless those boys in the Chippy get here. Then it might be exactly what we need.

That thought dragged his vision back to the feed playing in his contact lens. His fingers slowly rolled along the heatshields of the Ares Alpha as he watched the scene between the gangers and the kidnapped unfold.

I don't know who you are, you don't deserve it, and gods know I've done worse...but thank you. Thank you for the two minutes your about to buy. Thank you for the chance at life your giving us even as you give up yours. I won't make any melodramatic promises I know I can't keep, but thank you.

Dealer listened in silence for the rest of the ride, before willing his muscles and the ware beneath them back in to action as the van came to a halt.

Knock that melancholy drek off. Job to do. Snap into it. Drek like that will get you killed.

With a minor stretch, a last check on weapons, and making sure he wasn't emitting on anything other than pixel-net, Dealer got ready to go forth again. A simple declarative statement, without emotion, left his lips.

"Lets go."

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:12:00 Near Allanby's Warehouse, Tacoma]

Dealer surveyed the warehouse as the team began to disperse themselves out of the van. The precious commlink from earlier nearly got knocked out of the ManServants hands as the the runners got out. Dealer breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't. That information was going to come in handy when Pixel broke it.


Not a bad location. Plenty of good alleys and overhead cover for escaping on foot, be damned hard to follow by aerial drones, and anyone on bike or foot could be caught with some brutal ambushes in between the buildings.

Don't have an alternate exit route for the van if it comes to, but worst case, you can always buy another van. Or, if they're just gangers, that thing might be able to make it through the gunfire. Seemed to ride pretty heavy. Wouldn't want to bet against shaped charges or rocket launchers though. Or even an HMG with sabot.

A quick run through equipment. Best to take a little time to get it right up front.
Matrix black: check.
Ultrasound off: check.
Skinlink only enabled: Check.
Stealth rope: Check. Climbing gear and gecko gloves: Check, rappel gloves in right pocket.
Mag Passkey, Passkey Copier: Check.
Autopicker: Check.
Endoscopes: Check. Jammer: hope I don't need to set it active, but you never know.
Check. RF Scanner: On...tune it a little...and there we go.
Mini-mic: yep, taped to the endoscope.
Respirator: Still working, might need a new filter in a few weeks. Meh, even if it doesn't get used, it'll distort the facial dimensions for any future reocgnition software.
Ammo, grenades, rifle, taser - oh yeah.
What am I forgetting? Oh right: Spray bottle ammonia, spray bottle bleach, soft rag. Plastic baggies. Yep.
Ok, looks good, looks good...
Nearly forgot! Wirecutters...and the rubber handling is good. Alright then.
And this handy optical link from Hansai of course.


With his mental review complete, Dealer shifted the gear until it fit comfortably with the armor, and then dipped his hands in the cell glove maker. No fingerprints tonight. The latest Spike's victims had allowed the luxury of a thorough equipment check, but now it was time to go.

As team members moved to their positions, he picked a good potential hiding place. Looked like a rotted out dumpster with weeds growing in it. He turned to the readying group.

"I'm ready when you are. Just give the heads up when we're set to begin...so, final check, who's with me?"

A few careful bounds forward and he was ensconced. He fervently hoped that between the dumpster and the urban vegetation, he was obscured from the astral. He knew he was obscured from everything else, and began surveying the target area with an endoscope doing slow sweeps.

"Czzkt-All, Dealer, I'm at the jump off point. Tell me when we're good to go."

With that in mind, he started picking where he would breach the fence when the time came...

Guards other side of the warehouse. 5-6 minutes. Its a lifetime. Well, one way or another, you have the rest of your life to get this one right.

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:12:00 Near Allanby's Warehouse, Tacoma]

The Crimson Spikes lived up to their name. One of their more showy members manifested a cyber spur, and stabbed a second in the fleshy part of the leg. There was a lot of blood, and some of it sprayed across one of the kidnapped girls who screamed. The other Spikes laughed, clapped the winner on the back, and headed for their bikes, dragging the two girls with them.

Back at Allanby's warehouse there was silence. The two guards who patrolled with a dog were just coming level with the team. Their torchlight flashed casually around and the team moved on. To astral perception the dog was a serious menace. It loomed large with a fiery aura. Even on the physical world it looked fairly scary.

According to the video feed and the guard's records, their were three guards. One was in the building at the main desk, the other two patrolled. The job of the inside man was mainly to sound the alarm if anything happened.

Sadly Pixel was unable to locate any video feeds from inside the building, although a few cameras were located viewing North, East and South. The west looking camera, which faced Two Toe Tommy's warehouse was currently in need of repair.

According the map of the warehouse, there were three entrances. To the west was a large roller shutter door for allowing access to large lorries. To the south was the main customer way in, where the guard was located. To the east was a fire exit allowing emergency exit from the building.

Around the warehouse was a six foot tall chain link fence with three stands of barbed wire in most places on top of it. There was very poor lighting in the area, and with the pouring rain, the poor light became effectively pitch black.

The trip to the warehouse had been uncomfortable for Copperhead. The van wasn't outfitted for trolls and there was hardly enough room inside for the four of them to start with. She had tried to calm herself as Snake had taught her, but the combination of cramped space, cram high and the video feed of the Spikes had just kept her on the point of boiling over. She had fumbled through her medkit for something to ease her headache but the painkillers she had taken did not seem to be having much of an effect.

She unfolds out of the back of the van, her expression grim as she surveys the grimy interior of the abandoned warehouse. Just like home she quips unhappily to herself.

She peers through a hole in the wall, letting her eyes roll up as she reaches out with her senses. But apart from the hellhound on patrol, she does not see any watchers or other spirits.

"I don't see nuffin on da astral, but I ain't no sharp-eyed knife-ear either. Ember, best if you takes a look too"

She then retreats to a quiet corner of the building where she shuffles around in a circle, humming what sounds like a thrash metal tune, her body swaying almost drunkenly and her arms waving slowly back and forth. She pours her pain and anger into the summoning, not really what Snake likes, but it's all she can manage for now.

Mama Snake, I beseech your aid once more. Men are coming to prevent us from finding the knowledge we seek. They must not be allowed to destroy this information.

For a moment, a large glowing, golden serpent appears. Its coils are as thick as her arms and it is severel meters long. It hisses at the others from a fanged mouth, dripping with poison, then retreats back to the astral.

"Thank you Mama", she whispers, slumping for a moment against the wall before straightening up and joining the others. Behind the goggles and mask, her expression is impossible to read, but her posture is as taut as an overwound spring.

@ SuicideKings
[April 15th 2072; 24:12:00 Near Allanby's Warehouse, Tacoma]

Ember looked over his companions as they once more prepared to throw their lives into danger for an uncertain goal. Uncomfortably he itched at the stim patch over the artery in his throat…he would never get used to these damn things but he had to admit that in this instance the relief to his headache might be the difference between surviving this and not.

He reached out with his mind and summoned the twisting form of Gale from the ether…with Tempest so badly hurt in the last encounter he didn’t want to risk her again for a while and had released her with a service unused. In the van the bright haired warrior once more appeared surrounding Ember’s form and the heat of his summoning bathed the interior briefly. In the astral the maiden appeared beside him girded for war, her hair whipping in an undetectable breeze, wrapping itself around the bronze leaf bladed spear that she carried ready…

“We are ready”