"Is she alright?" Siren says, nodding towards the downed guard. She certainly hopes that she isn't hurt too badly.

Once the shop gets more relaxed, she heads out as well and off into the night.

Siren

As you look over at the woman, the dwindling light of her aura fades. Without the counter blocking your vision any longer, it is clear that her neck is broken along with her jaw. Blood pools around her face. The final beats of a heart that doesn't know it is dead.

Sneaking out into the night, distant sirens can be heard. The astral form of a PuebSec mage appears abruptly in the parking lot; a blur of motion leaves after images in your mind as it slows from the speed of thought. It looks at you intently for a second before continuing inside.

Seeing people take note and the various inputs from a dozen sources, Papa goes to work covering the team. First, the second vehicle that the team are not using begins to blare its horn, draw attention and drive erratically. Then, using the Mall's node, he places a security call including clipped, blurry video of the other running team and their video, noting them as robbery suspects. Nothing personal Chummers.

He then spins the captain's chair to the front, starts the van and begins to ease away through the parking garage. He tracks the jeep to plot a vector out and away from the jeep for the team.

Seeing that the guard is actually dying, which she wasn't quite aware of, Siren stops for a moment to kneel down next to her. Singing softly once more, and gently laying a hand upon her broken neck, the mystic adept casts a healing spell to stabilize her. Once that is done, she moves out of the store and vanishes into the night.

As she notices the astral security mage outside, Siren looks at him as well, assensing his aura. Afterwards she turns around and continues on her way.

Olethros follows suit and gets in the car.

Siren

The melody wraps around you in a warm blanket, helping to focus your mind on the flow of mana rather than the gruesome picture in front of you. The woman's body heaves up, struck by the spell like an electrical jolt. She takes a gasping breath, coughing blood and mucus clear of her throat.

You watch as the wash of recognition sweeps across her face, the pendulum swinging from life to death stopped short.

Siren walks away for a while, keeping an eye on the astral for now. When nothing happens for half an hour, she retreats her senses from the astral plane and continues towards some public transportation route, not having her car around. She will also send a quick message to the team.

< @Team [Siren] Hey guys! Heading home now. Will talk to you later. >

Pulling the rifle into her lap, Jenni begins to disassemble the long arm, breaking it down into component parts before reassembling it into a more compact carbine style rifle in the small space. Following along with Papa's driving, she keeps her eyes open for pursuit or unwanted attention.

Taking a look a the bags full of electronics and shattered glass, she gives a low whistle.

"Well, there's a lotta stuff here, an' Ah'm guessing Papa can tell us what's what, but I guess the bigger question is, what do we keep and who do we sell that' rest too?"

Pulling the rifle into her lap, Jenni begins to disassemble the long arm, breaking it down into component parts before reassembling it into a more compact carbine style rifle in the small space. Following along with Papa's driving, she keeps her eyes open for pursuit or unwanted attention.

Taking a look a the bags full of electronics and shattered glass, she gives a low whistle.

"Well, there's a lotta stuff here, an' Ah'm guessing Papa can tell us what's what, but I guess the bigger question is, what do we keep and who do we sell that' rest too?"

Brock Brock empties the contents of the bag into one that isn't combined with shards of safety glass. Keeping the shattered glass he will bag them up later to make rounds for the shotgun to use. "I know no one who can use this stuff but I think Papa knows more about these things and the people who can use them or might want them."

Monday -- July 25, 2072 -- Early Morning
Team

Several hours pass before the team returns to the safe house. Cars are dumped a few miles away and Papa takes a circuitous route, spoofing the van's access. In an abandoned area just east of San Bernadino, Papa uses a dead zone to cover the van while he goes through the tedious process of checking each piece of electronics for tags and erasing them. A few security tags have to be physically removed and are buried in the dirt, far from signal towers.

Arriving at the safe house, there have been no other cars on the road for the last mile. With the electronics stowed under a jammer just to be sure, the first job is done. The harder one, targeting the mercenary team from UCLA is next.

As Brock hangs his coat up, the heavy pistol and necklace are visible to the rest of the team.

