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

It takes every ounce of willpower available to him for Demon to keep from gasping painfully in the troll's embrace. He takes solace in knowing that his gesture has offered some modicum of comfort to her, which is just fine for him. After all, how can he consider himself a master in woman-pleasing if he does not know how to address all of their needs? More importantly, though, he knows what it is like to lose a friend, and he means every word that he says to her.

Once free of Copperhead's amazonian bear-hug, he gives her a smart grin and lets her compose herself. He takes the opportunity to find a somewhat reflective surface and does his best to stylishly tousle his hair. He also rechecks his weapons, pops full APDS cartridges into his weapons, and replaces the Kompakt S he slid to Hansai in its concealed holster on his suit. He glances back momentarily to check on Copperhead and Ember to make sure they are all right. He decides to leave Pixel's automaton and Dealer be because he doubts he can read the hacker's emotions through her dinosaur puppet and Dealer does not seem the type to appreciate the gesture.

Once he is satisfied that they are all right, he hops up the tunnel and prepares the next adventure...

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

As Demon watches the Crimson Spikes' atrocité play over Copperhead's feed, his eyes grow dark and he clenches his gloved fist as waves of white-hot rage erupt from his soul. Being brothel-born means that most of your childhood friends are sœurs de la nuit, and most had grown up to go from street rat to street walker. As a result, more than a few had fallen victim to monstres who sought a sadistic form of pleasure from the flesh. The feed painfully digs up the memories of his dead friends.

Claudette, Eveline, and gentle Ninette...

When the saleté spike the girls' legs, a whispered storm of incoherent French curses whips from his lips. Ninette had fallen pray to a similar gang of écume. He had found what was left of her when he went to visit her flat. His childhood friend was gone, with only a crimson stain of pain and gore left in her place. He had taken it upon himself to seek justice in her name, knowing the police would not give a whit for her disappearance. In a world where even talented SINners were treated as fungible commodities, no one could care about the murder of a SINless slum whore. When he found the devils responsible for her death, he made sure to visit a similar level of brutality upon them.

While he does not kill for pleasure, he does kill for revenge.

I will find a way to free you, either from their clutches or from the need for justice. You have my word as a gentleman.

And I never break my word...

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

Silk steadied herself against the rocking of the boat as the slid alongside the wall of metal that was the hull of this monstrosity. This close the waves slapping against the side would easily hide any minor sounds the boat made as the bow thrusters kept it close in so that they could climb aboard.

Stretching out her magic she felt the patterns aligning and with a boost of strength she was rapidly ascending…all the while fighting the wind that threatened to tip her off and into the murky waters below. Her ruthenium camouflage picked out every rusty rivet and paint chip as her muffled shape climbed on. As she neared the gunwale she reached behind her and thrust her flyspy into the air…its tiny motor struggled for a moment and then with barely a whisper of sound it accelerated up to give her eyes on the deck…

@Dysfunctional Family (Doza, Jotamon, Jamie & Isaac)
[April 15th, 2072 11:01am; Downtown Seattle]

“It appears that our tail has broken off. I am running analysis on all following vehicles and using evasion protocols but we seem to be clean”

The van rumbles quietly on and Jamie looks increasingly anxious as she evidently is receiving messages…

“I’m sorry, we appear to be out of immediate danger and I think I’d like you to drop me off here. You two already know each other and this really isn’t my fight, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time…I am sorry, I hope you make it through this…”

One of the drones in the front turns back to you…

“There is a transport hub at the next intersection. Will that suffice?”

“Yes, thank you. Good luck to you all. You’ve got my ‘link if you need me again…”

…and with that she is gone, out into the Seattle drizzle and hopefully out of whatever danger this kid has managed to land you in.

“I am receiving an encrypted message from Mr Johnson requesting a virtual meeting at a neutral location. A private meeting node on the ShadowSEA is suggested if that is acceptable?”

@Dysfunctional Family
[April 15th 2072; 11:01am; Downtown Seattle]

"Farewell Jamie. Good Luck" Jotamon says.

To the robots: "I would like very much to meet Mr Johnson, and a virtual location is fully acceptable".

"Quiet, huh?" grumbles Copperhead. "Not exactly mah strong suit."

She carefully slings the Enfield on it's strap so it won't bump or make too much noise and draws what looks like a length of metal pipe from a long pocket on her leg. With what is obviously a carefully practised but surprisingly flashy move, she extends the folding staff out to it's full 2.5 m length with a soft 'snick-snack' sound.

Sspirit, lend me your sspeed and guard uss from other sspiritss of your realm.

She nods to Dealer and Demon. "I gots yer backs, but I'll hang back a bit so I don't give youz away."

@SuicideKings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]

<<Dealer: Zhukov here. Ingelmann was asking awkward questions and talking to the wrong people. I've taken him down, and am leaving town for a well deserved vacation. You're hot now: too hot. This number won't work for you any more>>

[April 15th 2072; 00:05:00 KMGG, 24 hours a day live Music news.]
... In an unprecedented announcement the Concrete Spectres have declared that they will hold a press breakfast. Their new manager Jonathan Teague, and all four spectres will explain their plans for the future. Rumours have it that there will be a surprise charity gig this very evening!

Our reported Felicity Townsend will be at the champaign breakfast 08:00 at the club penumbra!

And now for a ticket for two at this surprise charity gig, all you have to do is answer this simple question: Where was the notorious terrorist Demon born: a) England. b) France. c) Seattle. Send a message to #1-555-12345. Remember calls cost 1 nuyen each! We return you to ...

@Suicide Kings
[April 15th 2072; 24:12:00 Allanby's Warehouse Door, Tacoma]

Dealer finishes scanning the area, and creeps forward from his hiding spot after the guards have begun their long loop around the far side. Usually he would crawl the approach to the fence, but with the only guards out of sight, pouring rain, and the camera's scan pattern pre-loaded into his link from Pixel's earlier downloads, a few judicious rushes get him there much faster.

He inspects the fence carefully, looking for any sign of an alarm system as he reaches for the wirecutters. They only make it halfway out before he drops them back into his cargo pocket. Someone has come in this way before, and left the fence weakly glued back together.

Very professional. We can't spare the time for it ourselves unfortunately.

With a few quick pushes the wire gives way, and opens up a hole large enough for them to slip through. Dealer particularly appreciates how the dried bonding agent removes a bit of the sharpness from the cut wire. Kevlar fibers would be the least of the evidence he has left behind tonight, but it helps keep the chamo suit from scratching as well.

Less of a chance that fragging jagnormous staff Copperhead is carrying will catch. I hope.

Dealer slips through to the far side, and finds a final piece of cover about 20 meters from the door. He considers a hand signal, but realizes between the rain and his own chameleon suit it would be wasted. He turns toward the group and exposes his mouth 3 times in quick succession, letting them know he is through by virtue of this small thermal signature. As he covers up, dampeners kick back in and Dealer fades back into the night. He waits for the other runners to catch up, forcing himself to practice patience as they slide forward.

Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.

Once they're set, he begins his final approach on the door. Most of the time, stealth is no particular skill. It is merely the trained willingness to stay very still, move much slower than you want to, avoiding garish colors, and trying very hard to keep something between you and people who might be watching. This is not one of those times. This is a time for very well timed, technical, precise bursts of speed. By the time he reaches the door, Dealer's lips are quivering from the mental exertion involved.

The door itself is not particularly challenging. The alarm is quickly and expeditiously disabled, and the lock is, for all intents and purposes non-existent. Still, there's no sense in rushing to failure. Dealer takes a few seconds to let his RF scanner get to work. The results are interesting in several senses of the word. For one, there is almost no electronic background in the warehouse. For another, there is some sort of major node work going on inside. Which must be relaying through the repeater on the retrans on the roof. Besides the fact that the guard has some clearly kinky fetishes, the interesting part of the guard's PAN is the fact that if he's watching a horse, a dwarf, and an elf break previously unknown taboos, then he a) hasn't seen the team, and b) doesn't know someone is working the node inside. C) Hound security has very lax employee policies, is pretty unlikely.

Despite his temptation to relay the scene to Demon with a snarky comment about the French, Dealer flicks his RF scanner off shortly after.

Very carefully Dealer runs an Endoscope under the door, the world of tinted orange flooding his contact lens as he scans the inside of the warehouse with thermals. It looks clear all around, except for one camera gecko-clamped to the wall.

Very nice piece of hardware there. Professional. Too nice for this place with a cheap alarm. Gecko-clamps aren't exactly the choice of architects either. Clipped and glued fence. Expensive hardware near a large file upload through a low power repeater. Very expensive, temporary camera which didn't show up on RF, and clearly isn't wired into the wall. This is not good.

He decides to risk a transmission and subvocalizes to himself:

"Czzkt - Guys. Someone got here before us. Someones, actually. They are very good, very expensive, and very much inside hacking our target right now. We probably want to recheck the roof too."

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

Khalil grinned as the data opened up before him and piped it to all those subscribed to Silks tacnet. <<You can never say I didn't produce the goods. Alright, the location of all those on the deck should be appearing in front of you now. I can't promise everyone is subscribed to it but for safeties sake I think it's an educated guess that most are. Be careful in there and good hunting.>>

As the others began their assault on the boat Khalil made sure he would make this job a bit easier on himself and set out to disable the Analyze on the Deck Ops node. If this was done correctly he should be able to sit back and enjoy his time as over watch.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon stays uncharacteristically quiet as he leaves the van and prepares to investigate Allanby's warehouse. He slips the respirator back on before pulling the mask of his chameleon suit over his face. He draws upon his sense of professionalism to collect his emotions and file them away for later. First things first: investigate the warehouse---which is most likely a trap given the group's current run of chance lamentable. Afterwards, he would find the Crimson Spikes and expunge them from existence. As an afterthought, he checks his canisters of Breathtaker, and he begins to compose a draft of an appropriate pièce de la vengeance.

He slips out of the van, nods silently to Copperhead and decides to place himself between Dealer and Copperhead. This way, he can move quickly to assist either of them if something should happen. When they reach the door, he lets Dealer go first. He draws his sniper rifle and takes cover, preparing for the worst while hoping for the best...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon mentally snaps his fingers, realizing that hiding behind a bunch of boxes outside of the warehouse door is a poor use of his skillset. He remembers how effective his belle homologue d'entreprise was on the rooftop back at the Drunken Drone, and decides to do the same thing.

He places a gentle hand on Copperhead's shoulder to get her attention and then gestures that he is going up towards the rooftop. Silently, he slips off into the night and dexterously climbs upon the warehouse roof. He settles down upon the roof, finding a good point of cover. He drops his smartpack next to him out of sight, and then takes a moment to survey his surroundings for les mauvaises surprises.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Marylin Monroe"]

Copperhead is pondering just how she is going to get through the hole in the fence when Demon taps her on the shoulder and points up. She nods and watches him for a moment until he disappears into the rain. She then carefully and quietly folds her staff and puts it away.

Not like I dont have other options, she thinks with a feral grin.

Then, clutching the shotgun to her chest and with a little help from the golden spirit, she slithers with a snakelike grace under the fence and takes up a position covering the door. She checks her equipment, her hand running over the pocket with the cram autoinjectors and the handful of stim patches she had scooped up at Molly's. She had heard stories that early stims had some really nasty side-effects on awakened, but Lenny had told her the new ones were better. Still, she could almost hear Snake hissing dissaprovingly in her head.

Maybe this run will go smooth and I can get through it without taking any more drugs.

Then she receives Dealer's message.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]

Dealer glances at Copperhead shortly after his transmission. Still alive. Then he glances back to the sports warehouse.

If they're here..and they have a repeater on the roof...then they have someone on the roof. Oh drek. Demon.

There's a reason that "the sniper on the roof" shows up in vids, but very rarely in reality. A roof is an incredibly exposed position. You can be seen from nearly 360 degrees in the horizontal, there's rarely cover, anything overhead will pick you out (and people lying on roofs are probably not up to anything good), and the natural break of a roof means you are going to skyline...no backdrop means the metahuman eye will distinguish that "something" is causing a break in pattern.

The only advantages are that people don't look up much, your covered from observation from the immediate base of the building. and your own field of view is excellent. For plinking unsuspecting civilians, or making sure you get that shot, or just needing to see every freaking thing in the area better than a high window or mousehole, roofs work stellar. Against an active foe however, roofs are where you go to die.

Demon took a gamble on that one. Lets hope it pays off. If he goes down, we can't pull back or we'll get butchered on the way out. Option 1: Demon kills them on the roof. They notice. They either go out the backside, or come out this way. Worst case: they try to come out this way in a hail of fire. Not a good place to be right here. Option 2: They kill demon. they know the gig is up and start checking out whats up. Here is still not a good place to be. That leaves go through the door fast and hard, shoot the guy at the node, or go up the fire escape and sweep the roof. Don't know how many are inside. Roof team won't be large. Fire escape lets me use the lip of the roof as good natural cover, they're exposed up top. Fire escape it is...come'on, Pixel or Demon, send good news...if you remember I'm off that electric blaring bugaloo called a tacnet. I bet my message buffe ris overflowing...

Thoughts in mind, Dealer begins surveying the fire escape for potential alarms and moving quietly upward, inwardly hoping that Demon is covering him and that Copperhead figures it out. His rifle stays tucked to his shoulder, searching for a target at the top of the ascent, ready to bring a good sight picture up at a moment's notice...

