Lobo,: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:00:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Ripped from his dilemma of whether or not to act by the arcing grenade, Lobo blinks as Artemis manages to deflect it back into the car. I'm glad I have that on vid - no one else would believe it otherwise.

With a motion smooth from long hours of practice, Lobo's pistol clears his holster, his smartlink communicating data between his 'eyes and his weapon. While his right hand moves to put his pistol out the window, his left hand grabs the side of Artemis's head and yanks it down toward the passenger seat and Egg's ample lap.

"Get down!" Lobo yells, slightly belatedly. Perhaps underestimating his own strength, or overestimating Artemis's, he bounces the smaller man's face off of Egg's thigh like a basketball. As Artemis's upper body ricochets upward, it jog's Lobo's arm, so that his first round is put through the shoulder of the man in the passenger seat. Correcting his aim, and forcing him down again, with a little less force this time, his second shot takes him square in the chest, the rounds ripping right through his armor clothing like paper.

Artemis, Egg, Lobo : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:00:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

The two rounds Lobo fires at the man in the grey suit find their mark dropping him with ease. The man so he slumps out the window of the BMW with his left arm dangling enough to just barely touch the ground. Blood begins to run down the side of the BMW forming a pool on the ground. The driver window in the Jackrabbit begins to close but only getting about half way before suddenly the Jackrabbit goes dark. A vivid green display rolls across the AR windshield.



As Artemis continues to fiddle with the Jackrabbit trying to get manual control while the system reboots, Lobo is keeping an eye on the BMW. The man in the back seat reaches down and pulls out an HK MP5 sticking it out the window taking aim at the Jackrabbit when all of a sudden... BOOM!

The Neuro-Stun grenade goes off in the front seat almost instantly filling the vehicle with the toxin gas. Within just a moment the driver slumps over the steering wheel followed by another man in the rear seat who becomes noticeable when he falls over hitting the gunman in the back. Frankie begins a coughing fit as he pulls the trigger on the weapon and fires a Full Auto burst into the air, just barely missing the Jackrabbit.

Artemis : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:00:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

“HmmmmMMmf mMMmmfer Mmmfo Mmmfe mmffmfff MffMmfff !!”

Thrust sideways and face down into Egg's lap, Artemis protests at his mistreatment,
not physically, though he probably couldn’t if he tried, but definitely vocally.

Lobo releases the shots into the opposing vehicle as the vehicle window raises itself, and Artemis remains flat, preferring to not be deafened by the gunshots adjacent to his head.

“I said …” he continues, gasping for air “That I prefer to be formally introduced to a young woman befo….MMMMMMmmmmff!”
another pair of shots ring out as he is thrust down once more.

He gathers his wits and thinks for a moment
… Cannot start the car until reboot sequence complete, Frag that’s loud … every fragger in a three mile radius will hear …. Oh DREK! …

The thought crystalises in his mind ..I need that Four Large, gotta perform some damage limitation here !..

<< @AutoWired [Artemis] : Dude, Drek, Fan, Hit ! .... outside ABER HQ, KILL CAMS ! DIVERT SECURITY ! .. NOW! >>

He sends the message as quickly as he can, hoping that their erstwhile companion is in a position to cover their tracks

Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:00:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

So much for this being a quiet little recon. Lobo feels a slight pressure against his palm as Artemis puts both hands down on the seat and pushes to try and pick his head up. If I don't let him up, I keep him safe and quiet.

"Stay down Artemis! We need you alive!" That satisfied both truth and courtesy, and allowed Lobo a second to think while he lined up his next shot on the maniac with the automatic weapon.

Targeting data began pouring into his smartlink, and the processors worked overtime to calculate a firing solution.

@Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:00:30) : Matt's doss



<< @ ♣ Artemis [⚙ Autowired] : I'm way down the path for our "business". Gimme a reply if it's life or death, otherwise I don't wanna hafta start all over again.>>

Artemis, Lobo, Egg : Thursday April 7, 2072 (19:59) : South-Bound on International Drive

Taking a very calculated shot at Frankie, Lobo fires his weapon hitting the ganger just centimeters off the mark. The bullet tears through his armor and shreds the tissue surrounding his heart. Hanging just a thread away from unconsciousness Frankie attempts a last ditch attack on the runners by firing two short bursts from his HK MP5. The bullets rip and tear through the shell of the Jackrabbit luckily missing all the occupants but unfortunately rendering the vehicle dead. A second later the ganger is enveloped by the neuro-stun toxin knocking him out cold.

Refocusing his eyes to the real world after successfully hacking the BMW in return, Artemis watches in horror as the command shell of his Jackrabbit burns out for good. Steam rises from the engine compartment as coolant slowly begins to trickle in to the floor of the passenger side of the vehicle. Obviously its not just an electrical failure.

Turning their attention to the BMW the runners can see plumes of toxic gas still billowing out from the windows. All the occupants seem to be dead or unconscious.

Artemis : Thursday April 7, 2072 (19:59) : South-Bound on International Drive

<< @ ⚙ Autowired [ ♣ Artemis] : ROger that good buddy, we'll find our way outta this rabbit hole! .. just .. be careful man ! >>

The message is no sooner finished before the bullets rip the car apart, flecks of foam and upholstery burst into the cabin, propelled by bullets and shrapnel.

"drek, Drek.... DREK !... Lobo kill that .... oh!" his yells are drowned out by the returned fire inches above his head and he throws himself flat again.
.. number of places worse than this to be in a fire-fight ... nil .. !

The countdown on the HUD in AR continues and just as the breakthrough is about to come everything goes black..
"Stephanie ?..... Nooooooo! ... STEPHANEEEEEE!"
He doesn't have time to panic or to mourn the loss of his beloved pilot program
.. I Should have programmed her better.. he laments

and then, an idea forms .. he dives back into the AR GUI and begins even more rapid gesturing,
bypassing the security of the BMW he dives for the full admin access
See how you like a taste of your own medicine, Chummer !
he murmers as he works and then, suddenly .. he is IN!
...That was too easy... oh, I guess he's dead ... damn, this is gettign messy and fast !
Taking a quick diagnostic overview of the other cars systems he goes for the Environmental controls and closes the windows up to 90% .. then rams up the air blowers to 'hurricane' level

"Get ready to move! people ... I'll have the gasses cleared from there asap.. just need to get this old girl off the road somehow ! "


...Maybe time to call Jimmy? ... damn, this is gonna cost

Egg : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:00:33) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Egg huddles in the passenger seat of the jackrabbit scared senseless over the shooting and commotion. She turns to the others in the car after Lobo kills the last remaining Red-Devil gang member...

"I don't think I am cut out for this kind of work. I would be more of a liability in the field than useful. I'm sorry but I have to resign from this job. If you would be so kind Artemis as to drop me off at my place or the nearest transit stop if that would be easier I would greatly appreciate it."

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:06:18) : Dharma Lounge, Charlotte Downtown

Nick stands at the bar of the Dharma Lounge looking for a potential mark while he waits for contact information for the meet with Rodrigo. The beautiful yet eccentric cyber-goth bartender slides another seltzer water with a twist of lime his way on a plain white cloth napkin. Picking up the drink to take a sip Nick notices the note under the glass.

“South side alley, take the back door.”

Not wanting the drink to go to waste he takes a decent gulp and places the glass on the bar. He dunks the napkin in the remainder of the drink watching with a smirk as the ink from the writing turns the fizzing water a deep blue, smudging the writing beyond comprehension. He then makes his way cautiously to the back door leading to the alley.

Rodrigo stood at the rear of the Mercedes with a burly Ork that rarely left his side. The unmistakable bulge of weaponry under the Ork's long coat keeps Nick honest. As he approaches his fence contact Rodrigo reaches into the folds of his suit pulling forth a slender silver credstick with the tips of his fingers.