Brock pulls the pistol out and hands it to papa " think you can wipe it and see if one of the others might be able to use it."Then hands the necklace to the old Ollie and siren " the guy on the ground had this on him is it valuable?" not knowing exactly what the necklace was he hoped it could be useful to worth anything.

As the team slowly starts making their way into the safe house, Dalma gets up from her studies and heads into the Kitchen, over the time she has spent here, she has slowly become familiar with the house, learning where things go and gracefully moving towards each place, as if each move was planned ahead of time, she takes some cups and water out and makes a pot of tea along with coffee for those few she had noticed that don't like tea.

She sets them on a table in front of the door, each cub lined up with each other, she watches at the team trickles and looks over each seeing if they need any tending of wounds.

Siren arrives at the house a few hours later, having taken her time and arranged a meeting with her car, that got there on autopilot.

When she comes in, she remarks: "The guard, the ninja-wannabe, will live. She got hit pretty hard and was close to dying when I looked at her aura, but I could heal her wounds far enough to stabilize her. I would really prefer, if you could restrain yourself a bit and not use excessive force like that, when it is completely unnecessary. Sometimes it cannot be helped, I certainly know that, but... well, I guess you know what I mean."

Brock shakes his head, " the way she was jumping around and acting like a ninja cyber punk I didnt need her getting people excited so I put threats like that down hard and fast, in my past i don't usually have to show such restrain, I will work on letting up on soft targets. Also if you and dalma want to take a look at this here necklace the guard had it on him might be useful might not."

"I certainly can Brock"

Dalma walks over to look at the necklace

"Thank you. Let me see that necklace. If there is something magical about it, I can surely tell you more."

Olethros walks over and hesitates at the drinks offered. He seems to finally decide on the tea. Before taking a seat with the others she draws closer to Dalma. When he speaks it is with a strangely wistful tone as if remembering something but not quite fully.

"Thanks, not often you meet people in this business who take the time for the gentle graces of living."

He sits and watches Siren attempt to pass the notion of restrain to Brock. He shakes his head slightly at the attempt. He would do as his nature dictated and it seemed to hold little within it that gave pause at the thought of ending other's existence.

"With this theft out of the way what steps do we need to take next? Sell what we don't want is obvious but how do we want to go about tracking down the other team of runners?"

Papa itemizes the haul. "Good start. This will facilitate a considerably safer TeamNet."

<<@Siren [Papa] I'm gonna replace your com. I highly advise you dump that cheap one you're using as a router; it is a liability. When you dump the excess, see what you can do about getting three of each M-93Q Combat Cases and EMP-Proof™s. Also, a Tricorder Supreme, five skinlink kits and 3 stock SIM Modules. Let me know how much you fall short and I'll cover the difference. Hopefully those Biofeedback filters will get us close to even.>>

"Soon I'll be working on about everyone's comlinks. I'll have Siren pick up a few more parts when she sells the excess. Most of what we took will be used though. I'll also cannibalize the hardware from the old coms to upgrade the some of the drones." He looks at the tea and reaches back into the cupboard. With a big smile he offers a jar. "Honey. Real honey. This house has a few real perks."

Dalma sits and watches as each member comes in, she sits as always like a lady should, her shoulders rolled back and relaxed, impeccable posture and her arms resting on her legs in front of her, as Olethros leans over and makes a comment to her, she smiles and responds silently...

"It is the small things that remind people of the good in life"

At this point Father had walked out of the study room and stood in the back of the room, watching silently as he normally did.

Jenni takes her coffee black, alternatively sipping and blowing on the cup as she leans against the counter, listening to people talk. She didn't know the first thing about the magic or the tech, and she was starting to wonder if she really had as much to offer to the team as she'd initially claimed.

In for ah penny, in for ah pound, I guess..

She looks up at Ollie's question, obviously having been thinking the same thing, and looks to Papa for the answer.

Papa looks around at the eclectic crew, musing on the changes just a few weeks have brought. As he fixes his own drink, he ponders the hanging question of the other crew. "They are ghosts online." He takes a sip of his tea & honey before continuing. "Probably going to have to work contacts or magical means of tracking. Thoughts?"