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

The Deck Ops node was not, by any stretch of the imagination, the best of the best that the programming world had to offer. While it had some reasonably good security compared to your average commercial node, Khalil knew from his relative ease in entering the firewall that it wasn't exactly SOTA. The Node's user ID, security, and credentialing programs were relatively easy meat, and began to rapidly collapse one by one before the combination of Khalil's skill and near cutting edge code.

However, the cargo-load credentialing program was not a standard Analyze. It was, comparatively, rare software...more through lack of users than efficiency or power. One packet that shouldn't have bounced back to a query, and found that it was responding to input from cargo that didn't exist. The program itself sent an alert up about a potential deckweight error, and proceeded to list the bottom connex of one of the stacks as not actually being there, with a small warning that this would likely cause the stack to fall, and reduce fuel efficiency by .5% due to poor aerodynamics.

Then it entered a circular reference, tried to divide by zero to account for the fact the bottom connex was, in reality, quite heavy and still applying weight to the scales, and froze completely. Deck-net seemed to chug for a moment, and Khalil knew in his bowels that someone would notice the issue any moment now if he didn't act fast...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:00; On top of abandoned warehouse East of Allanby's warehouse]

As Demon head's up to the roof of the warehouse, he breaths a sigh of relief that it isn't a flat one that would make it lethal to approach if there were any observers around.

Inching his way over the edge, he pauses as soon as he is away from the edge, crouching in damp slime that the endless rain is making even more unpleasant and slippy. Although he is mainly concerned about Allanby's warehouse, he checks his six. All clear. Some instinct prompts him to check it again, and he peers into the rain. Is that... he squints harder Yes it is.. Demon could just make out a blurry translucent shape outlined in the red. Bringing his rifle slowly, carefully and silently around, he peers through the scope.

!WHOOSH!!

A jet of flame errupts vertically into the air from the figure, the exhaust trail from a LAW fired vertically down. In the illumination caused by the sudden flames, Demon could just see an impromptu hole in the roof that the figure had created and fired a rocket down...to the van below. The van that Pixel and Ember were in.

!!BOOM!!

The explosion from below rocked the roof, and Demon struggled to keep his balance. The figure that fired the LAW was knocked prone into one of the gullies of the roof, the warehouse doors already on shacky hinges exploded out, and a ball of fire erupted out of the impromptu trap door.

[April 15th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]
Dealer was half way up the fire escape when the explosion happened. The alarms from the warehouse sounded, as did the alarms from all the warehouses around, and especially the car alarms in Two Toe Tommy's warehouse.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]

Dealer is spiralling the fire escape upwards when the warehouse to the east is rocked by an explosion. The pouring rain diffracts the orange of the fireball into a thousand points of light as it blows outwards. The flare compensation in his lenses struggles for a fraction of a second to prevent it from overwhelming his vision, and then does its best to erase the after-vision. Despite the distance and the rain, the detonation is till more than loud enough to cause aural dampeners to kick in.

krump-BOOOM!, the distinctive two part sound of a warhead going off, and then the secondary effects caused by said warhead. And there was only one thing in that warehouse that had enough fuel, explosives, and god-knows-what else to cause a fireball like that. Two, maybe, if the warehouse had a gas main, but the fact it was still standing counted that one out.

Pixel and Ember. Drek. AMBUSH!

Sometime later, the thought would come around that without a hacker, hacking this warehouse would be very difficult. Sometime later, the fact that his custom "sports" rifle, submachinegun, quite a bit of ammo, his actioneer business clothes, and innumerable odds and ends were now scrap metal inside the van would also be a problem - carrying all that on your back is a quick way to make getting into places very, very difficult. Sometime much later, if he lived, the extreme unlikelihood that a stealthy infiltrating group had decided to use an anti-armor weapon, and that it wa sin just the right place at just the right time, would probably cause some very serious questions about who kept setting them up. But for right now, all of that was in the future:Dealer was much more concerned about living through the next three seconds...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]

Copperhead drops flat at a hissed warning from Snake. Then the night lights up with the orange glow of the explosion and debris rains down around her. While the goggles do a good job of compensating for the light, all she can see from the direction of the warehouse is heat. Her goggles also show that the tacnet just went down and that Pixel's icon was offline.

Frag me, Pixel and Ember were in there.

She fumbles one of the stim patches out her pocket and slaps it against her neck. Forgive me Mama, but I am no use to you dead.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

As he quickly recovers his balance, two thoughts race through Demon's mind. The first is fear for the lives of his friends down below. The second is how he is going to make sure that this perfidious pustule is properly popped. He squeezes the trigger on Arc d'Morte twice, hears the muted twang of the sniper rifle's retorts, and follows the path of his salvos as they scream silently towards their target...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th, 2072 00:05:00 - 02; Allanby's warehouse]

Dealer begins sprinting up the fire escape as the overpressure from the explosion dissipates into the night. His only thought is to get off of this deathtrap of a fire escape before someone spots him and rakes the exposed iron with gunfire. He can go down, or he can go up. The guards, the open area in front of the door, and likely some pissed off runners are "down." A roof, with all the bad things that implies, is up. But there's probably not many people on the roof, and there is definitely something that can be hacked on the roof. His legs continue to flash out, artificially evolved muscles eating up the stairs in a flash.

As he runs he mentally flicks his link on and back to skin, just long enough to catch an update and let his inbox fill up. There's something from Zhukov that he'll read later. More pressing is the lack of a tacnet. Pixel is no longer on the Suicide Kings subscription either. However, she did send a simple Hacker 101 tutorsoft sometime before she died.

She's dead. Damn it. Wonder if that tutorsoft was her last act. Ember is still alive, apparently.

As the link flashes back to skinlink only, Dealer pulls on some gecko skin gloves and nears the top of the fire escape. He picks out a likely series of holds and lets his ware hurl him upwards. Within moments, hard learned climbing skills are in play, and he is nearly at the top of the building. He pulls upwards and gives a quick scan of the roof. There is something that looks like a bush splayed out on the roof in front of him.

Plants that big don't grow on warehouse roofs, fragger

Dealer is already swinging to the side and hooking his foot when the first burst of submachinegun fire explodes outwards, pierce the space his head used to occupy. The shooter is already beginning to track for another shot, thinking to simply saturate the area, leaving nowhere Dealer can be and still get up.

She didn't count on a formidable combination of ware and practiced urban gymnastics. By the time she fires, Dealer is executing what would be a text book ankle hang off the lip of the building, only the textbooks don't cover doing it while being sprayed with automatic weapons while hanging 20 feet off the ground by a rain slicked piece of lowest-bidder construction. The bullets chop through the air where, by any sane measure, Dealer's body should be.

It probably comes as a surprise when Dealer levers himself back over the edge and onto the roof using only his calves. The long stream of sabot fired at brutally close range is probably a bigger one - but only for the fleeting second before all six rounds slam through the shooter's armor and eviscerate her. Her mouth opens to scream, but all that bubbles out is richly oxygenated blood, and then she collapses and begins to slide down the roof.

