1210 Saturday, January 6, 2063 - On the road
(...From Salvation)
As he leaves he dials Max's number on his cell. "Hey, Max, It's Blaze."
"What can I do for you?"
"Last night I found the spot that Melissa had been hiding out in, but she was gone when I arrived. There was signs of a struggle and the place was pretty badly burned, looked like elemental work, and the Astral confirmed it. I need to find her, quickly. So I'd like you to keep your ear to the ground and find out who has out a job on her. I'll assume you still have the record of the info on her I gave you last time." Max would, he is the biggest Pack Rat Blaze knows, at least he is when it comes to information. "I also think it may have been either set up, or planned in the Paradigm Shift. As soon as you know something please let me know."
"Alright. You know the two of us really need to sit down and just chat sometime, not biz or anything else, just about life. Maybe find you some nice Chica."
"Funny you should mention that... We really should find some time to just talk. I'll give you a call when I get a chance to sleep and a break, it's been a long night."
"Alright, take care of yourself and give me a call when you find the time."
"I'll see you later Max." With that Blaze hangs up on his only real family. How long has it been since I've found time to just sit back, relax, spend time with Max or even with a chica? Maybe I'll get a chance after I find Melissa and finish this run.
Full Version: Living in the Shadows: IC
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10:06:53 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Redmond Free-People's Housing Co-op
Heading back downstairs, John meets Judi at the door again. "Any luck Judi?," he asks. The ork shakes her head sadly. "Looks like a clue, maybe several, that's for sure, but this poor old woman ain't smart enough to figure it out. I'll remember what you told me though, and keep my eyes peeled and my ears open. I hear anything, I'm coming to you first chum."
John smiles. He hadn't expected much, but it was nice to know she still cared enough to try to help.
"Thanks, I'll see you around," he answers as he exits the co-op and into the gently falling snow. He had nothing more than a name, and maybe a place to find his niece. But he was going to find her. That much was for certain. He wouldn't, couldn't, let his family down again.
Heading back downstairs, John meets Judi at the door again. "Any luck Judi?," he asks. The ork shakes her head sadly. "Looks like a clue, maybe several, that's for sure, but this poor old woman ain't smart enough to figure it out. I'll remember what you told me though, and keep my eyes peeled and my ears open. I hear anything, I'm coming to you first chum."
John smiles. He hadn't expected much, but it was nice to know she still cared enough to try to help.
"Thanks, I'll see you around," he answers as he exits the co-op and into the gently falling snow. He had nothing more than a name, and maybe a place to find his niece. But he was going to find her. That much was for certain. He wouldn't, couldn't, let his family down again.
17:03:43 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Redmond Center Mall, 6th Floor Food Court, Canfield's Cyber-Cafe
"Hey, chummer. I messed up this order, figured I'd see if you wanted it before I dumped it. Double mocha soy-latte. Interested?"
Scrapheap glanced up from the monitor he'd been staring at for the last 45 minutes. Standing next to his table was a beautiful elven girl, synth-leather-clad hip cocked, paper coffee cup thrust in his direction. He'd seen her when he came in of course, she was hard to miss, but that was from afar. Up close was another matter altogether. Long auburn hair framed a beautiful face, her pointed ears just peaking through on the sides. Shockingly green eyes stared out at him, full lips quirked in a half-smile. Simply put: she was stunning. He realized he'd been staring when she said, "Well? What do you say?"
Quickly checking her name-tag, he smiled back. "Sure thing, Kaitlyn. That'll really hit the spot. Let me know if I can do anything to repay you..."
She sat the cup down next to the keyboard, picking up the empty one already there. "Nul persp, mister. Just remember to tip." With a jangle of bracelets she turned and walked away to check on another customer. He watched her go, hair spilling down her back in lustrous waves almost to to point where her tight, sleeveless top and lowrider synth-leather pants left her lower-back bare.
Mister!?! Ouch. Probably thinks you're some dirty old perv, chummer. S'ok, though. You've got more important things to do. She's hot though. Real wiz. With a final appreciative glance, he turned back to the monitor.
He was waiting for the results of a very rudimentary search that he'd thrown together. His skillset didn't include much in the way of computers or programming, but his friend Finn had shown him a couple of tricks. He'd been trying to put those tricks to use here at this pay terminal, but the connection was so slow. He'd already tried a few different searches with no results so far. He did this knowing that the chances of finding anything useful on the public part of the matrix, especially with this turtle of a public terminal, were slim-to-none. Better than just setting here waiting for the phone to ring.
Turning out into the main area of the mall, he noticed a couple of mall-cops leaning against a column. As he walked past them towards the down escalator, he casually checked the reflection in a shop window. He wasn't surprised to see them push-off the column and follow. Security in the Redmond Center Mall was always tight, and he had to admit that he looked out of place. They wouldn't actually throw him out (he might have nuyen to spend!) but they would keep close watch.
Let them look, I'm leaving anyway. Question is, where to now, chummer? Etta will be calling in a couple of hours, and I still don't have anything to tell her. Should I check at Redmond General? It's not too far away. No, I'll wait for Finn's call. Maybe I should drop by the Eater's compound? Slim Jim will be around by now.
John continued his internal debate all the way to the exit. Pausing before the automated revolving doors, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Glancing up, he saw that the mall-cops were standing with arms crossed a few meters away, and they had found some friends. With a smile and a wave he said, "Nice mall you got here, chummers. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow too!" Stepping into the next opening, he allowed the revolving door to lead him outside into the snow and cold.
He dodged late-afternoon traffic as he crossed the street, narrowly avoiding becoming street-pizza. The driver laid into his horn. Hey, that guy thinks I'm number one! Ok, I'll visit Slim and the Brain Eaters first, then grab a bus to Puyallup. If Finn hasn't called by then, I'll just drop by Loveland Quinn's and see what's holding him up.
As if on cue, his cell phone started to ring...
"Hey, chummer. I messed up this order, figured I'd see if you wanted it before I dumped it. Double mocha soy-latte. Interested?"
Scrapheap glanced up from the monitor he'd been staring at for the last 45 minutes. Standing next to his table was a beautiful elven girl, synth-leather-clad hip cocked, paper coffee cup thrust in his direction. He'd seen her when he came in of course, she was hard to miss, but that was from afar. Up close was another matter altogether. Long auburn hair framed a beautiful face, her pointed ears just peaking through on the sides. Shockingly green eyes stared out at him, full lips quirked in a half-smile. Simply put: she was stunning. He realized he'd been staring when she said, "Well? What do you say?"
Quickly checking her name-tag, he smiled back. "Sure thing, Kaitlyn. That'll really hit the spot. Let me know if I can do anything to repay you..."
She sat the cup down next to the keyboard, picking up the empty one already there. "Nul persp, mister. Just remember to tip." With a jangle of bracelets she turned and walked away to check on another customer. He watched her go, hair spilling down her back in lustrous waves almost to to point where her tight, sleeveless top and lowrider synth-leather pants left her lower-back bare.
Mister!?! Ouch. Probably thinks you're some dirty old perv, chummer. S'ok, though. You've got more important things to do. She's hot though. Real wiz. With a final appreciative glance, he turned back to the monitor.
He was waiting for the results of a very rudimentary search that he'd thrown together. His skillset didn't include much in the way of computers or programming, but his friend Finn had shown him a couple of tricks. He'd been trying to put those tricks to use here at this pay terminal, but the connection was so slow. He'd already tried a few different searches with no results so far. He did this knowing that the chances of finding anything useful on the public part of the matrix, especially with this turtle of a public terminal, were slim-to-none. Better than just setting here waiting for the phone to ring.
- Scrapheap had spent the day walking all over Redmond looking for his niece, showing her picture to anyone who'd look. At first he had followed the same general path that Nora and her friends had taken the day that, many months previous, he had tailed them as they went on their daily "rounds." South and East from where the Co-op was located on the edge of Touristville, down side-streets and alleys, through abandoned buildings and across empty lots. The route led to some real drek-holes, including the Squatter's Mall and the old Taetzel Building, as well as your average, run-of-the-mill chip-houses. He knew that Nora was no angel, but he had a very hard time imagining her in some of those places, with some of those people. What has she gotten herself into?
Once, in the Squatter's Mall, he'd thought he was on to something. He was showing Nora's pic to a group of chipheads sitting around an empty fountain, when one of the raggedy fraggers had suddenly bolted. He'd given chase, the scene like something off of the trid, with the kid plowing into bystanders and running through shops. He even went so far as to pull merchandise down as he went to slow down the pursuit.
Despite the kid's best efforts, Scrapheap eventually caught him and, after a brief scuffle, he revealed that he hadn't seen Nora for a few weeks. He had claimed that he only ran because he assumed that John was Lonestar (Ha!), and he was dealing BTLs himself. Other than that, he didn't know anything useful. John tended to believe him too, as it was pretty hard to lie with the tip of a cyber-spur jammed into your ear.
John's path had eventually curved back around and headed North and then Northwest; a big loop. On the way he also hit every clinic and body-shop that he knew of, including Bob's Quick-Stitch, just to make sure Nora wasn't stuck as a "Jane Doe" patient somewhere. He skipped Hollywood Hospital though, as he gave that neighborhood a wide berth whenever possible. It was always smarter to avoid trouble.
Around 13:30 Finn had finally called: "Hoi, Johnny Standard! When'd you get back, chummer? How'd it go?"
"Last night/early this morning. The run went smooth; real clean. Listen, Finn. Nora's gone. She hasn't been home since New Year's Eve. Etta's really scared this time, and I have to say that for once I agree with her. It doesn't look good"
"Frag, John. What can I do?"
"She left a note, but it's pretty obvious that she couldn't say much at the time. It does contain a couple of things. Listen; I'll read it to you."
After listening intently while the note was read, Finn said "Ok, I got a few things. You want me to dig around on the Underworld and this Twiggy character, anything else?"
"Well, September Third is spelled-out, almost like a name instead of a date, so add that to the list. Underworld could mean Underworld 93. Know it? Get anything you can on that place too. Finally, check the hospitals and see if anyone matching her description has been admitted within the last week or so."
"Will do. I'll call you when I have something."
"Thanks, Finn. As if I didn't already owe you enough."
Turning out into the main area of the mall, he noticed a couple of mall-cops leaning against a column. As he walked past them towards the down escalator, he casually checked the reflection in a shop window. He wasn't surprised to see them push-off the column and follow. Security in the Redmond Center Mall was always tight, and he had to admit that he looked out of place. They wouldn't actually throw him out (he might have nuyen to spend!) but they would keep close watch.
Let them look, I'm leaving anyway. Question is, where to now, chummer? Etta will be calling in a couple of hours, and I still don't have anything to tell her. Should I check at Redmond General? It's not too far away. No, I'll wait for Finn's call. Maybe I should drop by the Eater's compound? Slim Jim will be around by now.
John continued his internal debate all the way to the exit. Pausing before the automated revolving doors, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Glancing up, he saw that the mall-cops were standing with arms crossed a few meters away, and they had found some friends. With a smile and a wave he said, "Nice mall you got here, chummers. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow too!" Stepping into the next opening, he allowed the revolving door to lead him outside into the snow and cold.
He dodged late-afternoon traffic as he crossed the street, narrowly avoiding becoming street-pizza. The driver laid into his horn. Hey, that guy thinks I'm number one! Ok, I'll visit Slim and the Brain Eaters first, then grab a bus to Puyallup. If Finn hasn't called by then, I'll just drop by Loveland Quinn's and see what's holding him up.
As if on cue, his cell phone started to ring...
23:04:10 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
"Weisenberg," said the bored sounding voice over the phone.
"They're shooting at me!" hissed Todd. Oddly enough, in his mad scramble beneath the bed, he'd found the extra bridge and wheel set for his skateboard he'd been looking for.
"Take it easy kid, your's wasn't the only PanicButton that went off, I've got the report in front of me now. There's an HTR Team on the way, just keep your head down and you'll do fine."
Even as Barry reassured him, Todd could hear the wail of sirens growing steadily louder. Now that he listened, he also heard a slow, rhythmic tapping against his door. It was very faint, as if someone could barely muster the strength to knock.
"Weisenberg," said the bored sounding voice over the phone.
"They're shooting at me!" hissed Todd. Oddly enough, in his mad scramble beneath the bed, he'd found the extra bridge and wheel set for his skateboard he'd been looking for.
"Take it easy kid, your's wasn't the only PanicButton that went off, I've got the report in front of me now. There's an HTR Team on the way, just keep your head down and you'll do fine."
Even as Barry reassured him, Todd could hear the wail of sirens growing steadily louder. Now that he listened, he also heard a slow, rhythmic tapping against his door. It was very faint, as if someone could barely muster the strength to knock.
23:04:15 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
Whispering, Todd replies, "Someone is knocking on my door... I think whoever it is is hurt."
Slowly, Todd makes his way out from under the bed and over towards his door to look through the peephole.
Whispering, Todd replies, "Someone is knocking on my door... I think whoever it is is hurt."
Slowly, Todd makes his way out from under the bed and over towards his door to look through the peephole.
19:54:02 Friday 05 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS
"Now why would you assume that?" asked Tanisa, a playful smile dancing across her lips. "Couldn't Mioko have friends outside of work? Like you?"
"Stop it, Tanisa." Mioko turned to shoot her friend a look over her shoulder. Tanisa smiled, angelic innocence written all over her face. After a moment she sighed.
"I'm a freelance troubleshooter. I handle miscellaneous tasks that loosely fall under the heading of corporate security."
"Now why would you assume that?" asked Tanisa, a playful smile dancing across her lips. "Couldn't Mioko have friends outside of work? Like you?"
