Sunday, Sept. 14, 2071, 12:25 AM, Ivan's shop, midnight madness sale

"Ah. Ah. Nothing Franchi tonight, I am afraid. But please, taking a look at back room. I am thinking, yes, I am thinking maybe is something you like there." Ivan gestures towards the back door, and the guide mountain troll steps aside to let you enter. He follows behind.

In the back room are a few more tables on which merchandise is arrayed. It looks like Ivan got his hands on a couple of shipments, one from Shiawase and one From Saeder-Krupp. At each item's table, a small AR display gives details of the weapon for sale.

Somebody seems to have bought up all the stock from a couple of items:





Remaining items include:









The guard positions himself inside the door and watches Void carefully as he examines the weapons and ammunition.

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 11:45 PM, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

Zo slides him another drink. Drinks his and goes for another. "It be like fighting da cops. Dey gots access to all the grad A-bang bang they want. But dey, unlike KE don't have to worry about their public image. So I'd expect dem ta do one of three things. One send a hit squad, shadowrunner style to find an eliminate me specifically...or da crush in general. Send in a brute squad of mercs or hire a rival gang to try an take the crush out. Or three, if were lucky, dey might just think I'm a hired trog, and ignore me completely. From what I've seen of da guy an understand from da Johnson da third case is not likely. Dat bein said should ya catch one of da buggers, let me know. One of da wizboys on da team can rip hiz thoughts. Scary drek, but if ya gots da tool. Use it.

I am placin an order with da crow for some extra stuff, 10 UZI-IV's, and 3 CMDT, KD will like dose, with clips an ammo to give ya some extra fire power. Use da Uzi's ta keep der heads down, and the shotguns ta take em out. Dat reminds me"

Zo takes out his commlink, and sends a quick message to the anonymous drop box for the gun runners. <Need ta meet. Placin an order of excercise equipment. Meet at da usual spot.> Zo waits for the response so he knows where to go matrix wise to meet with the smugglers.

"6th round Throgg?"

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 11:45 PM, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

Zo receives a reply quickly, for once. <<New treadmills and weights just in. Be there in 3.>>

Sunday, Sept. 14, 2071, 12:25 AM, Ivan's shop, midnight madness sale

Void's idly peruses the back room stock, a slight frown betraying his disappointment.

"Ehhh. Looks like the Shiawase stuff has been snapped up already. Shame - that sniper rifle looked interesting. Nothing left but junk now."

Not really a fair assessment - but the remaining sniper rifle doesn't offer him anything he doesn't feel his existing one does, and the battle rifle is out of his area of expertise, automatics not being his preferred weaponry. As neither weapon is personally useful to him, he is dismissive of them.

He walks out, a bit disappointed. As he passes Ivan, he murmurs "Let me know if any more of those Model 99's fall off the truck."

He consoles himself with the thought that the Spaniard's contacts are likely to have most of his requests - and the main point of coming here was to get out of his apartment for a bit. Putting the finishing touches on his list as he walks, he comms it to the Professor.

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 11:47 PM, Redmond, Touristville, nearby The Joke nightclub

Jovan smirks slightly at Zayne's response and telling facial expressions. "Good. I expect you to hold yourself to those standards. And I expect you to tell me if you ever do accept such a contract, so as to ensure that you get your pay for a job not done." The small, disingenuous attempt at trust-gaining is not lost on Jovan, but his close relationship with the vampire has made him more tolerant of such behavior from Zayne than from anyone else, somewhat.

"The man is said to be a brilliant and highly manipulative individual. He applies his mental prowess towards the role of a crime boss, and in this role he is supposedly one of the very best, having arranged a long list of cleanly orchestrated crimes in recent years and having always stayed two steps ahead of all law enforcement. He is a focal point of corruption and an experienced criminal mastermind. And I believe that I am going to have a couple wetwork runs available for you in the near future, for I am going to break him as only I, his intellectual match, can. I am going to pick apart his reputation as a mastermind crime boss, and I am going to taunt him while I do it. He prides himself on being dominant, on having complete control in his life. What greater fate and fear would there be for him than to discover that, all this time, he had been completely powerless in the end? That is what I am going to do to him. I am going to make him realize that he is ultimately nothing more than prey. And I am going to make him, for once in his life, fear." He smiles a wide, malevolent smile, and there is a psychotic spark in his eyes.

"Now then. Which club shall we visit next?"

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 12:00 PM, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club


Dey must be in town to get a response dat quick from the crow, hope dey weren't wait'n for a shipment of M-23.