“You have the goods?”

Without saying a word, Nick reaches into his pocket pulling out small silk coin purse, holding it up with his fingertips. He places the purse on the trunk of the Mercedes leaving his hand on it until the credstick is placed in his hands. Checking to make sure the full amount of 1,000 displays on the miniature screen he takes his hand off the bag. With a shallow nod to the fence, Nick continues walking passed the Mercedes and out the front of the alley. It's nice when things go smooth and as planned.

He quickly disappears from the entry of the alley blending in with the rest of the busy folk of the plex. This job would at least ensure he wouldn't go hungry for a while. By itself it wouldn't get him out of his current dredge but it's a start. A block away from the club he opens the door to his van as the familiar chirp of his commlink alerts him to a new incoming message.

<<Encrypted Message Downloaded>>
<<Decryption Initiated...>>
<<Stage 1... Complete>>
<<Stage 2... Complete>>
<<Message Decryption Complete>>

<<@Nick:[Burn-out]: Heya there kid. I trust this message finds your fingers just as nimble as ever. If you aren't too busy I have a job that is suited perfectly for your skill-set. The team is already in play. You will be replacing one who apparently took offense to the risks involved. One thousand upfront with another thousand upon completion. Double that if the job is done quietly. Get back at me if you are interested and I'll send you the details.>>

Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:00:30) : Matt's doss

<< @ ♣ Artemis [⚙ Autowired] : Yeah. While I'm inside, I'll see if I can find the security cams and see what needs to disappear.>>

Matt focuses his attention on the virtual world before him, cubicles pulsing with data trails as his eyes scan the room. That new product advertisement he just saw intrigues him - could that be the main reason for this job? Something told him the real paydata was to be found through the other door he saw, the one with the shield emblem on it. Looking around some more, he decides to sit down at a terminal and starts tapping in commands, trying to see if he can access the shipping or personnel department.

Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (23:01:45) : Matt's doss, Invading the Matrix

Taking a seat at the first terminal Matt begins to toss commands at the system. Almost immediately he cracks the terminals safety feature and is given a choice of sub-directories:

Sales & Accounting
Research & Development
Personnel & Payroll
Shipping & Receiving
Software Programming

Just as he is about to jump into the search for paydata the whirring sound of a floating IC program grabs his attention. The two meter tall cylindrical body floats around the corner and down the isle Matt is currently working in. Noticing Matt's presence in this area after standard working hours it begins to Analyze the Icon (Persona). Even in his meat body Matt's shoulders and neck muscles tighten wondering if this means he is caught. In VR he reflexively reaches a hand back to rub his neck debating with himself if he should get ready to attack the IC. In what seemed the longest couple of seconds of his life the IC program finishes its Analyze and continues off down the isle floating on its glowing blue propulsion system. Damn that was close!

Artemis, Egg, Lobo : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:02:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

The toxic smoke billowing from the BMW ceases leaving a horrific scene. Both passenger side occupants of the vehicle are caught between the window and the top of the door frame from when Artemis remotely closed them. Streaks of blood run down the side of the car forming small pools on the ground. Prior to the windows being rolled up Lobo noticed that both the driver of the BMW as well as the person in the rear driver side of the car were rendered unconscious from the neuro-stun grenade.

Moments ago a member of security for ABER Technologies was seen walking across the parking lot heading towards one of the gate houses. Both Artemis and Lobo lost sight of the security guard as the toxic fumes were being vented from the BMW. Despite the main system of the Jackrabbit having been destroyed by gunfire, the runners are able to activate the manual override controls to get the doors opened. Without some mechanical and electrical help there is no way the Jackrabbit is going anywhere tonight.

Artemis sits in the driver seat of the Jackrabbit not so silently pouting over the loss of his Stephanie while Lobo surveys the situation. Suddenly a blinding bright light shines in the driver side of the vehicle catching the runners partially unaware.

“Are you folks alright in there? Looks like you're havin' some car troubles I reckon.” An aged raspy voice calls out to the runners from somewhere outside. The light moves across the front of the BMW and closer to the Jackrabbit. As the light from the flashlight shines back and forth over the scene between the two vehicles the voice audibly gasps.

“Holy Jesus Mary and Joseph!” You see the beam of light whip around frantically for a quick moment and just before it gets shined back in your faces you see a stocky human dressed in a security guards outfit reaching for his sidearm.

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 : Nick's Van, Charlotte Downtown

With one slow, languid motion the kid slumps into the driver's seat, pulling the door shut behind him. He rubs his nose offhandedly, taking a thoughtful moment to gaze down at his knee before pecking out a response. Green's always good.

<<@Burn-out:[Nick]: In.>>

He chews his tongue pensively. Bonus'd be nice. Team'd better not be drek. He slowly buckles up and checks his mirrors, keys still lost in one of his jumpsuit's back pockets. Why's B-O need a team? This another "heist"? Nick cocks his elbow up just enough to find the window controls, waits patiently as the feeble door motor whines, and once clear, hawks a hearty blob of congestion out into the street.

With a grunt, he shifts in his seat and waits for Burn-out to hit him back with the details. The cacophony of downtown traffic drifts hypnotically through the open window. Whatever. Green's always good.

~Umi

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 : Nick's Van, Charlotte Downtown

Nick sits on the side of N. Brevard Street as traffic buzzes passed on the busy one-way street. He goes over in his mind what sort of scenario would require a team.

<<Encrypted>>

<<@Nick:[Burn-out]: Solid. I feel better about this job already just knowing you're in. The crew consists of two Humans and an Ork. Hacker, techno-kiddie and some muscle. ABER Technologies is the target. Get in, grab the goods, burn the backups and get out all nice and quiet. Easiest 4k you could ever make! Your contact is Artemis. Its a hair thing, you can't miss him. Here's his contact info. ~Artemis~ . I'll let him fill you in on the specifics.>>

Artemis : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:02:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

“Holy Jesus Mary and Joseph!”
a stocky human dressed in a security guards outfit reaches for his sidearm...

...Oh, tonight just keeps getting better and better ... Artemis is past being surprised now,

With the look of bemused acceptance on his face, his left hand shields his eyes from the torch light,
despite the polarized contact lenses working properly, he wants to give the impression that the guard has the upper hand here
... let him feel confident, no need for any more surprises ..

sitting still, thankful that they already managed to open the vehicle doors Artemis' right hand brushes past the concealed holster and he contemplates drawing and shooting,
but tonight has, in his modest opinion, seen enough death so far.
His fingers grasp the hard laminate of his falsified SIN and 'License to carry' as a private security consultant, and he draws it slowly from the jacket pocket.

"Thank you officer, no need for concern the situation is under control, here is my identification!"
He holds it loosely in his fingertips and extends his arm very slowly but confidently towards the guards torchlight.
... drek, what was it Matt was trying to tell me earlier ? .. ahhhh yes !... that works ..

"were you aware that known associates of 'James Earlson' were operating in this area?"
Artemis steps confidently from the vehicle, ignoring the corpses to his left, he holds the ID out like a shield before him
...keep him focused on you, need to control this before it get's outta hand ..

The guard has his weapon drawn and is standing ready to shoot
"Hold it mister! Don't you move!"
He calls to the tall man before him, which Artemis ignores and begins calling back
"YOU! We need contain this area! Cordon it off before the world press and their dog, arrive!"
Artemis tries his best to be authoritative and ignore the pistol being waved at him,

he strides to the guard with both hands clearly empty apart from the ID.
"You heard me! accomplices to that Arsonist on TRID. come on man do YOU want to be held responsible when they are crawling all over this place?"
He turns his back purposely on the guard despite the weapon, he can feel the spot of aim burning between his shoulder blades, and spreads his arms to encompass the scene
" ... we need this road cleared, and any evidence collected .... does your company have security cameras ? .. I need to see the footage ... NOW !"