"Stop it, Tanisa." Mioko turned to shoot her friend a look over her shoulder. Tanisa smiled, angelic innocence written all over her face. After a moment she sighed.
"I'm a freelance troubleshooter. I handle miscellaneous tasks that loosely fall under the heading of corporate security."
23:04:25 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
"Well whatever you do, don't open the door." Barry's voice is emphatic on the phone. Todd peers through the peephole, set at half the usual height so he can reach it without standing on a stepstool. Whoever was outside was blocking the viewport, though. Glancing down, Todd stares in horrified surprise. Blood is seeping through the crack beneath the door into his apartment.
"Well whatever you do, don't open the door." Barry's voice is emphatic on the phone. Todd peers through the peephole, set at half the usual height so he can reach it without standing on a stepstool. Whoever was outside was blocking the viewport, though. Glancing down, Todd stares in horrified surprise. Blood is seeping through the crack beneath the door into his apartment.
23:04:45 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
"Uhh... oh man... so much blood. Do your people know where to come? Oh man!"
Todd slowly backs away from the door, staring at the blood with eyes wide in terror. Images from the Arcology threaten to flood his brain, but he can't even focus his thoughts enough to pay attention to them. A tear starts to make its way down his cheek and a slightly, held back sob escapes his lips.
"Uhh... oh man... so much blood. Do your people know where to come? Oh man!"
Todd slowly backs away from the door, staring at the blood with eyes wide in terror. Images from the Arcology threaten to flood his brain, but he can't even focus his thoughts enough to pay attention to them. A tear starts to make its way down his cheek and a slightly, held back sob escapes his lips.
23:05:03 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
A harsh chuckle sounds over the phone.
"Trust me, kid, they know. They're professionals."
The hall suddenly fills with armored shock troops, harsh white light from their weapon lights stabbing through the dimness. Radio traffic crackles over helmet tactical comms as support units cordon off the area. Lost in the nightmare realm of unholy blue eyes and mechanical demons, Todd barely hears the pounding on his door.
"Lone Star! Open the door, citizen!"
A harsh chuckle sounds over the phone.
"Trust me, kid, they know. They're professionals."
The hall suddenly fills with armored shock troops, harsh white light from their weapon lights stabbing through the dimness. Radio traffic crackles over helmet tactical comms as support units cordon off the area. Lost in the nightmare realm of unholy blue eyes and mechanical demons, Todd barely hears the pounding on his door.
"Lone Star! Open the door, citizen!"
17:08:43 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Redmond Center Mall, 6th Floor Food Court, Canfield's Cyber-Cafe
Answering he says, "Hey." The voice on the other end is familiar, and brings him at least some relief. "Hey Cole, it's me, Finn."
Slightly exasperated, "It's John these days Finn, come on, you know that."
"I know man, but sometimes I think you let this repentance stuff go a little far. You are who ya are, you know? Changing your name ain't gonna change that."
Finn means well, but sometimes his sense of timing...well it isn't so good. Knowing this could turn into a full-fledged conversation he did not have the time for, John cut off his friend and said, "OK Finn, we can have this discussion another time, maybe when I'm not searching for my missing niece."
Clearing his throat a bit sheepishly, Finn replies, "Right, right, my bad sense of timing. Yeah anyway, I got something for you. That name, Twiggy, kid is known to hang out at an arcade called Virtual Daze. It's located down in near Touristville in Redmond, so it shouldn't be too far from where you're at."
Pausing, Finn muttered to himself for a few moments, going through some notes, John guessed. "Yeah anyway, let's see. Short, skinny kid. Guess that's why them call him Twiggy. Got medium length, spiky hair, and oh yeah, he's an elf. Figure he stands around 5 and a half feet or so, thin lanky build. That's about all I could dig up on short notice was a description, but you shouldn't have any trouble spotting him. If he's not there, he frequents the joint a lot, so you should at least have a good place to start. Hope that's a start for ya, I'll keep looking, but you didn't give me much to turn up."
"Thanks chum. I appreciate it, I'll be in touch." About to hang up, John stops suddenly and asks, "Hey, what about that Underground 93 place or whatever, anything on that?
"Oh yeah! Almost forgot that one." The sound of a palm smacking flesh echoes over the phone. "It's at 4819 96th Avenue East down in Puyallup. It's one of the hottest clubs in the sprawl. I can't believe you haven't heard of it!"
Maybe if I hadn't spent the last several years in a self-pitying, drunken haze, I would have, and maybe gotten there sooner... John thought, but he kept that to himself. "Anything else you can tell me?" he opted for instead.
"Nothing you'd want to know. Hottest of the hot, only top tier acts, better be dressed to impressed, that kinda stuff. Honestly, I don't know what kind of connections Nora would have with a place like that, no offense, but you know?"
Yeah, she spent all her time zoned out and chipping to the max, but at least Finn's nice enough not to mention that part.
Aloud, John answered, "No, but I'm going to find out." He was about to break the connection when Finn cut in, "Hey omae, if she somehow is mixed up from someone from there, this could get way ugly quick, you know? Watch yourself."
"I will Finn. Thanks." And then John cut the connection, leaving him alone in the street with a rapidly increasing snowfall.
Answering he says, "Hey." The voice on the other end is familiar, and brings him at least some relief. "Hey Cole, it's me, Finn."
Slightly exasperated, "It's John these days Finn, come on, you know that."
"I know man, but sometimes I think you let this repentance stuff go a little far. You are who ya are, you know? Changing your name ain't gonna change that."
Finn means well, but sometimes his sense of timing...well it isn't so good. Knowing this could turn into a full-fledged conversation he did not have the time for, John cut off his friend and said, "OK Finn, we can have this discussion another time, maybe when I'm not searching for my missing niece."
Clearing his throat a bit sheepishly, Finn replies, "Right, right, my bad sense of timing. Yeah anyway, I got something for you. That name, Twiggy, kid is known to hang out at an arcade called Virtual Daze. It's located down in near Touristville in Redmond, so it shouldn't be too far from where you're at."
Pausing, Finn muttered to himself for a few moments, going through some notes, John guessed. "Yeah anyway, let's see. Short, skinny kid. Guess that's why them call him Twiggy. Got medium length, spiky hair, and oh yeah, he's an elf. Figure he stands around 5 and a half feet or so, thin lanky build. That's about all I could dig up on short notice was a description, but you shouldn't have any trouble spotting him. If he's not there, he frequents the joint a lot, so you should at least have a good place to start. Hope that's a start for ya, I'll keep looking, but you didn't give me much to turn up."
"Thanks chum. I appreciate it, I'll be in touch." About to hang up, John stops suddenly and asks, "Hey, what about that Underground 93 place or whatever, anything on that?
"Oh yeah! Almost forgot that one." The sound of a palm smacking flesh echoes over the phone. "It's at 4819 96th Avenue East down in Puyallup. It's one of the hottest clubs in the sprawl. I can't believe you haven't heard of it!"
Maybe if I hadn't spent the last several years in a self-pitying, drunken haze, I would have, and maybe gotten there sooner... John thought, but he kept that to himself. "Anything else you can tell me?" he opted for instead.
"Nothing you'd want to know. Hottest of the hot, only top tier acts, better be dressed to impressed, that kinda stuff. Honestly, I don't know what kind of connections Nora would have with a place like that, no offense, but you know?"
Yeah, she spent all her time zoned out and chipping to the max, but at least Finn's nice enough not to mention that part.
Aloud, John answered, "No, but I'm going to find out." He was about to break the connection when Finn cut in, "Hey omae, if she somehow is mixed up from someone from there, this could get way ugly quick, you know? Watch yourself."
"I will Finn. Thanks." And then John cut the connection, leaving him alone in the street with a rapidly increasing snowfall.
23:05:13 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
It takes a second for Todd to shake off the nightmares screaming in his head. He can hear Barry saying something on the phone
"Huh?" Todd says after a moment of confusion.
"Open the door Todd, its ok, I already let me people know you're waiting for them." He sounded distressed. Barry had always looked out for him. Helped him get setup with this place, paid off security to keep a special eye on the boy, and didn't even ask Todd any questions about where his money had come from. Barry was like the dad he'd never had.
"Oh. Ok."
He opened the door.
It takes a second for Todd to shake off the nightmares screaming in his head. He can hear Barry saying something on the phone
"Huh?" Todd says after a moment of confusion.
"Open the door Todd, its ok, I already let me people know you're waiting for them." He sounded distressed. Barry had always looked out for him. Helped him get setup with this place, paid off security to keep a special eye on the boy, and didn't even ask Todd any questions about where his money had come from. Barry was like the dad he'd never had.
"Oh. Ok."
He opened the door.
1456 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic
... Ring ..."
Hello, this is Inleat
"Hello, Inleat. It's Virgil. Remember that drink at the --"
-- Firefire," continued the squeaky recorded voice, "researcher at the Dunkelzahn Institute of Magical Research. I'm not available to take your call right now --"
Virgil sighed, waiting for the recording to play itself out, the mage's voice grating against the background headache. He wished Juliette were here. Someone had said something -- who? -- about her being off-shift, or just coming on shift maybe? He shook his head, half at the phone spieling out Inleat's long list of caller options, more than half at himself. He'd never tried breaking through persona conditioning before. Knowing what he knew now, he wasn't sure if he'd ever dare it again. If the building's healing aura had decided that he was doing more harm than good, if that unexpected surge of power hadn't flowed into him at exactly the moment when the woman had almost succeeded in thrusting him out entirely --
"If's" were no use to a warrior, not unless there was something to be learned for the future.
"-- leave a message."
Finally. "Inleat," he said quickly, "this is Virgil. I --"
And for the second time found himself cut off as the phone on the other end was abruptly picked up: "Virgil! I just was trying to call you, but first I couldn't get through, and then your line was busy. And this connection is terrible -- where are you calling from? I know we had a date, my friend, but that investment opportunity will just have to wait. Can I get back to you to arrange a better time?"
Even though it was exactly what he'd been intending to do himself, the shaman hesitated. Inleat's planned calendar events, especially those involving an upscale meal, were very nearly sancrosanct. "Your other engagement and my investment opportunity," he said carefully, "they wouldn't happen to be related, would they?"
A short silence at the other end of the line told him that Inleat was at least thinking about the idea. The last time that the Draco Foundation mage had arranged a bounty payout for him had involved a blood mage. The familiar watcher-elemental tactics at the burnt-out gaming house. Some kind of ebola which caused its victims to haemorrhage from their eyes, ears, mouth. And a young girl who spoke Latin and wept bloody tears.
I suppose it could be coincidence, but I don't trust coincidences. And I really don't like where this is heading.
"There is a girl," Inleat said at last, "who was a thirty-minute wonder in religious circles. Along with her guardian, she seems to have gone missing. Does this coincide with your proposed investment?"
Virgil glanced over at where Father Bremen was sitting with the woman. The troll looked up curiously, then returned his attention to Cindy. "Quite well, in fact," answered the shaman at last. "Although I've got to admit that I'm curious."
"I'm sorry, what?" asked Inleat. "You're breaking up."
"I'm curious," repeated Virgil more loudly, causing both of them to look up this time. No problems with the phone on this end. "She just doesn't seem important enough for the Draco Foundation to take such an interest in her." And why are you telling me?
"Well," and Inleat sounded almost embarrassed, "it's not so much the Draco Foundation as the ASPS."
The Astral Space Preservation Society? Looking for Julia? Why? But Virgil already knew the mage had told him as much as he was going to, without a deeper commitment. Hearing again the slight embarrassment, a smile threatened to break out. Inleat isn't thrilled about whatever's going on there in the background. It'd be interesting to see the kinds of interdepartmental territorial spats that could arise in something on the scale of what a dragon could set up. He reconsidered. Once. Reconsidered again. Maybe.
"And since you're mentioning it to me, I take it this investment is well worth our further discussion."
A sharp bang at the other end of the line startled him, until he remembered Inleat's simple solution to all problems mechanical. "Ah, that's better. Please, repeat?"
Virgil did so, shaking his head. Inleat knew his organisation, had a grasp for the most detailed thaumaturgical operations that the shaman could only admire; but, as if in balance, the simplest of technology seemed to go out of its way to complicate his life. And that of others around him: one reason why it was usually Virgil alone who made any arrangements necessary. After the last incident with the Savalette, Dragon had mentioned he was seriously considering never stepping into the same room with the man again.
"I would be most pleased if you would consider taking it on, my friend." And Inleat sounded pleased, which wasn't easy with that voice. "After all, you are uniquely qualified."
Drek. They do suspect a blood mage. "Do you have details?"
Something must have showed in his voice, for Inleat hurried to say, "You understand, my friend, that it probably won't have anywhere near the same ... bottom line ... as the last business venture we discussed. Most likely it will end up as a small grant from the foveae research division." Virgil's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. "We will discuss this further over supper," concluded the mage. "Shall we reschedule, say, to 1800, same place? And may I tell the interested parties that I have a reliable team on retainer?"
The shaman nods, and adds verbally, "Yes, consider us tentatively invested."
"Us? Oh, you must mean the one who shared the proceeds of your previous ... investment."
Dragon came around the corner at that moment; and the shaman waved him to silence before he could say anything. "Tonight, 1800, same place then?"
"See you there, my friend. If you have been fortunate and have some early results, it may be that I might come appropriately prepared? This would be good for both of us. Some powerful parties have been expressing interest in this, and at least one of them has not approached us first." But before Virgil could ask anything further, the line cut off.
"Our associate?" asked Dragon, with a glance at the other two.