<See you around 3 at da shop>

"Anything else ya might need Throgg, ya can call me. I got a challenger to take care of"

Downing his third beer in the past 15 minutes, Zo heads in to the crowd towards KD. A growing chorus in Orzet of "Droch Slock Droch", and the two best shots in the Crush were about to Drink, shoot, Drink.

Edger at the back of the bar pulls out 2 empty liqour bottles, and sets them up in the back of the bar area that is now a shooting range. Edgar shouts"Ya know da rules, no shotguns, no grenades, no explosives. Especially afther the last time KD. Chug a beer, then shoot, then chug another beer. See da two bottles--dey iz yer first targets. "

"I'm at three drinks already, dat should help ya out KD." Zo slugs another beer "Er make dat four."

Sunday, Sept. 14, 2071, 12:25 AM, Ivan's shop, midnight madness sale

Ivan looks disappointed. "I keeping eye open for you, Glyph. Always pleasure to have you come by." That's not something Glyph hears a lot, but Ivan is a consummate salesman, so Glyph doesn't put much store in the dealer's words.

Professor's commlink returns an automated reply. He appears to have turned in for the night. A second call from the same sender would cause the commlink to wake him.

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 11:47 PM, Redmond, Touristville, nearby The Joke nightclub

Zayne shudders at the grimace on Jovan's face. Glad I ain't that piece of meat. "Whaddaya say we go down Tacoma way? There's a club, pretty exclusive, where Pertwilling sometimes goes. We'd have to change clothes to fit in, and it would cost you for the night," Jovan catches the implication, "but maybe you could get lucky and connect tonight. I could point him out to you. And I hear the entertainment and service is ... top notch." A delicious grin rises on his face.

Sunday, Sept. 14, 2071, 12:30 AM, exiting Ivan's shop

Void exits Ivan's shop still feeling a bit restless. His little excursion got him out of his little man-cave for a bit, but it wasn't really worth the trip. As he heads back towards the tube, he almost wishes someone was dumb enough to mess with him. But even if he lacked his unsettling aura, the predators here so far are too savvy and cautious (which they would have to be, skulking virtually in the shadow of the police station). They can spot the subtle tells that mark him as someone who is augmented, and who knows how to fight. One of Tacoma's ubiquitous joygirls, wearing a transparent raincoat and not much else, starts to approach him, but veers away with a slight shiver. Not realizing that she is almost as unsettling to Void. VR porn is one thing, but real women always unnerve and fluster him.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:30 PM, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

18 rounds of ammo, and 11 beers, 9 shots of synthohol (straight) later, Zo and KD are still at it.

Throgg speaks "Last target is dis" THrogg takes out two chips the size of a thumbnail and puts them at the end of the bar. Zo is slightly drunk, while KD is worse. The gangers around them cherring them on.

Zo slurss out "Go shhoooot it if yaaa can"

KD responds by pulling up her L36, pulling the trigger. She misses by three inches, at least that what her smartgun was telling her--but she was too drunk to care. Zo, trying to concentrate pulls the trigger on his CZ120. He shoots, and misses as well. KD laughs and pulls up her arm, her shotgun blasting both target in a spray of buck shot. She looks at Zo, " I can, rules are for slotting sarariamen" slams a shot to puntuate the point. Her body immidiately regects it and some of the previous drinks.

Throgg "And the winner by default is Zo" but the rest of the gangers present are too busy watching Zo pull out his pistol, aim (sort of) and hit one of the shards of the chips.

"Yup....Reg, Yonker, take KD upstairs--she'll feel that in the morning." Zo says.

Zo heads back to Edger and Throgg "Breeders are such lightweights..."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:30 am, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

Edgar claps Zo on the back, a blow that would knock a sober man over. Zo reels but his drunken stagger actually manages to keep him upright. Roars of approval all around. "Zo da man! Who da man? Zo da man!" A chant begins ... 'Sodaman, Sodaman'. This may stick.

"You got da win, Sodaman." Edgar giggles. A terrible sound from one of this bunch. "Yer drinks are on da house tonight."

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 12:55 PM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

Void makes it home with no further encounters, other than a squatter bumming some cred. Void slots the bum a few nuyen, just for being brazen enough to approach him. The shabby old man raises his hooch bottle in a salute as Void takes his leave.

He sighs again as he enters the comforting closeness of his small apartment.

What is... wrong... with me today? Too much stimulation lately, yes. But I need to settle down. To rest. Tomorrow promises to be interesting, yes, interesting. Must be rested, yes yes.

