Dysfunctional Family
[April 15th, 2072 11:53am; Van in transit to Touristville]

As Doza listened to Jotamon asking the boy questions her frustration grew. While it was obvious that the child was answering as best he could and, mostly, truthfully, the replies were not making the situation any clearer. She was reminded of an old 20th Centuary joke about a pre-mega corp called 'Microsoft'. While each answer was factually correct they were of no fragging use!

The questions started simply enough and the answers were relatively clear:

What's your name?

Timmy, errr…Skar

Where do you live, do you live with anybody?

Well I uset to innit but dems all ded now

Do you want to go back there?

Fek no!

Do you want us to tell anyone you are safe?

No bloody point…fekkers don’t care

Doza winced in sympathy as that struck a chord with her own chldhood, such as it was. The next questions, however, did not seem to give clear answers at all!

Ok, some questions about the attack
Where was the attack?

The biotronik campus NE 44th Way

Who was being attacked, the owners?

Dem freaky buggers, da Freesdom lot…

These freaky dogs: who do they belong to?

Fek knows, da hunters I guess

What can you tell me about the hunters?
Dunno really, kept my ed down didna I, I rekon dey was blak ops or sum shit like dat. Black arma, big guns an all dat

Right some questions about the clean up crew
Do you know anything about them?

Na, came afta da uvers ad buggerd off

Do you have any clue where they come from: they weren't Crimson Crush, but did they sound military/corporate/police?

Na, dey waz street just not one round ere

As Doza saw it about the only thing that could give them a lead was the location of the initial attack, just who were these 'Freedom' people? Perhaps it was time to stash the kid somewhere secure, both for his safety and to ensure he didn't run at the first oppertunity. Then to head back to 'the scene of the crime' and do some old fashioned leg work. Starting by carefully, very carefully, looking over the biotech facility. There seemed to be three groups involved in this mess: the facility people, the 'hunters' and the 'clean up crew'. She was glad to have Jotamon along for this, he actually seemed to enjoy figuring out puzzles. She, however, much preferred the more direct approach to problems!

Doza flipped Jotamon a message to that effect, adding the punch line to the Microsoft joke. By the look on his face he was just as frustrated as she was and would recognise the reference. It looked like he could do with something to lighten his mood!

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:20:00 Parking Lot]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

"Well, while you hash out the transportation details, I will go out and pick up supplies. I will see you all shortly, mes amis." Demon peels himself out of his chameleon suit with all the grace and dignity of a tired, sweaty member of the walking wounded. He empties out the contents of his smartpack onto the floor. He pulls his silenced Arme de Choix out of the concealed holster in his chameleon suit, picks up the hidden gun slide from the pile of effects now unceremoniously dumped on the RV floor, and puts them on. He grabs the coat that he wore over his chameleon suit and pulls it over himself to cover up his half bodysuit armor.

"Take care with those cannisters," he says, pointing to the breathtaker gas grenades he purchased from Molly, "but feel free to use them if you need to buy some time against an unmasked attacker." With that, he shoulders his now-empty smartpack, cautiously hops out of the RV, and wanders about to find a vending machine selling flats.

When he finally comes across one, he looks at his options. He is about to choose a set of gaudy contemporary fashion knock-offs, but thinks better of it. Instead, he selects a normally unacceptable novelty combination. He chooses one that comes with a baseball cap that reads, "KE: Knicker Evaluator," a shirt that says, "Yeah, I'm wearing your shirt. I needed something to put on after I was done wearing your mom last night," some jeans and a set of flip flops. With visible distaste, he forces himself to wear the vêtements démodés, pulling the brim of the cap low over his eyes to cover his face.

At least if I get caught wearing this, I won't have to worry about going to jail...I will literally die of embarrassment...

He makes his way to the anonymous drop site---turning on his visual recorder just in case he notices something of interest, and follows the procedure to the letter. He places the order, drops the credstick in the spot and gets the GPS ping. When he arrives at the place, he finds his equipment. He quickly puts it into his smartpack and then walks casually back to the RV taking a slightly circuitous route. When he gets in the RV, he pulls off the hat, drops the pack, and begins changing back into his suit.

"Don't ask," he says regarding his clothes, "Let's just say it was an adequate disguise."

@Suicide Kings:
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]

Taking the lack of comment for at least moderate approval of his plan, Jacob casts about and finds the node to warezhouse 24; a brokerage of less than legally acquired software for the well equipped matrix specialist and purchases a rather intricate looking autosoft on Rambo 56: Iron Warrior, automatic weaponry and you!" as well as a fairly competent "I wasn't there officer": Behind the law, infiltrating those places the man wants to keep you out of! for a smooth 6k.

Sheesh prices have skyrocketed since I had to buy these! Ah well, lets hope they work out. With a mental twist, Jacob opened a portion of his mind to ensure there weren't any bugs or unhappy suprises waiting for him on use.

"I guess we can go visit Ingram's in person closer to our time of entry? I'd personally rather not go by myself as backup is always nice, and prevents the good ol' double cross"

As Demon shows up with a quite interesting and provocative wardrobe, Jacob smirks and asks anyways, "Hmm...what were you disguising yourself as? I've heard they have great alternative lifestyle conventions at the same time as MiracleCon 2072 this year... you could get yourself some tickets for a job well done! It's only got a week left though so you better hurry!"

