1700 Jan 1, 2063 - Klaus's Doss
Well crap, there goes my profit margin
Kluas heads back to his meat, hits the john, nukes two giant bean burrito's, grabs a 1 Liter Saporo, and kicks back to watch some American football.
900 Jan 2, 2063 - Klaus's Doss
The morning looks like the other mornings in Seattle. Grey, with a steady drizzle of cold rain. Heavy enough to make the trash in the gutters wet, but not heavy enough to sweep it away. Putting on his hat and trenchcoat, Klaus heads out into the street.
He walks 5 blocks south, and slots his certified stick into the payphone. Speaking into Lucy's dead drop, Klaus says, "I need a mage to assist me in a ritual. No actual spell casting, and virtually no risk. 2 to 6 hours of work. I need some one competent but not greedy. I'll have my phone with me."
Klaus heads down to the Starbucks to have a triple mocha grande, read a scream sheet or two and wait for a call.
Full Version: Living in the Shadows: IC
Pages: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39
1113 Jan 2, 2063- Local Starbucks
Lucy calls Klaus back as he's about to finish up with the local screamsheet. "I've got a couple people I could send your way. How much are you offering, and is there any follow up to the ritual to speak of?"
Lucy calls Klaus back as he's about to finish up with the local screamsheet. "I've got a couple people I could send your way. How much are you offering, and is there any follow up to the ritual to speak of?"
1113 Jan 2, 2063- Local Starbucks
Klaus says "I am willing to part with
500 for the ritual, and offer first crack at any additional work generated by my current job."
Klaus says "I am willing to part with
500 for the ritual, and offer first crack at any additional work generated by my current job."
1114 Jan 2, 2063- Local Starbucks
"All right, I can have someone for you in a few hours or so. Where do you want them to meet you, and when?" Lucy replies.
"All right, I can have someone for you in a few hours or so. Where do you want them to meet you, and when?" Lucy replies.
1114 Jan 2, 2063- Local Starbucks
Klaus replies, "Same place as the last meet, at 2000. By the You Should Not Eat So Much stand."
Lucy smiles into the phone, "Clever. OK, 2000. I'll give him a discription. Keep your hat on."
"You got it. Thanks."
Klaus finishes his coffee, drops the paper on the table and heads out the door. Walking to the trusty phone booth, he calls Norman.
"Hey Norman, I need a ride at about five. Can you pick me up at the Starbucks?"
Noman shouts over squeeling tires and the occasional gunshot "Yea, no problem. You won't be wanting to head into the barrens tonight, will you? I'll have to charge for ammo. The Rusty Stillettos are feeling upitty."
"No I won't Norman. Sounds like your busy, I'll see you this evening."
"OK Klaus, I'll be there".
Klaus laughs, hangs the phone up and heads home. After some soy-egg rolls, and some Sports Center, Klaus switches from recieve to interactive, calls up the Yellow pages and looks for "talismongers" listed in the Renton area.
With a couple addresses written down, Klaus hits the bed about 1400 for a two hour nap.
1645 Jan 2 2063 - Klaus's Doss
Klaus makes sure he's got everything, puts his hat on and heads out the door to meet Norman. He gives Norman the address to The Magic Touch in Renton, and relaxes for the long drive.
Klaus replies, "Same place as the last meet, at 2000. By the You Should Not Eat So Much stand."
Lucy smiles into the phone, "Clever. OK, 2000. I'll give him a discription. Keep your hat on."
"You got it. Thanks."
Klaus finishes his coffee, drops the paper on the table and heads out the door. Walking to the trusty phone booth, he calls Norman.
"Hey Norman, I need a ride at about five. Can you pick me up at the Starbucks?"
Noman shouts over squeeling tires and the occasional gunshot "Yea, no problem. You won't be wanting to head into the barrens tonight, will you? I'll have to charge for ammo. The Rusty Stillettos are feeling upitty."
"No I won't Norman. Sounds like your busy, I'll see you this evening."
"OK Klaus, I'll be there".
Klaus laughs, hangs the phone up and heads home. After some soy-egg rolls, and some Sports Center, Klaus switches from recieve to interactive, calls up the Yellow pages and looks for "talismongers" listed in the Renton area.
With a couple addresses written down, Klaus hits the bed about 1400 for a two hour nap.
1645 Jan 2 2063 - Klaus's Doss
Klaus makes sure he's got everything, puts his hat on and heads out the door to meet Norman. He gives Norman the address to The Magic Touch in Renton, and relaxes for the long drive.
1203 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
My aunt, This woman was either high on some sort of mega chip causing halucinations, trying to trick me into something and kill me, unlikely given that she knows my old name. Or its possible I just found some of my family.
the sheer amazement at her comment obviously aparent on his face Blaze continued his few questions. "How did you find me? Have you talked with Irving? why haven't you gotten in touch with me before?" after speaking each of his questions he gives her a brief moment to answer before continuing on. finally getting to the one most important to him. "Finally what do you know about that night?"
My aunt, This woman was either high on some sort of mega chip causing halucinations, trying to trick me into something and kill me, unlikely given that she knows my old name. Or its possible I just found some of my family.
the sheer amazement at her comment obviously aparent on his face Blaze continued his few questions. "How did you find me? Have you talked with Irving? why haven't you gotten in touch with me before?" after speaking each of his questions he gives her a brief moment to answer before continuing on. finally getting to the one most important to him. "Finally what do you know about that night?"
1725 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Klaus arrives at The Magic Touch.
1205 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
Looking at him sadly, Margaret replies, "It was really hard sweetie. I...I've taken a lot of personal risks in finding you, and it cost...a lot. Irving...no, I haven't been able to find Irving yet. I was hoping that you might have been in touch with him."
She looks down for a few moments, and when she looks up again, her face is streaked with tears. "I...I...didn't look for you for a long time because I didn't think you'd want anything to do with us...I actually found you several years ago. But I found out that you hated corps, all corps, and you had a reputation for doing...terrible things to corps and people who were a part of corps. I didn't want you to hate me...for things I had to do."
She turns away, and sobs silently into a tissue. After a minute or two, she composes herself and looks up again. She's visibly shaking, but appears to be a bit more in control of herself. "I know you have a lot of questions...I might have some of the answers for you...but right now...I need your help. I know I have no right to come out here and ask you for help, after all this time, but I have nowhere else to go..."
Margaret reaches into her purse and rummages through it for a bit. Pulling out a tattered old photo, she slides it across the table. Although old and worn, the image is still clear and strong. It almost leaps out to Blaze as he looks down at it.
Stunned, almost unable to speak, he manages to choke out in a whisper, "Where...where did you get this?" On the photo is unmistakably him, albeit a much younger him.
It is a picture of his whole family. They are at the Seattle Aquarium, and they're all smiling and looking alive and happy. He's maybe about 3 or 4, smiling, holding an ice cream cone, and being held in the air by his father. His brother is holding their mother's hand, and both Blaze and his brother are wearing big smiles on their faces and matching shirts that say, "I went to the Seattle Aquarium and saw the sharks!" with a big picture of a shark on it.
Smiling through her tears, Margaret whispers, "They were so proud of you both. They loved you so much. They sent it to me, not long...not long before they passed away." Pulling out another tattered old photo, she slides it across the table.
It is a photo of a much younger woman, but unmistakably the woman sitting across from him. She was with his parents, also younger. His mother was younger, not having carried the weight of two pregnancies yet, and his father hadn't quite packed on those extra pounds. They looked young and happy, and all of them were smiling the smiles of those who life hasn't quite smacked in the face yet with the hard grim weapon called reality.
Old times Blaze thought. Better times than these. Looking up, blinking the tears out of his eyes, he clears his throat and gruffly replies, "You said you needed my help?"
Nodding, Margaret replies shakily, "It's...your cousin...she's missing, and I think the corp she used to work for wants her back. One way or another."
Cousin...corp...corp employee...possible death sentence...looks like all those family problems Blaze missed out on growing up just came back to dump on him. With interest...
Klaus arrives at The Magic Touch.
1205 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
Looking at him sadly, Margaret replies, "It was really hard sweetie. I...I've taken a lot of personal risks in finding you, and it cost...a lot. Irving...no, I haven't been able to find Irving yet. I was hoping that you might have been in touch with him."
She looks down for a few moments, and when she looks up again, her face is streaked with tears. "I...I...didn't look for you for a long time because I didn't think you'd want anything to do with us...I actually found you several years ago. But I found out that you hated corps, all corps, and you had a reputation for doing...terrible things to corps and people who were a part of corps. I didn't want you to hate me...for things I had to do."
She turns away, and sobs silently into a tissue. After a minute or two, she composes herself and looks up again. She's visibly shaking, but appears to be a bit more in control of herself. "I know you have a lot of questions...I might have some of the answers for you...but right now...I need your help. I know I have no right to come out here and ask you for help, after all this time, but I have nowhere else to go..."
Margaret reaches into her purse and rummages through it for a bit. Pulling out a tattered old photo, she slides it across the table. Although old and worn, the image is still clear and strong. It almost leaps out to Blaze as he looks down at it.
Stunned, almost unable to speak, he manages to choke out in a whisper, "Where...where did you get this?" On the photo is unmistakably him, albeit a much younger him.
It is a picture of his whole family. They are at the Seattle Aquarium, and they're all smiling and looking alive and happy. He's maybe about 3 or 4, smiling, holding an ice cream cone, and being held in the air by his father. His brother is holding their mother's hand, and both Blaze and his brother are wearing big smiles on their faces and matching shirts that say, "I went to the Seattle Aquarium and saw the sharks!" with a big picture of a shark on it.
Smiling through her tears, Margaret whispers, "They were so proud of you both. They loved you so much. They sent it to me, not long...not long before they passed away." Pulling out another tattered old photo, she slides it across the table.
It is a photo of a much younger woman, but unmistakably the woman sitting across from him. She was with his parents, also younger. His mother was younger, not having carried the weight of two pregnancies yet, and his father hadn't quite packed on those extra pounds. They looked young and happy, and all of them were smiling the smiles of those who life hasn't quite smacked in the face yet with the hard grim weapon called reality.
Old times Blaze thought. Better times than these. Looking up, blinking the tears out of his eyes, he clears his throat and gruffly replies, "You said you needed my help?"
Nodding, Margaret replies shakily, "It's...your cousin...she's missing, and I think the corp she used to work for wants her back. One way or another."
Cousin...corp...corp employee...possible death sentence...looks like all those family problems Blaze missed out on growing up just came back to dump on him. With interest...
1205 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
A job now that is something I can understand. All this just continues to prove to me that corps have no right to exist in this world, but I'll help them this once. For family I'll do anything.
Looking up from his reverie and masking his sadness and anger behind his face Blaze looks directly at his aunt. "What do you want done, who do you want it done to, and finally when do you want it done?" after pausing to let her respond Blaze continues on. "What extra information can you give me on what might have happened to her?"
meanwhile behind his all business face Blaze mourned. each of these pictures had hurt him, torn into the shield that he used to protect himself from their pain. When the job was done and he had time for himself it would be weeks before he properly recovered from it.
My mom, dad, Irving. Why did those happy times have to come to an end, why? What did those people ever do to others? Those corps never had a right to take that away from them, and one way or another they are going to pay for it.
A job now that is something I can understand. All this just continues to prove to me that corps have no right to exist in this world, but I'll help them this once. For family I'll do anything.
Looking up from his reverie and masking his sadness and anger behind his face Blaze looks directly at his aunt. "What do you want done, who do you want it done to, and finally when do you want it done?" after pausing to let her respond Blaze continues on. "What extra information can you give me on what might have happened to her?"
meanwhile behind his all business face Blaze mourned. each of these pictures had hurt him, torn into the shield that he used to protect himself from their pain. When the job was done and he had time for himself it would be weeks before he properly recovered from it.
My mom, dad, Irving. Why did those happy times have to come to an end, why? What did those people ever do to others? Those corps never had a right to take that away from them, and one way or another they are going to pay for it.
1210 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
Shaking her head fearfully, Margaret stutters, "No no no, don't get me wrong honey. I didn't find you because I wanted you to do something for me...I came because I wanted to find you and see you again. I just...I waited so long because I thought you'd hate me. I just got desperate because I had no one else to turn to. I thought that maybe even if you hated me, you'd help Melissa and I because we're family."