Void lies on his side on his futon, feeling that strange sense of disorientation as he turns off his wired reflexes, and the world seems to lurch and stumble as his perception of time slows down to a more normal speed. Eventually, he sleeps, his slumber disturbed only by curiously disjointed dreams that he won't remember when he wakes.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:30 am, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

Zo laughs at the free drink part "Ya gotssome soykaf?? I need ta sober up for a meet in about two hours at da burnt ruins of somethin called Starbu. Throgg, I'll need a few guys ta come along wit me. You in?"

Two bodys fueled by drunkeness abruptly slam each other on the top of the bar.

"Hey Dez and Wog, ya wanna take it upstairs?"

"Hey Sodaman--don't mind us!" Dez yells back.

"Yeah it will be over quickly"--laughs Throgg.

"I'm picking up a shipment of heat tonight for da Crush, you and Wog wanna come help carry it?"

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:30 am, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

Many slurred shouts of "Ya! We'z in!" respond to Zo's request. He has two eager and capable (?) henchmen for the pickup. He better drive.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:30 am, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

Zo shoots off another message to the gun-runners drop box<Dis is what I had in mind:
Discount code: Uncle Poe sent me.
Spas 22 (3): 2,813 total
Spas 90 rds ex-ex: 750 total
Uzi IV (10): 3750 total
Clips fo Uzi's 30 Clips: 275 total
Uzi 720 rds ball : 1480 total
Total bill:9,068

Normal pick-up rulez?>

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:35 am, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

<@Zo: Checking inventory. Use passcode 27 at the gate.>>

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:55 am, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club
Zo chugs a a can of Fiz to get more cafiene in his system. Looking down he see the response.

<Will do, bringing some help to carry the load, don't shoot da help. If you don't have exactly what I iz looking for, let me know what you got dats close.>>

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:55 am, Redmond, Touristvillle--The loose Cannon night club

<<@Zo. Got it all. Working out a fair price for my good man.>>

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 1:55 am, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

An image drifts through Void's dream state. An intersection near his doss. A man. A snake? Both? Standing on the corner, not bothering to hide. Watching him. Like a child watches an insect.

And ... a doll? Hanging beside a pistol?

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 1:55 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

Void mutters, turning in his sleep, then blearily half-wakes for a moment, more lethargic and confused than shaken.

Snakes... playing with... dolls. The hell. Not... right, they should be having bad dreams about me.

His eyes close again, and he drifts into other disjointed dreams. Strangely, though, this is that one that he still remembers when he wakes up.

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 11:47 PM, Redmond, Touristville, nearby The Joke nightclub

Jovan looks at Zayne out of the corner of his eye, too pleased with himself and his intentions to be brought down by the vampire's maneuverings for a free night on the town. "Yes, yes, fine. Very well. It isn't as though you would be paying for much more than sex anyway. Let us get going to this club, then, and pick up spare flats from one of the various clothing vending machines on the street. I know of several that should be on the way; I can pick up a scarf and hat there."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 3:10 a.m. edge of the Barrens

Zo and his buddies from the Crush arrive at around 2:50 a.m. at a beaten down warehouse that twenty years ago looked back on better days. At a single door to the left of large bay doors, Zo knocks a series of long-short taps as per instructions. A man as dirty as he is old opens the door. Zo has seen him a few times. The old man says, "They ain't here yet. You kin come in and wait." He stands aside. Inside is a small office with sparse furniture, and a door to the main room.

A small tingle at the back of Zo's neck won't go away. His supplier is always early. The three of them pull up rusty metal chairs to a likewise corroded table. A bare bulb hangs overhead. The old man sits in the corner of the room, staring into space. Maybe watching a chip? They wait.

Twenty minutes go by, and no one shows up. The boys from the Crush fidget, but say nothing. The old man finishes a smoke and heads to the inside door. "Ain't like 'em to be this late. Somethin's gone wrong. You kin stay if ya like, but I'm clearin' out. Make sure the door is locked when ya leave."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 12:15 a.m., Redmond

Zayne chuckles at Jovan's suggestion. "No way clothes from a vending machine will do. I have a better selection nearby." He calls up an auto-cab. The robot car shows quickly and takes them to an address Zayne provides. He leads Jovan into a small apartment that is largely a walk-in closet. "Didn't know I had this, did you?" Zayne smirks in self-satisfaction. "I have clothes here that fit me and you, and a couple of other people I know. There, that section is for you."