@Hunter's Pursuit 2072
[April 16th 2072; 00:08 Perrigan Golds - Bounty Hunting Bar]

Jasper was likely more inebriated then was wise for a man with enemies, but then again, it's only your - unlikely - friends birthdays once a year (and you never know if you'll ever have another one).

Wars like this ishn't really what I shigned up for. But theshe people need to dishappear.

He then looks deep in his glass. I miss Denver, just politics and backstabbing, no crazy drug-dealing murder cults...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon gives Mr. Green a congenial smile with none of the good humor but all of the teeth. He walks up to the new member of the group, placing a heavy hand on the hacker's shoulder and giving it an uncomfortably firm squeeze. He looks directly into the frail man's eyes before speaking.

"Mon bon monsieur, I am a polite man and am willing to let that unfortunate lapse of good judgment go... However, I have a tip for the future when dealing with the rest of our hétéroclite bande. Not all of us have the same level of restraint and self-control." He gestures to the slumbering troll, the disquieted druid, and the twitchy cyber samurai.

"Perhaps it is best to let such comments slide in the future, oui?"

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:28:00 Parking Lot]

"Enough Demon, let our hacker do his work...your skin is thick enough, non? 'is idea is a good one, I too would prefer not to use public transport and this route should be sufficiently anonymous for us, non? At least it will be once our friend has worked his technological magic..."

That last being said with only a thin trace of contempt...perhaps Ember's temper was indeed bubbling closer to the surface than normal.

"Those flats, whilst disgusting, do indeed form an effective mask...I too need something less conspicuous than these charred remnants...will you show me where you got them?"

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon glares with narrow eyes at Ember, perhaps the first time he has ever done so. Just like the druid, exhaustion and pain are taking its toll on his bonne humeur

"Unlike yours, my name is self-made," he quips back, with words subtly tinged in venom, "so I think you ought to understand why I am somewhat protective of it. Je n'en ai pas de l'argent et le privilège donné cette chance à vous, petit seigneur, que vous isole de l'insulte.

"Mais si vous avez terminé les tests de ma bonne volonté, je vais vous montrer où j'ai trouvé ces vêtements." He nods his head towards the door of the RV.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Marylin Monroe"]

Copperhead had only meant to rest her eyes for a moment. The adrenalin and cram pretty much guaranteed she wouldn't be able to sleep but she had almost instantly fallen into a deep slumber. Her spirit rose up out of her body, watching the events taking place in the RV.

To say she was surpised when her body sat up and Mama Snake began talking to the team would have been an understatement. She watched as the others exhibited surpise, interest and suspicion with an astral jaw that hung slack in horror and shock.

When her body curled back up around the big shotgun, she spun around, eyes blazing with anger. If a snake could smile, then the presence floating before her was grinning from ear to ear.

Are you fragging trying to get me killed. Dealer, who had just started trusting me, damn near put a bullet in me!

That I would not have allowed, hissed the serpent dismissively. The empty one hass hiss own issuess, but he will learn to trusst magess in time. His expossure to you and the druid iss a firsst ssstep along hisss path. Come, time for your next lessson.

What, now? grumbled Copperhead still trying to come up to speed and watching as her body faded into the distance. What if they drive off without me?

---

[April 16th 2072; 00:27:01 Parking Lot]

Copperhead's body jerks up out of sleep, her hands coming up before her face.

"Don't shoot, it's just me!" she cries out almost hysterically. "It was Snake! She did it. Talk about working in fraggin' mysterious ways."

She realises she is babbling, and shuts up, glancing cautiously between fingers at first Dealer then the others. She almost flinches at Demon's outfit, but bites her tongue. She can almost taste his anger and discomfort in the confined space of the back of the RV. As her breathing becomse less ragged, she takes a deep breath and plunges on.

"Look, I made her promise not to do anything like that again. But believe me it wasn't fragging easy. Dat bitch got so many fragging secrets, I sometimes wonder why she needs any more. I sorta 'heard' da plan an I likes it. Da breeder ain't as dumb as he looks. But we still needs to switch da van, before taking da boat. Unless you gots a better solution, I still got some friends in da 'Crush who won't sell me out and can take it off our hands fer somefing a bit less 20th century. Youz let me know if dat work fer you."

@Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]

Quite startled by the aggression on Demon's part and the thinly veiled contempt on Ember's, Jacob remembers once again why he never goes places in the meat. "I swear its bad enough being involved with hopeless cases but being there in person is just the pits!"

"Ahm.. hmm... yes... I will remember that... sorry mate.... just... err.. trying to lighten the mood a bit...." I...hmmm.. we taking this RV somewhere then? If so I'll just crash in the back and work a bit on my magic to get us squeaky clean onto the barges. When do we want to go in? I believe barge trip takes about 30 minutes from docking to docking so we'll have to plan for that gap... then again they aren't going to expect us to use such a slow method of exfil I don't believe."

