12 May 2072, Seattle, harbour district, a wharehouse
Satoshi Urushihara & Elizabeth Hardigan


And the lab?

The elderly man, steps over a dark brown spot on the floor - who wants blood on 500 shoes? - and points his torch at his companion, a young uniformed woman.

Over there, sir. That's where they used to cook novacoke. Thought it fitting.

As long as you make sure there's none of it left when this circus starts. It's going to be crazy enough as it is. Criminals, LEOs, "concerned citizens", damn committee. And put me in charge of it all. An honour!

Well, sir...

Don't try to find excuses for them. I know damn well why they put this on me. Rats, the lot of them. By the way, is the basement still full of rats?

02:17, 16 May 2072, Seattle, harbour district, a wharehouse, in the basement
Elizabeth Hardigan


Damn, this is fun. Haven't felt this relaxed in quite a while.

She throws the pliers she was holding into the toolbox, grabs a wrench and goes to work on the byzantine mess of pipes belonging to the building's heating system. It seems she had applied too much torque to the rusted parts, the pipe she is working on - as well as a small tank - drops loudly to the ground, splashing dirty water on the wall behind it and the woman.

Damn! Good thing my grandpa didn't see this, he'd be disappointed.

Suddenly her comm, placed on a crate a few steps behind her, springs to life, projecting a hologram of her boss.

Miss Hardigan! Do you have any idea how many plumbers I could hire for your salary? When you said you had to leave, I thought it was for something important, not for you playing around there! And what's with the ridiculous getup, couldn't decide between workman and bounty hunter?

Indeed, her "battle plumber" outfit - BDU, combat boots, survival knife on one hip, Roomsweeper on the other - seems a bit strange considering the task at hand.

Well, the bug hunters haven't declared the basement safe yet.

She points her wrench at a dog-sized dead rat lying in a hole in the wall to underscore her point.

Besides I'm not worth anything to you if I go crazy. And these cocktail parties - and all the politicos there - drive me insane. So, do we finally have some proper funding or is everyone still pointing at everyone else?

22:10, 18 May 2072, Spotlight! studio, Seattle


Host: Well, you can't deny that something is going on in Outremer. And...

Expert1: Exactly! The SSC files one claim with the Corporate Court after the other, the entire food supply of Bernard's Folly turns out to be spoiled, criminal activity in...

Expert2: Ridiculous! There's no indication the Salish Sidhe Council has anything to do with it! What we should be focusing on instead is this mysterious "Joint Task Force" the Outremer Committe is putting together! What's its real purpose? Probably they are responsible f...

Expert1: Now you're just making shit up to sell your crappy conspiracy nonsense!

Expert2: Nonsense?! Are you that stupid or working for them?

Host: Now, gents please try to, don't... Security! Ad break! Hurgh!

11:30, 23 May 2072, O-JTF HQs a.k.a. a converted warehouse in the Seattle harbour district
Elizabeth Hardigan, Carlos Oliveira, others


Hardigan: First, I'd like to welcome you to our headquarters. As you can see, we're still working on converting it. Luckily, the heating system has alredy been repaired. You should have seen the mess it was last week... Anyway, Mr. Urushihara sends his regards, he will takl to all of you at a later time.

Oliveira: Look at the way she's talking about the heating system as if she'd repaired them herself. Yeah right, high heels, power suit, long nails; bet se's never had to use anything heavier than a comm.

Hardigan: Now, if you don't know already, you've all been selected to form part of the JTFs management; most of you will be Lieutenants, in charge of 3 to 6 officers.

Oliveira: Yeah, real smart decision. Apparently managing a bunch of Stuffer Shacks qualifies you for police work, nowadays. OK, I served some time, but still...

20 May, 2072, Seattle, Tacoma, a converted condo off Ruston Way
Trevor McMalley

Trevor stood in the doorway of the single bedroom in the converted hotel suite and gazed at his son. Little Donnie awoke as Trevor crept across the creaking floorboards.

