Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:13: Fang's Diner, Touristville, Redmond Barrens

Touristville has a funk to it that never seems to go away; a kind of underlying smell that permeates everything and everyone there. You can't wash it away. You can perfume it over, but then its perfume covered funk.

Moses sat across the table Scotty. The kid as he sipped his soycaf (ok, he's 24, but he freaking looks like he's 14) in his crisp uniform with an all too optimistic smile on his face. Elsewhere in the run down diner, about a dozen people, all human except two orks, were in various stages of eating the slop that passed for food here or drinking the swill that claimed to be soykaf. Everyone talked in hushed tones and everyone was probably armed.

Touristville's second claim to fame is that it is the gateway to the Redmond Barrens. A purgatory of sorts. Civilized enough to not really be considers part of the "Barrens", Redmond enough not to really be considered civilized by its neighboring districts.

Scotty set down his cup as the waitress arrives to refill both cups. Her partial smile is forced and quickly dropped after being acknowledged. Noting your PANs, she provides your bill in AR format. Moses notes that, like many places in the Barrens, she is also prepared to provide a written bill. "Appreciate the advice. Hopefully I'll be able to get my numbers up this month." Their beat had been the next district to the west, Bellevue. When Moses was kicked off the force, Scotty suffered a transfer into Redmond. The Siberia of assignments.

Another cop strolls into the diner, his uniform not so neat, not quite pressed in the recent, or not so recent past. His five-o-clock shadow is going on two days and his scowl at seeing Moses told all how he felt. Officer Burgeon, as he directed Moses to address him, is Scotty's new partner. "Scotty... What are you doing? Slumming with locals? Let's go. Time to start our shift."

Scotty looks to Moses, "He's right. Time to serve & protect."

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:13: Fang's Diner, Touristville, Redmond Barrens

The call was made three and a half hours ago. Scotty wanted to meet up for a quick bite, shoot the breeze, drain the drek, or whatever the hell the kids called it these days... Now Moses sat in front of a half-finished plate of syrup doused waffles and sausages, or the closest approximation to it that the Azzy working in the back could pull off. His hands were folded over his growing belly, and he had the look of a man content to enjoy the rest of the evening talking with his friend.

It's all about the CIs, kid. Criminal Informants. Laws of thermodynamics state that 'All processes manifest a tendency toward decay.'

Moses earbuds had picked up the word Thermodynamics and had displayed the relevant passage on upper right lens of his gold framed glasses. Handy little toy, that.

These small-time gangs want to collapse. It's up to you to use the safest and easiest method to make that happen. When your new partner wants to make the evening news by shooting up some novacoke lab, you remember that.


Moses smiles as the waitress delivers the bill. He waves off an attempt by Scotty to cover it, and brings up a Fake SIN account to pay for the meal. Always good keeping these looking legitimate. The ringing of the bell atop the diner's door signaled a new party entering the establishment. Keeping his head perfectly still, Moses eyes scanned the nearby area for a reflective surface, so that he can see behind without awkwardly turning around. Using Scotty's entirely overpolished badge, he's able to discern that the body is in uniform. And that would be the Burger King. I wonder how long he watched our conversation? ... Slumming with the locals!? That prick! I outta... Be nice now, be nice. The Lord doesn't take kindly to you causing a ruckus with his children.

By the time he had stopped conversing with himself, Scotty had already gotten up and brushed himself off to leave. Moses shimmied himself out of the booth and stood up, shaking Scotty's hand, and turned to face Burgeon.

Officer Burgeon, good to see you again. You take care out there tonight, and look over the small fry here, he's still impressionable.

Scotty smiled sheepishly, and Burgeon mumbled something unintelligible, but the new pair left just the same. Moses followed the two out and headed to his own car, a well taken care of black Patrol-1. He might have stayed in the diner had the smell not been as overbearing, or the lights maddeningly flickering. He got in, turned the car on, and set the AC on high, blasting at a temperature that only the old big cars could seem to reach. A chill went down his body for a moment as the air froze off any collecting sweat from the hot summer night. He turned the car's stereo on, selecting an old blues album he purchased earlier in the week, then he engaged his simrig and began pulling up AROs of a missing persons case he'd been working on. Burger and fries. I should have made a joke about that..

Chǔnán - Friday, March 27th, 2071@15:07: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS

The storage facility with its six rows of storage units sat just a half a block outside of the jurisdiction of any police. The running joke is that after you kill/rape/beat someone, just drag them across that line so that its no longer a crime. Chǔnán's unit was about three-quarters the way down row #3, right in the middle of a number of SINless who immigrated here from Hong Kong.

Children, mostly unwashed, run around outside playing. Were it that they had SINs, they would just be getting out of school; these children knew nothing of school, though some of them might be educated by some of the old women or men. Up the street, in what was once a strip mall, many of their parents toil, sewing clothing under the watchful eyes of hardened supervisors. Supervisors who themselves had simply fought and clawed up one rung of the social ladder and fought every day not to slip downward.

The day is rather bleak, as are most days in Seattle. Overcast skies hid direct sunlight and drove some people insane who are used to more light. The storage units lack windows and are dark an bleak themselves when closed. The landlords are a rather glum ork family who live in what once served as the office to the site. The head of the family is a gnarled old ork woman everyone just calls "Grandma". She is kind enough, when the rent is paid up. Fall behind in your rent and she has her family evict you in the most anti-grandmotherly manner.

One redeeming quality of the storage unit was its proximity to Puyallup City. This generally afforded a good matrix signal and allowed Ho Feng make calls, as long as he is outside the metal storage unit. As he exits his storage unit, his com reconnects to the matrix to let him know he has a message waiting from his fixer, a man (at least he thinks) who he's never met who always makes contact via com. While mysterious, his nuyen has been good the last two jobs he provided, even if they have only been bodyguard work.
<<@Chǔnán [Kilroy] When you get this, let me know. I have some work for you tonight, if you're available.>>

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:21: Fang's Diner, Touristville, Redmond Barrens

Moses noticed that the sun was well into the western sky, though still a ways from being gone when he looked over the steering wheel after starting his car. Half a dozen cars, two motorcycles and truck are situated around the diner's little parking lot. The rumble of loud motorcycles brings his attention to a trio of bikes rolling into the parking lot with what appears to be five orks. They wear faded, red, synth-leather and Moses notices several of them with pistols in quick draw holsters.

This close to the Barrens, the scene is not alarming and Moses has seen that style before, recognizing it as one of the local gangs.