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

"See that you do," says Demon, with an underlying tone deserving of his nom de l'ombre. I have for killed less, he thinks to himself, but leaves it unsaid because he sees that Mr. Green has gotten the hint. Besides, he begrudgingly accepts that Ember is right. His skin should be thicker, although recent events have left it stretched thin---much like that spray-on-skin Dealer used on him earlier.

When Copperhead arises and offers an explanation, he gives her a kind smile. "Ma belle dame, there is nothing to apologize for. Your mentor, she has offered sound advice that we desperately need, and I believe we can all say that her manifestation is the least surprising thing we have encountered tonight."

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]

Dealer pointedly ignores Copperhead's explanation, but when Mr. Green starts talking he points at the as of yet unarmed laser-trip satchel charge, and the pools of gasoline slowly fuming in the RV.

"We aren't driving that out. Teague will come for it. That should neatly erase the traces and leave a few dead recovery agents Teague hires. I thought it was rather elegant, personally. Regardless, we're taking the sushi van out, and the selling it to Copper's Crush friends. Hopefully they aren't as inclined to be possessed by random spirits...why you would ever sign up to be taken over whenever an alien intelligence wants it shits and giggles is beyond me. That said, goodies are here. Lets see what we got:

Nanopaste...blessed, blessed nanopaste. Some replacement gear, good, good. Jammers, natch. Hardtap with dual laser or wifi link modes. Very nice too. Set of little mirrors for lasers...Oh..and the piece de las resistance, as the francophones would say: a Quick-Attach tactical barrel weight and foregrip system. Very nice. And some designer jeans and a..cardigan...Outremer chic casual I guess... "

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 00:27:00 Parking Lot]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

As Demon leads Ember towards the vending machine he sighs and puts his coat around his injured friend.

Je suis désolé, mon ami. Je n'aurais pas dû se mettre en colère contre vous. Il a été une nuit difficile, et je crains le stress commence à faire sentir ses effets.".

When they reach the vending machine, Demon keeps watch as Ember selects his attire. He let his guard slip once, which cost the mage. He would not do so a second time.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:00:00 Parking Lot]

The shopping complete, the disguised quartet made their way to Ingram's Barge. The night is dark and rainy, but even so it seems that a million eyes are searching for them. Twice hover drones fly over and obviously scan them. Still there are four or you not three, and the nanopaste seems to be holding.

The barge is a petroleum barge called Song of Freedom. It is currently emptied, as can be seen from the Plimsoll Mark. Of course as everyone knows the change of an explosion on a poorly maintained petroleum barge is higher when it's empty. Mr Green's payment seemed to have woken the two bargees up, as they are uncommunicative, grumpy and tired. The older one waves a hand with a faded blue ink tattoo saying "hate" towards you and grunts "On please".

One look in the cabin persuades you that even with the perpetual light drizzle it would be better to wait outside. Moldy cushions, empty booze bottles and an aroma of stale pizza and beer, with a hint of gone off milk. However the two bargees seem to know what they are doing, and move out into the middle of the water.

[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
The light drizzle relents, although the clouds overhead are still constant blocking out any light from above the light pollution is still enough to see around.

<<[Hansai] It seems that you have been seen in Bellvue and Renton, so most Knight Errant efforts are in that area. . A friend of mine has placed a few stealthy fly spys outside Teague's place. I only get a burst update every 5 minutes, but should be able to tell when he leaves. Currently it seems he has "doubled the guard", but I think that this is just the guards that are normally on site working 2 in 3 hours instead of 1 in 3.

I have a room at the Kimpton, so can get to Teague's place within 10 minutes of that. My offer of being a distraction at the gate still stands, but you will need to give me a time.

I have booked you all a suite at the Kimpton under the name Honda Kaori. The owner thinks that you are Yakuza big wigs. The feed from the fly spys is available at <ARO Link>. I am going to get a few hours sleep, so any questions now?>>

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:21 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound]
Now the Captain was moving, Siran smiled. So far everything was going smoothly. Focusing hard she instructed her Orisha to aid their movement, so that each step would take them 5. "Fast" she grunted and headed down the stairs.

"See if anyone is on deck, be quick" she grunted astrally to a watcher. "See if anyone is on 2nd floor, be quick" she grunted to a second.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon leans on the barge's railing, staring out at nothing in particular on the hazy horizon with heavily lidded eyes when Hansai buzzes the team. A damp, smoldering cigarette dangles listlessly from his lips. The drizzle has turned his normally wavy and perfectly coiffed hair into a wavy, wet, matted mess that trails drops down the sides of his face. The damp cold seems to suck at whatever energy reserves he has left, and the gnawing feeling in his stomach reminds him of how long he has gone without sleep and food. The thought of a hotel room and a decent night's sleep sounds like paradise to him, but one thought keeps weighing on his mind. He sends a private message to Hansai.

<<I was wondering...have you any news on Nicodeme Otes and Catheryn Price? They are friends of mine, and I have not had a chance to warn them of what has happened, let alone get in touch with them. I chose this life, and I must pay for the consequences of my actions. I...I would not see others suffer for my choices. I pray that they live, but if not then I would know so that I can find some way to bring their souls peace.>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Dealer was somewhat used to the occasional seedy dive. He had spent more than a few nights holed up in places that reeked of sweat, vodka, and desperation. Exactly whose sweat and desperation was, admittedly, a variable. The vodka was fairly consistent. Regardless, there was something appealing to driving into the drizzle and spray, watching the lights of Outremer grow closer. Not the least of which was that staring over the bow was an excellent way to not only see any land based threats first, but also conveniently hid his discomfort from the group.