“Daddy? How was work?” Donnie squinted at his father in the darkness. “Daddy? What happened to your face?”

“Uh, work was, well, it was a rough day, buddy. And don’t worry about my face. It’ll heal.” It did hurt something fierce though, and there was no work, not right now. Things weren’t like they were just a few years ago. Between Knight Errant moving in and now the Salish... “Don’t worry Donnie, I’ve asked Miss Jones, you remember her, yeah? Well, I’m asking her if she can help me find work that will be safe. Safer than right now, at least.”

“I like Miss Jones, she always has candy in her purse.” Donnie’s eyes were closed again. Trevor sat on the side of the bed for a few minutes and listened to his son’s breathing deepen and slow.

Once Donnie was finally asleep, Trevor went to shower. Come on guys, call me back, throw me a bone...

20 May, 2072, Seattle, Tacoma, a small apartment on the north side
Matt Houston

Matt groans as his alarm clock sounds, waking him from another restless sleep.

“Hey sis, you come back overnight?” He calls out, hoping against hope that Jessie was back. Silence answers.

“Didn't think so,” he sighs as he rolls out of bed. After eating a lukewarm breakfast due to a malfunctioning food processor, he gets ready to head out to start his day. As he activates his commlink, though, a couple messages pop up.

First up was his land lord:
<<@Matt [John] Matt, boyo, your advanced pay on the rent is runnin out. Don't forget to pay by this time next month.>>

Of course... gonna have to hold back on the search for Jessie else she'll come home to strangers...

Next up was a message from Rick.
<<@Matt [Rick] Mr. Houston, I might have another opportunity for you to work with us once more. Please contact me and I'll give you the details.>>

Matt liked working for Rick. It was usually good money for relatively easy work. Wait for them to do the hard part and chase down anyone who runs. Not hard a'tall. Good publicity for both sides.This could be interesting... Better call to see what Rick's got.

18 May 2072
South side of Seattle, Loft apartment

Jason sat in his apartment - or, his 2 room-loft, to be precise - spending his day flitting in and out of the matrix. The AR displays from the restaurant across the street were typical of the greasy spoon, with menus depicting scrambled soy-eggs with some form of pancakes, and little digital dancing waitresses promising quick service and good food. And Jason loved spending his time crossing the digital street and uploading his own funny programs into the menus, changing them so that the special of the day was now deep-fried elephant tusk instead of a 3 soy-egg omelette. He laughed slightly, tuning his commlink into the frequency of the diner, waiting to see and hear the reaction of the waitress when the next customer ordered what was certainly not on the menu.

Heh. Serves those bastards right for always messing up my order. How hard is it to get a soy-kaf and a slice of pie?

As he sat there, waiting for the inevitable, he was interrupted by the holo of an army sergeant on his commlink. He sighed heavily, answering the comm.

Yes? he asked in a labored tone.

Mr. Pagoras, your application has been approved, the gruff voice said. You need to report for initial orientation on 1 June. I'll be sending you the details of your assignment...

Jason was no longer paying attention to anything. He smiled wide, wrapping his thoughts around what was now to come. His whole life, he had been looked down on and picked on and treated like he wasn't good enough. That's why he bought the Harley - to show everyone he was cool. That's why he lived alone - to show everyone he could it. And that's why he applied for enlistment into this new special group for hackers - to show everyone he was good enough.

He switched rewound the message - he almost always recorded everything that came across - and replayed it so he could listen again to the sergeant telling him his application was accepted. He smiled even wider, milling everything in his mind that he needed to do.

Got to pack. Need to call Mrs. Listo and cancel my lease. Need to practice hacking. Lots of that. Gonna need to be sharp to show them I AM the guy...

07:47, 1 June 2072, Seattle, in front of the O-JTF
Carlos Oliveira


So, let's see whether they'll turn up on time. Well, or sooner, seeing that we've already got a mission handed down. "Your team's perfect for it." Team? Three guys I've never met and who've never met each other.