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:22: Fang's Diner, Touristville, Redmond Barrens

Nice jackets... thinks Moses as he spots the fivesome heading into the diner. With a thought, he activates his facial recognition software and gait analysis software, scanning the faces and strides of the Orcs heading in, cross-referencing the information given against a data search, looking for any violent criminals amongst the newcomers.

Worried about something, Mose?

The voice was a familiar one. It was Nix, his virtual friend and secretary. She looked like a young attractive Orc, and was wearing a Philadelphia Flyers hockey sweater and sweatpants. She currently sat in the back passenger seat, her left foot stretched across the seat like it was her own personal couch. He hated that about her, her lack of manners and civility, but he dare not edit that out. She was a person to him, and the thought was as detestable as lobotomy.

Maybe. Can never be to careful around your people.

She protested with an audible 'Harumph!' which brought a smile to Moses face. She knew he wasn't prejudiced against any group of people, much less Orcs, but that didn't make her immune to his friendly jab.

Pandora is in the glove compartment. She's got 5 gel rounds and one silver bullet in her.
Yeah, I know. I don't think I'll be needing her tonight. he thought, and then frowned at the possibility that he just jinxed himself.

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:07: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS

Checking his messages, Chunan Couldn't help but let a little nervous frustration bleed into his thoughts. Finally! It's not like I have anything else to do, Kilroy.

With nothing to do but think between jobs, which were very sparse, Chunan was becoming more anxious by the day. He knew that his money was running low. And it was only a matter of time before the The Smoke Circle Society discovered that he had fled Hong Kong and started putting feelers out across the Triad information network. Not an easy network to navigate by any means, but still better functioning than inter-megacorporate cooperation. They would eventually track him down. To prepare for that, he needed time and money, both of which were in an ever-dwindling supply.

Chunan noticed the kids playing around him and smiled to himself, sadly. The childhood he'd given up with that one, brutal decision still haunted him. As much as Sifu Shen tried to counsel him, Chunan knew that the stain on his face would not wash off for a very long time. And much suffering would be required to complete the enormous karmic debt he'd incurred. That's why he hadn't had any qualms about taking up residence in unit 74; while the others shunned it, he felt that the numerology fit him well. Spiritual death. Indeed, that is how I have felt since that fateful day. He chuckled to himself ruefully.

Chunan shook himself out of his brown study. There were no creds to be found in morbid abstraction or dark reverie. And no solace either. To work then.

<<@Kilroy [Chunan] I am indeed free this evening, Kilroy. I'll be in the clear for a bit, so you can comm me with details.>>

That sounded awful! Chunan knew his English was improving, but he was having a very hard time loosening up his syntax. And his grasp of the local street slang was tenuous. His grandfather had taught him only formal English and had allowed noting else. Oh, grandfather. And where are we now? He sighed morosely.

He stood there for a few minutes soaking up the sun and the excited babbles of the children. The rolling waves of Cantonese around his residence always made Chunan feel a little calmer. More relaxed.

I fear this inaction is causing much atrophy. To my psyche, if nothing else. And with that thought, he went for his afternoon free-run through the neighbourhood.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:23: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

The folding chair Bob uses for an office chair wobbles as he sits on it, figiting with his comlink. Frustrated, he damn near knocks the door he uses for a desk off the pair of sawhorses that keep it at the correct level to serve as a desk. Even barren, the office looks dingy, matching the crate that serves as a client chair and the only other piece of furniture in the room.

A knock on the new door, the door that replaced the door now serving as a desk before it was kicked in by a few debt collectors, brings Bob's focus to the hear and now. He starts to acknowledge the knock, but the door opens before he gets a chance. Two orks dressed in cheap, off-the-rack suits let themselves in. "Mitch, you'se late on your payment... We're here to talk about how late you are..."

A negative response from Bob about the fact that he is not Mitch Long, previous tenant falls on deaf ears.

"Mikey, are we in office 1F?"

"Yep, Twig. That we are."

"And did the boss say that we are to collect from Mitch, who is in office 1F or break a leg?"

"Yep Twig, that he did."

He turns back to address Bob. "Whether or not you care to be Mitch today, you'se are." He chuckles to himself, pleased. "You ready to pay?" While it is true that Bob does has a sizable debt to which one Spider-Legs Crinchaw will be collecting next month. Spider-LEgs, or his proxy, will know Bob's name.

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:41: 13804 16th Ave Ct E, Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

Welcome to the Barrens. For some, "Living in the Barrens" is a fate worse than death. No police contracts. The illegal utility taps are subject to being disconnected on a moment's notice. The local gang, The Thumper Busters are the neighborhood watch program; of course, their is a mandatory fee associated to that service. Even Spike, a local dealer Stormcrow is vaguely acquainted with pays the fee. For others, it is home.

Matrix connections are spotty, given to come and go with the wind. On the nights the Mall is open, signal is always guaranteed; being in walking distance of the Crime Mall has some advantages. Rumor is tonight is one of those nights and the strong matrix signal seems to support that.

The house which Stormcrow calls home, is a split level ranch built nearly a hundred years ago. His landlord, Mr York, is a venerable old ork who had lived in the house himself several decades ago. He fixed up the home to include several small solar panels on the roof to provide power and some reasonable used appliances; that was several decades ago. The cells provide power but need an upgrade. The roof needs a re-shingling & leaks and in winter the window sills do little to stop the wind.

Sitting in a reasonably comfortable chair he had acquired third or fourth hand trying to decide what to do for the evening, he gets a com call. The ID shows up as a fixer that StoneTree had made introductions to just last week... though the introduction had been solely in the matrix.
<<@StormCrow [Kilroy] Stormcrow - Following up on our conversation last week about you having magical talent and looking for work. I have a line on a job, tonight, if you are interested?>>

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:43: 13804 16th Ave Ct E, Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

Stormcrow considered the message for a few moments, then snorted.

It's not like a lot of jobs have been coming my way since I split up from the old crew. Even in Puyallup there are bills to pay. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do tonight.

Pulling up the messaging application on his Avalon, Stormcrow Quickly typed a reply.

<<@Kilroy [Stormcrow] Kilroy - I'm interested in the job, let me know the time and place for the meet and I'll be there.>>

As he waited for Kilroy's response, Stormcrow sat back in his chair and contemplated the possibilites of the job ahead.

It's too soon to get dressed yet, I don't even know where the meet will be. Hopefully nowhere too dressy or I'll either stand out or have to go without armor. I really should think about getting a vest so I have something I can wear when my duster would stand out too much.