She looks down. "Melissa was a good girl. She didn't deserve this...Just like your family...they didn't deserve it either..."
She breaks down and completely starts crying, covering her face with her hands. It's painfully apparent to Blaze that she's a normal woman in an abnormal situation, and her lack of experience in dealing with the pressure, as well as the relief of finding her nephew again, combined to make for an emotional experience that's a little too much for her to bear, let alone deal with in the professional, businesslike way that Blaze is used to conducted himself with.
Shaking her head fearfully, Margaret stutters, "No no no, don't get me wrong honey. I didn't find you because I wanted you to do something for me...I came because I wanted to find you and see you again. I just...I waited so long because I thought you'd hate me. I just got desperate because I had no one else to turn to. I thought that maybe even if you hated me, you'd help Melissa and I because we're family."
She looks down. "Melissa was a good girl. She didn't deserve this...Just like your family...they didn't deserve it either..."
She breaks down and completely starts crying, covering her face with her hands. It's painfully apparent to Blaze that she's a normal woman in an abnormal situation, and her lack of experience in dealing with the pressure, as well as the relief of finding her nephew again, combined to make for an emotional experience that's a little too much for her to bear, let alone deal with in the professional, businesslike way that Blaze is used to conducted himself with.
1725 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Klaus walks into The Magic Touch. Like most talismongering shops, it's a small, individually owned operation. One of the workers, a young teenager probably there just to clean up and dust the shelves, looks over at him and asks, "Can I help you with something today sir?"
Klaus walks into The Magic Touch. Like most talismongering shops, it's a small, individually owned operation. One of the workers, a young teenager probably there just to clean up and dust the shelves, looks over at him and asks, "Can I help you with something today sir?"
1212 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
Standing up Blaze reaches his arm around his Aunt's back. "I'm sorry I understand that this is difficult for you, I've had many years to get used to running the shadows, You haven't. I didn't mean to be so harsh, its just how i stay alive, and its hard not to act that way. I'm very glad to see you, and thankful that I still have family that's alive. I will do anything to help Melissa, I promise, but for the time being let's just eat and talk about something other than corps. You know anything about magic?" continuing on Blaze tries to make small talk with Margaret in order to calm her down.
Standing up Blaze reaches his arm around his Aunt's back. "I'm sorry I understand that this is difficult for you, I've had many years to get used to running the shadows, You haven't. I didn't mean to be so harsh, its just how i stay alive, and its hard not to act that way. I'm very glad to see you, and thankful that I still have family that's alive. I will do anything to help Melissa, I promise, but for the time being let's just eat and talk about something other than corps. You know anything about magic?" continuing on Blaze tries to make small talk with Margaret in order to calm her down.
1213 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
As Blaze reaches around Margaret's back, she wraps her arms around him. He suddenly feels a crushing pressure on his waist and lungs. The air rushes out of him and almost immediately his combat honed reflexes nearly kick into high gear. Then he realizes that it isn't an attack; rather, it's something he hasn't felt for a long, long time: a genuine, loving, hug. His aunt is squeezing him tightly, happy and relieved to have found her nephew again.
Partly relieved it isn't an attack and partly pleasantly surprised, as he gets used to the sensation, Blaze reflects, Has it really been so long? Perhaps I've lost a bit of my own humanity when my family died. More than I realized maybe. Oh well, it's so good to be with family again.
After a few moments in which both of them seem to be relieved and relaxed, enjoying the moments of genuine warmth in so dark and cold a world, they disengage from the hug. Margaret wipes her tears with a napkin and says, "Oh dear, I'm sorry Richard. It's been a very overwhelming meal for me. Don't," she takes a deep breath, calming herself, "don't you worry about upsetting me. You've been through a lot, and I understand it's not always pretty sometimes, the things one has to do in life."
She gives him a wan smile, and continues, "Oh yes, magic. Melissa used to show me just the most wonderful things she could do with magic. So amazing, really. You two would have so much to talk about and so very much in common! I just can't wait for you two to meet."
She's smiling broadly, almost gushing as she thinks of the idea of them meeting for the first time. With a dismissive hand gestures, she continues, "Oh dear, but listen to me babble on. Please, tell me about magic. I'd love to learn more about it from you. I'm sure there's quite a few things you could tell me about magic that she couldn't." Placing her elbows on the table, she rests her chin on top of her hands, gently folded on top of each other, and looks at Blaze, eagerly listening.
As Blaze reaches around Margaret's back, she wraps her arms around him. He suddenly feels a crushing pressure on his waist and lungs. The air rushes out of him and almost immediately his combat honed reflexes nearly kick into high gear. Then he realizes that it isn't an attack; rather, it's something he hasn't felt for a long, long time: a genuine, loving, hug. His aunt is squeezing him tightly, happy and relieved to have found her nephew again.
Partly relieved it isn't an attack and partly pleasantly surprised, as he gets used to the sensation, Blaze reflects, Has it really been so long? Perhaps I've lost a bit of my own humanity when my family died. More than I realized maybe. Oh well, it's so good to be with family again.
After a few moments in which both of them seem to be relieved and relaxed, enjoying the moments of genuine warmth in so dark and cold a world, they disengage from the hug. Margaret wipes her tears with a napkin and says, "Oh dear, I'm sorry Richard. It's been a very overwhelming meal for me. Don't," she takes a deep breath, calming herself, "don't you worry about upsetting me. You've been through a lot, and I understand it's not always pretty sometimes, the things one has to do in life."
She gives him a wan smile, and continues, "Oh yes, magic. Melissa used to show me just the most wonderful things she could do with magic. So amazing, really. You two would have so much to talk about and so very much in common! I just can't wait for you two to meet."
She's smiling broadly, almost gushing as she thinks of the idea of them meeting for the first time. With a dismissive hand gestures, she continues, "Oh dear, but listen to me babble on. Please, tell me about magic. I'd love to learn more about it from you. I'm sure there's quite a few things you could tell me about magic that she couldn't." Placing her elbows on the table, she rests her chin on top of her hands, gently folded on top of each other, and looks at Blaze, eagerly listening.
1725 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Klaussmiles and says "Yes my dear, I need a few things. I need materials for a big shamanic lodge, I need ritual materials, and I need to speak with the proprietor of this establishment."
After a half an hour of rummaging around, Klaus slots his stick and watches :nuyen:3500 tick off. As Klaus is stuffing his new stuff into his new synth-leather patchwork backpack, the girl disappears through one of the beaded doorways, and Daisy appears.
So far as stunningly beautiful elven mages go, she's nothing special Klaus thinks. Until she smiles. Great, I'm in love.
Attempting to keep his composure, Klaus smiles and says "Hi. I have a favor to ask. It's one I'm willing to pay for, but I'll understand if you say no.
You have a beautiful place out here. There is natural beauty all around. I have a ritual I must conduct, and I was wondering if I could use a space in the woods in back. It's not an attack or anything, I'm just looking for some one."
Klaussmiles and says "Yes my dear, I need a few things. I need materials for a big shamanic lodge, I need ritual materials, and I need to speak with the proprietor of this establishment."
After a half an hour of rummaging around, Klaus slots his stick and watches :nuyen:3500 tick off. As Klaus is stuffing his new stuff into his new synth-leather patchwork backpack, the girl disappears through one of the beaded doorways, and Daisy appears.
So far as stunningly beautiful elven mages go, she's nothing special Klaus thinks. Until she smiles. Great, I'm in love.
Attempting to keep his composure, Klaus smiles and says "Hi. I have a favor to ask. It's one I'm willing to pay for, but I'll understand if you say no.
You have a beautiful place out here. There is natural beauty all around. I have a ritual I must conduct, and I was wondering if I could use a space in the woods in back. It's not an attack or anything, I'm just looking for some one."
1726 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Daisy purses her lips slightly. It's quite an appealing look. "Well, I don't know...how long do you plan on keeping the lodge up there? If it's a temporary thing, I don't see why not, especially if it won't bring trouble..."
She looks up at Klaus. "How much time do you need to rent back there?" she asks, cutting directly to the chase.
Daisy purses her lips slightly. It's quite an appealing look. "Well, I don't know...how long do you plan on keeping the lodge up there? If it's a temporary thing, I don't see why not, especially if it won't bring trouble..."
She looks up at Klaus. "How much time do you need to rent back there?" she asks, cutting directly to the chase.
1415 January 1, 2063 - The Crimson Sickles' disused fast food joint (HQ)
Jaan nods to Tiny.
"That would be most helpful, thank you."
Jaan nods to Tiny.
"That would be most helpful, thank you."
1726 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Klaus ponders for a moment, then says "overnight should take care of it. I'll be gone before you open in the morning."
Klaus ponders for a moment, then says "overnight should take care of it. I'll be gone before you open in the morning."
1727 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Daisy smiles winningly at Klaus. Despite his valiant attempts to maintain his composure...he fails miserably. He blushes slightly and clears his throat. "Ahem...so, um...er...would that be ok with you?" He stammers, and then quickly recovers towards the end of his sentence.
None of this is lost on Daisy. Giving him a wink, she says, "Well, I close in about two hours, at 1930. And unfortuantely, it's been such a busy day, I don't think I have the energy to cook dinner. How about you take me out to dinner and we can talk about your little ritual then?"
Just as Klaus is about to respond, "HECK YEAH!" or something much more controlled and less overly enthusiastic (but nonetheless something to that effect), he remembers Curses! I have a meet at 2000. But a dinner date with Daisy? Don't know if she likes me or whatever, but still! Blast! Decisions decisions...
Daisy smiles winningly at Klaus. Despite his valiant attempts to maintain his composure...he fails miserably. He blushes slightly and clears his throat. "Ahem...so, um...er...would that be ok with you?" He stammers, and then quickly recovers towards the end of his sentence.
None of this is lost on Daisy. Giving him a wink, she says, "Well, I close in about two hours, at 1930. And unfortuantely, it's been such a busy day, I don't think I have the energy to cook dinner. How about you take me out to dinner and we can talk about your little ritual then?"
Just as Klaus is about to respond, "HECK YEAH!" or something much more controlled and less overly enthusiastic (but nonetheless something to that effect), he remembers Curses! I have a meet at 2000. But a dinner date with Daisy? Don't know if she likes me or whatever, but still! Blast! Decisions decisions...
1416 January 1, 2063 - The Crimson Sickles' disused fast food joint (HQ)
Tiny nods, like Cao Jaan made a good decison. " 'Aight. 'Ere's 'is number." She enters a number into his pocket secretary. "E's 'ere in the Barrens, so ya shouldn't be havin' no trouble trackin' 'im down. I dun member where he is. Just moved to a biggar place, sos youll hafta buzz him and ask him yerself. Oh, and lemme kno where hes at now, wouldya?"
Tiny nods, like Cao Jaan made a good decison. " 'Aight. 'Ere's 'is number." She enters a number into his pocket secretary. "E's 'ere in the Barrens, so ya shouldn't be havin' no trouble trackin' 'im down. I dun member where he is. Just moved to a biggar place, sos youll hafta buzz him and ask him yerself. Oh, and lemme kno where hes at now, wouldya?"
1727 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Klaus does some quick math in his head, and it adds up to making a quick phone call.
“That would be most excellent. Please allow me to take a few minutes to reschedule a couple of things.”
Still grinning, Klaus walks out the door into the parking lot. Keying his cell he calls Lucy’s drop. A mans voice answers “You’ve reached J&L’s pest control. We are currently away from the phone, please leave a message.”
“Hi, it is me. Can’t make the meet. Reschedule for midnight at Club Penumbra. I’ll throw in an extra hundred for the inconvenience. Please get back to me if there’s a problem.”
Calling information next, Klaus gets the LTG for Aztecha International, 16206(42-2309).
“Hello, Aztecha International? My name is Klaus Ebert, and I need a table for tonight. Yes, I’m aware that it’s short notice. Get me a decent table for two, and I promise to leave a generous tip. Yes, 9:00 is fine, thank you very much.”
Stepping back in, Klaus finds Daisy again and says, “So, I’ll pick you up at 8:30 if that’s all right?”