Zayne selects an Armanté suit that is only a few weeks out of date. Similar attire is available for Jovan, including headware.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:15 a.m., Tacoma

The suitably chic pair arrive at a non-descript strip mall. Through a glass and metal door, a hallway leads past several closed shops offering cheap trinkets and clothing. They come to a metal door, unmarked save for some graffiti. "This is supposed to be the place. Called 'Cold Tea', though I don't know why. We just go in, I'm told."

Jovan, more cautious than his lusty companion, has already checked out the corridor astrally. At the end, past the door, cloaked in a spell of invisibility, is a seated troll with a massive automatic weapon casually laid across his thighs. He is watchful, but doesn't seem aggressive ... for now.

Sunday, Sept. 13, 2071, 7:55 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

Void sleeps the sleep of the innocent (!?) and wakes relatively refreshed. The dream imagery of the nearby corner remains with him.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 12:15 a.m., Redmond

Jovan immediately scans the room in his typical expression of paranoia before allowing himself to relax and appreciate the full selection of clothing. It is fairly extensive. "Impressive," he admits. "I respect a man who carries preparations for all situations." And how good of him to have a section devoted to my needs. If he weren't my friend, he would make such a good slave, he thinks in smug self-superiority.

The nosferatu picks out a nice-looking Berwick suit to exchange for his usual Synergist business attire, though the Berwick outfit is also a little out of date. He selects a black facemask to cover the lower portion of his face, and a broad-brimmed black top hat to cover his perfectly bald head and match with the suit. Oh dear. I'm starting to look like the Mad Hatter. Hmm.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:15 a.m., Tacoma

Jovan's paranoia is already ramping up when they come to the unmarked metal door. He of course cannot make out the details of the troll bouncer's automatic weapon from its indistinct and emotionless astral shadow, but he can smell quite easily that the weapon is big. Very big. And the troll... he may be nonviolent for now, but how soon until Jovan tastes the salty tang of sadism in his aura and hears the rushing pump of hardness and anger in his emotions? And the troll is not only well-armed, but also placed as part of an Awakened security scheme; clearly this club is no stranger to expensive security, though the trap itself does strike Jovan as rudimentary. Best not to say anything to Zayne about the troll quite yet - that would immediately betray the nosferatu as astrally active.

"Yes. Let's go in and find this acquaintance of yours. We are not gaining anything by standing out here in the quiet." He is careful not to let his eyes drift towards the place where the troll is seated as the two pass through the door and into the Cold Tea nightclub.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 3:10 a.m. edge of the Barrens

"Somethin's up folks--dis meet is dun slotted up."

Zo motions to his fellow gangers to move out and take cover. He thinks about his options for a few moments and looks for a window. He quick draws one of his pistols and points it at the old man.

"You ain't goin nowhere oldman until we get out of here. What the frag is up? Do you think yer dealin with some chipheaded wannabe ganger?"

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 3:10 a.m. edge of the Barrens

The boys from the Crush find good cover among pipes and barrels outside the warehouse. The old man pulls up, and looks at Zo, more exasperated than afraid. That comes from having lived through and seen it all, maybe.

"Waddaya want me ta do? I don' know what's goin' down. Da boss is always on time, but he ain't here. I figure somethin' got in the way. If it can hold him up, I sure don' wanna be around if it comes here. He'd a called me if things were square. Notwithstandin' your obvious firepower an' all, I think gettin' anywhere but here is da smart thing ta do.

"So, what, am I supposed to just sit here an' wait? If you want answers, maybe you should call him."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:15 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Zayne pulls the door open, and a short hallway just as ordinary as the main one leads 20 feet or so to an empty display case, the kind used in food stores to display product. An opening to the right is dark, but around it a string of lights carries a moving pattern of on and off, going clockwise around the opening. Cheap as anything, it looks like. Zayne confidently walks down the short corridor and pokes his head through the dark opening. Stupid? Brave? who knows. He pulls back, a big grin on his face.

"You have to see this!"

OK, it didn't kill Zayne. Jovan studies the doorway astrally. Two spells, darkness and silence. No way of telling what's on the other side, but... it didn't kill Zayne.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:15 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Jovan's mind is now running several processes simultaneously. Some are hyperanalyzing the corridor and the opening, looking for weaknesses in the engineering or stray items he might be able to exploit in an emergency, while others are envisioning all the possible things that could go wrong from stepping through that dark entryway. He remains cautious towards the entryway, but the familiar caress of well-known spells and their relatively unsubtle purpose here helps put him slightly more at ease. A rudimentary wall for preventing light and sound from spilling out and attracting attention. Of course. Cheap and rather crude as far as magical constructs go, but nothing I could not counterspell if needed. Surely not an Illuminati trap. Probably not an Illuminati trap. The troll outside is the main surprise about which to concern myself, in any case.