<< @Papa [Siren] Liability, huh? Guess so. But sometimes it is good to have a, yaknow, 'normal' commlink. One that a normal person would have. I will keep it offline, when it isn't needed. I really should get some better software for it, though. Only has the programs it came with. >>

Olethros sets his tea cop down and thinks a moment.

"I can ask my people about them and see what shakes out. If you can get something that once belonged to any of them or a location where we know they frequent I would be willing to look back and see what's there. It would at the very least provide some insight into their personalities."

Monday -- July 25, 2072
Siren

You get a hold of Santana and he tells you to meet him for breakfast at a small cantina in Fun City. When you arrive, he's sitting on the patio with a lean Aztlaner. Santana is dressed in khakis and a cabana shirt that looks like he just walked out of Little Havana. His associate is wearing a black suit and tie over a vibrant red dress shirt. You see the edges of prison gang tattoos near his collar and along the the backs of his hands at the wrist.

The fixer waves for you to come sit down.

"I'd like you to meet an associate of mine, Ernesto. He's here to look over the merchandise and tells me that if everything is like you said, he will have your needs met by tomorrow."

The waitress comes by with a small basket of sweet breads and cafecitos for each of you. She smiles at you, but it doesn't reach her eyes. As she walks away, Ernesto doesn't make any effort hiding his attention to her backside. Santana ignores it all and continues talking.

"Will this work for you?"

"So, my word isn't good enough for you, then," Siren says with a serious face, at least for a short moment, then she almost bursts out into laughter, but restrains it to a perky smile. "No, of course it's alright. I had an electronics expert check them already, but I perfectly understand, that you have to make sure it meets your expectations. It's just business as usual. Here, have a look!" Then she puts a slim aluminium attaché case on the table, that contains the items and turns it around to have the handle end right between Ernesto and Santana, not being sure who wants to open it.

Only then, the young woman turns to Ernesto, nodding to him. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm called Siren."

Once Ernesto is busy with the case, being the curious kitten she is, Siren shifts her senses over to the astral to assense him.

Siren

The young thug opens the case, shifting items around inside. As you speak, he licks his lips then casts a furtive glance at Santana. "'It is very nice to meet you, Siren. Are there any changes to the list you sent last night? And, how do you want to deal with the balance?"

<<@Siren [Papa] Just wanting to make sure you don't route your primary com through it via a skinlink or optical cable.>>

Later, while Siren is out and he reviews his inventory and upgrades.
<<@Siren [Papa] Sorry, I missed a few things but these can be acquired legally. Use certified cred though. [List Attached]. Thanks.>>

"The list hasn't changed," Siren answers. "It should all be in there. There was a list of items I would like to acquire in return. If there is any balance left, certified creds are always fine. Goes either way, I suppose."

Siren

The thug in a suit nods and closes the attache case. "Alright then. I look forward to seeing more of you." With that, Ernesto rises and carries the attache case with him.

"He's new. Give him a few weeks out of the pen and his hormones will calm down. If they don't, he'll probably get shot...and that tends to have the same effect."

The next day, Santana sends you an address and locker number. The address corresponds to a maglev station. When you arrive, the locker has the attache case in it. Inside is the hardware you requested and a note from Ernesto with his commcode and to call him if you ever need electronics or if you're lonely. Beneath the note are three certified credsticks.

Tuesday -- July 26, 2072
Brock

While Siren is out collecting gear, Theodore sends you a data packet.

//Chummer, here's the info you were asking about. I'll put it on your tab.

The data unfolds with information about the team from the attack at UCLA. They are a professional team, well-known in the fixer community as a solid resource for item retrieval. Coltrane is the leader, an ex-UCAS Special Forces. The team has magical and matrix support, as well as, sufficient combat expertise to hold their own. They are known to frequent a dive bar in San Bernadino called the Chicken Choker.

When Siren arrives back at the safehouse later, she puts the briefcase on the table, when Papa is around, opening it and turning it to face him.