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 : Nick's Van, Charlotte Downtown

Corp work, huh? Thought B-O was small time. Movin' up. The kid shrugs, files away Artemis' number under the heading "Barbershop", and absentmindely shoots off a text to his new teammate.

<<@Artemis:[Nick]:Burn-out says you need a hand. Fill me in.>>

After fishing for his keys in every wrong pocket, Nick finally stumbles upon them and shunts them into the ignition. Careful not to clip anything pulling out, he helps the van lumber into traffic before setting the pilot program to take him towards the mass of zoning code violations he calls an apartment.

~Umi

Artemis : Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

The ABER security guard lowers his Nitama Nemax and holsters it. He squints at the SIN shining his light on it to help read. Nodding his head in acknowledgment of the other private security agent he relaxes his posture some. In a very rough and raspy voice the guard continues...

“These guys are in cahoots with that Earlson pile of drek? Serves 'em right I guess. I don't know about the rest of these companies but none of our cameras aim out this far. Perhaps if you had caught 'em closer to the gates we might've had some luck. Well technically this doesn't fall on my jurisdiction and quite frankly the paperwork required for getting involved doesn't sound all that fun to me. I can notify Lone Star or Medical Services if you need but other than that I'm afraid you folks are on your own. I need to get back to my post.”

The security guard heads back towards the gate at a leisurely pace. You can see him que the sub vocal mic on his neck as he walks away. As Artemis watches the stocky security guard walk away the chirp of his commlink catches his attention.

<<Encrypted>>
<<@Artemis:[Burn-out]: It looks like that Troll Doll you have with you is not cut out for this gig after all. I have someone in mind that should fill that gap perfectly. I gave him your digits. He should be sending you a message shortly.>>

Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (23:01:45) : Matt's doss, Invading the Matrix

Sales & Accounting <<
Research & Development
Personnel & Payroll
Shipping & Receiving
Software Programming

Let's start at the top

Matt's alter-ego cracked his virtual knuckles and then let his fingers fly over the terminal, pulling up as much data from Sales & Accounting that he could. Annual reports, investors, any raw paydata could be useful. He opened a stream, inserting a glowing icon into the terminal that represented a transfer to the datachip that was secured to Autowired's alter-ego's skin.

Artemis : Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Finally, at least something has gone according to plan..
Heaving a sigh of relief, Artemis composes himself and watches the guard leave, simultaneously flashing through his AR Rolo-Dex™ for a contact.

Stopping at 'H' he pauses and shakes his head then moves swiftly past until he gets to McNally
..Drek, that's no good either... dammit James, you better be in..
He curses under his breath and retreats the deck back to Harding, James .. his hand hovers in AR over the CALL icon... but an incoming message interrupts his motion

Shame, things were just starting to warm up between us ...

"Great, just hand out my personal info to the rest of the planet why don't ya !"
He mutters under his breath and to no one in particular, tapping out a reply
<<Encrypted>> << @ þ Burn-out [ ♣ Arty ]: That's just ticketty boo! old bean, any more waifs or strays? just send them my way! okay .. send Butch my regards won't you ! >>

The guard gone, he waves the all clear to Egg and Lobo, letting them get on with whatever they need to do
as his comm 'pings' once more
"what the....?" Artemis huffs in exasperated tones as he picks up the comm again and reads the message

He looks around at the carnage, gives a little laugh to himself and hits REPLY
<< @ Nick [ ♣ Arty ]: Well, Hey there Nick!
looking at the scene here, we have an abundance of hands, at least six of them seem to be surplus to requirements!
what we REALLY need is legs! or more precisely, wheels! ... don't suppose you happen to be around this address ? >>
Okay, game face on... let's call James and get outta this mess before the five-O arrive..
Flicking up the AR dialer he calls James Harding, the connection rings three times before a rough voice answers .. Still smoking sixty a day then James ..

"Jimmy ! ...it's Arty... yes... uh huh, yes that Artemis ...uh huh... yeah I do recall a hotel in that area ... yeah but ... uh huh ... sure, sure! .... water under the bridge by now I'm sure old friend"
...Crap, hoped he'd forgotten about the blue midgets and the handcuffs by now, damn good night though ... from what I can remember..
"Look Jimmy, much as I enjoy reminiscing on the old days, I have an offer for you ... yeah... uh huh ..
Yeah I remember the last offer wasn't exactly the way I worded it .. but it still came good eventually right ?
... look, I don't have much time, can you get a Recovery vehicle to my location ?
my ride has been ... interfered .. with ! then we can chat later, 'kay !"

Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (23:01:57) : Matt's doss, Invading the Matrix

At first glance it appears ABER has roughly sixty regular contracts that get standing order shipments. These contracts are mainly to Service and Repair shops scattered throughout the plex. You notice there are two contracts for substantially larger quantities that go to drone manufacturers, both of which are located in southern Monroe. Scattered throughout the standing orders for the last thirty days are roughly two dozen one-time orders for local independent companies.

(23:02:09)

Financially speaking ABER appears to be doing a healthy business. Projected reports show the company could break three million in profits this year without factoring in the projections for the 'x3' chips. An inter-corporate memo between the four founders of the company states that the suggested release date for the 'x3' (Triple-Crown), pending successful testing, would be April 23rd. The initial production run will be consistent with a Rating 3, but with its enhancements will work slightly more efficient than a Rating 4 regular chip.

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 : North Bound on I-77

Letting the van pick its way slowly through traffic, Nick stares uncomprehendingly at his commlink. "An abundance of hands?" What the drek does that mean?

He feeds the address into his mapsoft and glares unpleasantly at the little tag above Corporate Drive naming ABER Industries as one of the locale's prominent businesses. REALLY need wheels, huh? On th'job five minutes 'n it's already gone t'hell. Gun'hafta chat wit' B-O after this.

Nick rolls his eyes and punches in a new route for the van to trundle along, then instructs the autopilot to try and coax the engine to greater speeds. A burbly digital chirp accompanies a cheery warning message, informing him that "State and Local Regulations require all motorists to...", followed by a loud thump as he slams his fist into the dashboard, making the pilot program screech and skip audibly before continuing. "Override Accepted - Your velocity preference has now been set to: "Zippy". Enjoy your ride!"

The van slowly gathers momentum, the engine whining quietly under the strain of this unaccustomed demand for rapidity. Yet despite the chirpy legal warnings, there's not much threat of the van being pulled over for speeding, even on a long downhill slope with a strong tailwind. Of course, depending on what he finds at his destination, a speeding ticket might be the least of Nick's troubles...

He muses crossly on what he might be getting himself into, when the matter of "surplus hands" comes back to pester him. All at once his face pales, and he shakes his head in disgust. This better not be some chop shop creaser drek. I ain't no fate meat bagman. With a nervous glance in his side mirrors, Nick really wishes he'd had time to stop off and prepare.

Too late now. The tools in the back and the beaters in his bag will have to do. With a resigned sigh, he starts flipping through virtual color schemes on his commlink and settles on one he hasn't used in a long while. As he rumbles down the highway with speedier traffic surging past, Nick sets the van's exterior to slowly transition from default solid gray to a hammy glazier's logo on blue and white.

The gradual shift over the course of several minutes should be enough to avoid significant attention. The plates will have to stay just the way they are, but at least the van should blend in somewhat on its way into corporate territory. Nick sucks his teeth, takes off his cap and hoodie, stashes them both under the seat, and tries valiantly to unmuss his hair. Not much else he can do now but wait.

~Umi

Lobo : Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Watching Artemis handle the security guard, Lobo shakes his head. If he can manage to talk his way out of that situation, why can't he manage to just have a normal conversation?