With that thought, Stormcrow Opened up his browser and started looking into discrete armored vests, looking for one a style that would fit his lanky frame without displaying too much bulk.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:23: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

The two hired thugs sauntered in to my office like they owned the place. Of all the offices in Seattle, they had to walk in to mine. I didn't like this situation. A bad day had just turned worse, a punch to my gut that was shaking all of that whiskey around inside like a car bomb. I had to defuse this. I had to think fast.

Thumbing the hammer back down, I laid the big revolver on my desk where the two thugs could see it. Giving them my best smile, I told them to go take a long leap off a short pier.

"Fellas, fellas! You've got the wrong guy! I'm not this Mitch character. If you insist I am him, well, someone's gonna get hurt. Could be me. If I'm hurt, I can't make any money. And I do owe someone money, a certain Spider-Legs Crinchaw. Maybe you've heard of him? He wouldn't be happy to hear you were the reason he wasn't getting his money."

I settled back in my chair, waiting to see how these lowlifes would react. I was hoping they couldn't see the sweat beading on my forehead, running down my back making my shirt stick to me like a bad habit. No, today definitely was not going to be a good day.

Hardwire - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:27; Hardwire's Doss, 12205 NE 109 Pl, Kingsgate Neighborhood, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

Another ork in another run down apartment in another neighborhood in the Barrens. Then again, perhaps with his mastery of almost all things digital, perhaps not. Hardwire's current home is in a multiplex built over a century ago. The garage leads into an unfinished ground level workroom while the main floor has been reasonably well maintained over the years, though furnishings are sparse.

Technically inside the Barrens, it is still close enough to Touristville that many of Hardwire's neighbors actually have jobs, though the fact that they live in Kingsgate speaks to the quality of jobs.

It is a Friday night and the boards are lit up with the coming and goings of The Black Hat members; way more bravado than actual skill among them though. For Hardwire, its just another day.

Hardwire - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:35; Hardwire's Doss


It's Friday night and the streets are filled with freaks... Hardwire could feel the shifting pattern of the Grid, routes in the spotty Barrens Matrix greedily leaping on the influx of shiny new commlinks moving into Touristville, where their owners were looking for a quaint Barrens experience. For some minutes he idly sat and felt the Matrix grow around him until he blinked his sixth sense sway, angry at himself for getting carried away. Always easy to get distracted from inconveniences, he thought.
Having just paid his rent for April, his credsticks added up to a precise 850 ¥, with little perspective for an upwards tendency. And the partying wageslaves in Touristville certainly wouldn't do anything to change that...maybe one of them was stupid enough to carry his work around with him, but hacking hundreds of bland corp-issue 'links on the off chance of a jackpot?

While scrolling through the new posts at The Black Hat, ne nerved himself for the the inevitable: He'd have to ask Barman for a job soon. Not that he didn't like his fixer, he just hated begging for an opportunity to earn some cash...and with the talent of an old barkeep, Barman always knew if he was looking for fun or just broke.

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:23: Fang's Diner, Touristville, Redmond Barrens

From the safety of his car, Moses discreetly holds up his comlink to get facial captures of the five gangers as they dismount their motorcycles. Two males and three females. The facial recognition program loads up browse and begins making connections to public databases.

Mose, one of the males scans as Loco Joe; involved in a mugging and felony assault in Touristville eighteen months ago. No other hits. No publicly available wants or warrants on any of the five.

Publicly available, that's the key word. Lone Star is known to minimize wants and warrants in order to skew the crime numbers. It also isn't real good about records for non-SINners... and these three looked like non-SINners.

They appear not to notice the scrutiny from the car across the parking lot as they head into the diner.

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:08: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS

<<@Chunan [Kilroy] 18:00. Be at Underworld 93. Ask the bouncer for Mitch. Dress nice.>>

Turning to walk away from the kids, headed for a little exercise, Chunan finds things the same all around the world. An ork and two humans, all of Chinese heritage, are watching the kids and him. As Chunan starts walking, so do they. They intercept his course.

"Boy." One of the humans, still a late teen himself, calls to Chunan. "We need to talk." Chunan notices the orange and grey sashes on their right arms that designate them as Shàng yìyuàn nánzǐ (Lords of Men); the local gang.

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:44: 13804 16th Ave Ct E, Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

<<@Stormcrow [Kilroy] Crime Mall@21:00. Find a door guard called King. Tell him you're there to see about ward.>>

The Crime Mall. Not far away and always a good time, even if you're playing tourist. This definitely held possibilities.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:24: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

The ork that did the talking, smiled a toothy grin. "Mitch," he starts and they move apart, "that ain't gonna stop the collections."

The other ork speaks up for the first time. "Big Lou gonna break our legs, we done don't bring either yen or a pic of your leg..."

"So Mitch, either pay up or just let us break your leg. You'se bring that hand cannon it to it, someone gonna really get hurt..." and he says it with a face like it is a totally reasonable proposition...

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:24: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

I got a sinking feeling as I was listening to these lowlifes. The knot in my gut grew larger with every word, as though the ork was already ramming his fist into my stomach. Sighing, I moved my hand away from my piece. If I made it outta this in one piece, I would find Mitch myself and break his legs.

"I don't suppose a fake picture of me with a broken leg would be enough? I have some really good editing software. Be a shame for you to get those fine coats dirty for no reason."

I wasn't confident this ploy would work. These two goons were hired for their muscle, not their brainpower. I had to be ready, ready to speak in a language they understood.

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:45: 13804 16th Ave Ct E, Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

<<@Kilroy [Stormcrow] 21:00, right, I'll be there.>>

The Crime Mall, eh? May as well head over there now, have a look around. Maybe they'll have a sale on some discretely armored clothing. Heh, who am I kidding, the Crime Mall doesn't do sales. Still be good to have a look around and try to peg down this King guy before 9 so I'm not rushing around last minute.

With that thought, Stormcrow straped on the quick draw holster with his predator to his left thigh over his jeans, and sliped into his gothic style black lined duster against the likelyhood of rain and the slightly lower probability of gunfire. After all, there may be security at the crime mall, but it's every man for himself getting there and back.

Gear settled into place, he slipped a spare clip of regular ammo into a pocket of his duster, pulled on his shock gloves and settled his shades on his face. It was time to head out into the evening and off to the heart of the barrens underground economy.

Hardwire - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:28; Hardwire's Doss, 12205 NE 109 Pl, Kingsgate Neighborhood, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

Ever present in the back of his mind is the every present hum that is his paragon, Black Hat. The push and pull of Black Hat has taken Hardwire on a roller coaster ride through life. Some months he is riding high with nuyen to burn, other months he is moving around, eluding vengeful system owners. Other months, like this one, he is barely staying ahead of living on the street.