Too many variables. Too much reliance on a KE Yakuza who is conveniently tied to MCT; drek, not just MCT, but the very company that set the original group up, with literally one layer of management separating them. Wonder if Ares is tracking Mr. Hansai's loyalties. Too convenient that all of this was perfectly coordinated in...under two hours for recent events, maybe six total? Across a major syndicate, law enforcement, a AAA subsidiary, some street gangs. This play was set in motion long before Mrs. Ember got run off the road I think. And we keep getting lead around by the nose like good little puppies.

I don't like this. We got absolutely nothing making it worthwhile to not kill us. Not even a J's reputaion, because hey, we never had a J. We need to be looking for a way out for US, not just for Half Cut and pals

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:27 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound, 3630m off shore]

The two watchers shot ahead from Siran, speeding towards their selected destinations. While several of the rooms and doorways were warded, they made their way after some bumbling around. Going multiple mach on the astral helped. A few seconds later, one returned. Base images flowed from it to Siran.

Somewhere on the stairwell below them, two figures were gesturing at each other wildly, emotions spiking with anger and fear. The second floor seemed devoid of personnel, and the first watcher had stayed there contentedly. Its compatriot had gone out through an unwarded portion of the wall, and then re-emerged a fraction of a second later...only to have a terrifying astral giant tear it apart in impossibly bloody hands. What happened after that was unclear, as it was obvious that at that time the second watcher decided reporting back to Siran was a good idea.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Copperhead stands in the drizzle, wearing the mask of an asian troll bodyguard. Dealer seemed angry at her, so she gives him some space as she remembers the last time she was on a boat. She was still a little girl, on a pleasure cruise with her parents. That had been a happy time, before the corpers had killed her father and took her arms. Before she had seen beneath the surface of the corporate lie. Now this Teague was lying to cover up...she was not sure what exactly, but he was willing to have them killed for it.

It's probably just about money, power or both. That was all these fraggers seemed to care about. Well this fragger isnt dealing with a innocent little girl anymore. He's dealing with Copperhead now and he's going to pay.

She realises she is hissing under her breath, her hands twisting the guard rail along the edge of the boat. She was tired. The cram was starting to wear off. She would need to sleep soon, not the magically induced sleep Mama Snake had cast on her, but real sleep and for a good while if she was going to shake off the exhaustion caused by the drug when it wore off.

Let's just hope we don't run into any more surprises at this Kimpton hotel. I need my beauty sleep and one toxic shaman a night is my limit.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]

"I HATE BOATS!!!!" Jacob huddled uncomfortably by the edge of the cabin, attempting vainly to ward off the drizzle that was more acid than rain at this time of the year by draping his coat over all but his eyes. "This was a great and terrible idea... it's never like the action sims... even worse I'm going home on a boat that could blow up any minute and even more... I'm committing a crime on it! Never ever ever ever ever going in the meat again! I like being warm and toasty while I work...not dirty and damp.."

To take his mind of the rocking of the barge and the incessant spray off the deck, however much it didn't seem to affect the resolute silhouette made agains the bow by Dealer's frame, he began flipping code in a corner of his bionode, watching the boat ride with only half attention while he compiled a new weapon for his clash against the totally uncertain variable in the person of Emm386.

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:30 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound]

"Astral incoming. Deck level. " It was hard to say the words, but worth it. Siran kicked open the door to the 2nd floor and rushed out onto the deck, moving with spirit speed. With luck the Astral form below wouldn't see them. Looking around Siran checked there were no opponents, thanked the watchers, and moved towards the life boats.

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:30 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound]

Silk followed the fleeting form of their mage mentally muttering to herself about communications protocols and the need to coordinate efforts - preferably with herself in the lead so that she had some control over what they came up against...it wasn't that she was a control freak, not that at all...it was just easier to see the patterns without sparking mages cluttering up her vision...

<<Seven@Nine: we are proceeding outside. Target package is in tow>>

She looked back at Robert and with a mental cancelling of her chameleon coating for a fraction of a second gestured for him to watch the good Captain whilst she followed their precipitous mage...

<<Let's go...>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Ember nursed the claw that was left of his left hand as he watched the lift and fall of the prow. He relished the smell of the water after the brief encounter with the cabin inside...and the Sound was none too fresh either...

The flats were uncomfortable against his skin and the remains of his armoured long coat kept slapping against him in the gusts of wind and driven spray but he was alive, angry and more than keen to get to grips with this debacle of a day. They were finally off the beaten track and although it felt as if their strings were still being tugged it also felt like they had some initiative at last. There was time to scout the target and assess the intel they had been given and then make the approach at the time of their choosing.

He settled back to study the ogam stone once more...tentatively threading the beads of power into it that would connect it to his aura and eventually allow him to channel considerably more mana...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

As he waits for Hansai's reply, Demon walks around the boat to see how his other teammates are doing. He decides to leave Dealer to his horizon-gazing, avoid Copperhead's malevolent hissing, and allow Ember to continue his magicking with whatever in the worlds an "ogam" is. He spots Mr. Green in the cabin, and something about the man's pitiable display struck Demon.