"None other," said Virgil. "We rescheduled, and came to a tentative agreement. Some interesting stuff, going on here. We'll talk about it later."
Sybersnake, coming in then, decided not to compete for space in the already crowded room and wait instead in the hall. "Virgil, you ready to take us in back? Who's coming along?"
Her gaze swept along the small group, picked up the small nods from most of them, the very sharp one from Tiffany, and the definite shake of the head from the woman. At that Father Bremen hesitated: "But I'd better, though. It's me she got in touch with first. But" -- he stared down at his large shoes -- "I really don't get all this 'hitching' stuff. It's just not my element. And --"
"You'll do fine," said Sybersnake quickly, probably not even aware that she'd turned her distinctive sensuality on a priest. "Come on, time's wasting, and I want to get clear of this place sometime today."
As he's leading them upstairs to the small back office which was all this place had of an administrative centre, Virgil remembered that the Latina, along with Dragon, had already seen the reporter's recording. Well, after we finish this meet, we bury ourselves somewhere for a while and just swap information. They said they were going to ask Galina if she had a deck and could we borrow it, and I'm guessing the answer's yes, to both. I wonder if she'd mind if we took a quick swing by Shadowland?
And then the small procession, plus strong-smelling troll, arrived at the office, and Sybersnake tentatively opened the door. "Hi, I'm Sybersnake. Galina said I could ..."
She trailed off. So very withdrawn the small Caucasian man had been, even Dragon, for a moment, had thought the office empty. He could have been a messenger, or a pizza boy, or a store clerk: and he'd have been just as unnoticeable in any of those professions. "Uhm, hi," began Sybersnake again. "I'm here to ... uh ..."
He didn't interrupt her, as she'd obviously been half-expecting. He hadn't even jacked out of whatever he was linked into. After it was clear she wasn't going to say anything else, he stood up politely, bowed to them deeply (and correctly), and beckoned them over. Eyes of no particular colour noted those who had jacks and those who didn't quickly and efficiently, while his hands had already snapping together leads and "tortoises" to something still unseen beneath the arc of the table -- "Please, pull up chairs for yourselves, find something comfortable; sir" -- to Father Bremen -- "maybe you had better use Galina's chair." Trailing cables from the half-open deep drawer, he pulled out the main unit to connect them in -- drawing Sybersnake's analytic gaze at once -- placing it beside the ugly flowering plant on what passed for a desk. Two blinks: that meant that what she saw was either exceptional or -- exceptional in the other way. Or maybe, that she couldn't make heads or tails of it. Remembering that this electronic equipment had somehow appeared in the middle of a Puyallup street-level clinic, remembering some of the stories he'd heard about Matrix runs gone very, very wrong: Virgil found himself fervently -- yes, praying for the former.
At least the man seemed to handle his equipment like he knew what he was doing. Sybersnake was staring at him, fascinated: "I've never seen anyone cross-connect their primary leads like that before!"
Okay, so that wasn't what Virgil really wanted to hear, at that moment; or, particularly, the dull drone which sounded like it might have been some kind of explanation -- in Japanese, for all the good it was doing any of the rest of them. "Uh, Sybersnake?"
"In a minute," she said absently, her full attention on the man and the contraption in front of her. "Is that a double jackpoint?"
The man half-bowed, smiling, in the way that suggested embarrassment at a warranted compliment. "Please," he indicated the chair he had been sitting in for her, with another half-bow. "Galina mentioned you needed to be at the Carousel for 1500, and we have not much time. Is this everyone?"
"This is," said Tiffany, her voice trailing off uneasily. "And you are?"
He bowed again. "Bob," he said simply. "I have seen your reports, including the most recent one."
"That's not mine!" retorted the reporter sharply ... and again found the rest of what she might have intended to say trailing off against Bob's quiet, "I know."
"Who are you?" asked Tiffany finally, in a much softer voice.
He looked at her quizzically. "Bob," he said again, colourlessly, and walked around the desk to check each of the connnections. "Have any of you not used these before?"
Father Bremen held up a tentative hand. The man moved like a wraith to his side -- not that he was silent or stealthy, just ... colourless -- and helped him fit the tortoise around the horns, explaining what was about to happen in a low voice that only Dragon could really make out. Virgil swallowed uncomfortably.
Finally, finishing, the man settled into the fifth chair, across from the flower on the desk. Dragon noted silently that he'd given Sybersnake the "decker's" chair. Father Bremen had unconsciously started fingering his rosary, a gesture echoed, curiously, by Virgil. "Hey," said Tiffany suddenly, "that plant. Is that an orchid?"
Her words were caught by the Matrix world which rose up before them.
Sucked in.
Vanished.
... Ring ..."
Hello, this is Inleat
"Hello, Inleat. It's Virgil. Remember that drink at the --"
-- Firefire," continued the squeaky recorded voice, "researcher at the Dunkelzahn Institute of Magical Research. I'm not available to take your call right now --"
Virgil sighed, waiting for the recording to play itself out, the mage's voice grating against the background headache. He wished Juliette were here. Someone had said something -- who? -- about her being off-shift, or just coming on shift maybe? He shook his head, half at the phone spieling out Inleat's long list of caller options, more than half at himself. He'd never tried breaking through persona conditioning before. Knowing what he knew now, he wasn't sure if he'd ever dare it again. If the building's healing aura had decided that he was doing more harm than good, if that unexpected surge of power hadn't flowed into him at exactly the moment when the woman had almost succeeded in thrusting him out entirely --
"If's" were no use to a warrior, not unless there was something to be learned for the future.
"-- leave a message."
Finally. "Inleat," he said quickly, "this is Virgil. I --"
And for the second time found himself cut off as the phone on the other end was abruptly picked up: "Virgil! I just was trying to call you, but first I couldn't get through, and then your line was busy. And this connection is terrible -- where are you calling from? I know we had a date, my friend, but that investment opportunity will just have to wait. Can I get back to you to arrange a better time?"
Even though it was exactly what he'd been intending to do himself, the shaman hesitated. Inleat's planned calendar events, especially those involving an upscale meal, were very nearly sancrosanct. "Your other engagement and my investment opportunity," he said carefully, "they wouldn't happen to be related, would they?"
A short silence at the other end of the line told him that Inleat was at least thinking about the idea. The last time that the Draco Foundation mage had arranged a bounty payout for him had involved a blood mage. The familiar watcher-elemental tactics at the burnt-out gaming house. Some kind of ebola which caused its victims to haemorrhage from their eyes, ears, mouth. And a young girl who spoke Latin and wept bloody tears.
I suppose it could be coincidence, but I don't trust coincidences. And I really don't like where this is heading.
"There is a girl," Inleat said at last, "who was a thirty-minute wonder in religious circles. Along with her guardian, she seems to have gone missing. Does this coincide with your proposed investment?"
Virgil glanced over at where Father Bremen was sitting with the woman. The troll looked up curiously, then returned his attention to Cindy. "Quite well, in fact," answered the shaman at last. "Although I've got to admit that I'm curious."
"I'm sorry, what?" asked Inleat. "You're breaking up."
"I'm curious," repeated Virgil more loudly, causing both of them to look up this time. No problems with the phone on this end. "She just doesn't seem important enough for the Draco Foundation to take such an interest in her." And why are you telling me?
"Well," and Inleat sounded almost embarrassed, "it's not so much the Draco Foundation as the ASPS."
The Astral Space Preservation Society? Looking for Julia? Why? But Virgil already knew the mage had told him as much as he was going to, without a deeper commitment. Hearing again the slight embarrassment, a smile threatened to break out. Inleat isn't thrilled about whatever's going on there in the background. It'd be interesting to see the kinds of interdepartmental territorial spats that could arise in something on the scale of what a dragon could set up. He reconsidered. Once. Reconsidered again. Maybe.
"And since you're mentioning it to me, I take it this investment is well worth our further discussion."
A sharp bang at the other end of the line startled him, until he remembered Inleat's simple solution to all problems mechanical. "Ah, that's better. Please, repeat?"
Virgil did so, shaking his head. Inleat knew his organisation, had a grasp for the most detailed thaumaturgical operations that the shaman could only admire; but, as if in balance, the simplest of technology seemed to go out of its way to complicate his life. And that of others around him: one reason why it was usually Virgil alone who made any arrangements necessary. After the last incident with the Savalette, Dragon had mentioned he was seriously considering never stepping into the same room with the man again.
"I would be most pleased if you would consider taking it on, my friend." And Inleat sounded pleased, which wasn't easy with that voice. "After all, you are uniquely qualified."
Drek. They do suspect a blood mage. "Do you have details?"
Something must have showed in his voice, for Inleat hurried to say, "You understand, my friend, that it probably won't have anywhere near the same ... bottom line ... as the last business venture we discussed. Most likely it will end up as a small grant from the foveae research division." Virgil's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. "We will discuss this further over supper," concluded the mage. "Shall we reschedule, say, to 1800, same place? And may I tell the interested parties that I have a reliable team on retainer?"
The shaman nods, and adds verbally, "Yes, consider us tentatively invested."
"Us? Oh, you must mean the one who shared the proceeds of your previous ... investment."
Dragon came around the corner at that moment; and the shaman waved him to silence before he could say anything. "Tonight, 1800, same place then?"
"See you there, my friend. If you have been fortunate and have some early results, it may be that I might come appropriately prepared? This would be good for both of us. Some powerful parties have been expressing interest in this, and at least one of them has not approached us first." But before Virgil could ask anything further, the line cut off.
"Our associate?" asked Dragon, with a glance at the other two.
"None other," said Virgil. "We rescheduled, and came to a tentative agreement. Some interesting stuff, going on here. We'll talk about it later."
Sybersnake, coming in then, decided not to compete for space in the already crowded room and wait instead in the hall. "Virgil, you ready to take us in back? Who's coming along?"
Her gaze swept along the small group, picked up the small nods from most of them, the very sharp one from Tiffany, and the definite shake of the head from the woman. At that Father Bremen hesitated: "But I'd better, though. It's me she got in touch with first. But" -- he stared down at his large shoes -- "I really don't get all this 'hitching' stuff. It's just not my element. And --"
"You'll do fine," said Sybersnake quickly, probably not even aware that she'd turned her distinctive sensuality on a priest. "Come on, time's wasting, and I want to get clear of this place sometime today."
As he's leading them upstairs to the small back office which was all this place had of an administrative centre, Virgil remembered that the Latina, along with Dragon, had already seen the reporter's recording. Well, after we finish this meet, we bury ourselves somewhere for a while and just swap information. They said they were going to ask Galina if she had a deck and could we borrow it, and I'm guessing the answer's yes, to both. I wonder if she'd mind if we took a quick swing by Shadowland?
And then the small procession, plus strong-smelling troll, arrived at the office, and Sybersnake tentatively opened the door. "Hi, I'm Sybersnake. Galina said I could ..."
She trailed off. So very withdrawn the small Caucasian man had been, even Dragon, for a moment, had thought the office empty. He could have been a messenger, or a pizza boy, or a store clerk: and he'd have been just as unnoticeable in any of those professions. "Uhm, hi," began Sybersnake again. "I'm here to ... uh ..."
He didn't interrupt her, as she'd obviously been half-expecting. He hadn't even jacked out of whatever he was linked into. After it was clear she wasn't going to say anything else, he stood up politely, bowed to them deeply (and correctly), and beckoned them over. Eyes of no particular colour noted those who had jacks and those who didn't quickly and efficiently, while his hands had already snapping together leads and "tortoises" to something still unseen beneath the arc of the table -- "Please, pull up chairs for yourselves, find something comfortable; sir" -- to Father Bremen -- "maybe you had better use Galina's chair." Trailing cables from the half-open deep drawer, he pulled out the main unit to connect them in -- drawing Sybersnake's analytic gaze at once -- placing it beside the ugly flowering plant on what passed for a desk. Two blinks: that meant that what she saw was either exceptional or -- exceptional in the other way. Or maybe, that she couldn't make heads or tails of it. Remembering that this electronic equipment had somehow appeared in the middle of a Puyallup street-level clinic, remembering some of the stories he'd heard about Matrix runs gone very, very wrong: Virgil found himself fervently -- yes, praying for the former.
At least the man seemed to handle his equipment like he knew what he was doing. Sybersnake was staring at him, fascinated: "I've never seen anyone cross-connect their primary leads like that before!"
Okay, so that wasn't what Virgil really wanted to hear, at that moment; or, particularly, the dull drone which sounded like it might have been some kind of explanation -- in Japanese, for all the good it was doing any of the rest of them. "Uh, Sybersnake?"
"In a minute," she said absently, her full attention on the man and the contraption in front of her. "Is that a double jackpoint?"
The man half-bowed, smiling, in the way that suggested embarrassment at a warranted compliment. "Please," he indicated the chair he had been sitting in for her, with another half-bow. "Galina mentioned you needed to be at the Carousel for 1500, and we have not much time. Is this everyone?"
"This is," said Tiffany, her voice trailing off uneasily. "And you are?"
He bowed again. "Bob," he said simply. "I have seen your reports, including the most recent one."
"That's not mine!" retorted the reporter sharply ... and again found the rest of what she might have intended to say trailing off against Bob's quiet, "I know."
"Who are you?" asked Tiffany finally, in a much softer voice.
He looked at her quizzically. "Bob," he said again, colourlessly, and walked around the desk to check each of the connnections. "Have any of you not used these before?"
Father Bremen held up a tentative hand. The man moved like a wraith to his side -- not that he was silent or stealthy, just ... colourless -- and helped him fit the tortoise around the horns, explaining what was about to happen in a low voice that only Dragon could really make out. Virgil swallowed uncomfortably.