The fixer he'd make a connection with is a dwarf who goes by the handle, Tyr. He runs a roadhouse (aptly named: Valhalla) down on NE 124th, near the southern edge of Kingsgate. The grizzled old dwarf looks like he'd seen the previous century, but moved like he was born in the last two decades. The roadhouse is themed something akin to an ale house and the patrons tend to go on about Asgard and vikings.

The lack of substantive leads from The Black Hats was leaving Hardwire with few other choices for chasing down work.

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:09: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Chunan; PAN = passive [wireless, earbuds, goggles, subvocal mic]; SIN = Jonathan Wong (not broadcast)

The more things change, the more they stay the same. With a quiet sigh, Chunan stopped, turning around to face the running dogs. Adopting a neutral stance, he waited for them to come to him. I don't know nearly as much about these Lords of Men as I should. I know they're a street gang, but who are they affiliated with? If I'm to survive being on the run, I need to start gathering as much information as possible. Chunan let out another quiet sigh. I think this tiger ride will be a long one. Ah, well, too late to get off now.

How can I help you gentlemen? Taking note of their colours and style of dress, Chunan searches his memory, hoping to dredge up any relevant information that he may have subconsciously heard in passing.

Better not to escalate things, if I can help it. The best initial defence will probably be the “accidental” kind. Let's hope it doesn't come to that though.

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:08: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Chunan; PAN = passive [wireless, earbuds, goggles, subvocal mic]; SIN = Jonathan Wong (not broadcast)

Chunan couldn't help but feel a little irritated by this unwelcome interruption of his exercise. Parkour was the main thing keeping worries about his current situation at bay. The meditations with Sifu Shen helped as well, but in his current spiritual state of mind, not nearly as much as they should have. As well, Chunan was still not wholly comfortable doing the kind of movements parkour requires, while decked-out in his running gear. In Hong Kong, he used to traverse his environment fluidly, while dressed in street clothes, without hesitation or pause for thought. Now he was attempting the same feats of daring with added encumbrance. The respirator, required to breath properly in the Puyallup Barrens. The commlink, with its attendant A/R-enhanced goggles, sound-select filtering earbuds, and subvocal microphone, represented a communications package required to operate in the shadows with any kind of effectiveness. The leather jacket, which had seen better decades, hugged his form fairly well and added a modicum of protection from the weather and other elements. And the weapons secreted about his person. He'd never before carried weapons of any kind. While the survival knife was carried for its intended purpose, so were the throwing knives, which added an added depth of realism to his situation he still wasn't wholly reconciled with. Not only did it all add up to a subtle, and (in some cases) restrictive, shift in his centre of gravity, but Chunan felt that the entire ensemble made him look utterly ridiculous.

If I'm going to stay in this line of work for any length of time, the first thing I need to invest in is one of those Netzahualcoyotl-style Death Masks. An idea born out of necessity by the poor in places such as Tenochtitlán, the masks were cobbled together from scrounged materials to provide some kind of relief from the airborne poisons found in most Aztlan cities. The idea had been appropriated by the artist Netzahualcoyotl, who turned them into fashion statement and silent protest. Those masks are as good as any respirator. I bet I could have the functionality of my goggles and earbuds incorporated into it. Furthermore, having the mask molded into an intimidating visage, such as that of a Yaoguai or Yaomo, would help to offset the ridiculousness of this ensemble. It may even be able to lend me an aura of fear, which I think is no bad thing in this game. Maybe I could get an Urban Explorer's Outfit to match. Hmm. This idea has serious potential.

Of course, in order to accomplish any of that, I need to make some nuyen first, which requires me to get jobs, which require me to me to be fully prepared, which requires me to get on with my exercises, none of which is possible with these running dogs in my face.

With that bemusement brushed aside, Chunan refocused his attention on the approaching gangers and centred himself in preparation for the drek surely to follow...

Hardwire - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:40; Hardwire's Doss, 12205 NE 109 Pl, Kingsgate Neighborhood, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex
"Aw, screw it"
Hardwire blinked away the last posting which had looked somewhat promising, but "revisiting Massey-Omura" had turned out to be a lengthy discussion of cryptographic techniques and other stuff he freely admitted not to understand. So, Valhalla it would be.
He once again closed his eyes and turned his consciousness to the hum permeating the wireless world. Somewhere in the Grid, a bouncy piece of intelligence answered his call, and the small Machine Sprite coalesced into view before him. Hardwire quickly instructed the sprite to take control of the Mr. Fix-It and alert him of any intruders while he was gone, before turning to his own safety.

The Armor Vest went under his casual clothes, while the Enfield Merlin on his hip served as the more open deterrent advisable in the Barrens -- not that he was particularly good with it, but enough people chose not to mess with an Ork who was packing in the first place.
<<
SYSTEM ERROR CODES: 0x0
Temp: 24 C
----------
>GEL
GEL
GEL
GEL
STD
STD
STD
STD
>>

After a quick glance at Smartgun System's report, Hardwire donned a light jacket and left the apartment. On the way to the door, a Dragonfly hovered up from among a pile of FO cables and settled on his shoulder. The weather seemed acceptable for Barrens standards, so he'd walk the distance and spend the time browsing some Norse Mythology basics

<<Hardwire@Tyr, got a free seat at the bar?>>

Devil Cub - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:30; 9910 192nd St Ct E Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

Ah... home crap home. There isn't much other way to describe dilapidated shell of a house that Anahoy lives in. A few, partially concealed, solar panels he'd added to roof, provided some basic power. A rain catch ran through a water filter, again that he added, provides (mostly) drinkable water. Matrix connections are spotty at best and generally non-existent. Plastic sheeting affixed by staples, sealed with duct tape, where glass windows were once affixed are the only protection against the elements.

Deep in the Puyallup Barrens, he is far more at home than in any "civilized" areas where he is not only shunned but greeted with fear and contempt for his appearance. That said, several days ago, a trio of gangers came hunting him for his pelt. He was able to render them unconscious after being shot once. He then dropped them off a number of blocks away.

His truck is safely tucked away in the large, two-car garage of the house. A few well placed repairs has returned one of the doors to an operational state. A dwarf known as Walks-Alone, who confided his spirit animal is bear, is a handyman who has Anahoy has hired to do all of the actual installations and repairs.

Every morning, Monday through Friday, he works for a few hours at a small, free clinic ran by Walks-Alone's half-brother, Gabe. It now being both Friday and the afternoon, he has several days to himself.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:23: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

The orks, having slowly spread apart while Bob slowly pulled out and cocked his pistol, Twig stops moving and smiles. "Sure, as long as that picture is on the level... and owing money to Spider-Legs as well? You'se just aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are ya?" Twig then lunges at Bob.