"Here, monsieur," he says to Mr. Green, offering the man a cigarette. "I would offer you a sip of wine, but I do not think it would mix well with your stomach. The nicotine should at least make the boat ride bearable for you."

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:55:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Dealer was, naturally, the first to see land approaching. 25 minutes of thinking and he still didn't have a good solution. Maybe he was tired. Maybe there just weren't any good solutions. Maybe it was just the goddamned mages kept fragging around with magic drek.

We may need to kill these bargemen if they keep that up. Wonder who they belong to. Probably too much surveillance to do it right after we pull in, they've been collecting on us too long. Speaking of collection - the Kimpton question. Do we walk into perfect observation by the KE who is setting us up, making him comfortable, or do we break now? On one side, he is certainly collecting on us electronically. No question. And to get out of it tips our hand regardless. On the other hand, twelve hours holed up where has our every move recorded, owns the environment, and will happily have us pinned for yakuza assoicates when the time comes for us to die...probably of a rival faction, so they're shamed and his oyabun can move in...isn't appealing either. Still, he needs us to pull this off for some reason, so we're fairly safe until after the hit....hmmm

Shaking his head clear of the thoughts, he collected up his tres-rogueishly-chic sports bag - the kind you see on men with immaculately tailored stubble and slender figures that speak of good upper-class athleticism, not to be confused with actual bone-crushing professional athlete or do-or-die athleticism - to go with the caridgan and went to join the others as the ramp after one last long scan on the approaching dock.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Demon's unexpected approach and sudden turn towards friendliness surprised Jacob and would have completely unbalanced the technomancer had it not been for the calming effects of the widget he had been crafting half absent-mindedly in a dark corner of his mind. "Erm.. ahem...thank you... I appreciate that, boats are never exactly my style you might say... hell in person isn't exactly my style to be honest." Jacob realized he was rambling and sheepishly grinned, "Heh well that's pretty obvious to you I guess. Tell you what... A trade for a trade... I'll take one of your and you take one of mine, don't smoke it yourself though... its got enough laes to make you forget life for a good bit... I use them on people that don't need to remember me, hell it may save your life some day... sure as hell saved me a few... You know... Hansai smokes, maybe that's a way out? Anyways just something for you boys and girls to think about. Hansai's never double-crossed me but there's always a first time, and looks like the team has had a lot of first times lately..."

Jacob settled back and, after sniffing the cigarette to check for any telltale hints of doping, lit up with a few long pulls. Something about the happy cherry red of the tip made the rain feel a little less dismal, their chances as a team just a little more possible. After all... it wasn't a bad idea to make a few people forget things that were safer forgotten...

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:55:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Sitting in the quiet swishing of the night and the easy rocking of the barge as it slowed down to turn towards it's berth, Jacob felt a wierd peace steal over him until he realized that the barge trip had taken nearly 25 minutes too long. He sat up straight and motioned to Demon, "I just realized, we haven't made land yet... its been 55 minutes... it's supposed to take 30 max. I'll take a look around you check with the others?" Motioning towards Dealer who could vaguely be seen crossing the deck towards the ramp he saw the vague outlines of low slung buildings approaching through the drizzle. "This doesn't feel right..."

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

"Call it sentimentality or stupidity, but I prefer to get to know someone before I fight alongside them. As for before, consider this a modest apology, oui? It has been a...trying day, to put it mildly."

He thanks Mr. Green for the gift, and carefully places it in his coat pocket so as to make sure it is not disturbed. As an afterthought, he puts a slight notch in the butt with his thumbnail to make sure that he does not accidentally take a draw on it in a fit of nicotine-fueled desperation.

He smiles politely as he listens to the tech expert talk, getting a feel for his new comrade.

"I will keep the trick in mind should Hansai turn traitor, but I have hope that there is one honest man left among us... As for feeling out of place, I sympathize with you, mon ami. Seattle is the last place I ever expected to find myself, but here I am. I appreciate the gesture of meeting us face to face."

[April 16th 2072; 01:55:00 On the Song of Freedom]

He continues to chat pleasantly with the hacker until Mr. Green mentions the time. He nods at the Mr. Green, reaches instinctively towards his concealed gun to reassure himself that he indeed put it there, and follows outside to check on the others.

"Mr. Green has noticed that something may be afoot...we have been at sea a bit to long," he tells them.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Marylin Monroe"]

Copperhead reaches for the big shotgun, then hesistates as she glances at the slowly approaching land.

Don't want to attract any attention right now.

Her mask flares as she draws mana to herself, ready for anything. She lets the gun fall back to her side and snicks out her razors as she moves to join the others.

"Wassup chummers. We gots a problem wid da boat drivers?"

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:30 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound]

With Siran out ahead of her and her forward spotting drone not picking up any signs of hostiles, Silk stepped cautiously into the hatchway, relying on her thermoptic camouflage to keep her hidden…mere seconds later she was cursing not doing a fuller sweep when the area she was standing in was filled with a whirling storm of flechette shards that ripped into her arm and side.