Klaus does some quick math in his head, and it adds up to making a quick phone call.
“That would be most excellent. Please allow me to take a few minutes to reschedule a couple of things.”
Still grinning, Klaus walks out the door into the parking lot. Keying his cell he calls Lucy’s drop. A mans voice answers “You’ve reached J&L’s pest control. We are currently away from the phone, please leave a message.”
“Hi, it is me. Can’t make the meet. Reschedule for midnight at Club Penumbra. I’ll throw in an extra hundred for the inconvenience. Please get back to me if there’s a problem.”
Calling information next, Klaus gets the LTG for Aztecha International, 16206(42-2309).
“Hello, Aztecha International? My name is Klaus Ebert, and I need a table for tonight. Yes, I’m aware that it’s short notice. Get me a decent table for two, and I promise to leave a generous tip. Yes, 9:00 is fine, thank you very much.”
Stepping back in, Klaus finds Daisy again and says, “So, I’ll pick you up at 8:30 if that’s all right?”
1730 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
Daisy smiles at Klaus's response. "Sounds great! I'll be ready at 8:30." Her smile widens. "I can have my assistant close up while I get ready."
Turning to her assistant, she says, "Sharon, I'm going to run home early to start getting ready in a little while. Can you close up the store for me today?"
Sharon replies with a smile, "No problem Daisy. Enjoy your date." Half turning towards Klaus but technically still talking to Sharon, she says, "Oh I am quite certain that I will, won't I Klaus?"
Smiling back at the two ladies, Klaus assures both of them that he will make quite certain Daisy has a good time. Bidding both of them a good evening, he leaves the store, feeling pretty darn good.
Reflecting back on it, he thinks to himself, Hmm...if my watcher hadn't failed, I wouldn't have ended up coming here and needing to cast a ritual...and so forth and so forth and so forth...Bottom line, I got a place to do the ritual AND a hot date with Daisy. Maybe I should ask my watchers to fail me more often. Grinning, he debates how to spend the next two hours...
Daisy smiles at Klaus's response. "Sounds great! I'll be ready at 8:30." Her smile widens. "I can have my assistant close up while I get ready."
Turning to her assistant, she says, "Sharon, I'm going to run home early to start getting ready in a little while. Can you close up the store for me today?"
Sharon replies with a smile, "No problem Daisy. Enjoy your date." Half turning towards Klaus but technically still talking to Sharon, she says, "Oh I am quite certain that I will, won't I Klaus?"
Smiling back at the two ladies, Klaus assures both of them that he will make quite certain Daisy has a good time. Bidding both of them a good evening, he leaves the store, feeling pretty darn good.
Reflecting back on it, he thinks to himself, Hmm...if my watcher hadn't failed, I wouldn't have ended up coming here and needing to cast a ritual...and so forth and so forth and so forth...Bottom line, I got a place to do the ritual AND a hot date with Daisy. Maybe I should ask my watchers to fail me more often. Grinning, he debates how to spend the next two hours...
1217 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
Looking to his Aunt with care and actual happiness in his eyes Blaze begins talking about his magic. "The energy to cast spells comes from the power of Leopard. He grants me the strength to manipulate and see manaflows. Once you can see them getting them to follow your will is a relatively simple matter of focusing your conscious and uncouncious mind on creating the desired result with those manaflows. Think of it as weaving them into what you want to occur. But, I know that how I do it is distinctly different from how everyone else casts spells." Losing himself in the discussion of different ways of bringing about the same effect Blaze begins to go back to his childhood moments and his time with James.
1230 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
looking across at a clock Blaze wakes out of his discussion. Now before I go, and I'm sorry but I really do have to go, what can you tell me about Melissa's disappearance or what corp she worked for and who might have taken her away?"
This time in his questions he fights to keep his voice human and forces himself out of the void that he enters when normally taking a job.
Looking to his Aunt with care and actual happiness in his eyes Blaze begins talking about his magic. "The energy to cast spells comes from the power of Leopard. He grants me the strength to manipulate and see manaflows. Once you can see them getting them to follow your will is a relatively simple matter of focusing your conscious and uncouncious mind on creating the desired result with those manaflows. Think of it as weaving them into what you want to occur. But, I know that how I do it is distinctly different from how everyone else casts spells." Losing himself in the discussion of different ways of bringing about the same effect Blaze begins to go back to his childhood moments and his time with James.
1230 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
looking across at a clock Blaze wakes out of his discussion. Now before I go, and I'm sorry but I really do have to go, what can you tell me about Melissa's disappearance or what corp she worked for and who might have taken her away?"
This time in his questions he fights to keep his voice human and forces himself out of the void that he enters when normally taking a job.
1233 January 1, 2063- Miner’s Landing
Giving him a wan smile, Margaret pats Blaze's hand affectionately. "Of course dear. I know you're a busy person, and you have lots you need to be doing. Her full name is Melissa Walker, she married David Walker, and he died in an accident just last week, at his lab. They both worked for Universal Omnitech as researchers."
Digging into her pocket, she hands him a photograph. Smiling at him from the photo is an attractive blond, about 5'8-5'10, roughly 135-145lbs. She has deep blue eyes that sparkle, and she seems to have a genuine joy in her smile.
Looking up, Blaze says, "She's very pretty. So she worked for Universal Omnitech since..." Picking up the unspoken question, Margaret answers, "She's been working there for the last six years. She didn't manifest her magical abilities until about two years ago. It was very hard on her emotionally. I don't know what might have happened to her after her husband's death, she was very distraught about poor David. I think it is Universal Omnitech that wants her back; yesterday, some members of their HR department came asking about her. They were very unfriendly, almost threatening. I'm really not sure what they want with her, but I'm worried it isn't good."
She looks up at Blaze. "Please find her Richard. I don't think the company really cares about her, I don't know where she is or who she's with or even if she's still alive. I haven't heard from her in two days and that visit from those men just scared me." Absently paying the check, she slides a phone number and address over to him. "You can get in touch with me here. If there's anything more I can do to assist you, please let me know."
Giving him a wan smile, Margaret pats Blaze's hand affectionately. "Of course dear. I know you're a busy person, and you have lots you need to be doing. Her full name is Melissa Walker, she married David Walker, and he died in an accident just last week, at his lab. They both worked for Universal Omnitech as researchers."
Digging into her pocket, she hands him a photograph. Smiling at him from the photo is an attractive blond, about 5'8-5'10, roughly 135-145lbs. She has deep blue eyes that sparkle, and she seems to have a genuine joy in her smile.
Looking up, Blaze says, "She's very pretty. So she worked for Universal Omnitech since..." Picking up the unspoken question, Margaret answers, "She's been working there for the last six years. She didn't manifest her magical abilities until about two years ago. It was very hard on her emotionally. I don't know what might have happened to her after her husband's death, she was very distraught about poor David. I think it is Universal Omnitech that wants her back; yesterday, some members of their HR department came asking about her. They were very unfriendly, almost threatening. I'm really not sure what they want with her, but I'm worried it isn't good."
She looks up at Blaze. "Please find her Richard. I don't think the company really cares about her, I don't know where she is or who she's with or even if she's still alive. I haven't heard from her in two days and that visit from those men just scared me." Absently paying the check, she slides a phone number and address over to him. "You can get in touch with me here. If there's anything more I can do to assist you, please let me know."
1147 January 1, 2063- Club Abraxis
"Hey man, wake up."
Avalanche groaned and blearily opened his eyes. A gigantic werewolf was shaking him lightly. "Hey, it's almost noon. You told me to wake you at ten til."
With a pounding headache, Avalanche managed to slide off the bar stool and onto his feet. "Thanks Fuzz. Hey, could you gimme one of those anti-hangover progs? Reality is nice, but this pounder is a little too real."
"Hey, you can do it yourself. End the buzz program."
"Ah, didn't see it still going. Thanks."
With a thought, Avalanche ended the "buzzer" program that simulated the effects of alchohol. His headache immediately stopped, and he rubbed his virtual forehead gratefully. "Well Fuzz, I guess I need to get back to the shop." With a virtual hand (made entirely of snow, like the rest of his snowman icon) he gestured in the direction of the various icons passed out around the virtual Matrix nightclub. "Let the boys know I had a good time, eh?"
"Sure thing, Ave. See you around." Nodding at the bartender, Avalanche jacked out of the Matrix, pulling the deck lead out of his head.
1148 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
Yawning, Avalanche changed his clothes, careful to keep his sheet-white skin away from the sunlight streaming in through his window. Hmmm, another year. What should my resolutions be? the decker thought as he stashed his beloved cyberdeck in it's usual place underneath the floorboards in his closet. Drink less? Hell, when was the last time I actually even had a real drink? Be more cautious? Hah, like I've ever had that problem. Besides, a good decker is a cautious one. Hmmmm... not kill anyone?
Heading downstairs to his electronics shop, Avalanche paused. Hey, not bad. Okay, that'll be it. Stick to my taser in my meat bod, and just non-lethal attack prog in the 'trix. Oh, that reminds me, I need to BUY a lethal attack prog first. The deck-head smiled at his own joke. And of course, I resolve to become one of the best hackers to ever grace the shadows of the Space Needle. And to...gah, let's not kid ourselves. Girls like that don't go for guys like me. Opening the door to his shop, Avalanche flipped his sign from "Closed" to "Open".
"Hey man, wake up."
Avalanche groaned and blearily opened his eyes. A gigantic werewolf was shaking him lightly. "Hey, it's almost noon. You told me to wake you at ten til."
With a pounding headache, Avalanche managed to slide off the bar stool and onto his feet. "Thanks Fuzz. Hey, could you gimme one of those anti-hangover progs? Reality is nice, but this pounder is a little too real."
"Hey, you can do it yourself. End the buzz program."
"Ah, didn't see it still going. Thanks."
With a thought, Avalanche ended the "buzzer" program that simulated the effects of alchohol. His headache immediately stopped, and he rubbed his virtual forehead gratefully. "Well Fuzz, I guess I need to get back to the shop." With a virtual hand (made entirely of snow, like the rest of his snowman icon) he gestured in the direction of the various icons passed out around the virtual Matrix nightclub. "Let the boys know I had a good time, eh?"
"Sure thing, Ave. See you around." Nodding at the bartender, Avalanche jacked out of the Matrix, pulling the deck lead out of his head.
1148 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
Yawning, Avalanche changed his clothes, careful to keep his sheet-white skin away from the sunlight streaming in through his window. Hmmm, another year. What should my resolutions be? the decker thought as he stashed his beloved cyberdeck in it's usual place underneath the floorboards in his closet. Drink less? Hell, when was the last time I actually even had a real drink? Be more cautious? Hah, like I've ever had that problem. Besides, a good decker is a cautious one. Hmmmm... not kill anyone?
Heading downstairs to his electronics shop, Avalanche paused. Hey, not bad. Okay, that'll be it. Stick to my taser in my meat bod, and just non-lethal attack prog in the 'trix. Oh, that reminds me, I need to BUY a lethal attack prog first. The deck-head smiled at his own joke. And of course, I resolve to become one of the best hackers to ever grace the shadows of the Space Needle. And to...gah, let's not kid ourselves. Girls like that don't go for guys like me. Opening the door to his shop, Avalanche flipped his sign from "Closed" to "Open".
1425 January 1, 2063- 'Nasty by name...' store
Jaan thanks Tiny, and promises to return with the new location of her friend for her.
Jaan then walks over to Keith Nasty's store, where he knows he can find a working (just) telecom.
I'd better pick up some supplies before I head back too.
With a moment's hesitation, Jaan inputs the number Tiny gave him and waits for an answer.
Jaan thanks Tiny, and promises to return with the new location of her friend for her.
Jaan then walks over to Keith Nasty's store, where he knows he can find a working (just) telecom.
I'd better pick up some supplies before I head back too.
With a moment's hesitation, Jaan inputs the number Tiny gave him and waits for an answer.
1430 January 1, 2063- 'Nasty by name...' store
A recorded voice picks up Jaan's call. "Hello, you have reached Dr. George's Quick Fix Medical Clinic. We are currently closed for New Year's Day. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible." *BEEP*
1700 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
It's been a long, slow day at Key to the Future for Avalanche. Probably because it was New Year's Day or something. Oh well, he just sat around and browsed the latest tech developments. No sweat off his back, even if he wasn't making money. Sorta like a day off, yet not.