The silence of the gunfire and her death plays an ironic counterpoint to the fading echo of the earlier explosion. If everyone on the roofs tonight is professional, the entire thing might consist of little more than silenced gunfire, silent deaths, and silent commands echoing from subvocal mics and commlinks. Entire teams could fight to the death on the roof, and if no one looked up to see the muffled muzzle flashes, they would never know.

Dealer is at a peak pitch right now, wires, muscles, and mind moving together in a silently vibrating blur, adrenalin and stimpatch drugs runnign through his system and boosting already impossibly fast reactions. He is already turning for the next part of this deadly quiet rooftop ballet.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th, 2072 00:05:00 - 02; Allanby's warehouse]

A burst of automatic fire draws Copperhead's head up to the fire escape, where she sees Dealer hanging upside down by one leg.

Not good she thinks, realising her headache is gone.

Spirit, to the roof. Deal with whoever is trying to hurt my friend. Permanently, please.

A tinkling sound like laughter, more felt than heard, reaches her ears as she commands the beast spirit to perform just the sort of task it eagerly desires.

She risks a glance at the abandoned warehouse but it's still too hot to make anything out, so she settles herself behind the crates, readying the Enfield, just in case the guards show up with the awakened dog.

<<Ember, Pixel can youz hear me! Please respond!>>

There is a knot growing in her stomach that, fuelled by the cram in her system, is slowly twisting into rage.

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

The waves and the wind make the stealth rope ladders a hard climb; the ever present fear of detection makes it a harder one. The ladders bounce off the hull in a regular rhythm, causing runners to pause and pray that no one can hear as their bodies make dull thuds against the ship. Silk is the first up the ladder, her form nigh invisible against the hull as she scrambles upwards.

The deck ops feed from Khalil informs the team of an approaching crewman <<Yeoman, 2nd class>> , who seems to be migrating slowly towards the ladder. For a tense moment, there is no information. Then Silk's fly spy crests the top is it apparent what is happening: the man is disposing of a cigarette. He pauses, looks out over the water, and flicks the still lit stub into the ocean.

The glowing orange ember trace's an arc through the night, barely missing Silk's shoulder, and then expires in the black waters below. The crewman heads inside, and in a few more seconds Silk clears the gunwales unobserved.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:00; Allanby's warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon rolls his eyes as he watches Dealer clamber on up towards the roof. For someone who supposedly specializes at infiltrating, he spends an awful amount of time meddling, especially when we're in the middle of an operation with a mortally unforgiving deadline. When the shooters on the roof pop up and spray hot lead at Dealer's face, he begins to assess the situation in an pragmatic state.

The easiest thing to do would be to toss a frag grenade at the enemies...

However, when a massive, monstrous spirit smashes down upon the voyous, his mind switches gears.

Problem solved. Well done, Copperhead.

He then turns his attention to far more pressing matters.

<<@ Group: Ember and Pixel, please respond! A shooter on the roof fired a LAW at the van! I could not get a shot off in time to stop her, but as God as my witness, I will get you out of there if you are alive! Please respond!>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:03; Allanby's warehouse]

Dealer begins to track the second ghillie'd figure with his rifle, knowing that he who shoots first will probably shoot last. As he begins to line up the shot, a small timestamp in the smartgun flicks to 16 APR 72. Even in the middle of a firefight his mind flicks to that.

Wonder why it kept displaying 15th until 0005?

It is just enough distraction for him to notice a beast spirit hurdling towards the Ghillie as well. As much as he'd like to, simply hosing the Ghillie and the spirit was a huge burst would probably not achieve the effects he was looking for. Besides, there were already enough people trying to kill him tonight. He adjusts his aim upward towards the suited figure's head, making sure to keep his grouping tight and clear the avenue the beast spirit is using to attack.

Then he fires, twice.

The second ghillie is wearing light military armor, and has a layer of ballistic ghillie around her. In the eternal race of arms vs armor, its doing pretty well. Even the famous ruger superwarhawk would have trouble punching through with a standard round, and it could probably take a point blank burst from an UZI IV with the occupant coming out with nothing but bruises. Unfortunately for the second shooter, tungsten cored sabot was designed to counter just such defenses. Even though only four of them make it through, that is more than enough to cause a sucking chest wound. Death would be a long time coming, if the beast spirit didn't descend upon the bloodied sniper and finish the job.

Hope that takes care of that - drek, if that 1st body falls off, the guards will be looking this way...oh good, it stopped sliding. A quick check for others. Where there's one, there's two. Where there's two, there's more.

@Dysfunctional Family
[April 15th 2072; 11:01am; Downtown Seattle]

As Jotamon wishes Jamie luck, Doza raises her hand in both salute and farewell.
"Safe running" she says as Jamie jumps from the van.

She then turns to the drone driver and nods, "Let's set up the meet asap, virtual is fine with me too. I have a few questions I'd like answering"
With that, still cradling her gun, she settles back into the seat, glad it actually fits her large frame.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 15th, 2072 00:05:03; Allanby's warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Marylin Monroe"]

The seconds tick by slowly with no response from the rest of the team. Copperhead keeps the gun's barrel trained on the corner of building where the guards were last seen. When they do appear, the guards are distracted by the flames and rounds cooking off from the ammo in the van. The hellhound however, is not. It's nose comes up and eyes locks on the troll mage standing in the shadows.

The shotgun barks twice, the heavy slugs knocking the big doglike creature down. It gives a surprised whimper and falls stil.

Swinging the gun towards the security guards, she barks, "Hands up, or I put youz down like da hound!"

She is somewhat surprised when the guards both put up their hands. She hesitates a moment, then quickly recovers.

She gestures with the gun, indicating where she wants them. "Against da wall. Youz know da routine.".

When they comply to her second demand, she is even more surpised. But she still has the presence of mind to disarm the pair, cuff them, then zap them both unconscious with a few not so gentle taps from her stun gloves.

<<Da hellhound is dead and da two guards on patrol is dealt with. We need to get da frag outta here.>> She punctuates her statement by giving one of the downed guards a swift kick in the ribs. It's a little callous perhaps, but it does make her feel better.

Misstress, the empty one is sssafe. I sstand ready for your further assisstance hums a voice in her head.

She breathes a small sigh of relief, tinged with sadness as she glances at the burning warehouse. <<Demon, you still with us?>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th, 2072 00:05:03; Allanby's warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

<<I'm still here, Copperhead. Just doing my best to find that whinging little shit who shot off the LAW. I saw her go down after firing a bullet into her, but with our luck tonight she probably just slipped from the rain and fell on her ass. Any word from our friends inside?>>

Whoever you are---even if you are the vixen who shot me once this evening---I promise that you will rue the day you pulled that trigger before I let the hells have at you.