Cursing silently to herself she tracked the two sec agents closing on them and doing her best to ignore the blazing pain sent two wide bursts of fire in their direction before ducking back behind the steel bulkhead

<<@Nine: can you get one of the deck drones around this side…we need more eyes…and what the hell is sparky doing?>>

Dysfunctional Family
[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

Prospero waited like a spider in the web of medical lines and beeping monitors. Outwardly he was still but a heart monitor was recording abnormally high levels of adrenaline as he seethed…his children had been attacked and he had been powerless to prevent it. The hunters had used dogs to sniff them out and then those they hadn’t killed out of hand were bagged and tagged and bundled off gods knew where. He had tried following them through traffic cams but they had used much of the deadzone around Touristville to their advantage and had easily avoided his efforts to track them.

Then the Crush had come calling…at least that was what they had been disguised as. It was a thinly veiled attempt to clean the scene and make it look like yet more random barrens violence but Prospero knew better.

To add insult to injury, those who had escaped he’d directed to Dr Bob’s, only for that to be attacked by unknown forces a short while ago. It seems that was more wrong place wrong time but the coincidence didn’t sit well with him.

His agents were scouring the ‘trix for any information on the attack but even Ariel and so far drawn a blank…

He felt a tentative probe at the last line of his proxies, the one with the hardwired connection to his lair, and like an avenging angel he swept down the fibre optic line and emerged in the node in a blaze of code. In the node he saw with interest that the intruding icon was running a very powerful reality filter which was overriding the basic iconography. Tweaking his display to accept the input he stepped into a mad garden reminiscent of Alice…and then she stepped out from behind a lurid mushroom and he charged his staff with the most powerful attack program at his disposal…

“Please, I’m not here to bring you any more trouble…I wanted you to know that I am sending some people to you to investigate the attack…”

A series of coded image files flash into his databanks

“I hope they will be able to help…”

“Who are you” he demanded

“I am Summer…”

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:30 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound, 3585m off shore]

The two men crouched behind the air out take, hoping that their issued uniforms would keep them hidden from the boarding terrorists. They had a plan. It wasn't a great plan, but it was A plan, which generally meant they were doing a lot better than most of the crew just at this moment.

The door opened, and the sparking electric death mage charged out. They had got the feed from the last attempt to shotgun that...thing...and knew better. However, the next figure to appear in the doorway was not a sparking electric death mage. No indeed. It was just a woman. A woman with a submachinegun and who knows what 'ware in her, but a human none the less. And humans can bleed. That she crouched in the backlit door made it easier.

Their shotguns blared, scouring the doorway with flechettes, and they started to move out. No sense in staying around to die after all, but no terrorist was going to take their ship and their Captain that easy. They were going to pay for it.

Amazingly, the woman was still standing, or rather crouching, at the end of it. The return fire caught the first one square, but his amazement he didn't die. Damned if it didn't hurt though. He steadied his shotgun as best he could and sent two more blasts down that direction.

The second security guard saw the writing on the wall, or rather the writing in the "the guy in front of me is jerking around a bit" and cut right as a burst of fire slung through the air behind him. His shotgun thundered twice more before he managed to clear the line of sight.

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon shrugs in response.

"I am not sure, ma chère. It could be a nothing but paranoia, but after tonight it is probably best to look into it, oui?"

He draws out one of his "hold out pistols"---a customized Walther Secura Kompact S appropriately named Surprise. He tells the gun via his PAN to give Copperhead clearance to use it, and then offers it to the mage.

"You may use this if you want something more subtle than a shotgun. It is loaded with APDS bullets just in case we encounter more of the same méchants."

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Marylin Monroe"]

Copperhead gives the assasin a big grin, holding up one troll-sized cybered hand with glinting razors.

"I sure appreciate da gesture Demon but deze hands ain't buillt fer anything smaller dan a troll-modded heavy pistol."

She gently wraps the big hand around the gun and the frenchman's hand.

"But don't worry me an' Snake still got a couple of tricks up our sleeves if I need more dan ma' razors."

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon returns Copperhead's smile with a slightly sheepish grin of his own.

The more I get to know this woman, the more I like her.

"Points taken," he replies, and returns the small weapon to its hidden holster. "Though I hope you will not hold mon erreur against me. One never knows what marvels might be added to arms such as yours, madame. It is part of your mystique féminin."

[accidental double-post]

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Dealer discretely attaches a silencer to his Predator and checks the load over smartlink. Regular in the chamber. Good. Not as good as something sub-sonic, but at least the post barrel Crack of a dart accelerating to well above mach speeds as it shed its outer sabot wouldn't happen. Yeah, a silencer would help reduce that to not very noticeable in the middle of a firefight, but it would still be reasonably...conspicuous...in the dead of night. And the boom-boom of Ex-Ex exploratory and main charges going off on impact would be right out.

He considers using the taser, but the more vindictive side of him decides that if the boatmen had been behind something, he would rather they be dead. And if it is an ambush, it'll already be lethal, and tasers tend to be notoriously bad at hitting anything more than small room away. So, the pistol was win-win. Unless the ambush had long arms and automatic weapons. Then it might be win-oh drek, but you couldn't exactly conceal an assault rifle while politely inquiring what the delay is.