Regardless, Lobo moves to back his teammate's play. Getting out of the car, trying to keep his face down and avoid any potential cameras in the area, he begins removing the gangers from the BMW.

The two unconscious ones he pulls from the vehicle and lays face down on the tarmac, cuffing their hands behind their backs. He gives each a pat down, putting what he finds in his pockets.

After this, he gingerly removes the two dead bodies, laying them down on ground as well. He then does a search of the BMW's interior, avoiding getting blood on his clothes as much as possible.

"Artemis, now what?"

Artemis: Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

"Cheers Jimmy! .. You won't regret it ... okay okay, I get it ... peace man!"
Artemis concludes the call and wanders over to Lobo.

"I dunno man, what the frag happened? Contrary to popular belief, I don't get toxic grenades thrown at me on a daily basis!"
The wan smile he spares his team mate is not full of the usual dazzle, the adrenaline wearing off now
makes him feel grey, and very tired.

Kicking at the legs of one unconscious form he continues
"Got a guy coming to get rid of the JackRabbit and the .." /gulp ... "corpses..... he'll be here in five.."
Hands on hips he surveys the scene, glancing around like the chief investigator at a crime scene
"Oh, our chummer Burn-Out has been on too, got a new guy coming! name of Nick, don't ask! I ain't got a clue yet either, but looks like Egg, bless her, just ain't gonna cut it...
not that I blame the girl, jobs don't usualy go this far south so quick"

He turns to Lobo and asks
"So, whaddya reckon? I'm not into killing ...but, what do we do with them?
I can clear the Beemer I hope, if you and newbie wanna hang around and scan some more ?
Security seems to have missed us, the guard didn't care and there's no ABER cams pointing this way, maybe elsewhere though"

Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Automatic weapons, gang signs, this is not good. Why the hell are these guys out here, ambushing us?

Trying to do his best to not act self-conscious, Lobo continues his task, keeping his hands busy while his mind races.


Pretty sure Artemis isn't in on any double-cross, he doesn't seem to have the stones to put himself in harm's way. Egg just fell apart back there, she seems okay. Autowired and Burnout, however...

He slowly moves from body to body, and when he reaches Frankie, he reaches down and gently closes the wide staring eyes. This one is only a kid. Wish it turned out differently son, but you made it a choice between you and me.

We need more info on these guys. He calls up a search engine on his commlink and looks for any information he can find on this particular gang, given their devil's face logo.

[i]Not sure what Burnout would have to gain, especially as he just laid out four grand. Autowired? Don't know the kid - maybe he reached out to someone and thought he could make a deal? It is reaching, but I have to play it safe. Assume we are screwed until I can prove we aren't.

Glancing back at Artemis, he says "At the very least, we need to interrogate the prisoners, and find out what they know. My first concern is that there are two people who knew we were here besides us - Autowired and Burnout. I trust Burnout as far as I can throw him, and I don't know Autowired at all. We have to proceed on the premise that one of them compromised the mission - which hopefully we can deny or confirm based on the interrogations." His knuckles crack ominously.

He takes a look at one of the commlinks and tosses it to Artemis. "What do you make of that?"

Artemis: Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

"Whoa there My Craggy featured friend!" Artemis raises his hand to catch the thrown comm with his now legendary reflexes.

"I'll check it out, thanks.. @autowired might do a better job later though, the Kids good, real good! .. When he's not neck deep in car engine or eating me out of house and home!"

He looks around again, making sure they are still mostly unobserved.

"What would Burnout have to gain from this? I don't see the angle yet, what I do know is,
we need to trust each other.. And let me get one thing straight.... Thanks! You covered my ass back there and I appreciate it."

Artemis, Lobo & Egg : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:29:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Lobo and Artemis frantically do their best to take care of preparations of being rescued. They gather up all the equipment found on the Red-Devil gang members and sash it in the trunk of the BMW. With an odd glance at each other there is a brief pause when they both notice two blue compressed gas bottles each labeled with a big NOS sticker. It appears this BMW has some aftermarket mods.

The two dead gang members lay there on the side of the street while the two unconscious members are restrained beside them. Artemis and Lobo's attention is suddenly drawn to the sound of a heavy vehicle turning onto Corporate drive heading their way. A massive flatbed car hauler slowly creeps by pulling up behind the Jackrabbit and backing into position. Not really knowing what to expect the two runners stand cautiously waiting for the scene to unfold. A stocky gruff looking Ork steps out of the truck walking to the back of the vehicle giving the damaged Jackrabbit a quick glance over. He looks up at the runners...

"I got a call someone's in need of transport and disposal. I don't want to know no details, just put whatever is goin' with me in the trunk and for God's sake clean the blood off that window."

Lobo does most of the heavy lifting work of putting the two dead bodies in the trunk of the Jackrabbit. Something has been bothering him about the one called Frankie... That face is just so familiar, but where have i seen him before? While Lobo labors away, Artemis uses the shirt off the unconscious male ganger to clean the blood off the side of the car. He then begins to wipe down the side of the BMW as well. The Ork driver snaps the plate off the car tossing it in the trunk haphazardly and then begins hooking up the winch cables to the axle. While kneeling down at the rear of the car the driver calls out to nobody in particular...

"Make sure ya get all yer belongin's out of the car. Ya don't want nothin' tracin' back to ya in there."

Artemis looks inside the vehicle one last time making sure he got everything out that he needed as the little Jackrabbit gets pulled slowly onto the back of the truck. Once loaded the driver begins strapping the vehicle down so that it won't roll off the back.

"I don't know what ya is doin' with them two right there, but I don't dispose of the livin'."

With the vehicle all loaded up the driver walks over to Artemis. Towering over him Artemis takes a step closer to Lobo as if looking for some form of comfort knowing someone has his back.

"Jimmy has got ya covered on this, but I is sure ya is goin' to owe him big fer this."

The driver walks back to the cab and climbs up into the driver seat. As the runners watch the truck pull away with the Jackrabbit it dawns on Lobo where he knows that face.

"Frankie!" Lobo blurts out as Artemis gives him a peculiar look. I've seen him around the apartments. I wonder if that is the boyfriend of the girl in 1C?
The flatbed truck makes it to the end of Corporate Drive turning Right onto International when another vehicle turns down their street. There is an immediate panic in the runners throats wondering if this was Lone Star finally making their way to the scene when they realize its a GMC Bulldog van.


As Nick rounds the bend onto Corporate drive he sees a massive flatbed car hauler pulling away with a Jackrabbit strapped to the back. Up ahead on the side of the road is parked a new model BMW with two figures standing on the far side of the car. Oh that has got to be Artemis! B O was right, it's a hair thing. Slowly Nick drives the van up to the BMW and then notices two bodies with their hands and feet restrained in plasteel straps laying face down on the side of the road. What the hell did I get myself into?!

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:24:30) : North-East Bound on I-85

"-life, in konsert, und I vill tell you zhey ver ohbsolutelay insentiery. Koming awp next - Synaptic - vith a track from zheir latest albom: BiOhm. Stey tuned."

A hissing, popping nightmare of static fills the cab for a few seconds before an explosion of jagged sonic spikes tear into Nick's chest, each distorted synth riff reverberating through his ribcage. He convulses gently in his seat, a thousand-yard stare fixedly penetrating the earth itself as his head lolls to one side, coming to a rest on his seized and stiffened shoulder.

After a few minutes the unremitting barrage has played itself out, and a familiar voice slowly rouses Nick from his reverie. He coughs appreciatively as he gradually comes to his senses. Non fui, fui, non sum, non curo. Wiz. Shaking his head to dislodge the beautiful, lingering phantom bassline, he turns his fractured attention back to the noise jockey's audio-exegesis.