He scans the area where he saw the shooter fell, digital readouts highlighting the area with data from his smartgun system. He picks the most likely spot where she would be, and squeezes the trigger again. A second pair of muted twangs thrum from the silenced rifle.

"Czzkt - I've got two shooters dead up here, ghillie suits, mil armor, assault rifles. Copper, that spirit of yours ate the last one's liver or something after she went down. Very messy. One of them was looking through a fiber. Tommy's boys are acting unnaturally deliberate over on their side, and there's an alarm going off. We probably have a minute before they come on over and trigger the Hound response. "

Hmm. More dead female snipers. Either we ran into the Amazon Brigade tonight, or Teague likes his femees fatale. I suppose their death's play better for the media if they fail.

Dealer sets an internal counter for 60 seconds, rifles one of the shooters' commlinks, pops the battery out, and saves it for exploitation later. His gecko gloves yank aside her face mask, and he records what image he can from her face. Then he turns his eye to the fiber for a few seconds.

<<48>>

"Czzkt. Shooters were looking at an RV set up for living in the middle of the warehouse. Going to take a closer look. Sending down a spy fly. If we need to get in, the door is open for you, Copperhead, and I can cover it from a skylight. ---break--- Czzkt. Also, there's a repeater up here, I'm going to try to hack it with a tutorsoft Pixel sent and some of Molly's programs. I think pixel's dead. How's everyone else? "

Assault team, Molly, shooters, Pixel, maybe Ember. Tonight alone. You can say this for Dealer: people seem to die around him, though not always the ones you would want to.

Dealer pops out and turns on his spy fly, then sets to some simple commands. It will be a, no pun intended, fly on the wall inside the warehouse for the rest of the team. As an afterthought, he restricts it to sending burst transmission every 5-7 seconds instead of constant broadcast. Six careful seconds with a glass cutter and gecko gloves, and small hole is open for entry from the nearest skylight.

<<39>>

He throws the fly spy through and then begins moving to the repeater. Upon arrival He presses himself flat against the slope of the roof, and begins to listen to the cheerful Cupcake based tutorsoft.

Uh-huh. "Make sure Hidden Hands V1.6 is running". Got it. Connect this plug to that line...:Select the Exploit program from the HackMaster Special start file"...click run...right...okay, yes, no, wait, go back. Right. Got it. "Crash the Analyze program with BlinderWorm 2072". I think that worked. Maybe? 'Have your Icon Attach Delicious Frosting to the Cupcake." What? "This is a sniffer program" - that makes more sense - so, according to this, we should be good...right? Oh, I suppose I should be searching the node too...well, just follow the helpful wand then...

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15 The Warehouse East of Allanby's]

Demon fires a few more round's after the wielder of the LAW, but there were no satisfying screams, or thumps. The sniper rifle smashed several holes in the already battered roof of the Sport's warehouse. Flames were already pouring out of the hole the shooter had made earlier

!BOOM! !BOOM! !Zing!

The sound of grenades going off in the fire was deafening. Shrapnel erupted out of the hole, and the roof began to collapse. At the same time Demon became aware that he had been hit twice by richochets from bullets that were bouncing off his armor.

[April 15th 2072; 00:05:15 Allanby's warehouse]
The guard's collapsed under Copperhead's gentle administrations.

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15 Allanby's Warehouse]

Dealer proceeded to bungle and softly curse his way through the Pixel-Special hacking tutorial. Besides the fact that his AR interface will take god knows how much time to have all the icons reverted from wands, cupcakes, and cutesy cartoon characters, he is not very good at it. Frankly, Molly's programs are doing most of the work, Dealer is just mentally clicking the little "ok" buttons as they show up. It is, after the adrenalin rush of a roofborne-gymnastics-filled-victory-or-death firefight, incredibly urbane and frustrating. The fact that 100m to his east most of the ammo and grenades he took from Molly's are cooking off with a periodic bang doesn't help any, especially not in the middle of having to have his icon bite the cherry off the stem to do...something.

"Czzkt - Demon, Copper, Tommy's boys are starting to move your way. Somebody is trying to copy and send a ton of information from the RV in there. I'm through the firewall, and I've got a sniffer on it, but who fraggin knows if they figured it out. I haven't heard from Ember in there either. I'm not optimistic, but he was in one of those cocoons...ok, I'm through, we got the stuff we need. We need to get the frag out though. I'm thinking north, throw some smoke to the south to get the goons looking that way. Ideas?"

Besides hiring a new hacker.

ZING!

Drek. And whats this about "I'm coming for you next Dealer?" Clever little program. But maybe I should, you know, disconnect, just in case, now that I have the data.

Dealer does just that, recalls his spyfly, and decides to slip over a bit on the roof. Just in case. Then its back to skinlink.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15 The Warehouse East of Allanby's]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

What the hell? Demon thinks to himself as something hard and solid catches him wickedly in his recently repaired rib cage. He then realizes what happened. A combination of his aural dampeners and a thirst for revanche had kept him from realizing that the LAW-induced fire is currently cooking off all of the ammunition his companions had left in the van. Rather than stay and get shot to death by a fully-armed fire, he decides to bug out. He grabs his smartpack and heads for the quickest and safest way off the roof that puts him near his friends...

[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15 KLX Matrix show]
"...And tonight we see especially heavy betting on the death lottery. Say John, what do the figures tell us?". <Cut to respectable salt and pepper haired statistician> "Well Jacklyn, it all depends on whether or not there is another fight with Gamma's terrorist group. The usual nightly figures are all skewed by the two fights already seen. Over 100 deaths at the Jucy Lucy and 30 at the Drunken Drone. All of you out there betting on an average night of between 4 and 15 and going to loose a lot of money..."

[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15, KMGG, 24 hours a day live Music news]
"...And now we announce the WINNNERRR of the ticket for two to the unexpected charity gig tomorrow. Let's here it for Debby from Greenwood." <Canned Applause>. "Of course the real question everyone is asking is what will the Concrete Spectres announce tomorrow at their breakfast with their new manager: Mr Teague. We have an exclusive interview from his house at Vashon Heights."

"Thank you, Thank you. Yes I was surprised to hear that I was named the sole beneficiary in Mr Allanby's will. We have of course worked together for many years, and I have nothing but praise for his professional behavior and incredible skill. I will of course..."

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15 Allanby's Warehouse]

Files zipped across Dealer's vision as he completed his first ever successful hack. By Pixel's standards, it would have been undoubtedly sloppy and slow, but it worked. Kind of. As he watched files count backwards, the dawning realization hit him that he had hit the transmitter too late. It was uploading in reverse. And the first dates coming across his AR said April 2nd. Anything which exonerated the others was going to need to be later. And since that was the only way the heat was coming off him, the decision more or less made itself.