"There you go. Have fun!"

The credsticks, totalling 17k¥ between them, are in there with the rest of the equipment.

"I will be out of town for a few days around the weekend, so if there is anything important to do, I will have to either do it before or afterwards."

"We should put together what we know about that other team by now, and then start filling in the blanks. Once we have an idea where to find them, hangouts or anything, I can probably get in there and have a look at their auras, which should tell us a bit about them. Then we can think about a way to keep them at a healthy distance, so they won't interfere with our work here. We could even 'hire' them, or at least set up a meeting, which would bring them to us at a predefined time and place."

Brock forwards the information to the team " well looks like who ever these guys are they have a rep for being bad asses"

"Well, I wouldn't expect them being amateurs."

When they are putting together the commlinks, Siren realizes, that she could really use a second set of programs for it. Asking Papa about it, it turns out that the hacker currently has no suitable means to acquire them, though he is looking into it. That is when an idea strikes home, and she remembers Ernesto, who might just be able to help out.

<< @Ernesto [Siren] Hey! Thanks for the package. Everything looks great. I realized later, that I could really use a couple more programs, and you know how expensive those get when you buy them through the online vendors. I was wondering, if you have the means to get the kind that works just as well for a fraction of the cost. State of the art, but nothing too fancy. [attached: list of programs] A friend told me how that works, means, that you will have to get regular updates to keep them working as well as they should, because you cannot just hit the update button. I will obviously need those, too. Do you have the means to provide them? >>

<<@Siren [Papa] And if you could make some introductions, that would be much appreciated...>>

Brock looks up the location of chicken choker making sure its not t heavily guarded by any gangs the last thing he needed was another incident causing in needed attention.<@team[brock]"so so who wants to scope out this chicken choker bar to see how this other team rolls, I figure if siren can get inside with a camera papa can Id them to make sure it's the right guys and if trouble starts I can cover the escape. Since we have some basic information lets see how they opporate.">

Olethros finishes the remaining tea in a long draw and rises to place the mug in the sink, pausing to grab his jacket which he slides into after getting his hands free.

"Call me or message me if you need me for anything. I'm going to go see what I can find out."

He turns and exits the kitchen then the house while pulling up an interface in AR to call a cab to pick him up several blocks away from the safe house.

Later That Night
The dark stairwell was slick and covered with a collection of street trash blown down or kicked over the lip at the top. The strong smell of urine and bitter waste water rose up as Olethros walked down. He came to the door, as promised, and saw the simple push button. The door looked heavy and reinforced, probably would take considerable effort to break down. He pushes it and waits as the distant sound of cars echoes down from the streets above. He hears and feels some sort of bar or locking mechanism being drawn and the door opens revealing a thin and nervous looking man - the smell of his stale sweat almost hangs in the air like a cloud. Nothing in his eyes shows the traces of humanity that linger in the back of the eyes of those living in this part of town. This man has killed and did it with as much thought or consideration as other people would to closing a door.

"Yah."

Olethros pulls up the encrypted file he was given and sends it over - not even sure what it does. The doorman simply nods and steps aside revealing a dimly lit hall leading deeper into the building.

"Player or spectator?"

As he walks in he sees a smaller room just off the door, it was concealed by the door itself. Just inside sit four other hollow men - there ones all clearly carrying guns of one type or another. The greeter has his hand out clearly waiting to be paid. Olethros slowly withdraws a certified credstick and places it in his hand as he replies.

"Spectator."

The door is closed behind him as he clears it. He watches as two large bars are swiveled back into place. He begins to speak as he locks it into the wall. His voice is disinterested and flat like a bored ride operator at an overpriced amusement park.

"Fine. All wagers are settled when you leave or you don't leave. Down the hall."

Olethros nods, keeping the still and calm expression locked onto his face. He turns and walks down the hall soon hearing the screams and shouts of the pit ahead. Coming to an an opening and see the rigged cage in the center of the space. Surrounding it is a crowd of people, screaming and yelling. Their faces contorted with rage and echoed bloodlust. The two figures inside - women it looks like - are covered in bruises and lines of freshly drawn blood. A few men and women stand apart from the crowds - dressed in middle class business ware - they are taking wagers and bets - passing out information on the next bout.