"-kraziest drehk on zhe 'Trix today, zis stuff is skreeming "Nova-Fahking-Hawt" as ve say. But ve're noht tru yet, mein kinder, ahnosser set of zhe zickest Zynthrash around vill be vaiting on the ozzer side ohf zhees kommersiels." Cue audio-dumpshock to a jarringly clean and chipper female voice expousing the merits of original, chocolate flavor, and fruity-tuity chocolate blast Zapper N&N's™: "As much caffeine as two shots of espresso!" With a snort of irritation, Nick reaches over and kills the sound.

The van's blinker clicks on as Exit 54 approaches. Hrn. Should send a heads-up. Nick grabs his 'link and taps away unhurriedly.

<<@Artemis:[Nick]:There in five, probably less.>>

~Umi

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:31:00) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Having managed to turn the van around in not too many more points than three, Nick pulls onto the shoulder and comes to a stop beside the BMW. Leaving the engine running, he unbuckles from his seat and digs in his satchel for his collapsible beatsticks, tucking them into the deep pockets of his jumpsuit.

He nudges the handle with his knee and softly kicks the door open, swinging out after it and landing with a fluid thump. Bullets ain't flying. No sirens.

He slouches forward and addresses the bizarrely coiffed figure, cocking his thumb over his shoulder in the process. "Wheels're here, Arty. C'mon." With the shortest of pauses to cast a sidelong glance at Lobo and Egg, Nick turns on his heels and heads over to unlock the back of the van. "No belts in back, sorry. Don' touch anything." Without further ado, he clambors back into the driver's seat and sighs.

Well, no hands are missing so far...

~Umi

Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:30:00) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

"What would Burnout have to gain from this? I don't see the angle yet, what I do know is,
we need to trust each other.. And let me get one thing straight.... Thanks! You covered my ass back there and I appreciate it.", says Artemis.

A genuine look of affection crosses Lobo's face turns to Artemis. "Don't worry about it, pal." He slaps him across the back playfully, and only Artemis's quick reflexes save him from tumbling to the ground.

As the flatbed leaves and the van approaches, Lobo puts himself between the approaching vehicle and Artemis. "You sure this guy is on the up and up?"

Artemis shrugs a little, and says "This is the guy Burnout sent, let's give him the benefit of the doubt, Ben Grimm." with a wink and a smile.

And I was starting to like him. Sigh.

Artemis: Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

"yeah, benefit of the ... wait a sec ... Frankie?" Repeats Artemis."You know this kid ?"

The van pulls up and ejects a young man onto the street that can only be Nick, Artemis returns his greeting
"Hey yourself, call me Arty... oh wait .. you did already, glad you came prepared!"
He nods at the Van that Nick pulled up in, appreciative of the spacious interior.
"that fine example of a vehicle took the brunt of the punishment.."
Nick glances at the BMW with a raised eyebrow, but pointing at the receding form of the truck Artemis continues "Not that one, the JackRabbit! .. I'll have to suffer with this ..thing.. until I can get a replacement"

Artemis kicks at the ankle of the restrained gangers
"And these are our spare sets of hands, the light fingered sort too,
can ya give us a hand with 'em into the back? gotta clear this place asap before we draw any more attention to ourselves"
He leans down and grabs a set of legs waiting for someone to get the other end
"I'm sure Burn-Out told you the details of the job ? well the details are looking right at us .. so let's split!"

Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 : West-Bound on Corporate Drive


"yeah, benefit of the ... wait a sec ... Frankie?" Repeats Artemis."You know this kid ?"

Lobo's mouth flattens into a tight-lipped line. "I don't know him, but I think he may live near me. I think I've seen him around."

Walking over to the BMW, he takes a moment to shake Egg's hand. "Sorry this didn't work out, if you don't mind, I'll keep your number in case I ever need help researching magical issues? I promise not to bring you so close to the action again." He opens the passenger door and makes way for Egg. "Artemis can drive you home, or at least drop you off somewhere safe. Don't worry, he'll drive safely, won't you Artemis?", says Lobo in a slightly firmer voice.

With that, he loads the prisoners into the back of the van, walks around to the passenger side, and gets in. He extends one hand to the newcomer, and says, "Lobo, nice to meet you. I think it best if we go somewhere a little more remote."

Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (23:02:09) : Matt's doss, Invading the Matrix

Autowired's fingers become a blur as his eyes absorb the data that flies across the screen. Humanly, it wouldn't be possible to interface with a computer this fast. But in the Matrix, the technomancer is in his own element. He concentrates on the data about the drone manufacturers, digging deep into the ABER system to pull up the accounting data on them.

Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (?) : Matt's doss, Invading the Matrix

Some moments later, his curiosity satisfied, Autowired backs the terminal out of the current directory and chooses his next victim from the list.

Sales & Accounting
Research & Development <<
Personnel & Payroll
Shipping & Receiving
Software Programming

What's going on at ABER that I should know about...maybe something about this x3 chip they keep talking about...what's this

Another message flashes on his internal system. Scanning it quickly, Matt fires off a quick reply before sending out another message.

<<@ GEAR [Matt] Got a friend with a car gonna ask for some help. He's good people, name's Artemis.>>

Nick : Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:31:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Nick eyes Lobo up and down out of the corner of his eye.

For a moment he only gives the newcomer's greeting a small nod of acknowledgement, still far from comfortable with the situation, but something about the ork's look and bearing tells him he should make a little extra effort for the guy. He awkwardly thrusts his arm straight out and manages to connect, adequately completing the handshake even if it's a bit stiff and self conscious. But something about that steady, appraising look gives Nick the willies, and he has to disengage almost immediately. He coughs and stares at the steering wheel, making a show of rubbing his chin in thought.

"Nick. Uh... yeah."

Moving as if in a daze, the kid buckles up and gets the autopilot ready to take them toward the highway. He casts a quick gaze around the scene, seems satisfied that Egg and Artemis will be driving off in the BMW, and pulls out into the blissfully empty roadway.

"...so..."

Another uncertain, sidelong glance at his companion precedes a lingering silence in which Nick retrieves his brawlcap and pulls the brim down low over his eyes.

Drek.

~Umi

Arty: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:31:30) : West-Bound on Corporate Drive

Artemis stares at the road, eyes transfixed on a point yards ahead of the speeding cruiser, while Egg sits comfortably with the seat fully extended.
His face illuminated at regular intervals by the streetlights as the bands of orange light pass silently overhead, he doesn't speak, doesn't know what to say.

The silence passes for what seems like an eternity, a silence that is unbroken by the normal road sounds he is accustomed to,
the BMW's suspension accommodates every uneven surface, every bump and pothole
like a cloud passing along in the jet-stream, it unnerves him
and for the first time in a long time, he is lost for words...

Eventually he is awoken from his reverie, ..Did I just fall asleep? Drek I need to be careful..

"Turn here..... please!" the words softly spoken, almost apologetic, Egg points out a place for him to turn off the main road and deposit her under the floodlit sign of a Stuffer Shack™

She places a hand on the door and bends forward to look into the cockpit with a word of thanks before silently closing the door.
Artemis jaw hangs open a moment ... you're welcome.. unspoken as he watches her vanish into the evening full of people going about their evening routines.

With both hands on the wheel he sits,
barely feeling the soft thrum of the idling engine and gazing ahead at the lights as they pass on the highway.