Pacing up and down the parking lot, he goes through the short dossiers he's been given again.

Outside the O-JTF
1 June 2072. 0751 hours

Jason pulled his motorcycle into the parking lot, not really paying much attention to anything around him. His pack was secured on the passenger seat behind him, his clothing and other personal gear safe. He saw the two gentlemen standing there, in their military uniforms, talking with one another.

I wonder if these are the guys I am supposed to report to...

He pulled his bike into one of the stalls and slid off of it a little uneasily, his body still trying to get used to riding. He took his pack off the bike, pulling his comm out and approaching the men. He fired up the graphics of his assignment.

I am supposed to report today, he stated a little sheepishly. Do you guys know where I'm supposed to go?

Outside the O-JTF
1 June 2072. 0751 hours

I am supposed to report today, Jason stated a little sheepishly. Do you guys know where I'm supposed to go?

Looking him up and down, one of the two uniformed men answers DEpends on WHO you are. Got a name? Ah don't bother.

The man slightly moves his right hand, like someone trying to grab something invisible, then realising he only has to think about it and aborting the action.

Try and go ova THERE and report to this there MAN, LIEUTEnant Oliveira.

He points at a man - human, about 50, 5'7" tall, black short hair, who is pacing back and forth - then turns back to the other guy as if you were no longer present.

Now listen you fool, I know the R23-J got all kinds of rad reviews, it's cause the mags are all SHIT! Got a friend over in 7th who's issued these things three months ago and he'd rather hold a fucking SPORK!

0753, 1 June, 2072, Seattle, in a cab en route to orientation
Trevor McMalley

Great, I’m going to be late for this new gig on my first day thanks to this cabbie’s clueless navigating. I really hope you aren’t screwing me over Jenny...

“Here you go pal,” the cabbie glances at Trevor, then his eyes dart down to the pay-by-comm instructions printed in multiple languages splashed across the image screen separating the driver from the passenger.

“Dude, really? We’re three blocks away...and two streets over!” Trevor beamed the creds over, sans tip, and exited the vehicle to the dwarf’s incoherent shouting and sprinted in the correct direction.

I’m such an amateur, taking Jenny at face value, not scouting the building. Maybe I’ve gone suicidal and just want it to be over? No, take a deep breath, don’t show your fear. Think about Donnie.

Trevor ignored the distracted looking grunts and instead approached the older gentleman who was speaking to another individual. Jenny said to be on the look-out for a middle aged latino man named Carlos Olivera and Trevor decided that this man was him.

"Excuse me, Carlos Oliveira? I'm Jeffrey Ballinger, Mrs. Jones sent me to help you out, where do you need me?"

Outside the O-JTF
0755, 1 June, 2072, Seattle, in a cab en route to orientation
Trevor McMalley, Jason Pagoras, Carlos Oliveira

Mr. Oliveira takes a look at the newcomer.

Yup, got the right one. Mr. Ballinger, heard you were real hot to join, nice to see you make it on time. And where do I need you? As I was telling your colleague a few moments ago: Right now? Right here. In a few minutes? On a boat heading towards some not so nice guys. Hope you've come prepared to dive right in, I've been given urgent orders to carry out right away; guess the tour of the facilities will have to wait.

Outside the O-JTF
1 June 2072. 0756 hours

Jason picked up his gear, keeping his head down and hoping his embarassment wasn't showing.

Assholes. They didn't need to be such pricks about it. Well, I'll show them...

He quickly walked over to the lieutenant and introduced himself.

Lieutenant Oliveira? Jason Pagoras, reporting as ordered.

He then showed the LT the orders flashing on his commlink to prove it.

Outside the O-JTF
1 June 2072. 0759 hours

Matt grins as he jogs up to the location of the meeting

Perfect timing. Like always. I'm just that awesome...

He slips his pack from his back and salutes the uniforms, grinning.

Gentlemen? Matt Houston, at your service.