Finally, finishing, the man settled into the fifth chair, across from the flower on the desk. Dragon noted silently that he'd given Sybersnake the "decker's" chair. Father Bremen had unconsciously started fingering his rosary, a gesture echoed, curiously, by Virgil. "Hey," said Tiffany suddenly, "that plant. Is that an orchid?"
Her words were caught by the Matrix world which rose up before them.
Sucked in.
Vanished.
23:05:25 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
The massive HRT trooper fills Todd's narrow doorway, weapons and gear slung from his tac-vest. A larger pool of blood stains the hallway, dark beneath the portable halogen floods. A body lies secured to a stretcher, faceless beneath a sheet. Todd looks down in some surprise, he's stepped on something as he opened the door. The trooper doesn't notice, though.
"Hey, kid, you ok? Are your parents here?"
The massive HRT trooper fills Todd's narrow doorway, weapons and gear slung from his tac-vest. A larger pool of blood stains the hallway, dark beneath the portable halogen floods. A body lies secured to a stretcher, faceless beneath a sheet. Todd looks down in some surprise, he's stepped on something as he opened the door. The trooper doesn't notice, though.
"Hey, kid, you ok? Are your parents here?"
19:55:06 Friday 05 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS
Shitoki nodded. "Long arm of the law, huh? I bet you've run into some choice people through your job..." he says with a smirk.
Shitoki leaned forward in his seat in order to see around the SUV beside him, to check if it was safe to turn. Seeing it was, he merged into traffic, heading for the restaurant.
Shitoki nodded. "Long arm of the law, huh? I bet you've run into some choice people through your job..." he says with a smirk.
Shitoki leaned forward in his seat in order to see around the SUV beside him, to check if it was safe to turn. Seeing it was, he merged into traffic, heading for the restaurant.
Todd lookds down at his feat, them up at the trooper, then back down at his feat. "No... I'm here by myself right now..."
Todd looks back up at the trooper, his eyes starting to shine with the threat of more tears, "Is he gunna die? Did you get the shooter?"
Todd looks back up at the trooper, his eyes starting to shine with the threat of more tears, "Is he gunna die? Did you get the shooter?"
23:05:37 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
The trooper is somewhat surprised by Todd's answer, as it's eleven o'clock at night on a Saturday. He glances around the apartment over Todd's head before common sense overrules any protective instinct. Hell, he didn't want to have to deal with the paperwork.
"Don't worry, kid, we'll take care of everything. Lock the door and don't open it for any strangers."
The HRT trooper moves down the hall to the next door.
The trooper is somewhat surprised by Todd's answer, as it's eleven o'clock at night on a Saturday. He glances around the apartment over Todd's head before common sense overrules any protective instinct. Hell, he didn't want to have to deal with the paperwork.
"Don't worry, kid, we'll take care of everything. Lock the door and don't open it for any strangers."
The HRT trooper moves down the hall to the next door.
19:55:15 Friday 05 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS
Tanisa didn't reply, simply shrugging and turning to look out the window. Mioko gave Tenmou's leg a squeeze.
"No shop talk tonight, hey? We're out to get away from work." She smiles to take any perceived sting out of the words. The rest of the five minute trip to the restaurant passes in companionable silence.
Tanisa didn't reply, simply shrugging and turning to look out the window. Mioko gave Tenmou's leg a squeeze.
"No shop talk tonight, hey? We're out to get away from work." She smiles to take any perceived sting out of the words. The rest of the five minute trip to the restaurant passes in companionable silence.
1459 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
"Oh, great," says Sybersnake, or something that sounds like Sybersnake and feels like Sybersnake, but Dragon can't quite seem to make her out. "I can't believe you've got us looking like data packets."
"That is the default," Bob says without intonation. "It shifts to match the local paradigm. We have just enough time, something you should see."
Virgil, Tiffany, Father Bremen: we're all here, Dragon realises after a very disoriented few moments. Wherever "here" is. But he's not recognising them, really, through sight or even sound. It's definitely not sensory cut-off, but this version of sensory is something he's not equipped to handle except by translating it into familiar sight, familiar sound. I wonder if this is how Daedalus feels, when he's rigging?
"It's not really that different from astral space," Virgil is saying, "staring" around him. "And yet it is."
"What are you looking for?" asks Bob, and Dragon becomes aware of the slight struggle beside him at the same time as Tiffany laughs brittlely: "No independent freedom of movement, huh?" And then she checks: "But I can speak?"
"It is a customised slaved linkage," says Bob. "What are you looking for?"
"Datafiles. Juliette talked to me about some of it already, but Galina mentioned that Shadowland had been active on this."
"Do you have memory?"
"I --" And then the sense of it penetrated, and Dragon caught the sense of the reporter trying to shake a head that didn't exist, and over which she would have had no control regardless. "No cybermemory, no."
"I do," volunteers Sybersnake. "Not a whole lot, but as long as the files aren't too large ..." And then Dragon's entire existence -- shivers -- as she gasps: "You could have given me some warning! Or at least a filtre!"
"Sorry," says Bob.
Her temporary distraction had affected the others too, not as much -- but Father Bremen had already been struggling before; and now the determined silence beside him had the feel of sheer desperation. Dragon quietly hoped the priest wouldn't turn out to be one of those unlucky souls who were naturally prone to Matrix vertigo. As the man had said earlier, they needed him to legitimise their presence at the meeting.
"Here," says Bob. "This is what you need to see."
Wherever they were, they'd slipped through it so quickly and invisibly that Dragon had little more than a brief sense of space, and stars, and falling -- and then -- a mail sorting room? No, that had to be coincidence: and then he knew where he was. Sybersnake would have borrowed a temporary paradigm of a small Tenochtitlán coffeehouse, sitting down at a table with other chatters and obtaining what information she wished in the image of baristas and dark, strong decker coffee. Here, the information had been stripped almost entirely of its human element to its naked essence -- and yet the letters going through were hand-addressed, with colourful and exotic stamps. As the five of them sweep through the place Bob matter-of-factly picks up one of them and gives it to Sybersnake.
Some deep survival instinct in Dragon warns him. She's about to go ballistic.
Spontaneous combustion in mailrooms tends to be a destructive thing: but the five of them have shifted out of there even before the smoke alarms could sound. Smoke alarms? Dragon shook his head and decided not to worry about it. That's the useful thing about being able to take orders as well as give them: once someone else was in charge, just accept that you don't know what the frag's going on and jump whenever they tell you.
"Since you are here and I saw the condition of your deck, it would be safe to assume that was not you." Mostly a statement ... but just enough of an inflection to leave open the question that would have been sealed by adding the interrogative "ka".
Sybersnake's only smouldering a little, now: but the fire's not exactly out either. "It was not me."
Bob ... "nods". And "bows". It wasn't, and yet those were the only words that fit the communication that had just come across. And their environment blurs around them yet again while Dragon manages to ask her quietly, "What was that about?"
"Later. No, wait, let me see ..." She's testing the programmes loaded into this system, what they're capable of, what can be overwritten without disrupting the balance of the whole -- and words form on -- Dragon's image link? They're moving at their own rate -- no control, here, over the scroll, or else he'd have caught earlier on the list -- but Sybersnake takes him further down, and pauses him on the note that contains her street name.
To say that she wasn't happy seemed somehow redundant. He nodded understanding -- or tried to, having run into what Tiffany ran into earlier. The construct simply wouldn't do what he wanted it to.
"I know," said Sybersnake softly, recognising the intent behind his aborted action. "We can talk about this later. I'm okay now." She brushed him gently. It felt like nothing so much as a lingering kiss. "Thank you."
The world congeals into being around them. At first, the utter chaos leaves Dragon with some doubts about that.
"You know," says Sybersnake slowly, "this isn't an improvement."
She's standing beside Bob in troll-sized coveralls and build, an illegible laminated passcard on a lanyard around her neck, carrying a maintenance worker's bucket and mop. In the middle of a screaming, laughing, riotous chaos of an amusement park, they're the clean-up crew. Still, this time at least, everyone's got arms and legs, and more importantly eyes and ears. That isn't an improvement either, Dragon quickly discovers, because he keeps wanting to move them normally, and in here, he's got no control whatsoever. It's distracting, to say the least.
"Where do you want to go from here?" asks Bob.
Without answering him, Sybersnake starts walking toward the booth with INFORMATION written over it ... literally over it, in large, disembodied letters. "Hi," she calls out to the air, "looking for a message from Kiki. It's for Father Bremen. I'm Sybersnake, his go-between."
In front of them, more letters start forming: Roller Coaster. Third Car
Father Bremen is staring hard at the "ground", which looks to be hard and concrete and is in reality neither of the kind. Sybersnake stoops to hook her large fingers through his belt: "Well, come on! Faster you do this, faster you get it over with." Dragon notices, not without humour, that here, in the troll personafile, she's literally much bigger than him.
She leads the five of them inside a small, rickety wooden building, and then indicates a door. "According to the message, Kiki should be waiting for us here. After you, Dragon," she adds with a mischievous, tusked smile.
"Oh, great," says Sybersnake, or something that sounds like Sybersnake and feels like Sybersnake, but Dragon can't quite seem to make her out. "I can't believe you've got us looking like data packets."
"That is the default," Bob says without intonation. "It shifts to match the local paradigm. We have just enough time, something you should see."
Virgil, Tiffany, Father Bremen: we're all here, Dragon realises after a very disoriented few moments. Wherever "here" is. But he's not recognising them, really, through sight or even sound. It's definitely not sensory cut-off, but this version of sensory is something he's not equipped to handle except by translating it into familiar sight, familiar sound. I wonder if this is how Daedalus feels, when he's rigging?
"It's not really that different from astral space," Virgil is saying, "staring" around him. "And yet it is."
"What are you looking for?" asks Bob, and Dragon becomes aware of the slight struggle beside him at the same time as Tiffany laughs brittlely: "No independent freedom of movement, huh?" And then she checks: "But I can speak?"
"It is a customised slaved linkage," says Bob. "What are you looking for?"
"Datafiles. Juliette talked to me about some of it already, but Galina mentioned that Shadowland had been active on this."
"Do you have memory?"
"I --" And then the sense of it penetrated, and Dragon caught the sense of the reporter trying to shake a head that didn't exist, and over which she would have had no control regardless. "No cybermemory, no."
"I do," volunteers Sybersnake. "Not a whole lot, but as long as the files aren't too large ..." And then Dragon's entire existence -- shivers -- as she gasps: "You could have given me some warning! Or at least a filtre!"
"Sorry," says Bob.
Her temporary distraction had affected the others too, not as much -- but Father Bremen had already been struggling before; and now the determined silence beside him had the feel of sheer desperation. Dragon quietly hoped the priest wouldn't turn out to be one of those unlucky souls who were naturally prone to Matrix vertigo. As the man had said earlier, they needed him to legitimise their presence at the meeting.
"Here," says Bob. "This is what you need to see."
Wherever they were, they'd slipped through it so quickly and invisibly that Dragon had little more than a brief sense of space, and stars, and falling -- and then -- a mail sorting room? No, that had to be coincidence: and then he knew where he was. Sybersnake would have borrowed a temporary paradigm of a small Tenochtitlán coffeehouse, sitting down at a table with other chatters and obtaining what information she wished in the image of baristas and dark, strong decker coffee. Here, the information had been stripped almost entirely of its human element to its naked essence -- and yet the letters going through were hand-addressed, with colourful and exotic stamps. As the five of them sweep through the place Bob matter-of-factly picks up one of them and gives it to Sybersnake.
Some deep survival instinct in Dragon warns him. She's about to go ballistic.
Spontaneous combustion in mailrooms tends to be a destructive thing: but the five of them have shifted out of there even before the smoke alarms could sound. Smoke alarms? Dragon shook his head and decided not to worry about it. That's the useful thing about being able to take orders as well as give them: once someone else was in charge, just accept that you don't know what the frag's going on and jump whenever they tell you.
"Since you are here and I saw the condition of your deck, it would be safe to assume that was not you." Mostly a statement ... but just enough of an inflection to leave open the question that would have been sealed by adding the interrogative "ka".
Sybersnake's only smouldering a little, now: but the fire's not exactly out either. "It was not me."
Bob ... "nods". And "bows". It wasn't, and yet those were the only words that fit the communication that had just come across. And their environment blurs around them yet again while Dragon manages to ask her quietly, "What was that about?"
"Later. No, wait, let me see ..." She's testing the programmes loaded into this system, what they're capable of, what can be overwritten without disrupting the balance of the whole -- and words form on -- Dragon's image link? They're moving at their own rate -- no control, here, over the scroll, or else he'd have caught earlier on the list -- but Sybersnake takes him further down, and pauses him on the note that contains her street name.
To say that she wasn't happy seemed somehow redundant. He nodded understanding -- or tried to, having run into what Tiffany ran into earlier. The construct simply wouldn't do what he wanted it to.
"I know," said Sybersnake softly, recognising the intent behind his aborted action. "We can talk about this later. I'm okay now." She brushed him gently. It felt like nothing so much as a lingering kiss. "Thank you."
The world congeals into being around them. At first, the utter chaos leaves Dragon with some doubts about that.
"You know," says Sybersnake slowly, "this isn't an improvement."
She's standing beside Bob in troll-sized coveralls and build, an illegible laminated passcard on a lanyard around her neck, carrying a maintenance worker's bucket and mop. In the middle of a screaming, laughing, riotous chaos of an amusement park, they're the clean-up crew. Still, this time at least, everyone's got arms and legs, and more importantly eyes and ears. That isn't an improvement either, Dragon quickly discovers, because he keeps wanting to move them normally, and in here, he's got no control whatsoever. It's distracting, to say the least.