At 1700 hours, a small human man walked in. He takes a few minutes to casually glance around at the stuff before silding up to the counter. Leaning over it, he asks Avalanche, "Hey man. You the owner?" Avalanche nods affirmatively. "Can I help you with something?"
Glancing around, the man replies, "Nice place you got here. Anyway, yeah, I was wondering, do you do um, custom work?"
Avalanche raises an eyebrow. Custom work, huh? Interesting...
A recorded voice picks up Jaan's call. "Hello, you have reached Dr. George's Quick Fix Medical Clinic. We are currently closed for New Year's Day. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible." *BEEP*
1700 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
It's been a long, slow day at Key to the Future for Avalanche. Probably because it was New Year's Day or something. Oh well, he just sat around and browsed the latest tech developments. No sweat off his back, even if he wasn't making money. Sorta like a day off, yet not.
At 1700 hours, a small human man walked in. He takes a few minutes to casually glance around at the stuff before silding up to the counter. Leaning over it, he asks Avalanche, "Hey man. You the owner?" Avalanche nods affirmatively. "Can I help you with something?"
Glancing around, the man replies, "Nice place you got here. Anyway, yeah, I was wondering, do you do um, custom work?"
Avalanche raises an eyebrow. Custom work, huh? Interesting...
1445 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
Jaan hangs up.
I'm not sure if she should wait until tomorrow for medical attention. I'll have to try the one Hammer suggested.
Jaan heads purposefully towards 15001 NE 40th Street. On arrival he looks for any sign of activity.
Jaan hangs up.
I'm not sure if she should wait until tomorrow for medical attention. I'll have to try the one Hammer suggested.
Jaan heads purposefully towards 15001 NE 40th Street. On arrival he looks for any sign of activity.
1701 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
Avalanche strokes his chin thoughtfully. "I might, sir. Depends on the job. What kind of, er, custom work do you have in mind?"
Finally, some biz. I knew being open on a holiday would have some benefits.
Avalanche strokes his chin thoughtfully. "I might, sir. Depends on the job. What kind of, er, custom work do you have in mind?"
Finally, some biz. I knew being open on a holiday would have some benefits.
1450 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
Seeing no sign of activity, Jaan walks into Dr. Bob's. A tired and somewhat hungover looking receptionist looks up at him tiredly. "Can I help you?" she asks in a monotone voice.
1702 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
The man looks at him a bit uneasily and shifts from side to side. "I'd like a cyberdeck. Not really custom made per se, just, um...modified so it's not quite off the rack, you know what I mean? Maybe if you could just...I don't know, tinker with the MPCP chips so it's got a little extra than it normally would? How much would that cost me?"
Subtle like a sledgehammer thinks Avalanche. Oh well, he's a customer, and biz is biz...
Seeing no sign of activity, Jaan walks into Dr. Bob's. A tired and somewhat hungover looking receptionist looks up at him tiredly. "Can I help you?" she asks in a monotone voice.
1702 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
The man looks at him a bit uneasily and shifts from side to side. "I'd like a cyberdeck. Not really custom made per se, just, um...modified so it's not quite off the rack, you know what I mean? Maybe if you could just...I don't know, tinker with the MPCP chips so it's got a little extra than it normally would? How much would that cost me?"
Subtle like a sledgehammer thinks Avalanche. Oh well, he's a customer, and biz is biz...
1702 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
"That's a special order, that. Normally don't do the deckmiester thing, but I might be able to help you out. What kind of stock cyberdeck do you have in mind, and just how much 'tinkering' do you want done on it?"
Hmmm, I'll have to put in a call to Zig and see if he can rustle me up a contact who can supply a deck.
"That's a special order, that. Normally don't do the deckmiester thing, but I might be able to help you out. What kind of stock cyberdeck do you have in mind, and just how much 'tinkering' do you want done on it?"
Hmmm, I'll have to put in a call to Zig and see if he can rustle me up a contact who can supply a deck.
1703 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
The man shakes his head. "No, I think you misunderstood. I don't want a stock cyberdeck with mods. I have the deck, I just need its MPCP modified so instead of two attributes, it has four. You scanning me here?"
The man shakes his head. "No, I think you misunderstood. I don't want a stock cyberdeck with mods. I have the deck, I just need its MPCP modified so instead of two attributes, it has four. You scanning me here?"
1451 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
Jaan shifts his bag slightly as he takes a quick glance around.
Well, maybe it's still a good clinic?
"Hello miss, I was wondering how much an examination for a friend of mine would cost? She's asleep and seems to have been involved in some kind of trouble."
Jaan shifts his bag slightly as he takes a quick glance around.
Well, maybe it's still a good clinic?
"Hello miss, I was wondering how much an examination for a friend of mine would cost? She's asleep and seems to have been involved in some kind of trouble."
1730 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
....and decides to spend it out back setting up his medicine tent. Since it must be done anyway, why not now?
It takes an hour or so to get everything in place, and another hour of chanting and dancing to make it feel right.
That done, he walks back past the shop and into the parking lot, where he calls Norman.
"Hey buddy, I need a favor. I need a cab for the night. Just one way. I'll catch another for the trip home. Pick me up here at 8:30."
But I started at 9 this morning. I'm tired and my arthritis is acting up. Norman says, suddenly sounding more like 85 than 65.
Klaus doesn't miss a beat. "Would an extra hundred nuyen buy you that operation you need so badly?"
Yes, that would just about cover it. See you at 8:30
Still laughing Klaus walks back into the woods behind the shop, relaxes in the medicine tent, and meditates 'til 8:20.
Klausstretches, combs his hair, fixes his tie, dusts off his jacket and his shoes. He pulls his overcoat and hat back on, and walks through the freezing January mist to the front door of The Magic Touch. At exactly 8:30, he waves at Norman as he pulls into the parking lot, and knocks on the door.
....and decides to spend it out back setting up his medicine tent. Since it must be done anyway, why not now?
It takes an hour or so to get everything in place, and another hour of chanting and dancing to make it feel right.
That done, he walks back past the shop and into the parking lot, where he calls Norman.
"Hey buddy, I need a favor. I need a cab for the night. Just one way. I'll catch another for the trip home. Pick me up here at 8:30."
But I started at 9 this morning. I'm tired and my arthritis is acting up. Norman says, suddenly sounding more like 85 than 65.
Klaus doesn't miss a beat. "Would an extra hundred nuyen buy you that operation you need so badly?"
Yes, that would just about cover it. See you at 8:30
Still laughing Klaus walks back into the woods behind the shop, relaxes in the medicine tent, and meditates 'til 8:20.
Klausstretches, combs his hair, fixes his tie, dusts off his jacket and his shoes. He pulls his overcoat and hat back on, and walks through the freezing January mist to the front door of The Magic Touch. At exactly 8:30, he waves at Norman as he pulls into the parking lot, and knocks on the door.
1452 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
The receptionist looks at him. “It depends on how serious her injuries are. Is she here right now? And if not, how soon can you bring her in?”
1730 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
After two knocks, an absolutely stunning Daisy walks out the front door. Her long blonde hair is up in a fashion that highlights her deep blue eyes, and her makeup is carefully applied and dramatically enhances her already attractive features. Wearing a long elegant coat to protect against the January chill, she is quite the picture of high fashion. OK...so maybe I was wrong about that whole 'not particularly special as far as stunning elven mages go' thing. She obviously wasn't trying very hard... Klaus thinks.
Looking up at him and unleashing her devastating smile, she asks him, "So handsome, where are we going?"
The receptionist looks at him. “It depends on how serious her injuries are. Is she here right now? And if not, how soon can you bring her in?”
1730 Jan 2 2063 - The Magic Touch
After two knocks, an absolutely stunning Daisy walks out the front door. Her long blonde hair is up in a fashion that highlights her deep blue eyes, and her makeup is carefully applied and dramatically enhances her already attractive features. Wearing a long elegant coat to protect against the January chill, she is quite the picture of high fashion. OK...so maybe I was wrong about that whole 'not particularly special as far as stunning elven mages go' thing. She obviously wasn't trying very hard... Klaus thinks.
Looking up at him and unleashing her devastating smile, she asks him, "So handsome, where are we going?"
1704 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
"Yes, I scan you. Here, let me see the deck."
After looking over the man's Sony cyberdeck, Avalanche sets the deck on the counter and quotes his price.
"Ok, I'm going to need to buy Masking and Evasion proggies for this, and I'm going to need 30,000 for the quality you're looking for. For the actual installation, 3000. Naturally, if you can get the Masking and Sensor to me yourself, I won't charge you for them, just the base installation fee."
Avalanche waits patiently for the man to decide.
"Yes, I scan you. Here, let me see the deck."
After looking over the man's Sony cyberdeck, Avalanche sets the deck on the counter and quotes his price.
"Ok, I'm going to need to buy Masking and Evasion proggies for this, and I'm going to need
30,000 for the quality you're looking for. For the actual installation, 3000. Naturally, if you can get the Masking and Sensor to me yourself, I won't charge you for them, just the base installation fee."Avalanche waits patiently for the man to decide.
1705 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
The man's eyes widen at the price. "I'll get the programs to you myself, I just need someone to do the installation for me. When should I bring them to you, and how long will it take you?"
The man's eyes widen at the price. "I'll get the programs to you myself, I just need someone to do the installation for me. When should I bring them to you, and how long will it take you?"
1705 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
"A couple of days, six at most but I doubt I'll need that much time. The sooner you get me the programs, the sooner I can start. A word of warning, however."
Avalanche leans over the cyberdeck on the counter. Avoiding eye contact, he gently traces the Sony logo on the deck.
"The ratings you want will make your Bod and Sensor ratings suffer. The sum of their versions won't be able to exceed 5.0.... So, the max you could get them to is a 3 and a 2. Or, if you really feel suicidal, a 1 and a 4."
Avalanche looks up suddenly, and comfortable in his field of expertise, his normal shyness burns away. His light pink eyes lock with the man's own.
"No matter how you slice it, this deck will be about right for cutting into Blue systems. Maybe, maybe, it might be able to handle a Green on a good day, and with some good software. However, you don't have a snowball's chance in Hell of cutting into an Orange system, and I doubt you'll even be able to get close enough to a Red one to see how fast you'll die. I can mod this deck for you, but don't do anything...stupid...with it. Scan me, omae?"
"A couple of days, six at most but I doubt I'll need that much time. The sooner you get me the programs, the sooner I can start. A word of warning, however."
Avalanche leans over the cyberdeck on the counter. Avoiding eye contact, he gently traces the Sony logo on the deck.
"The ratings you want will make your Bod and Sensor ratings suffer. The sum of their versions won't be able to exceed 5.0.... So, the max you could get them to is a 3 and a 2. Or, if you really feel suicidal, a 1 and a 4."
Avalanche looks up suddenly, and comfortable in his field of expertise, his normal shyness burns away. His light pink eyes lock with the man's own.
"No matter how you slice it, this deck will be about right for cutting into Blue systems. Maybe, maybe, it might be able to handle a Green on a good day, and with some good software. However, you don't have a snowball's chance in Hell of cutting into an Orange system, and I doubt you'll even be able to get close enough to a Red one to see how fast you'll die. I can mod this deck for you, but don't do anything...stupid...with it. Scan me, omae?"
1453 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
"I'm afraid I'm not certain how serious her injuries are. She was having some trouble with a gang. She was conscious when I arrived, but as far as I know she hasn't woken since I left her. She doesn't have any major injuries visible though."
Is a basic idea of cost too much to ask? Where does she think we are, Downtown?
"I'm afraid I'm not certain how serious her injuries are. She was having some trouble with a gang. She was conscious when I arrived, but as far as I know she hasn't woken since I left her. She doesn't have any major injuries visible though."
Is a basic idea of cost too much to ask? Where does she think we are, Downtown?
1706 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
"Relax, I scan you." The man nods. "I'm not planning on anything heavy, just need a way to not be a completely visable user." He slides over two chips. "Here they are. Can you call me when the job is done?"