He feels his face one last time to make sure that the facemask is up and the top hat is covering his face sufficiently. "Very well. But I will have your head for this if you are walking me into a trap."

[Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 3:10 a.m. edge of the Barrens

"Na, I wuz thinking we all get outta here together chummer. Then we call ya boss an see what the drek went down. I am sure ya iz concerned for hiz welfare too."


Zo yells out "Lets slot an run, dis ain't goin down tonight."


Zo motions with the barrel of his pistol for the old man to move out of the warehouse on to the back of one of the bikes.

"You'll be a guest of da crush for a brief bit until we get dis straitened out. I'd hold on tight, Yonkers iz bit of a crazy Driver--forgets dat ya drive on da right not da left..."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 3:10 a.m. edge of the Barrens

The old man slowly and carefully pulls out the keys to his own vehicle and tosses them to the other Crush-er. "No problem, but I wouldn't mind havin' my car come along too."

He picks up his bag and follows Zo to the bikes. Once safely away, Zo sends a message to the dealer. Rather than a text reply, Zo gets a voice message in return, a repeating series of descending tones eerily reminiscent of laughter:

"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh..."

"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh..."

"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh..."

"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh..."

"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh..."

"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh..."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 7:55 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

Void wakes up, thankful that he finally managed to get some rest. He frowns slightly as memories of that odd dream drift though his head. With a mental shrug, he gives the Professor a call, to check up on the "shopping list" he sent him last night.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:25 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Jovan takes the plunge.

The instant his head passes through the barrier, his senses are assaulted by stimuli. Thudding dance rhythms; swirling lights that cruise through the open spaces, changing colour constantly. Wisps of vapours twist around him, promising delights of flavour and scent. They stroke his skin, materializing ever so slightly, gentle as a lover's caress. The astral is awash with dense schools of motes of life, obscuring any kind of perception beyond a few inches.

Immediately inside the doorway, in a short corridor ending in metal gates, guards check patrons for weapons, and demand deactivation of any foci that might be useful offensively. Once screened and receipted by the guards, Jovan and Zayne are allowed to pass through into the main establishment.

The physical makeup is typical: bar, stage, tables, booths. A good night for the owners, patrons almost fill the main room. Styles of dress vary widely, but this is clearly a place for the wealthy. Zayne's suggestion was right on. Sex, gender, race, species, all are mere suggestions here. The patrons' dress and modifications run into themes even Jovan's imagination had not yet gone.

"Check this out!" Zayne shouts, as he urges Jovan into an empty booth. Once inside the booth, both sound and light levels dim, and controls in the centre of the table are labelled accordingly. "You can party out loud or you can chat with your lover."

Once seated in the booth, AR displays offer the goods available. Food and drink of course, but other more esoteric delights can be had, all for prices that set this establishment beyond the reach of the '99.9 percent'. Zayne orders some drinks he knows the two like and sits back. "I'll see if I can find Pertwilling, once we've settled in."

The drinks arrive. Jovan pays from one of his fake SINs. Zayne lifts his drink, "A toast... To successful hunting, whatever the prey might be."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 7:55 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

A reply comes quickly to Void's request. <<@Void: Quantities, or as much as they can lay their hands on? Professor.>>

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 3:30 a.m. In the heart of the Redmond Barrens

Frag, something iz up an dey know who I am......where'z a decker when ya need one. We'll dat answers dat question.

Zo pulls off a to the side of the road. He looks at Yonkers and the others. "Yonkers, Regeg, let da old man go." He looks at the old man. "Some drek is outta control, like what dey say about wizworms. I think someone has offed your boss if ya care. I'd stay low for a while cause dey might go after ya too. Take off now an get da slot outta of here."

As the old man drives away, Zo turns towards the rest of da crush gangers. "Guyz, I am goin to ground elswhere. I'm going to be bringin somerious fraggin heat down on your tusker hides. I don't wanna see ya all get killed. Dese slottin guya are cslled da Vipers 12 and dey is ex military and carry some serious gear dat use predators as hold'outs-and street sams dat are wired up is da norm. So I'll be seein ya when all of dis blows over. If either da blind man or da vipers come lookin for me let em know dat I was feelin dat heat an decided ta lay low in Tacoma for while."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 7:55 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

Void frowns thoughtfully, then composes his reply. <<@Professor: This is all personal gear, so no extras unless noted. The APDS and AV ammo is an exception to that - if you can get more of it, I will take it. That stuff is hard to get through my usual channels. Void.>>

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:25 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Jovan lowers his facemask in the privacy of the booth, shielded as they are by the booth's digital screens. He raises his own drink. "To successful hunting, and to a successful partnership - in this decade and more still to come." They drink.