"Where do you want to go from here?" asks Bob.
Without answering him, Sybersnake starts walking toward the booth with INFORMATION written over it ... literally over it, in large, disembodied letters. "Hi," she calls out to the air, "looking for a message from Kiki. It's for Father Bremen. I'm Sybersnake, his go-between."
In front of them, more letters start forming: Roller Coaster. Third Car
Father Bremen is staring hard at the "ground", which looks to be hard and concrete and is in reality neither of the kind. Sybersnake stoops to hook her large fingers through his belt: "Well, come on! Faster you do this, faster you get it over with." Dragon notices, not without humour, that here, in the troll personafile, she's literally much bigger than him.
She leads the five of them inside a small, rickety wooden building, and then indicates a door. "According to the message, Kiki should be waiting for us here. After you, Dragon," she adds with a mischievous, tusked smile.
23:05:58 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
Todd closed the door and set all the locks. He watched out the peephole for a moment as he filled Barry in on what happened. "He's gone now. Thanks for bein' there Barry..."
Walking over to flop down into his LayZMan chair, the boys curiousity starts to kick in and a plan starts to formulate in his head. I'll have to grab the video feeds from the hall before Lone Star moves them over to their server... See if I can match the guys face with anything. If someone starts shooting holes in my door, I wanna know why.
Todd closed the door and set all the locks. He watched out the peephole for a moment as he filled Barry in on what happened. "He's gone now. Thanks for bein' there Barry..."
Walking over to flop down into his LayZMan chair, the boys curiousity starts to kick in and a plan starts to formulate in his head. I'll have to grab the video feeds from the hall before Lone Star moves them over to their server... See if I can match the guys face with anything. If someone starts shooting holes in my door, I wanna know why.
17:15:19 Sunday 07 January 2063 – A sidewalk in Touristville, near the Redmond Center Mall
Finally a lead I can work with. If only Finn had called earlier I wouldn't have wasted all that time at the Mall. I walked right past that Virtual Daze place on the way here.
As Scrapheap walked through the rapidly rising snow, he flipped his phone back open. He dialed and then held the phone to his ear. After a second, he stuck the finger of the other hand into the opposite ear to block out the traffic.
"Stuffer Shak #4952, this is..."
Not waiting for the end of the familiar spiel, John said "Let me speak to Etta."
"Uh. OK, pal. Hold yer horses." He was then put on hold and subjected to a recording of this week's Shak-tacular specials. Finally, "This is Etta. How can I help you?"
"Hey, it's me. Listen, I have a lead on that Twiggy kid. I'm going to go check it out now. I'll call you again when I know more, OK?"
"OK, John, but be careful. Oh! I almost forgot. A couple of those gangers came in to collect the protection for this week. I told them that you wanted to talk to their boss. That's what you wanted, right?"
"Brain Eaters? Yeah, I'll head there after I find this kid. Did they say anything?"
"Not really. John, I get off work in about 2 hours. What should I do?"
"Just go home. Like I said, if you know any of Nora's friend's numbers you could call them and see if they know anything useful. Otherwise, just wait. I'll call you when I know something. Bye."
"But..."
John disconnected, closed his phone, and stuck it in his pocket...just in time to step off of the curb and into a slush-puddle. Frag! Just what I need. My feet are already killing me. I don't think I've done this much walking since I was in the service, and now they're cold too! That's just wizzer.
His mood was not improved when he reached into his jacket for his cigarettes, only to find an empty pack. Grumbling to himself, he tossed the empty package aside and slogged the remaining few blocks to the Virtual Daze. By the time he arrived, the snow was really coming down. He stopped with the arcade still across the street, standing in a doorway to get out of the weather as much as possible. He flipped up his collar, stuck his hands deep into his pockets, and stomped his feet.
Hopefully, I just look like some down on his luck sap trying to stay warm. Which actually isn't too far from the truth. I'll just scope the place out for a couple of minutes, see what's what, before going inside.
Concentrating, Scrapheap activated the zoom feature on his Fuchi cybereyes, and the entrance to the Virtual Daze leapt into closer view...
Finally a lead I can work with. If only Finn had called earlier I wouldn't have wasted all that time at the Mall. I walked right past that Virtual Daze place on the way here.
As Scrapheap walked through the rapidly rising snow, he flipped his phone back open. He dialed and then held the phone to his ear. After a second, he stuck the finger of the other hand into the opposite ear to block out the traffic.
"Stuffer Shak #4952, this is..."
Not waiting for the end of the familiar spiel, John said "Let me speak to Etta."
"Uh. OK, pal. Hold yer horses." He was then put on hold and subjected to a recording of this week's Shak-tacular specials. Finally, "This is Etta. How can I help you?"
"Hey, it's me. Listen, I have a lead on that Twiggy kid. I'm going to go check it out now. I'll call you again when I know more, OK?"
"OK, John, but be careful. Oh! I almost forgot. A couple of those gangers came in to collect the protection for this week. I told them that you wanted to talk to their boss. That's what you wanted, right?"
"Brain Eaters? Yeah, I'll head there after I find this kid. Did they say anything?"
"Not really. John, I get off work in about 2 hours. What should I do?"
"Just go home. Like I said, if you know any of Nora's friend's numbers you could call them and see if they know anything useful. Otherwise, just wait. I'll call you when I know something. Bye."
"But..."
John disconnected, closed his phone, and stuck it in his pocket...just in time to step off of the curb and into a slush-puddle. Frag! Just what I need. My feet are already killing me. I don't think I've done this much walking since I was in the service, and now they're cold too! That's just wizzer.
His mood was not improved when he reached into his jacket for his cigarettes, only to find an empty pack. Grumbling to himself, he tossed the empty package aside and slogged the remaining few blocks to the Virtual Daze. By the time he arrived, the snow was really coming down. He stopped with the arcade still across the street, standing in a doorway to get out of the weather as much as possible. He flipped up his collar, stuck his hands deep into his pockets, and stomped his feet.
Hopefully, I just look like some down on his luck sap trying to stay warm. Which actually isn't too far from the truth. I'll just scope the place out for a couple of minutes, see what's what, before going inside.
Concentrating, Scrapheap activated the zoom feature on his Fuchi cybereyes, and the entrance to the Virtual Daze leapt into closer view...
1525 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Redmond Barrens
Sloshing through the puddle of slush resting upon the final corner of his route Knight could feel the icy water that had been collecting on his boots finally begin seeping through to sting his feet. It was a sharp reminder to him that thus far the weather had barely been tolerable for so much foot transportation,
Reflecting back on what he had accomplished today alone Knight felt as if he was at least quickly adapting to landing so abruptly in a new city, not to mention without any cred and few local contacts. I've got myself some light work and a bit of cred, not to mention a free roof over my head for a time. This could be a golden opportunity to begin learning how this city ticks.
Raising his eyes down the street once again Knight's gaze spots the dilapidated building bearing the address that Jackson had given him. The structure was two stories high and some faded lettering on the side of the grey plascrete walls stated "-tronics." must have been an electronics warehouse at one time. The sparse exterior windows were barred from the outside and boarded up from the inside. Examining the front of the building Knight also noticed that it prominently displayed in bright red paint the same type of symbols that he had noticed occurring on buildings several blocks away. Those must be the symbols of the Sickles. Knight files that observation away with the resolution to start learning the politics of the local gang structure.
Stopping at the mouth of the alley along the east side of the building he spies a steal delivery door a few paces down the trash strewn space. Kicking through the piles of rotting garbage and trying his very best to keep his stomach in check against the onslaught of foul odors, Knight approaches the door and give it three solid knocks. Stepping back to wait, the smell of the alley only serving to insight his impatience Knight raises his knuckles to bang again when a small view slit on top of the door creaks open.
"You look like you can afford to purchase your own hospitality . . . beat it chummer."
"You misunderstand my intentions sir, I am Mr. Knightington, the man that Jackson sent. I am here to speak with Cao Jann.
The viewing slit quickly slammed shut and was followed by a louder creaking as the battered steel door swung open to reveal a stocky asian man who stood about two inches shorter than Knight.
"Come on in chummer, I've been expecting you."
"Cao Jann I assume?" Stepping through the doorway Knight was happy to be free from the grip of the stench ridden alley. He found himself standing in a small room that must have served as a shipping office when this building was a bustling trade center.
"Have a seat." Beckoned the man as he secured the several mechanical locks on the steel door. "I am sure that we have much to discuss . . ."
Sloshing through the puddle of slush resting upon the final corner of his route Knight could feel the icy water that had been collecting on his boots finally begin seeping through to sting his feet. It was a sharp reminder to him that thus far the weather had barely been tolerable for so much foot transportation,
Reflecting back on what he had accomplished today alone Knight felt as if he was at least quickly adapting to landing so abruptly in a new city, not to mention without any cred and few local contacts. I've got myself some light work and a bit of cred, not to mention a free roof over my head for a time. This could be a golden opportunity to begin learning how this city ticks.
Raising his eyes down the street once again Knight's gaze spots the dilapidated building bearing the address that Jackson had given him. The structure was two stories high and some faded lettering on the side of the grey plascrete walls stated "-tronics." must have been an electronics warehouse at one time. The sparse exterior windows were barred from the outside and boarded up from the inside. Examining the front of the building Knight also noticed that it prominently displayed in bright red paint the same type of symbols that he had noticed occurring on buildings several blocks away. Those must be the symbols of the Sickles. Knight files that observation away with the resolution to start learning the politics of the local gang structure.
Stopping at the mouth of the alley along the east side of the building he spies a steal delivery door a few paces down the trash strewn space. Kicking through the piles of rotting garbage and trying his very best to keep his stomach in check against the onslaught of foul odors, Knight approaches the door and give it three solid knocks. Stepping back to wait, the smell of the alley only serving to insight his impatience Knight raises his knuckles to bang again when a small view slit on top of the door creaks open.
"You look like you can afford to purchase your own hospitality . . . beat it chummer."
"You misunderstand my intentions sir, I am Mr. Knightington, the man that Jackson sent. I am here to speak with Cao Jann.
The viewing slit quickly slammed shut and was followed by a louder creaking as the battered steel door swung open to reveal a stocky asian man who stood about two inches shorter than Knight.
"Come on in chummer, I've been expecting you."
"Cao Jann I assume?" Stepping through the doorway Knight was happy to be free from the grip of the stench ridden alley. He found himself standing in a small room that must have served as a shipping office when this building was a bustling trade center.
"Have a seat." Beckoned the man as he secured the several mechanical locks on the steel door. "I am sure that we have much to discuss . . ."
18:55:41 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Erebus's Milton Doss
His preparations for the night ahead are interuppted by the punctating beep of an incoming call. The caller-ID function was coming up blank, not uncommon considering the questionable employment of many of is associates. Punching the call button Erebus spoke in an even and professional tone, he was expecting a few important calls in across the night.
"Hoi"
Waiting to hear who was calling him before he gave his name Erebus was pleased to hear the sound of Elan's voice filtering across the line.
"Good evening. The items that you requsted can be made available without much undo effort. They can be in your hands before the night's close. I only need to know the quantity that you are in the market for."
His preparations for the night ahead are interuppted by the punctating beep of an incoming call. The caller-ID function was coming up blank, not uncommon considering the questionable employment of many of is associates. Punching the call button Erebus spoke in an even and professional tone, he was expecting a few important calls in across the night.
"Hoi"
Waiting to hear who was calling him before he gave his name Erebus was pleased to hear the sound of Elan's voice filtering across the line.
"Good evening. The items that you requsted can be made available without much undo effort. They can be in your hands before the night's close. I only need to know the quantity that you are in the market for."
19:55:45 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
Finding the first available parking spot, Shitoki stopped his new BMW and pulled the key from the ignition.
"I have reservations, so we should be able to walk right in," he said, as he opened his door and stepped out. He quickly rounded the car to open the door for his passengers.
With a woman on either side of him, he walked to the front door of the restaurant and to the man by the door.
"I have a reservation under the name 'Shitoki'," he said.
Finding the first available parking spot, Shitoki stopped his new BMW and pulled the key from the ignition.
"I have reservations, so we should be able to walk right in," he said, as he opened his door and stepped out. He quickly rounded the car to open the door for his passengers.
With a woman on either side of him, he walked to the front door of the restaurant and to the man by the door.
"I have a reservation under the name 'Shitoki'," he said.
14:59:45 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
Not sure what to make of her mischevious grin, Dragon shrugged his shoulders and prepared to walk in the building. Although he'd been in the matrix before, like most people, he was still unprepared for this level of interaction with it. He typically concerned himself with the real world, and while he was well aware of the abilities and usefulness of deckers, especially in urban ops, he had always relegated himself to simple delegation and allowed them to execute in whatever way they thought was best to achieve the objective. After all, he expected them to shut up and let him do his thing in combat, it was only professional to extend that same courtesy to them in their area of expertise.
Hence, if Sybersnake said he should go through, well, no point in discussing or worrying about it. If she wanted to fry him in the Matrix, she could do so any time she wanted, since it's not like he had a chance in here. Besides, they had unfinished business, as her look in the hallway with Galina had so clearly stated. With a mental grin at the thought of what that discussion would probably entail, which he was careful to not show, he stepped through the doorway into the building as instructed, and braced himself for whatever might be on the other side.