1455 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
The receptionist looks at him. "Well if you need a house call, it'll cost you 150 to have a doctor go with you. After that, depending on the extent of her injuries and what you want done, he'll quote you a price. Should I call for a doctor?"
"Relax, I scan you." The man nods. "I'm not planning on anything heavy, just need a way to not be a completely visable user." He slides over two chips. "Here they are. Can you call me when the job is done?"
1455 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
The receptionist looks at him. "Well if you need a house call, it'll cost you 150 to have a doctor go with you. After that, depending on the extent of her injuries and what you want done, he'll quote you a price. Should I call for a doctor?"
1731 January 2, 2063 - Cheng's doss in May Creek (Bellevue)
The tide of digital reality flooded in around her like the warm waters of a Caribbean lagoon in the moment after she hit the Go key. As always, Lady Cheng found the tension slipping from her shoulders as her sensorium slid sideways into the Matrix. By habit, she ran a quick systems diagnostic as cyberspace flowed into existence around her. All senses and subprograms read back as performing at near-optimal, with a system monitor continually keeping one finger on the overclocked Masking p-chip. The chronometer read out as just past 5:30 in the afternoon on January 2.
Excellent. I should make my meet with Harmony just on time. The battered leather satchel slung at her side yielded up a stick of fragrant incense, already smoldering, and she gracefully sketched a series of smoky pictograms in midair. They pulsed with an inner light for an instant, then morphed into a miniaturized map of the RTG's nodes complete with an arrow indicating which way she was to proceed as the Locate Access Node operation returned its information. I really need to see if I can obtain or code a new Camo utility, though -- make my backtrail as difficult to trace as I can for future work.
The threads of the naval longcoat, continually sampling the surrounding virtual environment for sensor probes and returning reputable reassurances that she did have clearance to be here, shimmered in the digital light as the lady-pirate icon sailed away from her jackpoint. A vibrant datastream swept her away into the clustered, towering icons of Seattle's virtual downtown, gradually blending into the other personas and data-packets.
Soon enough, Cheng had worked her way through the series of channels and stopover nodes to reach the address that Harmony had said to meet her in. The virtual clubhouse was teeming with icons of retro and cutting-edge anime personas. A deep bass line of techno music rhythmically pulsed the floor through her bootsoles, and broad screens strobed intercut pastiches of old toons that she vaguely recognized in a sequence frenetic enough to make an epileptic twitchy. What was that called? Pokie-man? Dragonballs-V?
Not important. Shaking the nova-bright flashing images of kawaii anime characters from her vision, she slipped into the relatively quiet backstage and down the dim virtual corridor. Ahead, in a small room lit by a fluorescent bar, the icon of a slender, pale, elven woman stepped into view.
"Greetings, Lady Cheng," she intoned with a fluid voice.
Cheng raised an eyebrow, nodded, and replied, "Ni hao, Harmony."
An impish grin broke through the other's serious countenance, breaking the business-like mood. "So how was that? Was that stone enough? I wanted to have it be totally serious and all, so I practiced but I wasn't sure how good it was, you know?"
Cheng grinned back. "Very solid, mei mei. How've you been? I haven't seen you in nearly a week..."
Harmony rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah! I was tracking down that rumor you wanted me to find. Touch-and-go for a while, very slippery, but the Resonance told me where to find the trail and from that point it was pretty smooth. So, what about you? Were you able to find them?"
"It took a little doing, but yup, I've got them for you." Cheng retrieved a scroll bound with red silk ribbon from her satchel and held it up with a smile. "Front-row tickets for this Friday's concert performance at the Kingdome -- the Jersey Angels."
Harmony gave a mini-scream of joy and flitted energetically about the room. "Cheng, you are so totally wiz! Oh, I'm gonna have so much fun! <<<emote-hug>>>" She pulled a similar scroll, bound in blue, out of her tunic, and offered it up. "Here's the trails and the addresses that I tracked down. I hope they help... but really, the guys that frequent there? Fossils, as in dust running through their veins, not blood like you and me. Most of them have got to be, like, in their late twenties, falling into old patterns and not hearing the echo anymore, you know?"
"Yup, I know. But there might be some information there that I'll need in the near future. Thanks much, mei mei."
"Anytime, hon. You know how to reach me. Will I see you on the game boards later tonight?"
Cheng wiggled her hand in a maybe-so gesture as they exchanged scrolls. "Possibly. I need to look this over right now, see what I can find out there. Definitely later this week, though."
"Mmmmkay. Trace you later!" Harmony flicked a hand at the wall and a bluish-white portal hummed into existence, to vanish the instant after she stepped through.
At last, a solid clue towards Shadowland. Cheng turned back towards the corridor and the throbbing bassline, to make her way out of the clubhouse and out to where she could do some proper searching. With any luck at all, I'll be logged on to their node by sundown.
The tide of digital reality flooded in around her like the warm waters of a Caribbean lagoon in the moment after she hit the Go key. As always, Lady Cheng found the tension slipping from her shoulders as her sensorium slid sideways into the Matrix. By habit, she ran a quick systems diagnostic as cyberspace flowed into existence around her. All senses and subprograms read back as performing at near-optimal, with a system monitor continually keeping one finger on the overclocked Masking p-chip. The chronometer read out as just past 5:30 in the afternoon on January 2.
Excellent. I should make my meet with Harmony just on time. The battered leather satchel slung at her side yielded up a stick of fragrant incense, already smoldering, and she gracefully sketched a series of smoky pictograms in midair. They pulsed with an inner light for an instant, then morphed into a miniaturized map of the RTG's nodes complete with an arrow indicating which way she was to proceed as the Locate Access Node operation returned its information. I really need to see if I can obtain or code a new Camo utility, though -- make my backtrail as difficult to trace as I can for future work.
The threads of the naval longcoat, continually sampling the surrounding virtual environment for sensor probes and returning reputable reassurances that she did have clearance to be here, shimmered in the digital light as the lady-pirate icon sailed away from her jackpoint. A vibrant datastream swept her away into the clustered, towering icons of Seattle's virtual downtown, gradually blending into the other personas and data-packets.
Soon enough, Cheng had worked her way through the series of channels and stopover nodes to reach the address that Harmony had said to meet her in. The virtual clubhouse was teeming with icons of retro and cutting-edge anime personas. A deep bass line of techno music rhythmically pulsed the floor through her bootsoles, and broad screens strobed intercut pastiches of old toons that she vaguely recognized in a sequence frenetic enough to make an epileptic twitchy. What was that called? Pokie-man? Dragonballs-V?
Not important. Shaking the nova-bright flashing images of kawaii anime characters from her vision, she slipped into the relatively quiet backstage and down the dim virtual corridor. Ahead, in a small room lit by a fluorescent bar, the icon of a slender, pale, elven woman stepped into view.
"Greetings, Lady Cheng," she intoned with a fluid voice.
Cheng raised an eyebrow, nodded, and replied, "Ni hao, Harmony."
An impish grin broke through the other's serious countenance, breaking the business-like mood. "So how was that? Was that stone enough? I wanted to have it be totally serious and all, so I practiced but I wasn't sure how good it was, you know?"
Cheng grinned back. "Very solid, mei mei. How've you been? I haven't seen you in nearly a week..."
Harmony rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah! I was tracking down that rumor you wanted me to find. Touch-and-go for a while, very slippery, but the Resonance told me where to find the trail and from that point it was pretty smooth. So, what about you? Were you able to find them?"
"It took a little doing, but yup, I've got them for you." Cheng retrieved a scroll bound with red silk ribbon from her satchel and held it up with a smile. "Front-row tickets for this Friday's concert performance at the Kingdome -- the Jersey Angels."
Harmony gave a mini-scream of joy and flitted energetically about the room. "Cheng, you are so totally wiz! Oh, I'm gonna have so much fun! <<<emote-hug>>>" She pulled a similar scroll, bound in blue, out of her tunic, and offered it up. "Here's the trails and the addresses that I tracked down. I hope they help... but really, the guys that frequent there? Fossils, as in dust running through their veins, not blood like you and me. Most of them have got to be, like, in their late twenties, falling into old patterns and not hearing the echo anymore, you know?"
"Yup, I know. But there might be some information there that I'll need in the near future. Thanks much, mei mei."
"Anytime, hon. You know how to reach me. Will I see you on the game boards later tonight?"
Cheng wiggled her hand in a maybe-so gesture as they exchanged scrolls. "Possibly. I need to look this over right now, see what I can find out there. Definitely later this week, though."
"Mmmmkay. Trace you later!" Harmony flicked a hand at the wall and a bluish-white portal hummed into existence, to vanish the instant after she stepped through.
At last, a solid clue towards Shadowland. Cheng turned back towards the corridor and the throbbing bassline, to make her way out of the clubhouse and out to where she could do some proper searching. With any luck at all, I'll be logged on to their node by sundown.
1455 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
"Certainly. Thank you."
Jaan relaxes a little seeing that something should be able to be done about the woman's injuries now.
Of course, I think it's a diet of ration bars for the next month. Still, I suppose it's worth it. If only things could be a little simpler.
"Certainly. Thank you."
Jaan relaxes a little seeing that something should be able to be done about the woman's injuries now.
Of course, I think it's a diet of ration bars for the next month. Still, I suppose it's worth it. If only things could be a little simpler.
1707 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
"Sure chummer. Leave your LTG and I'll let you know when the job is done."
"Sure chummer. Leave your LTG and I'll let you know when the job is done."
1709 January 1, 2063- An apartment in Renton
The man writes an LTG on a scrip of paper. "Here you go, call me when it's done." He smiles briefly. "Nice doing business with you." And then he walks out, leaving Avalanche with an easy 3000 nuyen job on his hands.
1510 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
The nurse buzzes a doctor, and lets him know the situation. In a few minutes he comes out, carrying a small black bag. "All right, I'm ready to go," he says, shaking Cao's hand briefly. "Lead the way to the patient."
The man writes an LTG on a scrip of paper. "Here you go, call me when it's done." He smiles briefly. "Nice doing business with you." And then he walks out, leaving Avalanche with an easy 3000 nuyen job on his hands.
1510 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
The nurse buzzes a doctor, and lets him know the situation. In a few minutes he comes out, carrying a small black bag. "All right, I'm ready to go," he says, shaking Cao's hand briefly. "Lead the way to the patient."
1523 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
Jaan leads the doctor back to the warehouse, making a little polite conversation. Arriving back at the warehouse, he leads the doctor to where he left the young woman.
Jaan leads the doctor back to the warehouse, making a little polite conversation. Arriving back at the warehouse, he leads the doctor to where he left the young woman.
1545 January 1, 2063- Dr. Bob's Quickstitch at 15001 NE 40th Street
Upon arriving, the doctor glances around with obvious distaste at the wreck the warehouse is. Still, he keeps his silence and examines the young woman carefully. After a brief examination, he steps back and says, "Well, the good news is her injuries don't appear to be serious. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, but nothing a week or so off her feet shouldn't take care of. She does however appear to be a bit malnourished, although without more tests I can't say for sure."
He looks around, and continues, "With these facilities there's a risk of infection and things taking a turn for the worse. I recommend you keep her off her feet for a few days, be sure she gets plenty of rest, and try to feed her as nutritionally sound as possible. Is there anything else you'd like to ask me while I'm here?"
Upon arriving, the doctor glances around with obvious distaste at the wreck the warehouse is. Still, he keeps his silence and examines the young woman carefully. After a brief examination, he steps back and says, "Well, the good news is her injuries don't appear to be serious. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, but nothing a week or so off her feet shouldn't take care of. She does however appear to be a bit malnourished, although without more tests I can't say for sure."
He looks around, and continues, "With these facilities there's a risk of infection and things taking a turn for the worse. I recommend you keep her off her feet for a few days, be sure she gets plenty of rest, and try to feed her as nutritionally sound as possible. Is there anything else you'd like to ask me while I'm here?"
2013 January 1, 2063 - The Last Drop, a small but busy hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a counter, a couple of booths in the back, and the remaining tables and chairs sprawling out onto the sidewalk in light defiance of local right-of-passage ordinances
"Oh. It's him again."
She looked up, and a mischievous smile lit up her green eyes. Mostly you'd be noticing that smile. You'd have to look closely to see the tusks at all. "That makes what, four times he's been in here now without even the excuse of a meet?"