Jovan looks out over the crowded room. He sits in deep thought for a while before speaking. "This place is quite elaborate in its entertainment. It is quite a sight compared to most of the bars and pubs which I frequented back in my undergraduate days. That was at a time when most of what I cared about was alcohol and my various girlfriends, you know - not unlike you in some respects. It is a... peculiar feeling to be back in this sort of environment again as an immortal being, rather than a mere mortal schoolboy." He says the last word with a hint of disdain. "Did you have that feeling when you first stepped into your immortality?"

He pays for another round of drinks. He is not particularly concerned about getting buzzed and impairing his precious cognitive faculties - being so-called "undead" has its perks, after all. "That reminds me. This Pertwilling man, does he know of your condition? I'm not about to broadcast my nature to anyone here who lacks even the slightest degree of trustworthiness. Especially not a fellow magician."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:25 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Zayne sinks into a rare moment of introspection. His eyes glaze over and his shoulders drop. "I didn't step into it. I was dragged kicking and screaming behind a dumpster to have it thrust into me.

"My realization of the upside of immortality came later. Power. Superiority. The ability to take what I want. And the heightened senses. Oh... the feelings...." He shudders and comes back to the here and now.

"I don't know Pertwilling personally. Only seen him, and seen him in action, here. That's him, over there in the far booth. The old guy. I don't think anybody in this place can tell much about anybody else. The establishment says they've done all they can to make it hard to figure anything out about patrons either magically, or through technology."

In that booth a rotund, white-haired man is in deep conversation with two people, a man and a woman, both much younger-looking. The conversation looks heated. The younger pair gesticulate wildly and appear to be shouting. The older man sits back with a disdainful look on his face. He says something and spreads his hands, shaking his head gently from side to side. The other two look at each other, then back at the older man. The young man makes a cutting motion with his left hand and he and the woman rise and walk out stiffly and quickly.

"Looks like his current business is over."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 3:30 a.m. In the heart of the Redmond Barrens

The old man grabs the keys tossed to him. "See ya." He gets in his car and drives off.

Yonkers and Regeg nod to Zo. "We'll tell Throg. Good luck, bro." They bike away, squealing tires as they go. A couple of dogs nearby start barking.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 7:55 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

<<@Void: Got it. Believe 250 of each is available. I'll put in the order. Professor>>

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:25 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Jovan watches Zayne reminisce quietly, smiling grimly at his senior's memories. He stays silent until Zayne points out the booth across the room where Pertwilling sat entrenched (until very recently) in conversation.

"Hmm." He casually voices his thoughts aloud as his mind analyzes the brief scene. "Those two young meatbags appear to desire something quite desperately from the old man. Look there, you can tell from their anger and the look on his face that they're asking for something that violates his principles, something he isn't willing to cooperate or involve himself in at all, which imply that their request is related to something highly secretive. Their willingness to be so argumentative with him imply that they have some power to back them up, whether physical or magical or financial, but their wild and sweeping gestures back and forth show lack of restraint over their emotions. Regular civilian patrons don't typically show such aggression, at least not the ones who can afford to get into this sophisticated of an establishment. So they must have power, but they lack either discipline or self-security in the use of that power. That seems reasonable, given their age. That indicates that their request is related to deeply criminal activities and that they must be mere lackies for whatever operation they are representing, since the head of such a criminal operation would show more restraint in their emotions and leverage their power with a cooler, more strategic head."

Jovan watches the two leave, and attempts to glean a bit more information about them intuitively to check his inductive conclusions. He then grabs his drink, pulls his facemask back up, and gestures his head towards the far booth. "Our time has come. You are a better talker than I am, so while we speak with Perwilling, use that charm of yours and try nudge a bit of information out of him about what just happened. It will likely still be weighing on his mind - he may be willing to allow assistance with whatever problem those two have now caused for him."

The two Infected leave the booth and make their way over to where the old and white-haired magician sits. "You are Pertwilling, yes?"