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:45: 13804 16th Ave Ct E, Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

Geared up and loaded out, Stormcrow heads out into the evening afoot. The monkey is riding his back tonight, like every night, twisting his desires and pulling him. As he walks, he finds that he has subconsciously altered his course, walking down the street, past the corner where Spike is hanging. "Yo! Crow. Zen is on the menu tonight."

Stormcrow feels the nearly uncontrollable urge. The need to escape reality, to cross over a threshold and commune. To take a trip that only Zen can provide. Something pulls him back, keeps his head focused on the task... after all, he needs to make money so that he can get his next fix.

Keeping off the roads and to alleys and open lots, he avoids the Thumper Busters and makes it to the Mall Parking Area. There, a duo of gangers with white plastic bands on the upper arms intercept him as he reaches the parking lot. "Hoi Chummer. Two nuyen."

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:08: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS

The trio spread out as they approach. The leader continues, "It is time for you to become a Shàng yìyuàn nánzǐ." You have heard this before, they mean to jump you into the gang.

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:08: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Chunan; PAN = passive [wireless, earbuds, goggles, subvocal mic]; SIN = Jonathan Wong (not broadcast)

Heh. Not in this lifetime. Still, I don't want to escalate this situation. Having the Triads after me is bad enough. Let's see if a little polite misdirection muddies their waters a bit.

"Thank you for your generous offer, gentlemen, but I am already on the path that the universe has set before me. However, you are more than welcome to join me on me run."

With that, Chunan turns and sets off on his afternoon free run.

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:09: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS

A polite rebuttal, following by a rabbiting leaves the physically fit, but mundane, gangers late out of the gate and losing ground as Chunan runs down the isle of the storage units. He ducks, dodges and weaves through and around the people milling about and the various objects like bicycles, crates, shopping carts, boxes and the like scattered about. Halfway down, he jumps, hits the edge of a crate, grabs the lip of the roof, gets a leg over, rolls onto the roof, back to his feet and runs across to the other side. While he has momentarily lost the gangers, they are undoubtedly still looking.

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:09: Safeland Storage Centers, 13015 Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Chunan; PAN = passive [wireless, earbuds, goggles, subvocal mic]; SIN = Jonathan Wong (not broadcast)

While he'd momentarily lost sight of the gangers, Chunan was under no illusions that he'd lost them. Still, Chunan found the extra incentive had him pushing himself harder than he normally would. He discovered that he found it a bit exhilarating. I haven't had a chance to test my skills against a pursuer since I left Hong Kong. Didn't realize I'd miss it this much. Still, I mustn’t let my guard down. It's quite possible that at least one of those running dogs possesses the capabilities to keep up with me.

With that thought, Chunan continued on with his run, revelling in the pure freedom that he found in parkour.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:23: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

Bob raises his arms and pushes back from the desk, attempting to negotiate a non-verbal deescalation. Twig stops in mid lunge, raising an arm towards Mikey, his partner to do the same. He stops at the desk, sitting on the edge, looking at Bobfirst confused, then with a big smile. Twig look down at the handgun, picks it up, spins the cylinder, then puts it in his belt before standing.

"Tell you'se what Mitch. I likes you. This buys you a short extension. Let's say... 3 days."

He turns, heading towards the door like he'd just been handed a certified check.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:24: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

I should have known better. I should have known that showing good sense to these jokers would just get me deeper in trouble. These low-lifes don't understand reason. They don't understand logic. All they understand is power. If you don't show them you have power, they think they can walk all over you.

Well, they weren't going to walk all over Bob Hoskins. No way. Not this guy.

I called out to them as they headed for the door.

"Fellas, I think you're forgetting something. See, you're forgetting that I'm not Mitch. And because I'm not Mitch, you don't know what I can do. Here, lemme show you."

March 27, 19:50
Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:40: Streets on route to the crime mall, Puyallup Barens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex
Stormcrow; Active [LTG, Glasses, Earbuds]; SIN = None, Public Profile = Stormcrow

Stormcrow pauses near Spike, desire warring with purpose, before purpose finally wins.

"Not tonight Spike, or at least not yet. Things to do before I can commune with the spirits."

Moving on, Stormcrow manages to make it though to the Crime Mall without any further interruptions, specifically avoiding the Thumper-Busters. While he has time to deal with them, it's something he would rather avoid on a night when he has work to do. Once there he responds to the challenge of the gangers guarding the lot.

"Null sheen chummer." Pulling out a thin wallet, Stormcrow hands over a pair of Mitsuhama corp single nuyen bills. Wallet still in hand he asks the guards, "You guys know where King is working tonight?"

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:25: Fang's Diner, Touristville, Redmond Barrens

Moses sighs. Nothing interesting enough to hold his attention, and even if something were to erupt, he couldn't take them all out safely. It's why you're an investigator, dumbass.

You say something Mose?
Huh? Oh. Nothing important. We're going to the office, Nix. I expect you to be changed into more appropriate attire when we arrive.
No casual Fridays?
He smiled.
Maybe next time. I feel like putting in some work tonight, and I need you to look your best for potential clients.

He opened up an AR widow, giving the car it's destination, started her up, and went back to his AROs.

Devil Cub - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:30; 9910 192nd St Ct E Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

Devil Cub stretched and yawned as he arrived back at his home. Two-thirty. Darren won't be available until at least ten. Time enough for a nap and some meditation.

Devil Cub headed down to the basement, the closest thing to a natural cave available in this part of the barrens, to prepare to speak with Bear. As he shed his respirator and settled into a meditative pose in the darkness he let the events of the previous week wash over him, choosing to focus on his encounter with the trio of street gangers.

I should have known better than to go out in the day like that. Unfortunately I was tired and did not hide myself as well as I could. Still, I should attempt to remember what I can about them in case they decide to come back in a larger number.

Hardwire

Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:45; Valhalla, NE 124th, Kingsgate Neighborhood, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

<<@Hardwire [Tyr] If you drinking, there's a seat.>>
Tyr had a pretty solid reputation not only as a bartender, but as a fixer, a middle-man. Hardwire had located the bar and its owner about six weeks ago and had managed to get to the point where Tyr recognized him, but not enough yet where any level of mutual-respect or friendship had yet evolved; those things took time. Time sitting on a bar stool for example. Problem with that always is the nuyen to finance that time.

The evening droned on. It was another dead end evening, in a dead end area of the Barrens. Hardwire had managed to get a few minutes to speak with Tyr about work and the dwarf assured him that he is on the list. Always on the list, never enough time at the top of the list.