"Five," growled her companion. On him the tusks were much more noticeable, and a pale colour resembling aged ivory reflecting gently in the wire-frame spectacles, and were doing as good an impression of grinding together as is possible for non-molars. "At least this time he left his hired gun idling the car."
"I'm sure he likes you just as much as you like him," she said, polishing the end of the formica counter that allowed her to keep an eye on the back booth. "Anne, could you get in here a moment?"
"His driver makes the cops in here nervous, and that makes everyone else nervous, and --"
"And that's bad for biz," she finished word for word along with him, still smiling, although it was starting to become a little strained. "I know the spiel. And the amount of metal that guy carries, I'd be nervous too. It's not even like you need to see any of it, the way you do. It's more than just that he's wired, and rigged, and overhauled seven ways from Sunday. Fragging good wiring too, unless I miss my guess. I don't even know anyone who does work like that. No," she shook her head, "it's something about the way he carries himself, something about his eyes, like all the humanity's been leached out of him along with the flesh ..."
She trailed off. He glanced down, at the screen concealed below the lip of the counter, while his hand brushed gently against hers. "That's one hell of a cannon the guy's packing this week," he said. "At least the Johnson's bright enough to keep his own piece down to something more reasonable."
"It's part of the arrangement," she said absently. "Oh, not the spellcasting -- there's really not a whole lot I can do about that, you know that -- and it's not like I can keep the heavy ordinance out of the deals, but at least I can keep it out of my restaurant. And it's not like the cops particularly mind leaning on any of them the moment they step out of the car."
He arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" and the Irish accent broadened perceptably. "You mean it's not my cooking?"
She cuffed him with the dishcloth. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You know Teresa wouldn't go an inch out of his way to give us a hand based on the quality of your food, and we chase down organic greens and real fruit juice especially for him. But that's because he's an idiot." She rolled her eyes. "And that's also assuming he'd ever find out the kinds of deals that really go down in this place. Which he won't. No," she began attacking the counter with the cloth again, "half the plain clothes cops out there really hate the way the corps make it impossible to do their jobs -- and apart from Teresa, most of them make a point of stopping by here for soykaf and the quick meal they know you'll always have ready for them, on the house -- and they appreciate it, and know better than to let Teresa in on it. But if they get a chance to hastle a corper legitimately ... Especially when the corper's carrying armour piercers. They hate those more than anyone."
"Why the car?" he asked curiously.
"It's extraterritorial. Didn't you notice the registration?"
He grunted. "It would be. Nice, fragging, teris'faenlar slumming neutrality."
The smile brightened again. "I didn't know you spoke Sperethiel."
"I don't. Only the useful bits."
"Well, you'd better not let him hear you." She reached below the counter for a butter knife and began working at whatever was caught in the long, narrow furrow gouging the formica, her slightly clumsy orkish fingers handling the blade not clumsily at all. "His kind's still our bread and butter, you know that. And it's not like he chose to be an elf." It came loose, suddenly. She straightened. "Anne?" she called again, more sharply.
"She's out front, getting the last of the early student crowd. Just after Christmas two of them walked without bothering to pay." He snorted. "She was pissed about that."
The girl came in at that moment, pausing to set her tray, with its bits of odd jangling change swimming in spilt soykaf, down on the freshly scrubbed counter. Brave pink highlights danced in her short, curly blonde hair and reflected off her large, round glasses. An elf, a cute one ... or maybe she might have been cute if she had filled out a bit. A bit starved-looking, although her dusky skin and her general underdevelopment might have had something to do with that. Fast on her feet, with an apron of a uniform and not-too-worn Doc Martins just a few years out of fashion. Seventeen, maybe, and maybe a good deal less than that.
"And the book-types, they fraggin' tries to nip the bond again, but I stands at the street and yells at them till he got all flustered an' finally chipped me his cred. Oops," and her head lowered, "gomennasai, Johnny. Didn't know you was here."
"Never mind that now. Anne," the woman said, emphasising the name ever so slightly, "could you please go and get Mr. Johnson his soykaf?"
"Oh. It's him again."
She looked up, and a mischievous smile lit up her green eyes. Mostly you'd be noticing that smile. You'd have to look closely to see the tusks at all. "That makes what, four times he's been in here now without even the excuse of a meet?"
"Five," growled her companion. On him the tusks were much more noticeable, and a pale colour resembling aged ivory reflecting gently in the wire-frame spectacles, and were doing as good an impression of grinding together as is possible for non-molars. "At least this time he left his hired gun idling the car."
"I'm sure he likes you just as much as you like him," she said, polishing the end of the formica counter that allowed her to keep an eye on the back booth. "Anne, could you get in here a moment?"
"His driver makes the cops in here nervous, and that makes everyone else nervous, and --"
"And that's bad for biz," she finished word for word along with him, still smiling, although it was starting to become a little strained. "I know the spiel. And the amount of metal that guy carries, I'd be nervous too. It's not even like you need to see any of it, the way you do. It's more than just that he's wired, and rigged, and overhauled seven ways from Sunday. Fragging good wiring too, unless I miss my guess. I don't even know anyone who does work like that. No," she shook her head, "it's something about the way he carries himself, something about his eyes, like all the humanity's been leached out of him along with the flesh ..."
She trailed off. He glanced down, at the screen concealed below the lip of the counter, while his hand brushed gently against hers. "That's one hell of a cannon the guy's packing this week," he said. "At least the Johnson's bright enough to keep his own piece down to something more reasonable."
"It's part of the arrangement," she said absently. "Oh, not the spellcasting -- there's really not a whole lot I can do about that, you know that -- and it's not like I can keep the heavy ordinance out of the deals, but at least I can keep it out of my restaurant. And it's not like the cops particularly mind leaning on any of them the moment they step out of the car."
He arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" and the Irish accent broadened perceptably. "You mean it's not my cooking?"
She cuffed him with the dishcloth. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You know Teresa wouldn't go an inch out of his way to give us a hand based on the quality of your food, and we chase down organic greens and real fruit juice especially for him. But that's because he's an idiot." She rolled her eyes. "And that's also assuming he'd ever find out the kinds of deals that really go down in this place. Which he won't. No," she began attacking the counter with the cloth again, "half the plain clothes cops out there really hate the way the corps make it impossible to do their jobs -- and apart from Teresa, most of them make a point of stopping by here for soykaf and the quick meal they know you'll always have ready for them, on the house -- and they appreciate it, and know better than to let Teresa in on it. But if they get a chance to hastle a corper legitimately ... Especially when the corper's carrying armour piercers. They hate those more than anyone."
"Why the car?" he asked curiously.
"It's extraterritorial. Didn't you notice the registration?"
He grunted. "It would be. Nice, fragging, teris'faenlar slumming neutrality."
The smile brightened again. "I didn't know you spoke Sperethiel."
"I don't. Only the useful bits."
"Well, you'd better not let him hear you." She reached below the counter for a butter knife and began working at whatever was caught in the long, narrow furrow gouging the formica, her slightly clumsy orkish fingers handling the blade not clumsily at all. "His kind's still our bread and butter, you know that. And it's not like he chose to be an elf." It came loose, suddenly. She straightened. "Anne?" she called again, more sharply.
"She's out front, getting the last of the early student crowd. Just after Christmas two of them walked without bothering to pay." He snorted. "She was pissed about that."
The girl came in at that moment, pausing to set her tray, with its bits of odd jangling change swimming in spilt soykaf, down on the freshly scrubbed counter. Brave pink highlights danced in her short, curly blonde hair and reflected off her large, round glasses. An elf, a cute one ... or maybe she might have been cute if she had filled out a bit. A bit starved-looking, although her dusky skin and her general underdevelopment might have had something to do with that. Fast on her feet, with an apron of a uniform and not-too-worn Doc Martins just a few years out of fashion. Seventeen, maybe, and maybe a good deal less than that.
"And the book-types, they fraggin' tries to nip the bond again, but I stands at the street and yells at them till he got all flustered an' finally chipped me his cred. Oops," and her head lowered, "gomennasai, Johnny. Didn't know you was here."
"Never mind that now. Anne," the woman said, emphasising the name ever so slightly, "could you please go and get Mr. Johnson his soykaf?"
1300 January 1, 2063 - Home (Blaze's Doss)
Now that I know what I'm looking for I can get to work. This is terrible, the pain of everything, and now My cousin. WHY CAN'T CORPS KEEP THEIR FRAGGING NOSES OUT OF OUR LIVES!
It hurt him, God it hurt but now was the time to do the one thing he knew how to do. Reaching for his phone Blaze put on his "Bussiness Face." Time to find his cousin.
"Yo Squall, I got another job for you, thanks by the way that lead was just what I've needed for a long time. I need you to rin me up as much info as you can on two things. One, A young woman named Melissa Walker, she worked with a husband David Walker at Universal Omnitech till the husband died in a car accident last week, no Idea if it was a legit accident or not, She went missing about two days ago, I need as much info on her and possible hit jobs/extraction runs to pick her up as you can get me. Possible locations, anything. SHe's magically active, no bead on possible skills just know she's awakened. It's likely that UO wants her back after she took off time after the accident. ANything you can get me is what I want, standard pay rates apply."
I know this is terrible for me to have to do but Paranoia is only an illness if everyone isn't out to get you.
"The second is info on a phone number and second person, Margrett, I don't have anything more on her other than the name and she should be Mellissa's mother, although that isn't a garuntee. The number is" Blaze reads off the number that Margerette gave him, "Anything on it is welcome too."
Static cackles back accross the line in response to Blaze's inquireys, followed by a single phrase, "you got it." Imediatley a click follows as Squall hangs up.
Blaze's mind wanders as his body goes through the bussiness at hand inside he still greives over his losses.
My entire family is being hit by them, Universal will pay if they are responsible, and if not whoever is will. My God, look at me, all I have now is my vengence and Leopard's dedication to my goal of bringing down corps. I have nothing, no family of my own, only lost connections to a slowly dieing one, no woman for me, only the shadows. I think I have lost my humanity. When she hugged me I couldn't even recognize it until after I began to fend it off as an attack. I hope to god that I can find Melissa because if I can't I can't begin to imagine what it will do to Margerette, a woman who is still human.
Dialing a new number Blaze calls up Max to try and pick up some more info and a new job.
"Hey Max what's up, I have tow things I need from you, the first my oldest friend is any info you might know or be able to pick up on a Melissa Walker, she works for Universal and had been slacking off a little bit, they might want her back to work they might not, either way I need info on a likely extraction run to pick her up, would have gone down about two days ago. The second is I need a job, I'm financing that run on my own and I need a payday, please try to find me something."
Max's face breaks into a small smile. " You know I'll do whatever I can for you Blaze, just be careful, Ok."
Blaze nods and cuts the phone line.
Max is the only Humanity I still have and He's a fixer for God's sake, I need to find Melissa and Quickly, if only for having another human being in my life.
Now that I know what I'm looking for I can get to work. This is terrible, the pain of everything, and now My cousin. WHY CAN'T CORPS KEEP THEIR FRAGGING NOSES OUT OF OUR LIVES!
It hurt him, God it hurt but now was the time to do the one thing he knew how to do. Reaching for his phone Blaze put on his "Bussiness Face." Time to find his cousin.
"Yo Squall, I got another job for you, thanks by the way that lead was just what I've needed for a long time. I need you to rin me up as much info as you can on two things. One, A young woman named Melissa Walker, she worked with a husband David Walker at Universal Omnitech till the husband died in a car accident last week, no Idea if it was a legit accident or not, She went missing about two days ago, I need as much info on her and possible hit jobs/extraction runs to pick her up as you can get me. Possible locations, anything. SHe's magically active, no bead on possible skills just know she's awakened. It's likely that UO wants her back after she took off time after the accident. ANything you can get me is what I want, standard pay rates apply."
I know this is terrible for me to have to do but Paranoia is only an illness if everyone isn't out to get you.
"The second is info on a phone number and second person, Margrett, I don't have anything more on her other than the name and she should be Mellissa's mother, although that isn't a garuntee. The number is" Blaze reads off the number that Margerette gave him, "Anything on it is welcome too."