Not sure what to make of her mischevious grin, Dragon shrugged his shoulders and prepared to walk in the building. Although he'd been in the matrix before, like most people, he was still unprepared for this level of interaction with it. He typically concerned himself with the real world, and while he was well aware of the abilities and usefulness of deckers, especially in urban ops, he had always relegated himself to simple delegation and allowed them to execute in whatever way they thought was best to achieve the objective. After all, he expected them to shut up and let him do his thing in combat, it was only professional to extend that same courtesy to them in their area of expertise.
Hence, if Sybersnake said he should go through, well, no point in discussing or worrying about it. If she wanted to fry him in the Matrix, she could do so any time she wanted, since it's not like he had a chance in here. Besides, they had unfinished business, as her look in the hallway with Galina had so clearly stated. With a mental grin at the thought of what that discussion would probably entail, which he was careful to not show, he stepped through the doorway into the building as instructed, and braced himself for whatever might be on the other side.
17:46:59 Sunday 07 January 2063 – A sidewalk in Touristville, near the Redmond Center Mall
Staring across the street at the arcade, John carefully examined the place for any sign of the unusual. The neon sign out front actually had all of its letters lit and intact, which was pretty unusual. On the other hand, it was an arcade, always a popular meeting ground as well as neutral zone for gangers, so maybe it wasn't that big of a surprise. Even gangers didn't destroy their own stuff; far better to destroy someone else's.
Despite the fact that technically it was a school night (as if most in Redmond cared about such things!), the place was reasonably crowded. In the last ten minutes or so, John had seen at least ten to fifteen people drift in and out of the place, and business was reasonably brisk. Still, he didn't detect anything or anyone that seemed out of place or screamed 'trap', and he was freezing out there, the metal in his body leeching the heat from the parts of him that were still meat.
Well, am I gonna stand out here freezing all night, or am I going to check it out? The thought of a place that was warm and not dumping snow on him was appealing, but he wasn't sure if there was anything else he wanted to look for just yet. Ah decisions decisions he thought ruefully to himself.
Staring across the street at the arcade, John carefully examined the place for any sign of the unusual. The neon sign out front actually had all of its letters lit and intact, which was pretty unusual. On the other hand, it was an arcade, always a popular meeting ground as well as neutral zone for gangers, so maybe it wasn't that big of a surprise. Even gangers didn't destroy their own stuff; far better to destroy someone else's.
Despite the fact that technically it was a school night (as if most in Redmond cared about such things!), the place was reasonably crowded. In the last ten minutes or so, John had seen at least ten to fifteen people drift in and out of the place, and business was reasonably brisk. Still, he didn't detect anything or anyone that seemed out of place or screamed 'trap', and he was freezing out there, the metal in his body leeching the heat from the parts of him that were still meat.
Well, am I gonna stand out here freezing all night, or am I going to check it out? The thought of a place that was warm and not dumping snow on him was appealing, but he wasn't sure if there was anything else he wanted to look for just yet. Ah decisions decisions he thought ruefully to himself.
23:07:34 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Seattle LTG, Parkewood Village Apartments Host
Ducking through one of the backdoors he's created on the system, Todd skates his way through the mundane halls of the Parkewood host to the security control directory. The doorway was guarded by a uniformed IC construct, its unblinking eyes scanning to ensure only authorized users passed through. With a wave of his hand Todd shifted his icon's image to near invisibility, sneaking past the IC as the doorway opened to admit another construct. Once inside, he headed down the hall to the room where the server held all of the image files from its security cameras. Forty eight hours of video was kept on station at all times, to be reviewed in case of a security breach. Todd had to work fast, before the Lone Star deckers showed up and downloaded the files as evidence. Not stopping to watch them, he snatched up the three files covering the hallway outside his door, the elevator, and the fire stairs on his level. Even without sound, three camera recordings that were two hours each was a lot of Mp. Todd kept a critical eye on his offline storage capacity as the download completed. With a gesture, he dissolved himself from the system, opening his eyes to the darkness of his own apartment again.
The surveillance files lay out clearly what happened, although the individuals involved remain a mystery. The target of the attack was a troll, picked up by the elevator camera at 2301. The troll never glances towards the camera, making identification almost impossible. But he's wearing a large leather biker jacket with a magic 8-ball painted on the back. He steps out of the elevator on Todd's floor at 2303, and walks down the hall. Just a couple meters shy of the door to the apartment, he's attacked by four individuals. All four have been waiting on the landing of the fire stairs since 2240, exiting the door and moving into ambush positions at 2300. Two of them are using Colt M-23 assault rifles, while the other two have HK G-38s. The troll is hit immediately, but manages to pull out a Mossberg shotgun, blasting back at the ambushers. It's over almost before it begins, the troll collapsing to the ground in front of Todd's door and the four attackers disappearing back into the fire escape. After several seconds, Todd sees the troll moving feebly, trying to lever himself upright. When that fails, he reaches out with his left hand and raps at Todd's door. Time ticks by, and when no answer comes, the troll reaches into his jacket pocket, withdraws something small, and slides it beneath the crack of the door.
Ducking through one of the backdoors he's created on the system, Todd skates his way through the mundane halls of the Parkewood host to the security control directory. The doorway was guarded by a uniformed IC construct, its unblinking eyes scanning to ensure only authorized users passed through. With a wave of his hand Todd shifted his icon's image to near invisibility, sneaking past the IC as the doorway opened to admit another construct. Once inside, he headed down the hall to the room where the server held all of the image files from its security cameras. Forty eight hours of video was kept on station at all times, to be reviewed in case of a security breach. Todd had to work fast, before the Lone Star deckers showed up and downloaded the files as evidence. Not stopping to watch them, he snatched up the three files covering the hallway outside his door, the elevator, and the fire stairs on his level. Even without sound, three camera recordings that were two hours each was a lot of Mp. Todd kept a critical eye on his offline storage capacity as the download completed. With a gesture, he dissolved himself from the system, opening his eyes to the darkness of his own apartment again.
The surveillance files lay out clearly what happened, although the individuals involved remain a mystery. The target of the attack was a troll, picked up by the elevator camera at 2301. The troll never glances towards the camera, making identification almost impossible. But he's wearing a large leather biker jacket with a magic 8-ball painted on the back. He steps out of the elevator on Todd's floor at 2303, and walks down the hall. Just a couple meters shy of the door to the apartment, he's attacked by four individuals. All four have been waiting on the landing of the fire stairs since 2240, exiting the door and moving into ambush positions at 2300. Two of them are using Colt M-23 assault rifles, while the other two have HK G-38s. The troll is hit immediately, but manages to pull out a Mossberg shotgun, blasting back at the ambushers. It's over almost before it begins, the troll collapsing to the ground in front of Todd's door and the four attackers disappearing back into the fire escape. After several seconds, Todd sees the troll moving feebly, trying to lever himself upright. When that fails, he reaches out with his left hand and raps at Todd's door. Time ticks by, and when no answer comes, the troll reaches into his jacket pocket, withdraws something small, and slides it beneath the crack of the door.
14:59:45 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
proceeding with a slight trediptation, and also an intent curiosity about these new and alien surroundings, Virgil followed his more experienced companion though the doorway. He was in no way as comfortable with the expanse of cyberspace as Dragon was, yet he did not feel the lingering fear that was visible upon Father Bremen's "features."
Features? . . .Begets emotions . . .
That is when the dividing line between two altered states of reality, cyberspace as compared to astral space, became clear to the inquisitive shaman. In astral space one's form and in fact the entire enviroment was a reflection of personal introspection, of unbridled emotion. One could hide an emotion in astral space no easier than someone might try to hide the sight of flushed cheeks during an embarrassing moment. There was a distinct honesty in that knowledge . . .a comforting feeling of never really being outside of the binds of humanity.
Here Virgil could only feel a cold separation from humanity. Though his experience in astral space had only lasted a few seconds thus far he knew that even surrounded by an army of matrix personas, the place would still be a lifeless vacuum . .
At that thought a shiver went up Virgil's real spine, and a slight nervousness took over him as he stepped further into the unknown.
proceeding with a slight trediptation, and also an intent curiosity about these new and alien surroundings, Virgil followed his more experienced companion though the doorway. He was in no way as comfortable with the expanse of cyberspace as Dragon was, yet he did not feel the lingering fear that was visible upon Father Bremen's "features."
Features? . . .Begets emotions . . .
That is when the dividing line between two altered states of reality, cyberspace as compared to astral space, became clear to the inquisitive shaman. In astral space one's form and in fact the entire enviroment was a reflection of personal introspection, of unbridled emotion. One could hide an emotion in astral space no easier than someone might try to hide the sight of flushed cheeks during an embarrassing moment. There was a distinct honesty in that knowledge . . .a comforting feeling of never really being outside of the binds of humanity.
Here Virgil could only feel a cold separation from humanity. Though his experience in astral space had only lasted a few seconds thus far he knew that even surrounded by an army of matrix personas, the place would still be a lifeless vacuum . .
At that thought a shiver went up Virgil's real spine, and a slight nervousness took over him as he stepped further into the unknown.
20:01:18 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
"Welcome to The Other Place, sir, your table will be ready in just a moment." The young waitress behind the maitre d's stand smiles brilliantly at Tenmou, waiting for his nod before turning to other business. The wide hallway leading into the large dining area of the restaurant isn't crowded, but the noise from the streets outside collides with the conversation inside, creating the audio illusion of chaos. Tenmou turns back to his companions, watching as they check their coats. conversation is abruptly the last thing on his mind.
Mioko wears a crimson sleeveless hi-collared mandarin top, edged and embroidered with black. Tanisa's blouse is also sleeveless, but consists of several layers of translucent blue silk, tied behind her back. The layers shift as she moves, suggesting more than they actually reveal, but breathtaking none the less. The henna tattoos on her hands continue all the way up her arms.
Tenmou's musings are interrupted by the waitress announcing their table was ready. Ushering the two women ahead of him, he watches with a silent thrill as heads turn as they make their way to their table.
The dining area has two levels, the lower one against the far wall. Floor to ceiling windows provide an impressive view of the Sound as well as the downtown skyline. The waiter holds the chair out for Tanisa, while Tenmou does the same for Mioko.
"May I offer you something to drink while you look over the menu?" he asks.
"Martini, please, two olives." Tanisa makes eye contact to make sure her request is clear.
"What kind of sake do you have?" asked Mioko.
"We have Ginga Shizuku, Tentaka Kuni, and Mantensei, ma'am."
"The Tentaka, please, warmed." Mioko smiled at Tenmou, who nodded in return. He knew that it was one of her favorites, and that she rarely indulged herself. Tentaka was rare to find outside of Japan or a Japanese restaurant, and its price reflected that.
"For you, sir?"
"Welcome to The Other Place, sir, your table will be ready in just a moment." The young waitress behind the maitre d's stand smiles brilliantly at Tenmou, waiting for his nod before turning to other business. The wide hallway leading into the large dining area of the restaurant isn't crowded, but the noise from the streets outside collides with the conversation inside, creating the audio illusion of chaos. Tenmou turns back to his companions, watching as they check their coats. conversation is abruptly the last thing on his mind.
Mioko wears a crimson sleeveless hi-collared mandarin top, edged and embroidered with black. Tanisa's blouse is also sleeveless, but consists of several layers of translucent blue silk, tied behind her back. The layers shift as she moves, suggesting more than they actually reveal, but breathtaking none the less. The henna tattoos on her hands continue all the way up her arms.
Tenmou's musings are interrupted by the waitress announcing their table was ready. Ushering the two women ahead of him, he watches with a silent thrill as heads turn as they make their way to their table.
The dining area has two levels, the lower one against the far wall. Floor to ceiling windows provide an impressive view of the Sound as well as the downtown skyline. The waiter holds the chair out for Tanisa, while Tenmou does the same for Mioko.
"May I offer you something to drink while you look over the menu?" he asks.
"Martini, please, two olives." Tanisa makes eye contact to make sure her request is clear.
"What kind of sake do you have?" asked Mioko.
"We have Ginga Shizuku, Tentaka Kuni, and Mantensei, ma'am."
"The Tentaka, please, warmed." Mioko smiled at Tenmou, who nodded in return. He knew that it was one of her favorites, and that she rarely indulged herself. Tentaka was rare to find outside of Japan or a Japanese restaurant, and its price reflected that.
"For you, sir?"
23:15:28 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
Todd stops the video feed with a shocked look creeping over his face. He jumps out of his seat and rushes to his front door in search of the object.
Todd stops the video feed with a shocked look creeping over his face. He jumps out of his seat and rushes to his front door in search of the object.
23:16:07 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
The blood beneath the door has begun to dry into a black, tacky mess. Todd's close examination, though, reveals a flat black unmarked OMC pressed into the metal floorplate of the doorway.
The blood beneath the door has begun to dry into a black, tacky mess. Todd's close examination, though, reveals a flat black unmarked OMC pressed into the metal floorplate of the doorway.
23:16:27 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
Grimacing at how revolting the mess has become, Todd makes a mental note to call the front desk and ask them to send up a housekeeper. No way am I cleaning up this stuff. Oh man, sick! He peels the OMC away from the pool of gore and takes the chip over to his workbench. Setting it down, he opens up a plastic container of SysClean Wipes and goes to work cleaning the dried blood away from the circuits. Curiosity is fueling him now and he is somewhat able to put the events of the last thirty minutes behind him, though sweat still beads on his forehead from the stress of everything. Once the chip is clean, he walks it over to the tortoise terminal he uses for testing and slots the chip.