The crowd at Valhalla's is an eclectic one, diverse to say the least, though less roudy than he'd seen many Friday nights. Hardwire closed the bar, having found a couple who shared his enjoyment of vids from the previous century.

Saturday, March 28th, 2071; 18:42pm; Hardwire's Doss, 12205 NE 109 Pl, Kingsgate Neighborhood, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

The next day was a blur. Hardwire awoke well after the sun, his head telling him that he'd probably drank a few to many. A quick check of his available fund confirmed it. Topic of the day for The Black Hats was a conversation as to whether the A.I. known as Charlie Sheen is in fact the essence of the real person or just an A.I. that was born in a highly corrupt node.

Hardwire was in process of preparing to head out to Valhalla for another night of spending his precious nuyen and trying to find a way to replenish it. What happened next was definitely not part of that plan.

An owl flew to him across the matrix. The owl, while bearing no resonance, was highly detailed and created of very elegant code. So elegant it made Black Hat pull his attention to it. It bore a message:
<<@Hardwire [Athena] You will have many questions, but the search for answers is what will cause you to accept my call. My team is in the middle of a run, that I cannot complete. Hurry. [ ARO: TeamNet control code ] [ ARO: Node #235563452552423468 vulnerability report ]>>
The message delivered, the owl flies off, back into the matix...

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:15: Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS

Chunan makes his way past the sweat shop and up the block before finding a spot to stop and observe. He has evaded the gangers, for the moment, who seem to have given up pursuit.

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @19:49: 13804 16th Ave Ct E, Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

The gangers take the script, one gestures towards the Mall. "He's working the north door."

The walk to the north doors is quick and without incident. There are a pair of trolls working the door... and by working, they are simply watching the crowd. As Stormcrow approaches, the line of people making their way into the Mall, past the trolls, the line stops. One of the trolls has placed a hand in front of a ganger. "No colors." the troll growls.

The ork gangers snorts at the troll, "These colors don't come off."

"Then you don't go in."

Bolstered by three of his crew inline behind him, the ork pushes ahead. The second troll executes some soft of downward kick and the there is a sickening snap of what must be some lower part of the ganger's leg. Before the gangers can react to support their comrade, the first troll brandishes an axe from behind him. He lays it against the neck of one of the orks, while the second troll hand leveled an SMG.

The middle of the three remaining orks speak, "Dirk's an idiot." and he proceeds to removing his colors. He taps the other orks and gesture to the one on the ground. The two orks pull the ork on the ground to the side, pull off their colors and the trio proceed in, leaving their buddy on the ground near the entrance. The line begins to move again...

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:15: Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Chunan; PAN = passive [wireless, earbuds, goggles, subvocal mic]; SIN = Jonathan Wong (not broadcast)

They appear to have lost interest in me for the moment. Good. I have more important matters to deal with. Now, what was it about Kilroy's message that had originally grabbed my attention?

Chunan replays Kilroy's last message: <<@Chunan [Kilroy] 18:00. Be at Underworld 93. Ask the bouncer for Mitch. Dress nice.>>

Oh, right. Dress nice, he says. And as a squatter, I have a whole wardrobe of fancy clothes at my disposal. Guess my limited creds and I are going shopping. Hope this job is worth it.

Staying hidden for the moment, Chunan considers what type of outfit he should wear for his meeting and where he should go to buy it.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:24: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

In my mind I sent out the request for help before those jokers could walk out of my office. I didn't like asking for help, I'm sort of stubborn that way. But I couldn't let them walk all over me like that, like I was yesterday's newsprint. My call echoed around in my head for a few moments, but nothing happened except that I could feel a massive headache coming on. Maybe it's the whiskey talking, I thought. These things happen, when I've been drinking too much. Like today, for instance. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. Well, you get the picture.

I sent the call again, with more ooomph this time, and inwardly relaxed a little as I heard a mental reply. On the other side, I felt a presence approach me, the way you can feel a train coming towards you at speed. I couldn't see it...I mean him, I couldn't see him, but then again, I didn't need to. I saw him every night, in my nightmares. Tall and gangly, pale white and limp like pasta that had been cooked too long. He didn't speak to me. He didn't need to. I felt him hovering there, him and his accusations. I needed to get this done. Then I needed a drink.

Those boys over there have my revolver. Get 'em to leave it, then scare 'em away. Nothin' rough, just mind tricks for now will do.

Devil Cub - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @21:05; 9910 192nd St Ct E Puyallup Barrens, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

Meditation led to peace, peace was calming, calming lead to sleep...

Well rested, Devil Cub sat up in the darkness. The ever so slight ambient light in the stairwell was gone, telling him night had fallen. Darren would be at The Retirement tonight or the Mall.

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:30: Moses' Office, South Kingsgate, Redmond Barrens

The drive back to his office was short and uneventful. Moses could probably have walked to the diner if he had the time and didn't care about a possible mugging. At one point a rather loud motorcycle had pulled behind him, followed him for a few blocks, then made a U-turn to a destination unknown. Probably just one of the Jackals verifying this month's payment... Probably.

He pulled his Patrol-1 up a side street of 132nd, and made a right turn, taking a street adjacent to an unmaintained park on one side, and a block of old two story brownstones on the other. Very few vehicles were parked here, his was likely the only legal one. His car stopped at it's assigned address, and his door opened for him. He turned the simrig in his pocket off, and stepped out of his vehicle, closing the door, locking the car, and turning the alarm on all with a swipe on the screen of his commlink. As he walked towards the front door to his building, the wind brought the familiar scent of Kingston; The crudely processed and burnt fuel of ICE engines, the ammonia tang of sunbaked urine, the light spat of pollen in the air, and something else... Fear? He looked around to find the source, and saw a young human girl of about 12 rounding the corner of the block. He watched her for a moment, as she walked at a brisk pace, that weird pace that he knew all too well, the pace people walk at when they're not sure if they should run or not just yet. She was talking towards him, and was probably 300 feet away when a pair of mooks rounded the same corner, following her, jogging towards her with the type of smile a wolf gets as it approaches it's prey. Moses had to act fast. He reached into the inner pocket of his lined jacket, hoping to pull out his piece to scare the goons off, when a sudden jolt of fear and reality hit him. You left Pandora in the glove compartment, you dumb old fuck.

Shit. Shit. Shit. His mind spun, the girl was getting closer to him, but they were gaining on her fast. He took in a breath of air, made a gut check, and decided to wing it. With the loudest and meanest voice he could muster up, he shouted;

"JENNA! Jenna you get over here this minute! Your mother is on the phone with the cops worried sick about you!"