It occurs to him that he's been playing in the underworld for so long, he can't actually remember the 'first time'
how it made him dry heave until the bile burnt it's way slowly up his throat and he emptied his gut onto the pavement after narrowly avoiding death.
..Happy happy days, lets go home boy!.. he thinks miserably and pulls out into the traffic,
enjoying the sensation of manual driving, not yet trusting the autopilot.

with a finger gesture he pulls up the Comm UI into the pilot HUD
Unlike the previous vehicle it is completely integrated and colour coordinated in subtle neon blue that contrasts perfectly against the black of the tarmac.
<< @ ⚙ AutoWired [ ♣ Arty ] : How's it goin' Kid? I'm gonna drop by GEAR and see the boys, if you wanna drop by and take a look at the wheels I reckon you'd like this bad boy! >>

one message sent he sends a barrage out to others as he drives.
<< @ Jimmy [ ♣ Arty ] : Thanks for the assist Chummer, I've got something here that'll make up for it AND then some ... call you in 72 hours as agreed >>
..
<< @ ∀ Team[ ♣ Artemis ] : The Lady is safely delivered, I'm 15 minutes out, we can't take our ... friends.. to my place, what's the deal now? >>

He relaxes back into the synthetic leather and velour trim and both hands on the wheel encourages it up to the limit,
he can tell it has so much more, Craves to eat the road up but he holds back, not wanting to draw any more attention tonight,
heading back towards GEAR.

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:33:30) : Turning North onto George W Liles Parkway

"So, uh... where we goin'?" The highway is fast approaching, and Nick would rather look ignorant asking for directions than stupid taking a turn the complete wrong way."I assume you guys have places for this sort of... ah... thing", he adds uncertainly, peering into the back of the van through the smoked-glass window behind him.

Least I'm not in their shoes. Yet, anyway. I get out of this, gonna K-O B-O.

~Umi

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:33:30) : Turning North onto George W Liles Parkway

"For right now keep going straight, I just have to make a quick arrangement and I'll give you precise directions."

Lobo connects his sub vocal mike for privacy and pulls up David on the speed dial.

"David, its Tyler. Its been too long, we need to catch up. In the meantime, I could use a favor. I need somewhere safe and quiet for myself and a couple other individuals. Three days tops."

Nick sees Lobo nod his head and smile, and then, ""Thanks, you are a lifesaver. Dinner next week? My treat. Sounds good."

Lobo virtually slides an address to Nick, "This is the location we are going to. Let's drive casually - no need to draw attention to ourselves. It would be awkward to be pulled over just now."

Since this is literally the first second he's had to relax since the encounter, Lobo takes out his Guardian, ejects the clip, and pops in a fresh one before putting it back in its holster. He checks the mirror as a precaution, and then leans back in his chair. Noticing Nick's unease, he says, "Relax kid, I'm not gonna bite. If you want to keep talking to a minimum, no worries, I got plenty to think about on the way there."

Autowired : Thursday April 7, 2072 (23:02:36) : Matt's doss, Invading the Matrix

Digging as deep as he could into the sales directory Matt finds some interesting information that he tucks away in a special archive on his data-store for later use. Nothing left but to keep digging. Matt opens the Research & Development sub directory and dives in. At first glance there are files on dozens of projects that have been marked completed and are currently in active production. Every bit of information contained here relates to chip manufacturing in some way.

His curiosity is piqued when he comes across a data stream referencing Triple Crown. Taking the normal precautions to check the files over for traps and finding none he hunkers down searching for anything to be useful. Finding an internal memo between designers and Fredric Beirngham Matt speed reads through the introduction and slows right down when he gets to the meat.

Mr. Beirngham, we are intrigued by the design work you have proposed and will research deeper into the feasibility of production. Our initial testing confirms your idea that this lattice work design will far exceed current data transfer limitations of current processors.

Arty: Thursday April 7, 2072 (21:08:22) : GEAR Parking Lot

Artemis pulls into the parking lot of GEAR driving the newly acquired BMW around back of the shop out of view of the road and those passing by. As he steps out of the vehicle he is greeted by “Tiny”, a massive hulking behemoth of a Troll with a bright pink Mohawk, white sleeveless tee-shirt and black synthleather pants.

“Arty is that you? Is that your ride? Nice upgrade from that rinky-dinky Nissan you used to drive. Glad you're finally driving around in some class.”

Tiny walks past the scrawny Human and gets into his decked out BMW Trollhammer. The chopper is an amazing site to see even more so with its pilot on board.

“The Kid isn't here right now, he should be back Monday but if you are looking to have that sweet girl right there upgraded, Gene is still inside. He can hook you up.”

Tiny starts the Trollhammer and Artemis has to turn his head as the sound is so loud its painful. Stepping away from the chopper Artemis heads towards the back entrance to the GEAR shop.

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:51:30) : Mallard Creek Apartments

Nick and Lobo arrive at the address given by Lobo's corp friend. This should work as a center of operations for the next couple days. The “apartment” is actually an end unit condo on a triple unit building. Glancing from the outside it appears to be two stories with a basement. Being a corp leased property it is in very nice condition.

Nick backs the van up to the front sliding-glass door far enough away as to not rouse suspicion and close enough to provide some cover when they get around to moving the unconscious gangers into the condo.

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:52:00) : Mallard Creek Apartments

The drive over had been tense at first, but after awhile it just felt vaguely uneventful. Nick's still feeling lost as far as the job goes, but he's not sure what questions to ask. Now that they've arrived, some of them are sure to be answered for him, so he's content to keep his tongue in check a little longer. When Lobo gets out to unload their guests, Nick takes a moment to sort his thoughts.

Okay, review. B-O said smash and grab, quiet if possible. Needs team, but pay little over average... or mine's anyway. Hair and Muscles at ABER, and two tied up. Who? Why? Find out soon'ough.

Van's good. I'm good. No bronze. No heaters pointin'. Is that normal? Too used to booster drek, n' these two clearly ain't. Th' big guy's slick. Even rough edges got polish. Th' hair prolly sells used cars, though. For the first time since leaving the Dharma Lounge, Nick breaks out in a smirk at that mental image. It vanishes quickly, though, as Lobo returns and directs him to park the vehicle and come inside.

He slumps his shoulder against the window, grabs the handle with a dejected twist, and swings out of the cab along with the door, hanging in mid air briefly before lowering his legs to meet the pavement. With as much nonchalance as he can muster, Nick follows Lobo inside. What now?

~Umi

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:52:00) : Mallard Creek Apartments

Lobo exits the van and watches as Nick backs it up. "Hold on a second, let me just check the place out." Lobo enters the security code, and opens the front door. A quick sweep of the apartment shows no one there, and he opens the sliding glass doors from the inside.

With smooth, economical motions, he brings the gangers into the house, stashing them in two separate rooms. While bringing them in, he sends a quick message to Artemis.

<<@ ♣ Artemis [◊ Lobo] Artemis, here is our current location. It should be secure enough until the deadline for the 'run is over. Please stop on the way and pick up about four large plastic dropcloths, some duct tape, and a pair of gloves large enough to fit me. >>

After the two gangers are brought inside, Lobo goes into the kitchen and finds a hand towel. With a quick flick of the wrist, he cuts it in half with his 'spur, and moves into the rooms with the gangers and stuffs a piece into each of their mouths.

He steps outside and motions Nick to park the van and then come inside.

Once Nick has joined him inside the living room, Lobo offers Nick a cigarette and lights up, his back to the wall facing the door, and well away from the window. "Artemis will be here soon, and then we can get started with the unpleasantness in the other rooms. How much did Burnout tell you, I want to make sure we are all on the same page."

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:52:00) : Mallard Creek Apartments

Ah. Smokes. Nick'd never cared for the stuff - made him kinda queasy - but when most of your business partners are pack-a-day chronics, you get used to at least letting people light one for you to hold, even if you don't bother to suck it down.

He'd gotten good at rolling them across his knuckles and doing little tricks with 'em. He used to always get a laugh out of The Saints by pretending to stuff a lit coffin nail up one side of his nose and then shooting it violently out the other with a sneeze. This isn't Atlanta though, and somehow he figures Lobo'd be less appreciative of those kinds of antics. Instead, he just holds it limply between his outter knuckles and stares at the trailing smoke thoughtfully.