Static cackles back accross the line in response to Blaze's inquireys, followed by a single phrase, "you got it." Imediatley a click follows as Squall hangs up.
Blaze's mind wanders as his body goes through the bussiness at hand inside he still greives over his losses.
My entire family is being hit by them, Universal will pay if they are responsible, and if not whoever is will. My God, look at me, all I have now is my vengence and Leopard's dedication to my goal of bringing down corps. I have nothing, no family of my own, only lost connections to a slowly dieing one, no woman for me, only the shadows. I think I have lost my humanity. When she hugged me I couldn't even recognize it until after I began to fend it off as an attack. I hope to god that I can find Melissa because if I can't I can't begin to imagine what it will do to Margerette, a woman who is still human.
Dialing a new number Blaze calls up Max to try and pick up some more info and a new job.
"Hey Max what's up, I have tow things I need from you, the first my oldest friend is any info you might know or be able to pick up on a Melissa Walker, she works for Universal and had been slacking off a little bit, they might want her back to work they might not, either way I need info on a likely extraction run to pick her up, would have gone down about two days ago. The second is I need a job, I'm financing that run on my own and I need a payday, please try to find me something."
Max's face breaks into a small smile. " You know I'll do whatever I can for you Blaze, just be careful, Ok."
Blaze nods and cuts the phone line.
Max is the only Humanity I still have and He's a fixer for God's sake, I need to find Melissa and Quickly, if only for having another human being in my life.
2020 January 1, 2063 - The Last Drop
"It is all right. Really. I know all about you, you see."
She stared at the floor, tray twisting in her hands in front of her, shifting slightly from foot to foot. The sign displaying the logo of the Last Drop, a hangman's noose and gallows, reflected off her large glasses. "Me, Johnson-sama?"
"Yes, Mariah Anne. Come, sit down, it is all right." And as she bolted a glance toward the two orks behind the counter, "Don't worry, Anne, I will clear it with your employers."
"But it's the tag end of the rush ..."
She trailed off uncertainly at his warm smile. "It is always the tag end of the rush around here," he said gently in his precise, cultured voice, rising to his feet to take the tray with its soykaf decanter and mug from her unresisting hands and set it on the table. "It is the nature of such a place; its camouflage, if you will. But you won't lose your employment over this, I promise." He took her chin and tilted it up to face him. "Unless you wish it, of course. You deserve better than a place such as this, tiri'thiel."
She flushed. "Please, Johnson-sama, sit down."
He touched her lightly across the lips as he did so. "My name is Legoran. And you will join me for a soykaf, won't you?"
"But ..." She trailed off again, setting his mug in front of him automatically. "You don't know the first thing about me," she said at last, picking up the decanter, and the look on her face spoke volumes about how she had realised how innane she had sounded, even as she had spoken.
There was a forgiving smile in his hazel eyes, and an uncomfortable intensity. "I know you. I know how you lie awake late at night, worrying at every telephone call if it is going to be another creditor demanding payment, wondering how you are ever going to be able to pay the tuition fees you still owe, how you are even going to be able to pay next month's rent." Those eyes would have met hers directly, openly, if she hadn't been staring so fixedly at the decanter in her hands, the reflected sign of the hangman's noose swaying in her lenses. "I know the name on your SIN." He reached out to touch her hand. "I know that to me you are my Arwen Silverhair, and none of the rest matters."
She had been pouring. She realised she had been pouring into his lap when he suddenly gasped and tried to get clear.
The woman at the bar laughed softly to herself, almost inaudibly, and bent over to retrieve a dry dishtowel.
"It is all right. Really. I know all about you, you see."
She stared at the floor, tray twisting in her hands in front of her, shifting slightly from foot to foot. The sign displaying the logo of the Last Drop, a hangman's noose and gallows, reflected off her large glasses. "Me, Johnson-sama?"
"Yes, Mariah Anne. Come, sit down, it is all right." And as she bolted a glance toward the two orks behind the counter, "Don't worry, Anne, I will clear it with your employers."
"But it's the tag end of the rush ..."
She trailed off uncertainly at his warm smile. "It is always the tag end of the rush around here," he said gently in his precise, cultured voice, rising to his feet to take the tray with its soykaf decanter and mug from her unresisting hands and set it on the table. "It is the nature of such a place; its camouflage, if you will. But you won't lose your employment over this, I promise." He took her chin and tilted it up to face him. "Unless you wish it, of course. You deserve better than a place such as this, tiri'thiel."
She flushed. "Please, Johnson-sama, sit down."
He touched her lightly across the lips as he did so. "My name is Legoran. And you will join me for a soykaf, won't you?"
"But ..." She trailed off again, setting his mug in front of him automatically. "You don't know the first thing about me," she said at last, picking up the decanter, and the look on her face spoke volumes about how she had realised how innane she had sounded, even as she had spoken.
There was a forgiving smile in his hazel eyes, and an uncomfortable intensity. "I know you. I know how you lie awake late at night, worrying at every telephone call if it is going to be another creditor demanding payment, wondering how you are ever going to be able to pay the tuition fees you still owe, how you are even going to be able to pay next month's rent." Those eyes would have met hers directly, openly, if she hadn't been staring so fixedly at the decanter in her hands, the reflected sign of the hangman's noose swaying in her lenses. "I know the name on your SIN." He reached out to touch her hand. "I know that to me you are my Arwen Silverhair, and none of the rest matters."
She had been pouring. She realised she had been pouring into his lap when he suddenly gasped and tried to get clear.
The woman at the bar laughed softly to herself, almost inaudibly, and bent over to retrieve a dry dishtowel.
2028 January 1, 2063 - The Last Drop
A sudden, short, sharp laugh behind her as she was dealing with the last traces of the minor catastrophe in the Johnson's -- Legoran's -- wake. She raised her head, tilted it slightly to the soft sounds of a working pocket computer. "That joyed you, Richard?"
The man in the other booth, the one behind her, leaned forward sharply. It had the effect of bringing his features out of the shadows. Pale blue eyes. Short-cropped blonde hair. Built, but without the suggestion of being enhanced. "He's trouble."
She smiled. "He's an elf."
"So are you."
She knew she had waited too long to retort when the humour began to pull itself across his face. It was not an ugly smile. In fact, by the sound of him, he might have been more than tolerably pleasant to look at -- and yet there was something ugly about it as he leaned on his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers: "You're more than you seem, my dear."
She cast her eyes down, pouted. "Frag, I sincerely hope so!"
He ... smiled. It did nothing to ease the essential hardness in his pale blue eyes. "You know, I think I will have something off the regular menu after all," he said, reaching out to the touchscreen beside him and tracing down the side to scroll across the choices. "Maybe a dessert?" His fingers slowed, and she moved closer to take the order: "Maybe a piece of pie?"
"The lemon meringue's really jacked today."
"So," and his fingers reached out suddenly to seize her arm, hard, "why do I have the stir-fry selections headlined?"
She tried to shrug, but his fingers were digging into her arm. "I don't know, Richard. Because you're you?" And then with a slight gasp, "Could you let go of my arm, please? You're hurting me."
He laughed. "Nice try ... Anne. About what I'd expect from you." He released her, and she stepped back from him, rubbing the place where his fingers had left marks. "You fit in extremely well, here. Too well. Your SIN scans to seven places. But you forgot that a college student should be able to read."
She said nothing.
"It's a matter of relative value, you see," he continued. "Your boyfriend has an interest in you. Maybe I have an interest in him? Or maybe I might have one in ... someone else?" He shrugged, his fingers doing a brief drum roll on the table. A heavy metal ring on the middle one gave an odd, syncopated thunk against the synthwood. "You know how it works, my dear: a favour for a favour." He leaned back in the booth, casting his hard, clean features and short blonde hair back into shadow. He was entirely too good at that. "I wonder which one of us is going to call it in first?"
The phone on his wrist buzzed. He snapped open the screen: "Reinhardt." The tautness drained out of him as he listened. With just the suggestion of a glance at her he answered, "No one." There might have been the hint of a smile as he said it. "I'll be there in ten."
He snapped the screen shut. "Well, Ulysses, you might be wondering why I am telling you this. Or, if you are what I think you are, you'll already have guessed. I'll be gone for a bit." He tossed her a datachip. Caught by surprise, she nearly missed it. "Scan that. It has my cellphone number on it." He leaned forward again, showing his teeth: "But I wanted you to understand exactly where we stand first, wakarimasu-ka?"
He stood up, tossed some bills on the table and walked out, and she cleared away the 500
tip and remaining glass automatically, adding a new set of her fingerprints on top of her previous ones, and allowed her cloth to make brief contact with the table's surface before she went to fetch a new decanter of soykaf for outside. There were only a couple of other cops outside this time, sharing a table. They must be partners. She must have still had something of the encounter in her body language, for the one who must have had some Makah in him smiled at her in sympathy: "Don't take it personally, Anne, he's like that with everyone."
The other just shook his head: "Why do you keep trying?"
Setting the decanter on their table, she allowed herself to sag a little. "Everybody needs someone."
The Makah poured himself a fresh cup, added a couple of spoonfuls of whitener, and stirred the result to near smoothness before speaking again. "You're a real nice kid, you know that? But there's people with whom you just can't win."
A sudden, short, sharp laugh behind her as she was dealing with the last traces of the minor catastrophe in the Johnson's -- Legoran's -- wake. She raised her head, tilted it slightly to the soft sounds of a working pocket computer. "That joyed you, Richard?"
The man in the other booth, the one behind her, leaned forward sharply. It had the effect of bringing his features out of the shadows. Pale blue eyes. Short-cropped blonde hair. Built, but without the suggestion of being enhanced. "He's trouble."
She smiled. "He's an elf."
"So are you."
She knew she had waited too long to retort when the humour began to pull itself across his face. It was not an ugly smile. In fact, by the sound of him, he might have been more than tolerably pleasant to look at -- and yet there was something ugly about it as he leaned on his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers: "You're more than you seem, my dear."
She cast her eyes down, pouted. "Frag, I sincerely hope so!"
He ... smiled. It did nothing to ease the essential hardness in his pale blue eyes. "You know, I think I will have something off the regular menu after all," he said, reaching out to the touchscreen beside him and tracing down the side to scroll across the choices. "Maybe a dessert?" His fingers slowed, and she moved closer to take the order: "Maybe a piece of pie?"
"The lemon meringue's really jacked today."
"So," and his fingers reached out suddenly to seize her arm, hard, "why do I have the stir-fry selections headlined?"
She tried to shrug, but his fingers were digging into her arm. "I don't know, Richard. Because you're you?" And then with a slight gasp, "Could you let go of my arm, please? You're hurting me."
He laughed. "Nice try ... Anne. About what I'd expect from you." He released her, and she stepped back from him, rubbing the place where his fingers had left marks. "You fit in extremely well, here. Too well. Your SIN scans to seven places. But you forgot that a college student should be able to read."
She said nothing.
"It's a matter of relative value, you see," he continued. "Your boyfriend has an interest in you. Maybe I have an interest in him? Or maybe I might have one in ... someone else?" He shrugged, his fingers doing a brief drum roll on the table. A heavy metal ring on the middle one gave an odd, syncopated thunk against the synthwood. "You know how it works, my dear: a favour for a favour." He leaned back in the booth, casting his hard, clean features and short blonde hair back into shadow. He was entirely too good at that. "I wonder which one of us is going to call it in first?"
The phone on his wrist buzzed. He snapped open the screen: "Reinhardt." The tautness drained out of him as he listened. With just the suggestion of a glance at her he answered, "No one." There might have been the hint of a smile as he said it. "I'll be there in ten."
He snapped the screen shut. "Well, Ulysses, you might be wondering why I am telling you this. Or, if you are what I think you are, you'll already have guessed. I'll be gone for a bit." He tossed her a datachip. Caught by surprise, she nearly missed it. "Scan that. It has my cellphone number on it." He leaned forward again, showing his teeth: "But I wanted you to understand exactly where we stand first, wakarimasu-ka?"
He stood up, tossed some bills on the table and walked out, and she cleared away the 500
tip and remaining glass automatically, adding a new set of her fingerprints on top of her previous ones, and allowed her cloth to make brief contact with the table's surface before she went to fetch a new decanter of soykaf for outside. There were only a couple of other cops outside this time, sharing a table. They must be partners. She must have still had something of the encounter in her body language, for the one who must have had some Makah in him smiled at her in sympathy: "Don't take it personally, Anne, he's like that with everyone."The other just shook his head: "Why do you keep trying?"