The girl's eyes widened, and the pair slowed down, seeming to buy the line. He walked towards her, put his arm around her, then turned around, quickly walking towards his office, quietly muttering to her. "You're going to be okay, just keep walking, don't look back, keep moving..." His heart was pounding in his chest, his blood pressure making each beat ring out in his ears like a passing freight train. He and the girl flew up the short steps, opened the door and slammed it shut behind them. He locked it quickly, then put his back to the door, and slid down it, landing his ass on the dirty tile. They made it. They were inside a small entry area of the two story building, stairs leading up to his office on the left, and a dim light and reinforced sheet metal door on the right. That same door opened quickly, with a large attractive female troll coming out of it, sawn off shotgun in hand.

"Everything alright Mose?"
"Heh. I think so Tina. Just a dumb old man forgetting his age. Hoooo boy." He laughed at himself, shaking his head.
"Jason's making tacos tonight. You should stop by for dinner if you want, maybe introduce us to your granddaughter." She trailed off as she walked back into her house, closing the door behind her.

He took a second to catch his breath, then stood up, brushing the seat of his pants off, then patted the little girl on the head.
"Come on, we're going up to my office for a bit kid. We'll get you washed up, calmed down, and back home by bedtime."

He placed his large hand on her back as they walked up the stairs, reassuring her with a human touch that everything was going to be okay. Besides, it could be fun babysitting.

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @ 19:51: Crime Mall, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Stormcrow; PAN = Active [LTG, Glasses, Earbuds, ]; SIN = None, Public Profile = Stormcrow

Passing though the doorway into the mall, Stormcrow looks at the profiles of the two door guards and makes note of which one is King for later. After all, it's still more than an hour until the scheduled meet.

Once inside the mall, he spends that hour window shopping, making note of things he would like to purchase later, including a pretty nifty armored vest and an interesting rack of ARE software packages. Along the way, he notices a very nice laser etched glass ornament of some sort of bird of prey. Stormcrow lingers over the ornament for almost ten minutes before finally convincing himself that he can buy it some other time. He's here for work tonight, not just for pleasure. As the time starts to wind around to 9:00, Stormcrow works his way back to the North entrance to meet up with King. Passing out through the doors, he turns back as though forgetting something and speaks to King. "I almost forgot, a friend asked me to come by and see about a Ward."

Passcode spoken, Stormcrow awaits King's reply.

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@19:45: Moses' Office, South Kingsgate, Redmond Barrens

A shot from his asthma inhaler is required for Moses to answer his neighbor, Tina, otherwise the short incident in the street has no other ill effects. The girl accepts Moses direction to the office at the top of the stairs. The next fifteen minutes turn out to be quite different than Moses expected. The young girl explains that last night her mother and new mother's new boyfriend kicked her out of the house for 'stealing' food from the cabinet. She continues to explain how her mother is out of work and her various boyfriends pay the rent and buy the food. The girl, Tracy, was hungry and just got some food while her mother was asleep. She found a box of Cocoa-Chiller cereal which a short while later she found out was Doug's. Doug laid down the law that either he or Tracy was going... Tracy got the short end of that stick.

Tracy then proceeds to thank Moses... or at least tries, given the only example she's been given for how to thank a benefactor. A quick blush, raised hands and "No wait. Stop." from Moses stops her from undressing right there in his office.

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@22:42: Moses' Office, South Kingsgate, Redmond Barrens

Processed soy and flavor packets ran through the Dinner Master 30,000 left Tracy not only with a full stomach, but sleepy. In the end she fell asleep on the couch in Moses office while he sat at his desk chair deciding what to do. Complications. Always a complication.

His mug in his hand, he swirled the dark liquid within then took another sip, looking over at the young girl on his couch who had been discarded like trash. Is there really any hope for our society?

It was a warm day in June and Moses was playing catch with Sam. It was the year Moses turned twelve, because the glove was the one he got new for that birthday. "We are shaped by every decision we make. The most important ones are the ones that only we know were made."

Mouse - Friday, March 27th, 2071@20:00: Mouse's Doss, 1102 183rd St Ct E, Loveland, Puyallup District, Seattle Metroplex

Mouse stands on the front porch, avoiding the rotten porch board, ready to head into the night. Dad is sleeping off a bender as well as the tuning her got from the two orks in orange slickers yesterday, Forever Tacoma. Si' and Dan both slipped out hours ago, no doubt to run with the local hoods, a crew who call themselves Cose Difettose. No matter what she did, she couldn't get away from gangers; they seem to be everywhere. Hell, her sensei was killed last year in a drive by. He refused to pay protection money and in turn paid the ultimate price.

Fin had left her a message earlier that the Crime Mall is open tonight. At least she could waste some time there, if nothing else.

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:24: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex

The spirit appears in the form of a huge house cat in astral space. Its first attempt to fulfill Bob's request consists of swiping at the feet of Twig to trip him... to no avail. It then reaches its astral paws at his head, attempting to confuse him. As the trio pass through the door, still with Bob's gun, Bob surely questions the spirit's ability to complete the task.

Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @ 20:51: Crime Mall, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS

King turns to the elf now speaking to him. "Huh?" The pair of them stand confused for a moment, the troll looking at the elf, the elf looking at the troll. Then King says as to turns part of his attention back to watching people come and go, "Oh yea. The ward. Kilroy send ya?" Without really waiting for a reply he continues, "Go to the office, second floor. At the bar, see Smokey Joe."

Suddenly, the trolls massive hands shoot out grabbing a human female, dressed is a very provocative black leather get up. He pulls her over, "Splitz. You're not gonna make me break your fingers are you?"

She had been trying to sneak past. Standing there, captive to the troll's dramatically different physical strength, she manages a weak, "no."

He lets a snarl escape, before continuing. "I got reports on you last week. I get reports on your sticky fingers this week... I break a few for good measure." He pushes her back towards the line and inside. She stumbles awkwardly before regaining her balance and attempting to regain some of her dignity and disappears with the crowd. King's attention turns back to the line, apparently done with Stormcrow.

Moses - Friday, March 27th, 2071@22:43: Moses' Office, South Kingsgate, Redmond Barrens

The sun had set hours ago, the evening's cool air setting in. The old metal fan set on a file cabinet to his right provided a pleasing white noise that let Moses reminisce for what was probably hours. All the while, Nix sat at a virtual desk, typing away at an old haptic interface, trying to dig up information on some long cold case. She'd shoot Moses a glance from time to time, and he'd smile back and nod appreciatively at her effort.