Grimacing at how revolting the mess has become, Todd makes a mental note to call the front desk and ask them to send up a housekeeper. No way am I cleaning up this stuff. Oh man, sick! He peels the OMC away from the pool of gore and takes the chip over to his workbench. Setting it down, he opens up a plastic container of SysClean Wipes and goes to work cleaning the dried blood away from the circuits. Curiosity is fueling him now and he is somewhat able to put the events of the last thirty minutes behind him, though sweat still beads on his forehead from the stress of everything. Once the chip is clean, he walks it over to the tortoise terminal he uses for testing and slots the chip.
14:59:47 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
Each person stepped through in their turn, and vanished ... and Dragon realised that sudden sinking feeling he has isn't only due to his having remembered that his movements weren't really under his control here, not at all.
The floor had fallen out from underneath him.
No, wait --
Too dim lighting to make anything out, constant rattling background NOISE! and his inner ear was screaming that he was falling falling falling --
His touch insisted that he was sitting on some kind of bench, with a thin padded metal harness holding him in place -- and he's pressing into it hard: his sense of balance has replaced the sense of falling with a sudden weight of g's, followed by a corkscrew spin that leaves him hanging ... upside down?
It's an illusion, has to be an illusion, but it's a fragging good one: his clothes are moving to match with the illusionary sense of gravity. Behind him Sybersnake is laughing in sheer delight. He's forcing himself to focus on his immediate surroundings, define by them his "up" and "down" as he'd once had to do in the simulator and again one time before a drop over hostile territory: force the mind to create a more stable reality within which he can function.
Someone is sitting across from him. The red dress whirls and flirts with the currents of air around them as they finish the corkscrew and catapult into another series of impossible g lifts and falls.
Against Sybersnake's delight, another, strangled sound from behind him: at least one of his fellow hitchers isn't doing well with this, not at all.
"Isn't it delicious?" comes a sultry voice from across from him ... a sultry male voice.
Each person stepped through in their turn, and vanished ... and Dragon realised that sudden sinking feeling he has isn't only due to his having remembered that his movements weren't really under his control here, not at all.
The floor had fallen out from underneath him.
No, wait --
Too dim lighting to make anything out, constant rattling background NOISE! and his inner ear was screaming that he was falling falling falling --
His touch insisted that he was sitting on some kind of bench, with a thin padded metal harness holding him in place -- and he's pressing into it hard: his sense of balance has replaced the sense of falling with a sudden weight of g's, followed by a corkscrew spin that leaves him hanging ... upside down?
It's an illusion, has to be an illusion, but it's a fragging good one: his clothes are moving to match with the illusionary sense of gravity. Behind him Sybersnake is laughing in sheer delight. He's forcing himself to focus on his immediate surroundings, define by them his "up" and "down" as he'd once had to do in the simulator and again one time before a drop over hostile territory: force the mind to create a more stable reality within which he can function.
Someone is sitting across from him. The red dress whirls and flirts with the currents of air around them as they finish the corkscrew and catapult into another series of impossible g lifts and falls.
Against Sybersnake's delight, another, strangled sound from behind him: at least one of his fellow hitchers isn't doing well with this, not at all.
"Isn't it delicious?" comes a sultry voice from across from him ... a sultry male voice.
17:49:11 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Virtual Daze Arcade
The instant Scrapheap entered the arcade, he was thankful for the extra nuyen he'd spent on the flare compensation option for his eyes. The way that the lights were flashing, both from the games and from the arcade lighting itself, made him wonder why the floor wasn't littered with kids in the throes of various seizures. Add in the throbbing techno beat and you had yourself one disorienting environment.
Shivering as he stopped just inside the entrance, he blew into his cupped right hand, the meat one, to warm it as he looked around. Man am I freezing! I think my feet may actually be frozen. Couldn't be helped. You always got to check a place out first; get your bearings. Never walk in blind.
As he looked around, he noticed a couple of gangers standing together off to the side. Their heads were together, and they looked like they were deep in conversation. Not so unusual, except they weren't wearing the same colors.
Maybe working out some deal. Maybe they're old friends. Whatever. What matters is that there's more than one gang represented here.
He walked further into the place, getting some strange looks from the people he passed. Some wore gang colors, some didn't, but almost all were at least 20 years his junior. As he walked, he unzipped his jacket so he could reach his weapons if needed. He also kept a tense watch for any dwarves wearing the colors of the Red Hot Nukes. The gang usually stayed close to their turf in the Hollywood area of Redmond, but there were other gangs represented here that he knew were off-turf. I still don't know what I did to set them off. I mean, it's not like I killed any of them. Still, I better keep an eye out for the old red and grey. Some of those short fraggers could be in here, and that's trouble I don't need right now.
With that in mind, Scrapheap started moving through the rows of games and the sparse crowd looking for a short elf kid. Ok, Twiggy. Where are you?
The instant Scrapheap entered the arcade, he was thankful for the extra nuyen he'd spent on the flare compensation option for his eyes. The way that the lights were flashing, both from the games and from the arcade lighting itself, made him wonder why the floor wasn't littered with kids in the throes of various seizures. Add in the throbbing techno beat and you had yourself one disorienting environment.
Shivering as he stopped just inside the entrance, he blew into his cupped right hand, the meat one, to warm it as he looked around. Man am I freezing! I think my feet may actually be frozen. Couldn't be helped. You always got to check a place out first; get your bearings. Never walk in blind.
As he looked around, he noticed a couple of gangers standing together off to the side. Their heads were together, and they looked like they were deep in conversation. Not so unusual, except they weren't wearing the same colors.
Maybe working out some deal. Maybe they're old friends. Whatever. What matters is that there's more than one gang represented here.
He walked further into the place, getting some strange looks from the people he passed. Some wore gang colors, some didn't, but almost all were at least 20 years his junior. As he walked, he unzipped his jacket so he could reach his weapons if needed. He also kept a tense watch for any dwarves wearing the colors of the Red Hot Nukes. The gang usually stayed close to their turf in the Hollywood area of Redmond, but there were other gangs represented here that he knew were off-turf. I still don't know what I did to set them off. I mean, it's not like I killed any of them. Still, I better keep an eye out for the old red and grey. Some of those short fraggers could be in here, and that's trouble I don't need right now.
With that in mind, Scrapheap started moving through the rows of games and the sparse crowd looking for a short elf kid. Ok, Twiggy. Where are you?
23:16:35 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
A hash of random numbers and characters scrolls across the screen as Todd tries to access the OMC. He frowns in some surprise, uncertain as to what to do next. Obviously the contents were encrypted, possibly databombed or wormed as well. But the whole experience was too high on his weird-drek-o-meter for him just to slot the chip and dive in to decrypt.
A hash of random numbers and characters scrolls across the screen as Todd tries to access the OMC. He frowns in some surprise, uncertain as to what to do next. Obviously the contents were encrypted, possibly databombed or wormed as well. But the whole experience was too high on his weird-drek-o-meter for him just to slot the chip and dive in to decrypt.
18:55:42 January 6, 2063 Sunset Apartments - Milton
Erebus cracked a smile, Elan had to be one of the more unusual characters in a business that often times attracted the unusual. Everything about his was stylish and elegant, sometimes he acted more like a concierge at some five star hotel. He never asked questions, no request ever seemed to trivial or unimportant, and he always treated you like you were his most important customer. It was refreshing and different at the same time, of course he also charged a healthy fee for everything he did. Erebus had no doubt that Elan could handle his simple request, the phones would be utterly untraceable, even to the most thorough corporate security team, but they'd also cost.
"Elan, thank you for the prompt response. I just need two phones, nothing fancy, and there is a strong probability that one or both of these items may end up in the hands of a corporate security service. They need to be absolutely clean."
Elan always appreciated courtesy, and Erebus wasn't about to forego that simple a tool in dealing with the fixer. Amanda had always seemed to cater to her contacts personal foibles, it would often put them at ease in dealing with her and make it easier for her to take advantage of them, Erebus had seen it work often enough that he made an effort to do the same.
"What's the cost for the units? I'd like to arrange to pick them up this evening if at all possible."
Erebus knew he'd pay more than he should for the units since he needed them fast but he wanted to get a message back to Dancer on Shadowland before someone else picked up on the job. He needed the nuyen a successful operation would bring and, just as important, he needed the boost to his rep if he wanted to play in the big leagues.
Erebus cracked a smile, Elan had to be one of the more unusual characters in a business that often times attracted the unusual. Everything about his was stylish and elegant, sometimes he acted more like a concierge at some five star hotel. He never asked questions, no request ever seemed to trivial or unimportant, and he always treated you like you were his most important customer. It was refreshing and different at the same time, of course he also charged a healthy fee for everything he did. Erebus had no doubt that Elan could handle his simple request, the phones would be utterly untraceable, even to the most thorough corporate security team, but they'd also cost.
"Elan, thank you for the prompt response. I just need two phones, nothing fancy, and there is a strong probability that one or both of these items may end up in the hands of a corporate security service. They need to be absolutely clean."
Elan always appreciated courtesy, and Erebus wasn't about to forego that simple a tool in dealing with the fixer. Amanda had always seemed to cater to her contacts personal foibles, it would often put them at ease in dealing with her and make it easier for her to take advantage of them, Erebus had seen it work often enough that he made an effort to do the same.
"What's the cost for the units? I'd like to arrange to pick them up this evening if at all possible."
Erebus knew he'd pay more than he should for the units since he needed them fast but he wanted to get a message back to Dancer on Shadowland before someone else picked up on the job. He needed the nuyen a successful operation would bring and, just as important, he needed the boost to his rep if he wanted to play in the big leagues.
20:01:18 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
"Just ice water, please. I'm driving." Shitoki said.
As the waiter heads off to fill the drink order, Shitoki smiles as he peruses the menu, looking for something that grabbed his attention.
"I've found that this is one of the best restaurants in the plex for getting really good quality food. Of course, it comes with a price, but I think an indulgence every once and a while is good thing, right?"
"Just ice water, please. I'm driving." Shitoki said.
As the waiter heads off to fill the drink order, Shitoki smiles as he peruses the menu, looking for something that grabbed his attention.
"I've found that this is one of the best restaurants in the plex for getting really good quality food. Of course, it comes with a price, but I think an indulgence every once and a while is good thing, right?"
20:01:39 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
"Only once in a while, I've got to keep an eye on my girlish figure." Mioko winked at Tenmou. Tanisa rolls her eyes at the statement.
"Whatever, girl, you've got a figure to die for." She glances across the table at Tenmou, her gaze becoming momentarily appraising.
"Or to kill for, as the case may be." Her smile becomes feral again. "I, myself, prefer to indulge every chance I get."
The waiter returns in a minute with their drink order. Mioko sips carefully at her sake, savoring the heady taste. Tanisa, on the other hand, drains her drink in one long gulp, pops the olives into her mouth, and sets the empty glass back on the waiter's tray.
"Same, please. And I'll have the pan seared Ahi for my entree, no soup, just a light dusting of oil on the salad." She dabs at the corner of her mouth with her napkin.
"I'll have the petit filet, please, medium, with a baked potato and green beans. No salad for me." Mioko hands the waiter her menu.
"Very good, ma'am. And for the gentleman?"
"Only once in a while, I've got to keep an eye on my girlish figure." Mioko winked at Tenmou. Tanisa rolls her eyes at the statement.
"Whatever, girl, you've got a figure to die for." She glances across the table at Tenmou, her gaze becoming momentarily appraising.
"Or to kill for, as the case may be." Her smile becomes feral again. "I, myself, prefer to indulge every chance I get."
The waiter returns in a minute with their drink order. Mioko sips carefully at her sake, savoring the heady taste. Tanisa, on the other hand, drains her drink in one long gulp, pops the olives into her mouth, and sets the empty glass back on the waiter's tray.
"Same, please. And I'll have the pan seared Ahi for my entree, no soup, just a light dusting of oil on the salad." She dabs at the corner of her mouth with her napkin.
"I'll have the petit filet, please, medium, with a baked potato and green beans. No salad for me." Mioko hands the waiter her menu.
"Very good, ma'am. And for the gentleman?"
20:02:06 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
"A slightly seared breast of chicken, basted in teriyaki, rice with mixed vegetables and a green salad with a light vinaigrette."
The waiter snapped closed his notepad and headed off with a smile and a nod.
"Old habits die hard," Shitoki said with a smile to Mioko in regards to his dinner order.
"A slightly seared breast of chicken, basted in teriyaki, rice with mixed vegetables and a green salad with a light vinaigrette."
The waiter snapped closed his notepad and headed off with a smile and a nod.
"Old habits die hard," Shitoki said with a smile to Mioko in regards to his dinner order.
14:59:47 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
Dragon thought it rather odd to think of a male voice as being sultry...but then again, this was the Matrix, and with his limited knowledge of the place, he supposed there were many things that were possible that he normally wouldn't consider. But that was neither here nor there, he reminded himself, a little ironically, since he currently had absolutely no absolute context of 'here' or 'there' in his present situation.
Calmly, he replied to the voice while trying to identify the speaker, "Possibly. If one were so inclined. Kiki , I presume?" Although he wanted to say more, he decided he'd better wait for the speaker to identify him (her?) self, since this was really a meet set up by Father Bremen , on behalf of Virgil . Best to make sure they were dealing with who they were supposed to be dealing with before giving anything else away. Hopefully the priest or the shaman would know and could open up the meet, since at this point he hadn't the faintest idea of how to proceed, or the etiquette involved. Not that he usually did, or cared, anyway, he thought with a small internal smile.
Dragon thought it rather odd to think of a male voice as being sultry...but then again, this was the Matrix, and with his limited knowledge of the place, he supposed there were many things that were possible that he normally wouldn't consider. But that was neither here nor there, he reminded himself, a little ironically, since he currently had absolutely no absolute context of 'here' or 'there' in his present situation.