He passes at the threshold - this was the best place for what he sought. Here was a domain that contained the themes he sought - death, fate, lust, despair and insanity. He would be hard pressed to find another place where so many of his kin could be reached at once. The only thing that remained was to see if they were present and if they cared. He worked is way into the crowd and near the barrier to the ring. He knelt and was fortunate to find blood had fallen outside.

Drawing a deep breath and letting his senses fill with this place he drew a single line of blood down his face - starting just above his lip and ending at his chin. He whispers in the waves of shouts and screams, in the oldest language he knew.

"I am here and seek your counsel."

He bites down hard on his own tongue and draws blood. Running his finger along the rapidly healing wound he traces his lips with it, tasting it and blood from before.

'Tell me of the souls I must face soon and if they are connected to the thief I hunt for your blessing."

Olethros

A bell rings and the women launch themselves at one another. Punches and kicks are thrown until the shorter one gets inside her opponent's reach. There's a brutal pin. The taller woman's head bounces off the mat with a crunch as her cheekbone is crushed. The little one pulls hard on a joint lock leaving the woman writhing in agony.

"Have you seen my doggy?" The voice is pieced together from fragments of words all around you, made up of the myriad discordant shouts.

Two are disciples of your banner.

They are what they are, exactly as they are meant to be.

Mortals serving the guardian, practiced in death.

Their hearts and minds have fallen sway to the blood-song.

Ashes, ashes, they all fall down.

With the whispers of eternity surrounding you, all perception of the world around you fell away. Now it comes rushing back. The taller woman has one arm held up by a judge. Behind her, a bodybag is zipped close. Workers move around the inside of the cage, lining it with a clear plastic sheeting before the next match.

As Dalma sits still, with her perfect posture listening to conversations and reading the team net message coming in, she reaches over to her commlink interface and takes a moment to look at it then replies.

<@team [Dalma] I think I could help with the scoping of the bar, my eyes see beyond just the physical world>

Siren

<< @Siren [Ernesto] Chica, yeah I can get that. If you don't mind a little monthly service fee, those come out to a hefty discount from retail. Not five-finger level, but damn close. Give me a day and I'll get you the cost. >>

<@Team[Brock]"if dalma siren and I take a look at this bar to see what makes these guys so special. I can maybe make situation to see their response during a scuffle. Siren can Asses these guys in person while dalma checks out their magical potency

<< @Ernesto [Siren] Sounds good! Hopefully, they are clean, too. But I'm sure you know your stuff. Let me know, once you have the details. >>

<< @Team [Siren] I don't know, but going with so many might raise some suspicion, or not? Well, maybe we should first figure out how big that place is and what the typical clientele is, whether there is a lot of regular customers or whether it is a changing crowd. >>

The Chicken Choker

Sitting in a squat concrete building with cracked pavement in the parking lot, The Chicken Choker screams dive bar. The parking lot hasn't seen even the most basic maintenance in a decade. Old trucks and choppers are the most common vehicles in the area. There's also a decommissioned APC that has been tagged by several gangs, showing that it can still drive.

Inside, most of the patrons look to be long-term alcoholics. There is a buzz of tension when newcomers enter, made worse if the newcomers are well dressed. Boot knives and handguns can be seen around the bar. The smell of human filth, mixed with blood and vomit is cloying. Sawdust is scattered across the floor to absorb messes and is then swept to a corner.

Most of the area is dark, with fading lightbulbs flickering in different areas. The bar is the best lit, under the neon glow of different beer company signs. Even there it is hard to make out the initials and crude symbols carved into the wood over the years.

Brock

You get several hard-looks. A trio of men with the look of day laborers and hardened cons, sneer and mutter about 'dumb trogs' before turning back to their drinks. The bar is a bodyguard's worst nightmare. Plenty of armed and angry folks, not enough sight-lines.

An Aztlaner man sitting in the corner is cutting his fingernails with a knife, watching the bar. He is one of team members that Papa sent images of.