Setting the decanter on their table, she allowed herself to sag a little. "Everybody needs someone."
The Makah poured himself a fresh cup, added a couple of spoonfuls of whitener, and stirred the result to near smoothness before speaking again. "You're a real nice kid, you know that? But there's people with whom you just can't win."
2105 January 1, 2063 - The Last Drop
The woman pulled down the heavy metal shutter over the topside frontage and locked it. For this day at least, there was no point in staying open any longer topside -- and no point in opening up any sooner below, half that crowd wouldn't be in any condition yet even to hunt for a hair of the hellhound that had bitten them. Anne dragged the last of the outside tables into its inside storage place, and sagged. "Problem?" the woman asked.
For all their intensity the girl's words weren't loud, and they were almost lost against the sudden noise from the overhead trid and Johnny's curse: the holiday-delayed feed barely started, and already someone other than Belfast United had scored a goal in the quest for the Afrikaaner-Saedar Krupp Cup. "They scanned my prints, Hobbes! They both did!"
"So ka? Well, you knew Teresa would have to have checked it out sooner or later. I told you it would hold up. Grail does good work." Absently she stroked the small calico bit of rag that had jumped up on the counter beside her. "And of course the Johnson's really got no choice, his wife would never put up with anything that would jeopardise their lobbying for the upcoming Rite of Progression."
Behind them Johnny spared enough attention from the trid to roll his eyes. Anne looked up. "He's married?"
Hobbes shrugged. "The Tir likes to consider itself civilised about these things."
"Yes," and the other glanced up, away from the trid, "the pixies have many words for whore: "morkhan, serathilionyn, makkaherenit, irenis, puta, leäl ..."
Sharply: "Johnny." And then, to the girl, "He's interested. That means you've got a choice."
"If it's even gen," she bit off, then sat down suddenly as the other cat landed in her lap and demanded her attention.
"It's real --" said both orks together, and then broke off and looked at each other. "I assensed him," Johnny said at last, stubbing out the last remains of the old cigarette and lighting a new one. Then, at her glare, "It's not like he was paying any attention to me."
She held his gaze a moment longer, then turned back to Anne. "So, that's another option. Looks like it's real enough -- now, but you know what they say about elf lords and their whims. Still, you do have the out now. It's your choice, Sedna."
The elf girl stared at the floor, stroking the cat half-absently. "I think I've got to do this. You know, Hobbes -- what we talked about. And I've still got to pay you and Grail somehow."
"Oh téch, girl, lighten up, will you?" growled the other ork without taking his eyes from the screen. "You sound like a bad piece of trid. ... Ye bloody wankers!"
The woman nodded, the shadow of a tolerant smile in her eyes. "Then leave a message with Grail, see where's he's at with the pixel trail. I have a line on something that might work -- let you know."
Johnny closed his eyes with the expression of one long-suffering as the game mercifully slipped into commercial announcement. "She'll need a name, you know."
"You picked one for her yet?"
"Me? You're the brains, shweetheart."
Anne blinked. "I've got a name."
"Street name, he means." The cat butted its head against her hand, and she fondled its missing ear with a large, gentle hand. "Alleycat," she said suddenly. "That'll do." And then she laughed: "That'll do perfectly!"
The waitress looked blank: " 'Alleycat'?"
"Just trust me, it works. But for now go home, go sleep, it's been a long twenty-four hours. Still," Hobbes said, turning back to Anne with a toothy smile, "I think we'll just keep this Mr. Johnson out of that loop. Just in case, you scan?"
The woman pulled down the heavy metal shutter over the topside frontage and locked it. For this day at least, there was no point in staying open any longer topside -- and no point in opening up any sooner below, half that crowd wouldn't be in any condition yet even to hunt for a hair of the hellhound that had bitten them. Anne dragged the last of the outside tables into its inside storage place, and sagged. "Problem?" the woman asked.
For all their intensity the girl's words weren't loud, and they were almost lost against the sudden noise from the overhead trid and Johnny's curse: the holiday-delayed feed barely started, and already someone other than Belfast United had scored a goal in the quest for the Afrikaaner-Saedar Krupp Cup. "They scanned my prints, Hobbes! They both did!"
"So ka? Well, you knew Teresa would have to have checked it out sooner or later. I told you it would hold up. Grail does good work." Absently she stroked the small calico bit of rag that had jumped up on the counter beside her. "And of course the Johnson's really got no choice, his wife would never put up with anything that would jeopardise their lobbying for the upcoming Rite of Progression."
Behind them Johnny spared enough attention from the trid to roll his eyes. Anne looked up. "He's married?"
Hobbes shrugged. "The Tir likes to consider itself civilised about these things."
"Yes," and the other glanced up, away from the trid, "the pixies have many words for whore: "morkhan, serathilionyn, makkaherenit, irenis, puta, leäl ..."
Sharply: "Johnny." And then, to the girl, "He's interested. That means you've got a choice."
"If it's even gen," she bit off, then sat down suddenly as the other cat landed in her lap and demanded her attention.
"It's real --" said both orks together, and then broke off and looked at each other. "I assensed him," Johnny said at last, stubbing out the last remains of the old cigarette and lighting a new one. Then, at her glare, "It's not like he was paying any attention to me."
She held his gaze a moment longer, then turned back to Anne. "So, that's another option. Looks like it's real enough -- now, but you know what they say about elf lords and their whims. Still, you do have the out now. It's your choice, Sedna."
The elf girl stared at the floor, stroking the cat half-absently. "I think I've got to do this. You know, Hobbes -- what we talked about. And I've still got to pay you and Grail somehow."
"Oh téch, girl, lighten up, will you?" growled the other ork without taking his eyes from the screen. "You sound like a bad piece of trid. ... Ye bloody wankers!"
The woman nodded, the shadow of a tolerant smile in her eyes. "Then leave a message with Grail, see where's he's at with the pixel trail. I have a line on something that might work -- let you know."
Johnny closed his eyes with the expression of one long-suffering as the game mercifully slipped into commercial announcement. "She'll need a name, you know."
"You picked one for her yet?"
"Me? You're the brains, shweetheart."
Anne blinked. "I've got a name."
"Street name, he means." The cat butted its head against her hand, and she fondled its missing ear with a large, gentle hand. "Alleycat," she said suddenly. "That'll do." And then she laughed: "That'll do perfectly!"
The waitress looked blank: " 'Alleycat'?"
"Just trust me, it works. But for now go home, go sleep, it's been a long twenty-four hours. Still," Hobbes said, turning back to Anne with a toothy smile, "I think we'll just keep this Mr. Johnson out of that loop. Just in case, you scan?"
2240 January 1, 2063 - Anne's doss, very small, tucked away somewhere above something and behind something else, with a wonderful and extremely close-up view of the neighbouring fire escape. Not much, but it does have its own washroom, and she doesn't even have to share with that many multilegged organisms.
After a holiday-hours commute that had lasted far longer than it should have, Anne finally stepped into her apartment, letting the door shut behind her to close off the last remnants of street lighting. Without bothering to turn on the lights she turned the deadlock, skipping the chain, pulled off the coat and tossed it over the back of the chair to her left before wedging the chair under the knob of the door, took two steps to the right -- and fell over the low coffee table. The vase on it rocked and almost steadied. She caught herself on the edge of the table, and the vase fell over, rolled off the table, and shattered.
"Frag it," she whispered, picking herself up cautiously.
She closed her eyes, feeling the warm trickle across her palm where the glass had sliced. She curled her fingers against it, keeping the blood from falling. After a few moments she opened her eyes again, nodding to herself, and moved straight to the dust closet where she retrieved a dust pan and brush to begin sweeping up the shards. When she could run her other hand across the area without feeling any more stings of glass slivers, she took the pan full of broken glass to the garbage disposal and dumped it, then took dustpan and brush to the small washroom to scrub off the blood. Once clean, she set them aside in favour of the medkit's scalpel. Slowly, meticulously, she began to pick out the rest of the glass from her palm, kindling a fresh flow of blood into the sink.
Staring at it, she hesitated; touched it to her tongue. Then, softly, in the voice of one who calls but does not really expect to be heard, she began to speak the most basic invocation of a watcher spirit, the blood seeping from her sliced palm.
Nothing. Not even a whisper of mana. Not so much as a signature to erase. Her eyes fell --
Fell on the blood trickling slowly from her scratched and bleeding palm, on the veins throbbing gently in tune with her heartbeat, on the bright scalpel twisting and turning in her hand. She touched the flat of the blade to her brow, letting the soft, stinging beads of sweat roll onto it and across it.
With a sudden movement she drove the scalpel's blade deep into her hand. Twisted. Began to drag it down toward her wrist.
A white wash of pain cleared her mind. She pulled the scalpel out and wiped it off carefully in water as hot as the place seemed to manage, staring without surprise at the muscles and pale bone it had uncovered. She did feel a bit surprised that she had managed to completely miss the tendons. Not that the spell would care. This time, she let the stillness of the room seep into her, oddly difficult here, as though against resistance -- but at last she had it, that sudden clean shift in her mind as she felt the mana whisper through her.
She finished by washing the blood from her unscarred hands in the hot water. Returned the cleaned and sterilised scalpel to its place in the medkit. Closed the door of the medicine cabinet. Stared without seeing into the mirror. Her face blurred before her.
"Well," she said finally, "still alive."
And the soft resistance of the place picked up her words and turned them and drew them back around her: still alive?
After a holiday-hours commute that had lasted far longer than it should have, Anne finally stepped into her apartment, letting the door shut behind her to close off the last remnants of street lighting. Without bothering to turn on the lights she turned the deadlock, skipping the chain, pulled off the coat and tossed it over the back of the chair to her left before wedging the chair under the knob of the door, took two steps to the right -- and fell over the low coffee table. The vase on it rocked and almost steadied. She caught herself on the edge of the table, and the vase fell over, rolled off the table, and shattered.
"Frag it," she whispered, picking herself up cautiously.
She closed her eyes, feeling the warm trickle across her palm where the glass had sliced. She curled her fingers against it, keeping the blood from falling. After a few moments she opened her eyes again, nodding to herself, and moved straight to the dust closet where she retrieved a dust pan and brush to begin sweeping up the shards. When she could run her other hand across the area without feeling any more stings of glass slivers, she took the pan full of broken glass to the garbage disposal and dumped it, then took dustpan and brush to the small washroom to scrub off the blood. Once clean, she set them aside in favour of the medkit's scalpel. Slowly, meticulously, she began to pick out the rest of the glass from her palm, kindling a fresh flow of blood into the sink.
Staring at it, she hesitated; touched it to her tongue. Then, softly, in the voice of one who calls but does not really expect to be heard, she began to speak the most basic invocation of a watcher spirit, the blood seeping from her sliced palm.
Nothing. Not even a whisper of mana. Not so much as a signature to erase. Her eyes fell --
Fell on the blood trickling slowly from her scratched and bleeding palm, on the veins throbbing gently in tune with her heartbeat, on the bright scalpel twisting and turning in her hand. She touched the flat of the blade to her brow, letting the soft, stinging beads of sweat roll onto it and across it.
With a sudden movement she drove the scalpel's blade deep into her hand. Twisted. Began to drag it down toward her wrist.
A white wash of pain cleared her mind. She pulled the scalpel out and wiped it off carefully in water as hot as the place seemed to manage, staring without surprise at the muscles and pale bone it had uncovered. She did feel a bit surprised that she had managed to completely miss the tendons. Not that the spell would care. This time, she let the stillness of the room seep into her, oddly difficult here, as though against resistance -- but at last she had it, that sudden clean shift in her mind as she felt the mana whisper through her.
She finished by washing the blood from her unscarred hands in the hot water. Returned the cleaned and sterilised scalpel to its place in the medkit. Closed the door of the medicine cabinet. Stared without seeing into the mirror. Her face blurred before her.
"Well," she said finally, "still alive."
And the soft resistance of the place picked up her words and turned them and drew them back around her: still alive?
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