He sub vocalized over his bone mic to the group.

"Czzkt. Before we do anything hasty, who do these guys belong to, and what's been watching us for the past 50 minutes?"

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]

Ember felt the tension in the air before he was really aware of his comrades girding themselves for another confrontation. He raised an eyebrow as Dealer began screwing a silencer onto his weapon...

With a momentary flick of concentration he elevated his senses to the astral plane and amidst the swirls of energy whipping across the open waters of the Sound he picked out a spirit and called to it with all his Will

~Will you aid me sylph? The path ahead is murky and beset by troubles and I ask that you grant me your power for a little while...~

@ I'm on a boat
[April 15th 2072; 23:56:30 SS Henry VIII Puget Sound, 3585m off shore]

Silk was grateful she had had the foresight to duck back behind the bulkhead as the space she had been was once more filled with a thunder of sound and a hail of splinters. She winced as her wounded arm banged against the metal of the wall but it was considerably better than the alternative

<<@Nine: Hostiles are moving out of sight, can you track them for me? Relaying tactical data from my spy now...>>

@ Suicide Kings
[April 16th 2072; 01:30:00 On the Song of Freedom]
[The Pixel Special, ID "Aubert Benoit"]

Demon shrugs.

<<@ Group: I am not sure. This could be something or it could be nothing, but it is better to check it out, yes? If you like, I can question our esteemed captain.>>

@Dysfunctional Family
[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

Fractal mused to himself as he slowly walked along, checking the parameters on his personafix software. The target was up ahead, a few more steps.. and there it was accidental bump. He grunted, a very orkish sounding grunt. "Sorry" The target, some elven mid level exec started ranting at him. "You idiot, why don't you watch where you're going. They should get rid of you people from this Zone." Fractal kept his face down and meek. "Sorry Sir.. " He checked the srfids he had planted on the man's suit and in his hair, all the feeds reported back. He shuffled away slowly. The executive, now fuming mad stomped away and immediately went back to the call he was on.

Fractal walked to a near bye park and sat down on a bench, for all the world appearing like an old Ork falling asleep sitting on a bench. He went full VR and started up all the sub routines he would need for this job. His Icon shimmered and glowed with anticipation as he started this little job.

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

As you enter the node, you stand on a barren plane, which only makes the towering edifice of the Citadel seem even bigger. Even with the enhanced senses available in the matrix the top of this gothic monstrosity is lost in the lowering clouds, lightening scudding through them in vast sheets. Gargoyles leer at you from the tops of their pedestals and, following a faint cry bourn to you on the wind, you look up to see a huge western dragon, dwarfed by the structure, breath a torrent of fire into the surrounding tempest.

Before you are an enormous set of carved bronze doors cracked open, standing in the shadows there is a hooded figure who beckons to you

“Welcome to the Citadel, I am the Gatekeeper…”

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

Aria looked down at her displays from her throne room at the pinnacle of the Citadel…although in this case the displays were represented by mirrored pools of water and her throne was a twisted tree in an impossible jungle scape. She mentally acknowledged her master’s insight in creating this place, part test, part game and wholly mesmerising…

The choice to incorporate players own visions for their worldscapes had been immensely successful and had provided some weird and wonderful places to explore. That they got their free subscriptions and their avatar’s names above the portals was payment enough, along with the massive processing power required to run their creations. Aria never ceased to be amazed at the inventiveness present here, and in that creativity was the key to unlocking the secrets that her master cherished so much.

fre∑dom
[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

An AR loaded message appears in your inbox with a subtle ping announcing its arrival. The iconography tells you that the message originated entirely from within the ‘trix and you recognise the hooded figure and staff of lightening as the avatar of Prospero, an old school hacker who you’ve had dealings with in the past when you have needed some obscure code or hard to come by program. His hacker gang fre∑dom were based near here although you’d never been beyond the borders of their turf.

<<Fractal? I have urgent need of you…are you near Touristville at the moment? I want someone I know here when the so called investigators arrive. Your reputation for impartiality and discretion should convince them to talk to you…I want to know what happened but I am not about to trust these strangers.>>

A video file tag indicates a nearby node where a shocking series of feeds waits for download. It seems the gang have been attached, decimated even, although it is apparent that the attackers never reached the spider at the centre of his web…is this something you want to get involved in? It would mean relying on agents to follow your current mark until you had time to pick up his trail again…

[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

Fractal floated in the black void that was his VR construct. A Blizzard of fractals swirled all around him. As his own ICON altered it's frequency, different fractals would match and deliver information to Fractal. The message from Prospero shimmered for attention, and he played it. He focused his will and changed his surroundings, playing the various feeds. <<For you, anything. I'm actually doing a little side gig in Touristville tonight.>> He checked the people mover and traffic information from Gridguide, <<I can be there in ..>> He calculated, he'd need a new disguise, something more appropriate. <<Give me 20 minutes to get there.>>

A small squadron of fractals broke off and made their way down the Matrix trail, following some scent. <<What kind of investigators? Should I go in all S&S? Or M&S?>>

He routed an auto taxi his way, and highlighted the autovendors on the way. He wouldn't have time for a major disguise, but hopefully something decent. Fractal worked furiously while he waited for everything to come together, coding himself a new disguise.

fre∑dom
[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

<<I don’t know who these investigators are. A meddling hacker calling herself Summer turned up in one of my peripheral nodes and said she was sending them to me to help find out who was behind the attack. To say that I am suspicious of her motives would be a gross understatement!