Dalma

The air is thick with despair and your skin grows cold and clammy as you walk through the door of the bar. This place has seen the failing of men's minds, the decisions to find an end to the pain. Along the edge of your senses, you almost saw an open window. Turning, there was nothing there.

Several of the men watch as you move through the area. Snakes watching a rat scurry across their pit. The bartender brings a small glass to you, filled with a dark liquid. "From them." He makes a wide gesture that seems to include the whole bar. "There's more, just pick whichever you're saying no to."

Dalma walks into the Bar with a long dress down to her ankles with a leather jacket, her hair in a pony tail and holding on to Brock's arm, as if she is being escorted in, she sits on a stool at the bar, with her perfect posture and slowly takes a look around room, giving a small smile as she looks.

When the bartender brings the drink over she looks the glass over, straightens out it's position on the table so it is directly in front of her and gives a bit of a confused smile...

"....ummm ok, I....ummm, who am I saying no to? and what am I saying no about?"

Brock orders a drink as well leaning in close to dalma and whispers in her ear "just raise the glass and take a sip of the drink, it's a free drink from anyone and everyone here. Poor fools want to get you liqoured up to better their chances at talking to you." Brock raises his glass and takes a sip from his drink. Brock only looks around to get a survey of who has moved In for a closer look then any things else. <@papa[brock]"were inside this rats nest, only one is here so far.">

Dalma nods an understanding as Brock whispers in her ear, she raises the glass steadily making sure not to spill, even little and looks to the room with a smile...

"I thank you for your kindness"

And takes a drink, gulping down about a quarter of the glass, she sets the drink down slowly

"uhh a little heavier than my normal tea"

She giggles a little to herself, and takes out her commlink interface to type something in

<@team [Dalma] "The one in here is Awakened">

The Pit
Shaking himself free of the communion, he wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket clearing the blood from it. He looks over the ritual of this place. The bodies going in - souls filled with desperation to escape debts that could no longer be settled with money or fools seeking the momentary glory of being the victor. Facing death and pulling themselves from the edge of this abyss - all for the equally fleeting money that it would bring. His mind raced with the numbers being shouted around him for the next match as he pushed his way to the exit - the value of lives here seem to flux up or down, using a formula he had little hope of understanding. As he went through the motions to leave this place - he pulled up an AR window and sent out a message to the group.

<<@Team[Olethros] I have asked and I have some information to share - not sure if it's helpful. Two of them are killers - pure and simple. They destroy simply as a vocation so I would suspect the rest are probably not too gentle or inclined to use non-lethal methods. They are working for Locket and they have done their killing for her in other jobs so this maybe a way she has managed to flex around the restraints laid upon her. I think they are under the influence of something or someone tied to blood - I would rule out simple street drugs. Whatever is affecting them is most likely magical in nature. When we put them down we should make sure they all fall - no loose ends.>>

Brock looks around the bar and the bar tender, if two like killing I'm sure it's the knife trotting bastard but who was his accomplice. <@Team[brock]"who among the team other then the knife thrower would seem to have a murderous instinct?"

Dalma

The drink is warm and spiced with a slight metallic edge to it. It wraps thickly around your tongue, rolling through your mouth as you drink it. The liquid slowly caresses your throat all the way down, sending a pleasant flush of warmth through your body.

A coarse ARO is present in your vision, telling you to signal when you are ready for the next.

Jenni

A broad shouldered man with thick hairy arms shoves past you down the road, his eyes scanning buildings and cars for movement. You smell the strong scent of musk and a day's hard labor as he keeps walking. Stepping into the bar, it takes your eyes a second to adjust to the dim lighting. Brock and Dalma are standing and sitting respectively near a tall table off to your right. The Aztlaner from the footage is sitting alone at a table in the corner.

Most of the patrons in here are hard-eyed, the type that your pa and brother would send walking if they asked for a day's work at the ranch. Their scars aren't the type that come from four and six legged animals. A ripple of looks and muffled grunts goes through the bar. "Two of 'em."