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:27 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Zayne nods sagely at Jovan's analysis. As the couple pass their table, Zayne comments, "They look pissed." Jovan concurs, but he also notices that the female is more troubled than angry. Maybe a touch fearful. She glances over her shoulder at the old man still sitting in the booth. He doesn't appear to be following them with his gaze. She is speaking as they pass Zayne and Jovan, " .... reconsider our options .... "

The old man is about to raise a drink to his lips when he notices the two figures approaching him. He returns the drink to the table and places his hands palms down on the table in front of him. He listens to Jovan's terse question, but doesn't answer immediately. Slowly and calmly he studies the two, head tilted to the side just a bit. Like a child studying a curious rock or insect.

"And who would be asking?" he finally replies.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 4:30 a.m. Renton, near the Redmond Barrens

Zo pulls up to a run-down coffin motel. He pulls out his commlink and copies his contacts to it. Taking the old commlink he drops it on the ground and crushes it. He goes in to the hotel and takes his belongings in with him. He sets his bikes autopilot to call call his commlink if anyone touches it.

"Hey chummer, make sure my chopper stays safe and I'll need a room for the next 8 hours." Zo sends the attendee 50 nuyen and slots the certified credstick into one of the vacant coffins, putting his stuff in the locker below. He sets one of the spare disposable commlinks to call him if the locker is opened.

Time to get some rest....I'll go hang out in da Ork underground for a while. Should be pretty safe dere. Drek, I'll need to touch basse wit Prof, I'll need a few things.

<Prof--I need ta dd some gear to my gear request. Add one armored jacket, one set of auctioneer busiess line, both wit chem 2 protection, and level 4 OHM weave, and fire protection rated at 3 alarms if ya can find it. By the way, blind man can see--warn da others their contacts might be compromised. >

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 7:55 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

Void replies:
<<@Professor: Good, good. Any orders or objectives yet? My logistical support in Seattle is minimal at present - I can contribute best to our venture with my proverbial boots to the ground. Void>>

After he sends the message, he grimaces. "My logistical support in Seattle is minimal" sounds better than "I only know a few small-time losers in Seattle", but the implications are the same. He is restless for orders - he is not a person comfortable being left on his own initiative for too long. Outside of his mastery of his narrow realm of violence, he tends to flounder. It is ironic that it is in the rush and heat of combat that he feels most calm. It's certainly easier than talking to people.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:30 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Jovan tilts his head to his side to indicate his red-haired companion. "This is Zayne. I understand his is a name you are familiar with. I'm with him; you can call me Bram. I represent an interested party" Myself, of course; I'm the only party that matters, after all, "who has heard that you have access to certain valuable products. May we sit down?"

Upon Pertwilling's assent, the Infected pair sits down in the booth. He waits until the veil materializes around their booth. "Mister Pertwilling, I hope you will forgive me for my brevity, but I would like to get my primary order of business with you out of the way upfront. The party I am here to represent has heard that you may have access to esoteric alchemical compounds and foci, especially one called Renfield. He is also interested in obtaining certain magical texts and portions of high-level unique focus formulae which you may possess - but we can speak of those a little later. First and foremost is the Renfield - I'm certain we can come to some sort of agreement on this."

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 1:30 a.m., Cold Tea, Tacoma

Pertwilling takes a long, thoughtful sip of his drink. Scotch, peaty and from the western islands by the smell of it. Very good; very expensive. He looks at Zayne in an almost out of focus way. Of course... checking electronically.

"Yes, I have some acquaintance with the name. A hunter by reputation. Of many kinds of prey." He looks at Jovan. "And the Alpha of the pack with him, I see by the body language and tone. 'Bram.' How cute." He smiles when Jovan bristles ever so slightly at being called 'cute'. "I can understand your interest in that substance. Unfortunately, I have no access to any of the substance itself at the moment. I would be happy to keep contact information for interested parties ... or their agents ... so as to bring item and buyer together propitiously.

"As for texts, formulae and foci, that is a different matter. I have been a purveyor of such goods for years, and have an extensive inventory. I prefer to fill individual requests, rather than supply a catalogue of goods I possess or can obtain. This may seem couterintuitive from a seller's standpoint, but this practice has reduced the number of adventurous attempts to acquire some of my possessions without payment.

"Given that you have indicated interest in the substance Renfield, I can allow that I have available a treatise on the fabrication and use of it, and the dangers thereof. You would be amused by the nature of the ink with which it is written. I am not much interested in monetary recompense, but I would be willing to part with it, for a service."

Zayne gives Jovan a 'Here it comes' look.