The sounds of voices outside caught his attention, and he spun his chair around, stretching the window blinds open with a pair of fingers. Just another pair of SINless Joes, probably walking home. They walked on the side of the street, opposite his Patrol-1. The vehicle wasn't anything too special. Moses took care of it, sure, which in turn made it a rarity around these parts, but the car itself wasn't all that impressive. It's what it stood for. A symbol of hope, of security. A lighthouse for the desperate, and a Gargoyle to those who would prey on them. Moses tried not to take pride in many things. Sam taught him that, but he took pride in how the neighborhood seemed to view that car.

He put his mug down on the desk, stood up, and pulled his commlink out of the antique wood desk drawer. He picked his coat up and covered Tracy with it like a blanket, smiling down on her. You're gonna be okay, kid. I promise.

He opened the windowed front door and head down the steps to his car. He flicked an icon on his commlink, and the passenger door unlocked and swung open. He sat down and closed the door behind him.

Commlink, send voice message to Sam. Begin recording. Uhm... Hey Dad. You're probably sleeping now, but, uh... Well, I haven't said it in a while, and I know I don't need ot say it, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you. So, uhh... Yeah. I'll see you around. End Recording.

He sat in the car for a quiet minute, then grabbed his gun out of the glovebox, locked the car back up, and walked back into the office. Tracy had wrapped herself up in his coat, and Nix was still working. He sat back down at his desk, and typed a quick message out.

<<@Tyr [Moses] I find myself in need of some creds. Got anything lined up?>>

Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @15:15: Canyon Road East, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Chunan; PAN = passive [wireless, earbuds, goggles, subvocal mic]; SIN = Jonathan Wong (not broadcast)

I'm guessing Underworld 93 fashion is most likely to consist of Urbanwear. I'm sure my street clothes will do, just as long as I accessorize them slightly. Guess I'll have to make a run up to Puyallup City. From here that should be about seven kilometres. Should make for a nice little workout.

Chunan resumes his free run, sticking to the rooftops as much as possible. Best avoid any entanglements if possible. Gotta remember to broadcast my fake SIN once I cross into Puyallup City, so Lone Star will have less reason to take an interest in me.


Chunan - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:40: Village Fair Shopping Center, 515 South Meridian Street, Puyallup City, Seattle, UCAS
Chunan; PAN = passive [wireless, earbuds, goggles, subvocal mic]; SIN = Jonathan Wong (broadcast)

Walking through what remains of the Village Fair Shopping Center, Chunan was surprised by how quaint the whole area looked. It wasn't what he had been expecting. The mall was fairly busy, yet it wasn't nearly as dirty, noisy, or crowded as the commercial areas of Kowloon City. Removing his respirator, Chunan noticed that it smelled a lot better too. The people here were a mixture of races and ethnicities, yet they didn't seem to mind rubbing elbows with each another. Of course, the black and gold uniforms interspersed within the crowd may have had something to do with that.

Strolling through the door of Helga's Vintage Corner, Chunan found himself being given the evil eye by the surly-looking female ork behind the counter. Chunan inclined his head in her direction and she went back to reading her Celebrity Dish magazine. The huge male troll lurking just inside the doorway gave him the once-over. "Piece of advice, chummer. Behave and Ma won't have me break ya in two. We green?"

Chunan nods in response. "Super green."

Browsing around the store, Chunan caught sight of himself in the mirror. My clothes look a lot worse than I thought. Guess I'll have to buy a new outfit after all. Subscribing to the store's network, Chunan spends a good twenty minutes putting together a passable "hip" outfit from the second-hand clothing. Paying the ork behind the counter from his certified credstick, Chunan comes away with a black skully, dark-grey cargo pants, and a light-grey t-shirt with black, graffiti-style Chinese characters printed on it. Chunan wasn't sure what the intended slogan had been, before it was translated into Chinese characters, but the proper translation was Distilled in Hell. He found it oddly appropriate.

Before leaving the shopping centre, Chunan took the time to stop in at the Stuffer Shack and purchase a Seattle Metroplex mapsoft. Don't know why I didn't do this earlier. Noticing that it's after 17:00, Chunan uses the shopping centre's dingy bathroom to change into his new outfit. Settling his leather jacket on top of his new outfit, he checks himself in the bathroom's cracked mirror one more time. It may not be the height of fashion, but it should be adequate enough for me to blend in.

Stepping outside, Chunan reattaches his respirator and begins his free run to Underworld 93.

March 27, 20:55
Stormcrow - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @ 20:55: Crime Mall, Puyallup Barrens, Seattle, UCAS
Stormcrow; PAN = Active [LGT, Glasses, Earbuds]; SIN = None, Public Profile = Stormcrow

Giving King a likely unnoticed thanks, Stormcrow heads back inside the mall. Moving with purpose, he makes his way though the light crowds to the stairs leading to the second floor. Passing through the much rougher crowds on the second floor, Stormcrow threads his way to the Office. Heading inside, he notes the sophisticated nature of the AR and the useful features of the booths clashing with the rough edges of the decor, but the Office is still seeing good business. Making his way to a section of the bar proper he speaks to the barkeep on duty, a surprisingly attractive young ork woman. "Hoy hun, I've got a meet with Smokey Joe. He's expecting me."

Looking more interested at someone who's got the boss's ear she leans back and nods to one of the booths on the far side of the room.

"He's over there, if those glasses are wired I'd suggest either taking them off or dropping the feed while you're there. He might be willing to give you the filter sequence for the booth, but since I don't think he knows you it's not all that likely."

"Thanks hun, maybe I'll see you when it's not such a busy night"

With that, Stormcrow leaves a 5 note in Horizon script on the bar and crosses the bar to Smokey Joe's booth, taking off is glasses on the way and sliding them into a side pocket of his duster.

Edited to fit in line with RedJack's description of the Crime Mall and the Office

Bob - Friday, March 27th, 2071 @16:24: Bob's Office, The McGuire Building, NE 85th St & 128th Ave NE, Touristville, Redmond District, Seattle Metroplex
I couldn't believe it. Today really just wasn't my day. Not that I had had a good day in a long time. A guy gets used to getting kicked like this, but he doesn't expect it from his pets. I tried to take a calming breath, like I had been taught.

Not like that! Use your magic to suggest to 'em to leave the piece.

I was thinking fast. Rent was going to be due soon, and my account was as dry as a nun's gusset. I needed a way to earn some cred.

"Guys, guys, don't leave so fast! We can work together. Finding people is my speciality. Maybe you tell me what you know about this Mitch character, I help you get your money. What do you say?"