"Czzkt - guys, broke the system too late. I'm getting his files from 02 APR and earlier. We need later. We need to go in and retrieve hard copy OSDs. The eats door is camera'd probably by whoever is in there. I'm bursting what I have so far and the the access code for the fly spy feed thats about to come up. Copperhead, could use some astral in here, and, worst comes to worst, the eats door is not alarmed anymore, so we only have to worry about the other runners inside. Come in hard if I start screaming or something. Demon, you still out there? We may need a few people to take one to the head if they get too interested in whats going on inside...still now word from Ember?"

Dealer finds a suitable protrusion and ties off a good length of stealth rope to it securely. Then he secures his rifle tightly across his back, pops out a D-Ring and hooks in.

1-2, me and you, 3-4, out the door...or down the warehouse, as it were...

Some quick work with a glasscutter and he has a way in. Fly-spy goes first, then a final scan with the endoscope just in case diving head first down a repel line with taser in hand is a really bad idea...

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

Robert stared up at the ladder. No way. No way was he making it up there without some help. He closed his eyes, reaching out to the spirit world. It wouldn't take much, just a small presence to steady his hands and feet. The living rock had the strength he needed. It seemed like such a long time since he had called upon the spirits. Would they still answer him? His mind turned back to the old chants, reciting from his heart, not his mouth. Sure enough, a small presence rose up from the sea bed and coalesced next to him in the astral. Still got it.

Such a weak force would not understand complicated orders, but Robert had no intention of asking it for anything fancy. The best way to communicate with such a creature was through simple emotions, and he held a short astral "conversation" with the Earth mote by projecting first gratitude, then a desire for protection. The amorphous critter seemed to understand, rolling itself around Robert's astral form. He felt his muscles relax and his thoughts grow more clear. Now for the hard part.

He opened his eyes, the others had started their ascent. Best to just get on with it. He secured his weapon, tightening the strap across his chest, grabbed the ladder firmly in both hands, and promptly slipped off the side of the speedboat.

*THUD* The impact with the side of the freighter rattled his teeth. His elbow desperately hooked into the corner of one rung, he flailed in the darkness, his frail muscles complaining already of the strain. Breathe. One arm at a time. You can do this, just focus. Focu-- His internal narrative cut off with a realization: he'd never be able to pull this off while maintaining concentration on his spell. Wrapping a hand in the ladder rope, he glanced about. The others seemed distracted with their own climbing. One was seated in the back of the boat, likely in VR. There was no choice. They might kill him if they noticed, but keeping up the spell would guarantee a fall into the sound, and there was zero chance of swimming to safety. He tugged the form-fitting armor hood tightly around his face, said a quick prayer to whomever was listening, and started up the ladder.

The going was slow. At least seven times he found himself bracing his shoulder to crash into the hull as the wind and choppy seas had their way with the lightweight ladder. Overhead, he heard the buzzing of drones and other gadgets as the team set up. Finally, he hauled himself over the rail and flopped on to the deck, face-down, gasping for breath. He glanced at the clock on his display, thirty-two seconds to make that climb. Beaten, exhausted, and they hadn't even encountered any resistance yet. He drew up onto all fours, and gathered some mana around himself to hide his face once more.

...and promptly blew it all out his ears. The climb had shaken him worse than he thought. A second attempt produced only a feeble screen over his hideous features. It would have to do. He didn't have all day to lie on the floor "catching his breath." He drew himself upright and turned to the others: "So, are we ready to go?"

So I am joining the Dysfunctional Family campaign and I thought I would post what my character is doing before Aria works me in. Anyways, here goes.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ajax slumped over on his bar stool sipping a bottle of whiskey. He sighed, no jobs yet and money was getting tight. He should be getting a paycheck soon though, just sent in a massive story on drug use in corporate policing squads, blew the whole thing wide open. His editor was very pleased as always. Luckily his employer valued his anonymity when submitting stories. A man who is a deniable asset is a valuable thing. Still, the money doesn’t pay the bills, or for decent alcohol. He emptied the bottle of whiskey in one gulp”Jesus, James sure waters down this swill. I barely felt a buzz.” Today was a special for Ajax. Today was the anniversary of his wife’s death and that meant only one thing, he would be carried home by James, the troll bartender. He and James had an understanding and the sort of friendship that didn’t involve spending time with each other outside of Murphy’s, but they still looked out for one another in a gentlemen bachelor sort of way.
James didn’t charge him for drinks on the anniversary, he either pitied or sympathized with Ajax, Ajax was never quite sure which one it was. Ajax looked at the blinking clock on his AR display, shit, he had been since 9PM and it was almost 11 in the morning. He sighed, time to go home. Ajax hoisted himself off the stool and took his longcoat from the coat rack.

“See ya tomorrow Ajax” The barkeep, James hollered. Ajax shook his head, “See ya tomorrow James” he said under his breath. The streets smelled foul, full of pollution and other assorted filth. Ajax made his way to his loft a couple of blocks down, his revolver within easy reach in case of trouble. Last week some druggie decided to mug him on his way home. He got a nasty surprise in the way of two bullets splitting his forehead in two. Bastard didn’t even have the decency to have anything on him to sell.

Before he knew it he was standing at the door to his loft, he inserted the keycard into the maglock and threw his coat on the floor of his living room. Collapsing on his couch he left a message to his fixer to find him some damn work already. Sleep eventually took him and he dreamed the same dreams he did every anniversary, dreams about his wife.

@I'm On A Boat!
[April 15th 2072; 23:48 SS Henry VIII 4000 meters off shore, Puget Sound]
Siran looked at the ladder. She had vague memories of doing this before. Images of leaping from boat to boat. Images of climbing knotted ropes while guards with guns patrolled the top. The visions refused to come into focus.

Lets get to the top, and wreak some havoc. Silently in, Chaotically out. Just the way I like it Grabbing the ladder she began to climb. Moving silently upwards, and faint sounds she was making masked by her spirit concealment, it all went well until just before the top. Siran was out of practice and had forgotten a most important rule about climbing: the last bit is the most dangerous. Pausing as she reached the very top to check for guards and, it must be admitted, admire the view, a gust of wind was enough to cause her to slip.

It was a long way down. Mustn't scream. Mustn't scream she thought to herself, and heroically managed to grab onto the rope some 10 metres down. Hanging by one hand over the propeller stream 10s of meters below wasn't pleasant. A second hand joined the first on the ladder rope, and Siran swung back. Taking a deep breath, she recommenced the climb, being somewhat more cautious, and this time made it onto the ship.

Well she thought I've obviously forgotten quite a lot. Lets hope I have remembered what is important. Pirating a ship is just like riding a bike. Looking around both astrally and physically she scanned the small bit of the ship that she could see, while heading for cover.