You know this place, coming dressed to blend in will make sure you’re more likely to reach here. I know we aren’t barrens proper but there’s no need to advertise yourself.>>

[April 15th, 2072 22:17; Somewhere in Touristville]

Fractal made sure his agents would do their work, then slithered back out of VR. His logout functions triggered a loud snort, grunt, as if suddenly waking oneself up with a snore. He looked around, and saw that his taxi cab was almost at the destination. he stood up and walked slowly towards it. Checking camera angles, he stepped through an alleyway. Going in as an old Ork, he came out as a very young looking one. Full of swagger and thrust, he stepped into the taxi where it was waiting, and in stilted Japanese, told the taxi where to go.

<<I'm on my way. Should be there shortly. We can talk about handwashing when I get a feel for what's going on.>>

Fractal reviewed the feeds, and started doing searches on this Hacker calling herself Summer. While he was there, he hacked the taxi logs, so it would charge the ride to some corporate account, and forget who and where it had picked up.

[April 16th 2072; xx:xx Amidst a haze of allegedly smokeless powder, debris, and strobing flashes.]


*Crack* *Crack* *Crack* -chitch-

The unmistakeable sound of the bolt of an Ares Alpha locking to the rear.

"I'm OUT!"

Typically screaming this is considered a bad idea; however, the network had gone down a while back, when they lost contact with Mr. Green, and not everyone had radios anymore...


ssshhhhhtttt

The sound of an Ares Predator coming out of its Smart-Holster. No time for reflection on the particular brand name dominance apparent in Dealer's weapon selection.

pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft

Never did take the silencer off.

"DIE MOTHER FRAGGER DIE! Copper, where's Demon?!"

In short, all the sounds of a run having gone wrong...

fre∑dom
[April 15th, 2072 22:31; Somewhere in Touristville]

Jazz angrily rubbed the tears out of her eyes once more and hunched back against the propped fire escape door to shield herself from the bitter wind. Why hadn’t she been here…surely she could have done something? Even with clear evidence to the contrary her thoughts strayed back to this again. The other defenders hadn’t been able to even slow down the hunters who had come with their dogs and their guns. Freedom was broken and bleeding

Her lowlight AR glasses, the most expensive piece of tech she owned, picked out Sam across the street. The gangly young teenager looked back at her and gestured towards the approaching taxi…it seemed company was coming sooner than anticipated. She flicked off the safety on the AK and, facing it down towards the wall, briefly touched the trigger to ensure the neon green laser sight was operational…now she just had to see who it was and report back to the boss…

[April 16th 2072; xx:xx Amidst a haze of allegedly smokeless powder, debris, and strobing flashes.]

Cradling the dying Frenchman in her arms, Copperhead heard the gunfire pause and Dealer shouting, "I'm OUT!"

She kissed Demon gently on the forehead and then eased him to the ground. He gave a weak smile as she wrapped his fingers around the last of his fragmentation grenades and pulled the pin.

She thought she heard him say 'Au revoir, ma cherie' but her ears were ringing too much to be sure.

"He's dead and we need to leave now." she shouted back.

Despite her own wounds, she forced herself into a crouch and called out to Snake.

Mama, I need your help. Grant us your speed and conceal us from our foes.

She swayed, the pounding in her temples increasing to an even more frantic beat, but a translucent serpent hissed into view before her.

"Dealer, I know you don't fink much of mages but if you want to live, take ma fraggin hand and hold onto your fraggin breath."

Her long arm snaked out towards the street sam and then with the last of her strength, she leapt off the dock and into the freezing water.

[Matrix Node: SEAѤ67-∑2: The Citadel]

Ælias floated right outside of The Citadel's node, looking up at the great archway that served as the portal into the game world. His persona was currently the one he wears as Simon Trent, the fake SIN he is projecting; it is that of a slim, heavily tattooed elven street samurai, katana on his back and heavy pistol at his side. Simon Trent was Horizon low-level management, a middle aged ork who scouted small time urban rap stars, who secretly wanted to be like the prettier metas, or that is what Ælias imagined Simon to be like.

He watched the node for a long while, watching the traffic in and out, watching the shifting of data around him, attuning himself to it. Slowly, piece by piece, Ælias reached out and began changing little bits of information in the flow, slowly building the game account for the user Simon Trent aka username AncientMan87. He found a keycode for one of the old beta test accounts, the trial offer subscription numbers from GameCicada (a live streaming game site he plays on sometimes), as well a few corporate account numbers with multiple accounts already attached to them. Those are usually some employee benefit account set up as a bonus for good wageslaves or office groups that all pay games together. Horizon has changed the ways megas treat their employees, and this kind of account was part of that change, a change Ælias particularly enjoyed.

There it was, the account was ready for him. He willed the time into the upper right corner of his vision, checking how long it took him to crack this one. Six hours? That's pretty wicked time if I do say. Now, let's see what this Citadel is getting all the buzz for.