"B-O says he has a job, needs to replace a backout, double pay if done quiet. I say sure, he says ABER Industries and a hairdo called Artemis, tosses me the digits, says Arty'd fill me in."

Nick yawns and stretches mightily, his stoop and slouch disappearing briefly as he straightens out, looking a whole lot taller for a moment. With an air of annoyance he scratches at his ear, depositing the fuming cigarette behind it, then stuffs his hands in his rear jumpsuit pockets.

"Hit up Arty, he babbled about "extra hands" and "REALLY needing wheels" n' drek, so I hit up the address he popped. Wha'ya'know, ABER Industries. Guessed ya chummers're in a pinch, so's I punched it, or best ya can inna bulldog. Half expected t'find drekheads in pieces when I showed, but 'ey, two uncut stiffs in zips and no bronze. If I had t'guess I'd say you bailed hairdo outta some stupid sitch', yeah?"

A cautious smirk seems to go over well with Lobo, helping Nick loosen up a bit more.

"So'z anyway, still waiting on Arty t'fill me in. Less you care'ta. No rush though. Kinda gotten use'ta the mystique." Nick flashes a wink and laughs silently.

~Umi

Arty: Thursday April 7, 2072 (21:08:22) : GEAR Parking Lot

Raising his voice to yell Thanks at the Troll as the engine noise rattles his brain, proves ineffective,
so Artemis resorts to throwing him a wave as the monster of a hog pulls away.

Stepping inside the shop, he still expects it to be a grease covered noisy and smelly environment
filled with the aura of engine noise, macho jeers and cries echoing around faded pictures of naked girls and ‘enhanced’ engines.

The subtlety and feng shui almost catches him off guard, same as it does every time he visits, which isn’t often.
…What does the kid actually get outta this place.. I don’t get it !..
The glass sliding doors hiss open fluidly admitting him to a glass surrounded ‘Fish bowl’ waiting room bathed in white light.
Floating glass displays of racing and motorsport paraphernalia are illuminated by low power neon LEDs as they rotate slowly in the dust free environment.
He catches sight of himself in a mirrored surface and relaxes his facial muscles that have been taut since the meeting with BurnOut, his features return to their normal gaunt look.

AR images fill the walls, partial race scenes and pit crews celebrating success play on continuous loop, it feels almost… hygienic?
..Like a dentists waiting room… he muses, searching through the smoky glass into the vehicle bay for Gene.

Inside the garage proper, another man mills about the front of an open bonnet on a classic Lamborghini.
Besides him a selection of tools and instruments lay on a stainless steel wheeled trolley, similar to one a surgeon has with his array of scalpels
Gene pics up an optic calibrator and positions it carefully on the pristine control box under the hood, Just as Artemis bangs vigorously on the glass pane.
“..GENE! … you in there?.... looking for Gene!” his shouts muted by the glass-steel™ divider.

Carefully replacing the tool, after momentarily losing his grasp from surprise,
Gene turns to wave at the visitor, recognition plays across his face and he cracks a smile forgetting his moment of irritation and walks to the airlock.

“That’s quite the upgrade you got there, it even matches yer shoes!”
Artemis and Gene have, after exchanging pleasantries, stepped outside to view the .. problem
“Yeah, quite distinctive isn’t it… but, can you do anything for me …you know, quickly ?”
Artemis glances worriedly around, despite the relative safety of the area
“Yeah lemme get the doors, we’ll take a look over… gimme a sec!”
Gene wanders inside and opens the roller shutter so He can drive the beemer into the brilliant white interior

Stepping out, Careful to avoid getting anything on his clothes once more Artemis waves over the AR ignition codes to Gene
“Wow” Gene gives a low whistle, drawing air in over his teeth in the time honoured engineer fashion
“That code’s not exactly … kosher … is it”
Artemis glances at him questioningly
“Problem?”
He asks
“Nope, no problem, I’ll give it a walk over and get rid of anything ‘too hot’ I’ll even throw in an air freshener, the kids been working hard and I’m glad to have a look at gear like this sooo.. give it an hour ?”
With a nod, Artemis turns and walks to the fish bowl and the front exit as his comm pings with a message

He blinks and reads it twice more with his hand on the door, dumbfounded.

Behind him Gene has fitted simple trodes and relaxes in a semi upright seating apparatus and control rig.
Above the BMW the ceiling bay opens and several robotic arms swing into action while micro-drones buzz around scanning the vehicle
The doors are opened and the entire vehicle scanned and simultaneously cleaned and polished, removing all trace of biological substances, a thin film of
Clear synthetic material is applied to all the seats once complete.

Artemis turns and calls over to gene as he sits smiling absently
“Hey Gene, you happen to have some duct tape and size XXXL Gloves ?”
The smile falls from Genes face replaced by a look of confusion, the robotic arms halt in midair as do the drones, like when a stranger wanders into a saloon in a spaghetti western, and just as rapidly begin up again,

..Maybe he can’t hear me in that rig.. Artemis thinks, lying to even himself and turns back to the door

<< @Comm [♣ QUERY] : Locate Hardware stores, walking distance from present location >>

<<@ ◊ Lobo [ ♣ Artemis ] : Yeah, I can get that, not gonna ask why, can you keep them on ice for two hours ? >>
He replies to Lobo and a cold ball of dread hits his stomach.

Arty: Thursday April 7, 2072 (21:18:17) : Danny's Hardware

The alarm above the door buzzes incessantly until Artemis closes it and the circuit breaks.
He pulls a dirty baseball cap down over his forehead and forces his face to resemble someone grizzled by years under an engine, pockmarked and scarred.

Stepping along the aisle lined with hardware and engineering paraphernalia he graps some heavy duty rubberized gloves
and wanders up to stand at a counter piled high with energy bars and drinks,

The hastily grabbed set of coveralls turned inside out to hide the automotive badges of GEAR and associated businesses,
not an utterly effective disguise, but best he had at short notice.

Opposite him sits a middle aged Dwarf in greasy coveralls, currently engaged in reading a “Grinding Gears – Monthly” magazine.

“’sup chummer?” Arty lowers his voice to something gritty and dirty to match his new demeanour.
The Dwarf looks up disinterestedly from his publication
“sup?”
He replies, as Artemis throws a surreptitious glance over his shoulder at the door
“You looks like a discerning gent, can help a chummer out right ?”
The proprietor lowers the paper to the desk as his eyebrows begin to meet in a look of confusion
“Say hypuh-thetic-ully speaking, that there wuz a party right, an’ that party there wuz gonna be dancin’ Ork girls .. .”
Another over shoulder look followed by leaning in and whispering
“.. cuz them girls, when them gets a drinks in ‘em .. they likes to get messy wiv da foods n’ drinks right ..”
The Dwarf seems to listening intently, nodding along as Artemis explains a hypothetical situation
“An’ by messy I means smuvvered in choc’late an cakes an with ever’one else too, all filled wiv good booze right ?..”
More rapid nodding, the guy seems to have the image in his minds eye allright
“But say, you wanted to keep the place all clean like… just in case .. you know .. whens them is done … Dancin’ “
wink
“that you needs ta clean up in a hurry rather than wiping food and ork girls in no clothes offa the walls ….”
More nodding
“Saaay, are ya busy .. later ? .. I mean .. I think there’s room fer one more chummer, only if you’s not doin anyfin else right ?
.. but before that … how much plastic sheet an duct tape you got ?... fer coverin’ up ya see?.."