"A negotiation has recently gone sour." He glances momentarily at the exit. "I wish to acquire an item but the sellers are unwilling to accept my offer. I will give them three days to reconsider, but I don't hold out much hope that they will. One in particular is most obstinate. I would be willing to pay a team of agents to acquire the item for me. There would be some danger involved, and the possibility that guards may need to be ... dealt with. The treatise could be your share and, say, twenty-five thousand nuyen for each of the others. Should you choose to accept my proposition, I would hope that the acquisition could be completed within a week from now. Consider this and let me know what you think." An AR of a matrix contact appears to Jovan.

"I'm sorry to be abrupt, though I see you appreciate brevity and forthrightness, but I need to attend to other affairs. I look forward to your reply." The barriers around the booth drop, and the noise of the main room rushes in.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 8:00 am.

<<@all: Info regarding objective available. Let's meet 9:30 am. Address follows. Breakfast is on me. Professor>> The address of what appears to be a quaint little coffee shop in Bellevue is appended.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 8:00 a.m. Renton, near the Redmond Barrens

Zo hears the alarm going off telling him that he has a message....he looks up and checks the camera on his bike. Not seeing anyone messing with it he goes and checks his in box and lets out a loud groan. He needs to blend in to bellvue...

<@ Professor>Bellvue...really?

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 8:45 a.m. Renton Mall, Big an Tall

Zo walks into the mall unarmed. He goes into one of the 24 hour clothing shops. He looks for some flats and finds a nice armored clothing jacket that looks corporate. A shop employee looks at him and almost reaches the panic button.

Zo notices this and trys to calm the wageslave down indirectly, "Hey chummer, I'z just got a big break. I'm startin my maintnance job in Bellvue today and need somethin decent. Ya gots something with with a little armor and chem protection? I don't wan it to disentigrate from some da acid rain or die from some ganger on my commute near redmond"


The clerk looks at him for a second, decides he's over reacting, then speaks up " Sure, over hear we have a stock of generic brand clothes. This comes with a business jacket. I'd strongly suggest using public transportation to avoid the gangers."

"Great, I'll do that. Whatz tha damage?"

"That will be 600 Nuyen."

"Ouch...dere goes my advance." Zo gives transfers the credits, and leaves.

Taking his bike he drives towards Bellvue.

Monday, Sept. 14, 2071, 8:00 AM, Void's apartment, outskirts of Loveland

Void blinks as his commlink makes that annoying sound again (he really needs to change that ringtone). He was not expecting such a prompt reply. A meeting - good - hopefully he will get some kind of marching orders there. The coffee shop venue appeals, as does the notion of some bagels and coffee on his erstwhile employer's tab. But Bellevue...

Hrrmmm. Not good. One of those superficial places, where one must blend in. Which I don't do. The wires make me move unnaturally smoothly, and they tell me I radiate an aura of menace. Heh. I like that. But what to do, what to do? Well, as Sun Tzu says, "All war is deception." So they will see someone dangerous and augmented, yes, but they will see someone in an armored jacket and a cheap suit - yes, the cheap suit, not the good one - perhaps likewise some cheap mirrorshades, yes, yes. And they will think I am a bodyguard, or a similar type of thug. They won't like me, no no, but they will still be able to pretend I'm not there, and I will... let them. Like the one, only, horrible time I had to go to Renton, even if I felt like grabbing that yappy dog by its leash and beating that shrill woman to death with it. Rrr. Calm, yes, calm.

Void strives to find his center again, as he bustles about getting ready - cheap suit and shades, not-so-cheap armored jacket, commlink, nice discrete sidearm with its fake permits in order, check, check, check. He decides on a slightly roundabout commute, up north through one of the (relatively) redneck-free parts of Snohomish for just a bit before looping back south to Bellevue. A longer route, but a much less frustrating one than getting through the virtual DMZ separating the yipping yuppies of Bellevue from the scum of the Redmond Barrens.

Monday, Sept. 14, 8:45 am., Riverside Perk, Bellevue

Professor walks into the charming coffee shop and stops for a moment to soak in the atmosphere. Once, this kind of place was a regular for him, and a twinge of nostalgia brings a wistful smile to his lips. He orders a coffee (not soycaf here) and a freshly baked muffin. He sits at a table for four in the corner, places down his purchases, and a plainly wrapped package containing a white noise device.

A group of four comes in and looks around. Only one table suits them, the one at which Professor sits. One of them, a smartly dressed woman, comes over and asks, "Excuse me, but there are four of us. Any chance you could move to a smaller table?" Professor from another day might have acceded politely, despite the inconvenience.

"No. Others are coming. This table is taken." He sits back and looks out the window. She tosses her hair and walks away.