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

The seconds ticked along ever so slowly as the less proficient members of the running team clambered up the ladder behind Silk. It seemed like an agonizing long time. Silk's skillful approach, her timing of the right moments to climb and right moments to stay still, did a lot to make sure that the team made it on unseen behind her. However, even with her well timed and well executed ingress, there was precious little she could do about the sound being made every time the bodies of her teammates covered with armor and guns, crashed into the hull.

Fortunately, it would seem that she didn't have to do anything. Farther down deck, it looked liked one the crew men, <<Senior Cargoman Halter>> was launching into a tirade against another. The AR overlay helpfully marked the recipient as <<Apprentice Cargoman Ellis>>. While the entire one way conversation could not be heard, certain key phrases got whipped back to the team by the wind:

"..worthless piece of...could have killed....music in your earbuds!...talk to the chief later!...if I ever..."

The team was ready to get to work.

@Dysfunctional Family (Doza, Jotamon, Isaac & Ajax)
[April 15th, 2072 11:06am; Moving towards the Renton Safehouse & ShadowSEA Virtual Meeting Room]

Following the link given to you by Mr J you make your way to the anonymous virtual meeting rooms offered for a fee by the ShadowSEA boards. Rather than the expected iconography you find yourself in a weird sort of garden that triggers dim memories of the stories of Alice. The girl sitting beside the stream also conforms to the theme but the resolution of her icon persuades you that she isn’t a simple piece of system architecture. The grass moves under her feet in startling detail and the sweet scent of honeysuckle wafts upwards

<<Welcome Doza, thank you for bringing your compatriots…>> she pauses briefly <<Jotamon? I hadn’t expected to see you here this soon…interesting…anyway, I’m sure you have many questions you need to ask. I may even be able to answer some of them…>>

@Ajax: Through your alcohol haze you become aware of the persistent buzz of your link…it seems your fixer is finally trying to reach you. When you eventually manage to answer it an unfamiliar face greats you

<<Mr Ajax. I have some work you may be interested in. Are you available for a virtual meet on the ShadowSEA server [here] in the next twenty minutes?>>

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:xx:xx Astral around Allanby's Warehouse]

Ember gloried in the feel of the astral around him and the release from the chemical tang in his mouth from the pain killers. With Gale by his side he swept forwards to scout the warehouse whilst watching his compatriots spread out with cool professionalism to take up their positions prior to engaging the target.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of an aura on the roof of the warehouse Pixel’s van was in…the feeling of danger was overwhelming but before he could react to the threat he saw the bloom of fire from some sort of weapon and then the warehouse erupted with violent surge of energies. Cursing to himself he hurled his astral form back towards his body. Although he couldn’t feel the heat here on the astral it didn’t take much imagination to understand that his meat wouldn’t be so lucky. He thanked Pixel’s foresight in installing those cocoons and then insisting that he use one of them.

Within the inferno in the van he could see that his body was alive for now…the signature weak as his soul roamed the astral but never the less unharmed. He winced as he saw part of the cocoon buckle but it was holding for now…someone would have to pay for this, pay dearly!

He fought the desire to panic…somehow easier as he was floating here as an observer. Summoning the korrigans dancing in the flames he gave them each a simple order.

~One of you each go to my companions and inform them I live. Pixel does not seem to have been so lucky. I will free myself shortly. Then return to me in the building over there~

He vaguely remembered Argent mentioning a pixie working for her…he was saddened that perhaps now he would never get to meet her…

Gathering his rage about him he flung himself back towards the warehouse like an avenging angel. His spear flared with light and fire crackled through his hair as he felt Lugh with him.

~The heathen must pay for their perfidy. Too many times they strike without honour from ambush. Let us show them how a true warrior fights!~

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

Silk looked back as their muscle dragged himself puffing and wheezing onto the deck. The mage didn’t exactly appear at ease either although she moved more confidently once over the gunwale. The deck hand had moved on, a ping indicating his location on Kahlil’s AR map floating in the corner of her vision. This was overlayed with tactical information about his speed and likely threat…low.

The bridge loomed in the distance, the way impeded by the giant containers and the resulting alleyways between them. Bottled in here would be a good way to get dead if they triggered an alarm.

Checking the contacts on her gecko gloves Silk began to assess a route that would take her slowly along the edge of the containers above eye level. Her negligible weight shouldn’t trigger any of the deck sensors and the advantage of height couldn’t be underestimated. Her chameleon suit would shield her from view and her tac overlay would indicate any danger of skylining herself from anyone on the bridge or on deck.

She subvocalized to the team

<<Seven: I have point, going high. ETA to target 2 mins>>

@Dysfunctional Family
[April 15th, 2072 11:19AM; ShadowSEA Virtual Meeting Room]

Ajax wearily rubbed his tired eyes, work is good, but it could have come at a time when he didn't have a splitting headache. He sent a short, gruff reply saying that he would be there and dragged his old bones out of bed. He took a quick cold shower to shock himself awake, dressed himself and signed onto the ShadowSEA network. His icon appeared in the meeting room with a swoosh. He cooked up his icon on a rainy day, it was of a tall man in a brown trenchcoat holding a magnifying glass and a pad of paper. It also wore a Rorscach Test mask, a feature he pulled from an old Pre-Awakening graphic novel that he liked.

He entered into the ShadowSEA node and was kind of weirded out by the Alice in Wonderland feel of the place. He saw several other icons standing around a little blonde-haired girl asking her questions, he assumed that was most likely the Johnson. He hung back in the room waiting to be addressed by either the Johnson or the other icons.

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15 Allanby's Warehouse]

Dealer finished looking through the endoscope and tucked it back into his pocket. Looked clear, and the fly spy wasn't showing anything. Time to go then. A slight lean forward, increasing tension on the rope, break the plane, feet in position, center of gravity forward...and then a slight loosening of the brake hand and he was plummeting down the rope headfirst, taser extended as much for balance as for having a weapon ready.

Dealer slowed himself to a stop 4 feet off the ground before flipping around and walking off the last foot of rope. He tucked his still warm to touch rappel glove back in his cargo pocket, but left the D-ring on. Might need to come out the same way after all. Wouldn't stop a fall, but might buy that extra second.

On the ground he surveyed his surroundings, and then slowly approached the RV. A glitter of dust caught his eye, which was odd, because usually dust doesn't glitter.

Sneaky

A burst of aerosol fog revealed the trip laser in full, and some careful back tracking showed it tied to a sizeable block of plastique.

Interesting. Lets see where the fail safes are, and what anti-tampering is here. Maybe I need the clippers, or perhaps the mirror...ooorrr I could just turn it off. Lets go with the "careful inspection". As they say: you have the rest of your life to defuse a bomb.

With a very careful flick of his wrist, Dealer now had his very own booby trap to set somewhere else. As he looked into the RV, he couldn't help but notice that the computer and the old data stacks were large. Very large. Substantially more large than he could carry out...not that he had a bag anymore, since it was merrily burning in a van at the moment.