The transfixed look stays on the Dwarfs face as he tries to come to terms with what actually just happened,
Then like a blur he drops from the chair into the back to re-appear instantly with a bundle of plastic sheeting and a 5-pack of tape rolls
“That should cover a whole house there…”
He slaps the stuf on the counter, one hand on the top as he looks Artemis in the eye.
“No charge for a good friend like you, but … where’s dis hypuh-thetic-ully speaking party at ?... if there’s bein an invite like?”

Picking up a pen, Artemis scribbles a note on a scrap of paper on the desk and slides it to the Dwarf without breaking eye contact
“Eleven PM sharp …. Ask for that fellah … an if you got a few chummers that can keeps a secret ?... just between you an me, there’s enuff girls ta go around, scan ?”
Artemis smiles and leaves the shop with his articles.

Behind him, the dwarf hols up the paper and mouths the words
“The R&R BBQ Pit .. ask for Butch, tell him Burn Out sent you”

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:52:00) : Mallard Creek Apartments

<<@ ◊ Lobo [ ♣ Artemis ] : Yeah, I can get that, not gonna ask why, can you keep them on ice for two hours ? >>

<<@ ♣ Artemis [◊ Lobo ]: No problem. They aren't going anywhere. >>

"Looks like our friend will be delayed about two hours or so. My guess is he needs to hit a bank to be able to afford new product for his hairdo. Bear with me about 20 minutes."

Lobo takes a long pull on his cigarette, and then puts it out in his hand, the synthetic fibers smouldering slightly, but causing him no pain. He pockets the cigarette, and then begins a professional search of the apartment, looking for surveillance gear. Using a piece of towel to wipe down what he touches to avoid leaving fingerprints, he goes over every inch of the place as best he can without an actual bug scanner. Seemingly satisfied that no one is watching, "I trust my buddy, but it never hurts to be too careful."


Lobo moves slowly around the living room, looking for the remote, finds it in cushions of the couch, and flips on the trid, raising the volume.

Moving over toward Nick, he lowers his voice so that if there were anyone listening in, it would be almost impossible to pick out what he was saying from the background noise of the trid. "In a nutshell, we are being hired to steal nine copies of a prototype chip, and destroy any backups they may have. The target is ABER Technologies. We were doing routine surveillance when we got attacked by the two in the other room and their buddies. While it is possible that it was a random carjacking, it seems like too much of a coincidence, so we need to interrogate them. We've got another member of the team hacking into ABER now, I haven't had word from him yet."

He turns back to the trid, and starts scanning the news channels to see if there was any mention of their little fracas near ABER.

"Butchers fan, huh? Pussies. Tombstones kick their ass every year. Who 'dat!" Although the words are inflammatory, Lobo says it with a smile to show he is joking. Mostly.

Arty: Thursday April 7, 2072 (22:02:10) : GEAR; Diagnostic Bay #2

Artemis watches as Gene removes his diagnostic equipment from the engine compartment and closes the hood on the BMW 550eco. He runs a soft clean lint free cloth across the front edge of the hood wiping away any traces of prints left behind while giving Arty a thumbs up signaling his ride is ready.

“She is as fresh as the day she rolled off the assembly line. All new ignition code with an encrypted signal and a legit transponder frequency that won't go live in the BMW line for another 6 months. The VIN has been wiped clean. She is DNA stripped and as promised, a Coconut Bay air freshener. As far as anyone knows the car was privately purchased. You can go and honestly register the vehicle as your own.”

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:53:10) : Mallard Creek Apartments

As Nick and Lobo discuss the details of the operation a muffled sound from one of the carjackers can barely be heard in the other room. Getting up to check on them Lobo finds the driver (female) has barely regained consciousness but is still heavily feeling the affects of the neuro-stun toxin. She most likely won't be lucid for at least another half hour. Lobo moves to the other room to check on the male carjacker. He is still out cold laying face down in a pool of his own drool.

Arty: Thursday April 7, 2072 (22:02:10) : En Route to safe house

Artemis folds the coveralls and deposits them on the shelf with the others before turning back to the chief mechanic,
"You are a true Gentel-Ork, Gene and don't let anyone tell you different!"
He claps the guy on the shoulder in a heartfelt gesture of gratitude
"And don't worry about the stuff in the trunk, none of it is gonna lead back here, it's not been... sullied"
He walks into the shop with his friend and whistles appreciatively of the work, it truly is like new.
"Once I have a handle on it's history from the previous 'owner' I'll give you a shout, first refusal and all that,
I just don't see myself in this kinda ride ya know, it's a bit ... ricey.. for me!" He laughs deprecatingly

Shaking the offered hand, Artemis steps into the now pristine interior, throwing the package into the passenger footwell.
the seat auto adjusts to his frame and the HUD flashes up in a blue that bathes the grey and silver trim in cool light.
"On the other hand... I could really get used to this!" he says, loud enough for Gene to hear, but secretly hoping he doesn't.

He closes the door with a very reassuring clunk that says both expensive but worth it and gestures at the IGNITION icon in AR,
the engine humms into life, it's so understated and quiet, yet even stationary, Artemis feels the restrained power of a few thousand rampant ponies.

He drops it into gear and guns it out of the bay, under the roller doors and into the street and the Charlotte night.
..Time to head ... where the drek am I headed?...

<<@PILOT [ ♣ ] : Activate Autodrive, set speed to cruise, destination... last comm from u/Lobo >>

<<@ ◊ Lobo [ ♣ Artemis ] : en-route with the goodies, Do you want me to pick up anything ? Stuffers? weekly groceries? Nanny Goats Gruff? or are you satiated with le 'Fresh Meat' !>>

Arty: Thursday April 7, 2072 (22:03:12) : En Route to safe house

As Artemis is heading down the street a text message from Gene auto receives in the BMW. The message displays across the window AR display.

<<@1stClass:[Gene]: Keep an eye out for classy rides whose owners don't seem to appreciate what they have. Always looking for parts ya know. I'll even throw you a commission if the ride is beneficial.>>

Nick & Lobo: Thursday April 7, 2072 (20:52:00) : Mallard Creek Apartments

The older ork's confident attitude sets Nick at ease as they wait for the bizarrely-coiffed one to show up, despite, or rather because of, a bit of cordial bickering back and forth about urban brawl teams.

"Okay, yeah, sure, Tombstones kick their asses every year, ONCE a year. Slimy bastards always seem to slip away with the Corporate Bowl Game, but tha's only cuz they're so deep in The Man's pocket you'd need a crowbar to get 'em out. Easy to win rigged games, neh? Meanwhile, Atlanta boys born and bred to kick ass natural-like, learned on the streets, ain't seen 'em lose out a fair fight yet."

Lobo cheerfully points out last month's match against Norfolk, Zilch to Nine. "You call that a fair fight? Eesh! Remind me to never arm wrestle ya friendly-like, ya'd shiv me under the table! I mean, gotta give 'em credit, Battlers ain't even slouches normal-wise, but they're just on fire this season, no one can touch 'em. Granted, the shutout's humiliating, but Atlanta boys fared way better against 'em than the Volcanoes: One-Sixteen. Y'hear what I said? One. Six. TEEN. Just sad, especially comin' from such a "bloodthirsty" team, if you listen to Azzie PR bulldrek. I mean seriously, how do you get beaten that hard? Three quarters of their team was disfigured, for crying out loud - don't even look like the same players anymore."

"Anyway, as for the Tombstones, you know how they got that name? S'cuz they move like friggen zombies! I swear, they dug those chumps outta some houngan's closet, slapped some gear on 'em and said "Look over there! Brains!". Bunch'a washouts, would never have amounted to Jack if they didn't have the mob making a killing on the bets."

The two leisurely shoot the breeze for a while, almost as if they weren't soon due to unpleasantly interrogate a couple of murderous thugs. Few things seem to bring people together like vigorous sporting competition with a healthy dose of machine gunning.

~Umi