This could be a issue

"Czzkt - Guys, we have a slight problem..."

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:15 Allanby's Warehouse]

Copperhead is about to reply to Dealer's request for backup when the hairs on her neck suddenly stand up straight. Turning carefully, she spies the little fairy which passes on the message that its master still lives, before disappearing back to the astral.

<<Ember's still alive! Looks like he's on his way in da astral to back you up Dealer. I gots da door if ya needs me.>>

She glances over to the warehouse where the flames seem to have died down a little.

Not sure how we are going to get him out of that!

On a hunch, she searches the two guards. With their transport up in flames, she hopes that maybe one of them has a vehicle parked neaby. Then she moves to warehouse door, ready to back up the street sam.

When Dealer transmits that they have a 'slight' problem, she puts a size 20 combat boot to the warehouse door.

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:45 Allanby's Warehouse]

Dealer is halfway through his transmission when the door to the east shudders.

"... we have a lot of data storage to carry out. Like duffel bags full of the stuff. Also, you don't need to kick the door, its unlocked from earlier. There's a camera on the far side though, and maybe an IED so give me a few seconds to let you in. If you're a decent hand with a rope, there's an entrance up top. Middle skylight."

Mages

With that, Dealer began his cautious approach to the eastern door, taking particular care to disable the out of place camera along the way...

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:45 Allanby's Warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

When the ephemeral spirit pops up in Demon's face, he jerks back a bit in surprise. However, hearing its message of Ember's survival puts a smile on his face. He remembers hearing a while back that mages and spirits have some sort of connection. He has no idea if it is like a 2-way radio or an empathy/sympathy situation, but he gives the 2-way radio bit a try.

"I don't know if you can hear me, mon ami, but I'm glad you're okay. Hopefully, the scélérat who did this is not."

He hears Copperhead's update via commlink a moment later.

<<@ Group: Thank you for letting me know, Copperhead. I don't know if you can hear this, Dealer, but I'm moving towards you. If there is that much data in the RV, perhaps it is best to simply take the vehicle and worry about moving the data later? From the chorus of car alarms sounding in the distance, I suspect that we could hotwire another vehicle to move the data into once we are far away from here.>>

@ SuicideKings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:50 Allanby's Warehouse]

Dealer finished up with the motion sensor wired to the camera, quietly turning it off. A remote piece, this was fairly easy. The tricky part was not tripping it while you were doing it, and fortunately it looked like the sensor was primarily aimed at the door. From there the camera really was as easy as pushing the off button. A nice piece for use later too, laser link, optional fiber insertion point, and not even a wireless signal to track it by.

Worst case I can pawn it later. Or set it up on the digs. Not like I can use my old apartment after tonight, but it might be interesting to see who comes calling...

The door itself is mercifully free of explosives or other traps. Which is just as well; there's only so many times Dealer wants to defuse a bomb in a night. The number is zero, but that dream already died, so you take what you can get. He prepares to open the door, sincerely hoping that Copperhead is not getting ready to kick it again.

That would be an anticlimactic way to get taken out of the run...corporate assault squad, all female sniper team like something from a vid, demolitions defused...only to get stomped on by a troll by mistake.

Much to his relief, Dealer avoids a kicking. Even better, it looks like Copperhead has disabled the guards and has them in hand, and a blurry shape can just be seen against the rain, probably Demon, closing in.

Looking over the scene once more, he raises his eyebrow, though the expression is mostly lost beneath the chameleon hood.

Not bad for a mage, not bad at all. When this is over, I know some people who are always scouting for local talent...hell, they're desperate enough to import it at the moment. Of course, they'd probably prefer it if you weren't the face of global terror when you come calling. I guess we should drag those," he points to the unconscious guards, "Inside"

Besides, there's a nice finders fee for mages who'll do some wetwork. Can't fight a war without weapons, right? And, hey, not being an insufferable prick is always a plus in mages as well.

As Copperhead relays Demon's message, Dealer looks at the RV.

"So, who knows how to drive that thing?"

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

As Khalil slowly got the node working again he chose not to tell the others about it. This seems like something best left unknown he mutters silently to himself as he continues through the system. Sitting on the boat he suddenly gets an idea and sends it to Silk and everyone else on her tacnet. <<Why don't I just spoof a message from one of the crew to draw the captain somewhere with less people so we can ambush him?>>

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

<<I'm no sailor but I can't think of anything short of a major disaster that would draw the Captain off the bridge as they were approaching port...anyone else think of anything short of an engine room fire?>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:05:45 Allanby's Warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

"I can," answers Demon. "Just do not ask me to make it fly like a car from the Monaco Grand Prix." I mean, I could TRY to do that...but I doubt we would survive it...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:06:00 Allanby's Warehouse]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Marylin Monroe"]

A somewhat abashed Copperhead stands on the other side of the door. Taking Dealer's advice, she drags the two unconscious guards into the warehouse. She leaves the bloody mess that was the hellhound where it lies. When she sees the RV and Demon confirms he can drive it, she also dumps the guard's car keys.

"Okay. Get it started. I gonna see if I can get Ember outta da fire.

She looks around for a fire extinguisher and pulls one off the wall. It doesn't seem like it will have much affect on the fires burning in the warehouse, but might be enough to clear a path to Pixel's van.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:06:00 Allanby's Warehouse]

Dealer nods to Demon.

"Sounds good. Going out the loading bay door? If you get it ready, we'll see what we can do to open that up. Not sure how else they would have got it in here..."

As Copperhead dumps the keys, Dealer swipes them with a tag eraser before pocketing one set. The mage is proving more and more resourceful, to the point you might almost credit some of her success to some skill and quick thinking, rather than the freak accident of birth most mages rely on. Then she starts talking about trying to retrieve Ember.

"Tommy's boys are going to be thick out there, and even if they aren't, the burning warehouse that has more erratic firepower than a go gang is going to be the center of attention. Besides, we need to get this thing out of here before the spikes arrive.

Ember will be fine; no one is going in there any time soon, and he can slip out the back to meet us, or we can come in from a better angle later when the spikes are shooting this place up."

On which note, should get to prepping the exit through the west for Demon. Wonder if Tommy's boys will talk with the spikes, or just let them through.

He rapidly set about to disconnecting various electric and plumbing from the RV as Demon got the rest of the vehicle ready. Dealer disabled the final alarms on the loading doors and flashed a thumbs up back to the group, ready to jump in as soon as the door started to open.

<<@ GRP Suicide Kings: Hey, that RV isn't transmitting anything, right?>>

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

<<Give me one moment people I think I can give us eyes on the bridge.>> Khalil uses his access to command a drone to move on an altered path and give a view of the deck and everyone inside. <<There we go. Now let us see if our target is even there...>>