Calmly, he replied to the voice while trying to identify the speaker, "Possibly. If one were so inclined. Kiki , I presume?" Although he wanted to say more, he decided he'd better wait for the speaker to identify him (her?) self, since this was really a meet set up by Father Bremen , on behalf of Virgil . Best to make sure they were dealing with who they were supposed to be dealing with before giving anything else away. Hopefully the priest or the shaman would know and could open up the meet, since at this point he hadn't the faintest idea of how to proceed, or the etiquette involved. Not that he usually did, or cared, anyway, he thought with a small internal smile.
20:02:46 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
"Isn't that the truth, though," smiled Mioko. "It's not necessarily a bad thing. Unless, of course, your habits are bad for you."
"My only bad habit is men," mused Tanisa in an offhand manner, her attention focused on a well dressed individual leaning against the bar.
"Your only habit is men," Mioko teased her friend, who responded by sticking her tongue out.
"Hey, a girl's gotta keep busy."
Mioko rolled her eyes, turning to look at Tenmou.
"Tell me, Shitoki, how's your brother doing?"
"Isn't that the truth, though," smiled Mioko. "It's not necessarily a bad thing. Unless, of course, your habits are bad for you."
"My only bad habit is men," mused Tanisa in an offhand manner, her attention focused on a well dressed individual leaning against the bar.
"Your only habit is men," Mioko teased her friend, who responded by sticking her tongue out.
"Hey, a girl's gotta keep busy."
Mioko rolled her eyes, turning to look at Tenmou.
"Tell me, Shitoki, how's your brother doing?"
23:21:51 Saturday 06 January 2063 - Apartment 875, Parkewood Village Apartments, Tacoma
In the end, natural curiosity overcame healthy paranoia. Todd dropped the chip into the back of his spare parts drawer for safekeeping before immersing himself in the greater reality of the matrix. Maybe it’s a little bit of paranoia, too, after all, he did die on my doorstep. Calling up an image from the security cameras, Todd goes to work.
In the end, natural curiosity overcame healthy paranoia. Todd dropped the chip into the back of his spare parts drawer for safekeeping before immersing himself in the greater reality of the matrix. Maybe it’s a little bit of paranoia, too, after all, he did die on my doorstep. Calling up an image from the security cameras, Todd goes to work.
14:59:49 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
Here . . there . . up . . down. I am never coming back here if it can be avoided. Virgil was glad that Dragon spoke up first because the cybered-merc was probably much more at home in the technological reality and Virgil did not want to ruin what few leads they had by mis-stepping now. For now he turned his "gaze" all around his new found surroundings trying to localize his location with the location of his companions.
I may have no fragging clue where "here" is, but I can at least keep track of where Father Bremen is . . he looks much worse off than I do.
Here . . there . . up . . down. I am never coming back here if it can be avoided. Virgil was glad that Dragon spoke up first because the cybered-merc was probably much more at home in the technological reality and Virgil did not want to ruin what few leads they had by mis-stepping now. For now he turned his "gaze" all around his new found surroundings trying to localize his location with the location of his companions.
I may have no fragging clue where "here" is, but I can at least keep track of where Father Bremen is . . he looks much worse off than I do.
20:02:46 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
Shitoki shrugged.
"Hatano is well. Stirring up trouble as usual, I'm sure. We haven't spoken in a little while. We've both been pretty busy of late. Hatano's been working some pretty crazy hours of late."
Shitoki looked up at Mioko. "We're supposed to get together for drinks at some point next week, provided we're both free from business obligations. After all this time, I still see him as my little brother. I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever shake that perception."
Shitoki shrugged.
"Hatano is well. Stirring up trouble as usual, I'm sure. We haven't spoken in a little while. We've both been pretty busy of late. Hatano's been working some pretty crazy hours of late."
Shitoki looked up at Mioko. "We're supposed to get together for drinks at some point next week, provided we're both free from business obligations. After all this time, I still see him as my little brother. I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever shake that perception."
18:02:41 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Virtual Daze Arcade
Scrapheap walked down the row between the arcade games, dodging a gaggle of ragged street kids. Many of the games in the Virtual Daze were a little old tech; you had to actually use manual controls while watching the action on a monitor. Of course, there were also a lot of newer machines too, that type that you could jack-into, but he was surprised to find that the ratio was actually skewed towards the older style machines. With a wry smile he thought, Almost makes me feel at home.
He'd been searching through the arcade for the last several minutes, so far without luck. He'd already checked both the upper and lower levels and was back on the main floor. His plan was to make one final round through the main floor before he started showing Nora's pic around and asking after Twiggy. Up to this point, he'd avoided doing either for fear of alerting the elven kid that someone was looking for him. Without a lot of solid leads in the search for his niece, he certainly didn't want to scare this kid away.
Finally, just as he was about to give up, John notices a crowd gathered around a large machine near the back of the arcade. Moving closer for a better look, he discovers that the crowd is watching someone playing some sort of dancing game. The kid in the machine was putting on quite a show, judging from the crowds reactions. Glancing at the view-screen told John little about the game's objective, but the kids watching were cheering the player's every move. From what little he could tell, the game tracked the player's movements and reflected them onscreen. The character on the screen mimicked the player's wild gyrations, and seemed to assign points to various moves. Based on what criteria, John had no idea.
Checking through the small crowd for his target, John missed how the game ended. His attention had been drawn back by the disappointed murmurs that ran through those gathered. The player stepped down from the machine's platform to the congratulations of a few of the watchers, but for the most part the crowd had started to go their separate ways as soon as the game ended. He started to turn away to continue his search, when the player pulled off the stocking cap he'd been wearing and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. He was an elf, short for his race, and he had spikey blond hair.
Triggering his wires, just in case the kid decided to run, Scrapheap stepped forward into the kid's path. "Twiggy, right?"
Quickly glancing around, the elf started to step back, but Scrapheap's left hand shot out and grabbed him above the elbow. "Listen, kid. I just want to talk; ask you a couple of questions. I don't want to hurt you." But I will if I have to.
Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, John pulled out a 20
paper bill. "Look, I'll even pay you for your time. What do you say?"
Scrapheap walked down the row between the arcade games, dodging a gaggle of ragged street kids. Many of the games in the Virtual Daze were a little old tech; you had to actually use manual controls while watching the action on a monitor. Of course, there were also a lot of newer machines too, that type that you could jack-into, but he was surprised to find that the ratio was actually skewed towards the older style machines. With a wry smile he thought, Almost makes me feel at home.
He'd been searching through the arcade for the last several minutes, so far without luck. He'd already checked both the upper and lower levels and was back on the main floor. His plan was to make one final round through the main floor before he started showing Nora's pic around and asking after Twiggy. Up to this point, he'd avoided doing either for fear of alerting the elven kid that someone was looking for him. Without a lot of solid leads in the search for his niece, he certainly didn't want to scare this kid away.
Finally, just as he was about to give up, John notices a crowd gathered around a large machine near the back of the arcade. Moving closer for a better look, he discovers that the crowd is watching someone playing some sort of dancing game. The kid in the machine was putting on quite a show, judging from the crowds reactions. Glancing at the view-screen told John little about the game's objective, but the kids watching were cheering the player's every move. From what little he could tell, the game tracked the player's movements and reflected them onscreen. The character on the screen mimicked the player's wild gyrations, and seemed to assign points to various moves. Based on what criteria, John had no idea.
Checking through the small crowd for his target, John missed how the game ended. His attention had been drawn back by the disappointed murmurs that ran through those gathered. The player stepped down from the machine's platform to the congratulations of a few of the watchers, but for the most part the crowd had started to go their separate ways as soon as the game ended. He started to turn away to continue his search, when the player pulled off the stocking cap he'd been wearing and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. He was an elf, short for his race, and he had spikey blond hair.
Triggering his wires, just in case the kid decided to run, Scrapheap stepped forward into the kid's path. "Twiggy, right?"
Quickly glancing around, the elf started to step back, but Scrapheap's left hand shot out and grabbed him above the elbow. "Listen, kid. I just want to talk; ask you a couple of questions. I don't want to hurt you." But I will if I have to.
Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, John pulled out a 20
paper bill. "Look, I'll even pay you for your time. What do you say?"
20:03:06 Friday 05 January 2063 - The Other Place, Seattle, UCAS
Mioko covered Tenmou's hand with her own.
"A brother's love is a brother's love. Family has a logic all its own. When you see him, be sure to tell him that I said hello." She smiled, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear with her other hand. Across the table, Tanisa watched with a soft smile of her own, sipping at her second martini.
A minute later the waiter arrived with a basket of warm bread. Beyond the windows, a pair of helicopters slipped past into downtown, anti-collision lights strobing red in the darkness. A comfortable silence settled momentarily across the table. Tanisa glanced back across the table at Tenmou.
"Oh, I meant to ask you before, do you miss Tokyo?"
Mioko covered Tenmou's hand with her own.
"A brother's love is a brother's love. Family has a logic all its own. When you see him, be sure to tell him that I said hello." She smiled, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear with her other hand. Across the table, Tanisa watched with a soft smile of her own, sipping at her second martini.
A minute later the waiter arrived with a basket of warm bread. Beyond the windows, a pair of helicopters slipped past into downtown, anti-collision lights strobing red in the darkness. A comfortable silence settled momentarily across the table. Tanisa glanced back across the table at Tenmou.
"Oh, I meant to ask you before, do you miss Tokyo?"
18:09:41 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Virtual Daze Arcade
Except there was just one problem. 'He', was a 'she'. And she looked pretty fragging scared of the big, scary guy who just grabbed her with a big honking cyberarm.
Holding up her hands in fear, she gasped, "Holy drek mister! I don't know drek and I ain't Twiggy! Please don't hurt me, I got nothing to do with nothing!"
A crowd had started to gather to watch the commotion, and John felt his face burning with embarassment. Oh my god...what is with me and my luck? I swear I'm cursed! I swear it!
While he's busy swearing that he's cursed, the fates seem to be moving to confirm it, as he senses a group of hostile presences behind him. Turning his head slightly, he sees a pack of about four teenage thugs staring him down.
"Hoi chummer," one of them says mockingly. "Ya wanna mess with her? Yer messin with us."
"Yeah, breeze or bleed," a second chimes in.
From the corner of his eye, John sees a pair of security guards closing in on the commotion as well, and the atmosphere of the place itself, a gang neutral zone, palatably tenses as people start readying themselves just in case someone breaks the neutral zone rules...
Except there was just one problem. 'He', was a 'she'. And she looked pretty fragging scared of the big, scary guy who just grabbed her with a big honking cyberarm.
Holding up her hands in fear, she gasped, "Holy drek mister! I don't know drek and I ain't Twiggy! Please don't hurt me, I got nothing to do with nothing!"
A crowd had started to gather to watch the commotion, and John felt his face burning with embarassment. Oh my god...what is with me and my luck? I swear I'm cursed! I swear it!
While he's busy swearing that he's cursed, the fates seem to be moving to confirm it, as he senses a group of hostile presences behind him. Turning his head slightly, he sees a pack of about four teenage thugs staring him down.
"Hoi chummer," one of them says mockingly. "Ya wanna mess with her? Yer messin with us."
"Yeah, breeze or bleed," a second chimes in.
From the corner of his eye, John sees a pair of security guards closing in on the commotion as well, and the atmosphere of the place itself, a gang neutral zone, palatably tenses as people start readying themselves just in case someone breaks the neutral zone rules...
18:11:02 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Virtual Daze Arcade
This is just fragging perfect...
Turning a bit so that he could keep everyone in sight, John presses the 20 into the girls hand. Girl, obviously a girl. What the frag is my problem?
"Listen, kid. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. My niece is missing, I'm trying to find her, and you look like someone that I was told knew where she was. My mistake. Keep the twenty for your troubles." He let go of her arm, and turned towards the crowd. I've already made a scene, might as well go for broke...
He raised his voice to carry, "Look, I'm trying to find my niece and this girl fit the description of someone I was told could help me. It was a misunderstanding; a mistake on my part, and I've already apologized to her." He looked around as he spoke, partially to address the crowd, but also to look for obvious hostiles and the nearest exits in case things got hairy. As he looked around he could see the elf-girl out of the corner of his eye. She was rubbing her arm where he grabbed her, but she was still there. The twenty, however, was nowhere in sight.
One of the punks spat on the floor. "Big fraggin' deal, gramps. Wot's it to us?"
Turning to face the kid, John smiled, "Actually chummer, I was hoping that someone here could help me." Turning back to the crowd, but not before he saw the kid sneer, he raised his voice again. "Her name is Nora. I have a picture here in my pocket. I'm going to reach in and get it now."
Mindful of the mood of the crowd, John slowly and deliberately reaches into his shirt pocket with one hand while holding the other in plain sight. Slowly, he pulls out the photo and hands it to the girl. "I'd appreciate it if any of you would be willing to take a look at it and tell me if you've seen her around."
I hope this fraggin' works!
This is just fragging perfect...
Turning a bit so that he could keep everyone in sight, John presses the 20
into the girls hand. Girl, obviously a girl. What the frag is my problem?"Listen, kid. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. My niece is missing, I'm trying to find her, and you look like someone that I was told knew where she was. My mistake. Keep the twenty for your troubles." He let go of her arm, and turned towards the crowd. I've already made a scene, might as well go for broke...
He raised his voice to carry, "Look, I'm trying to find my niece and this girl fit the description of someone I was told could help me. It was a misunderstanding; a mistake on my part, and I've already apologized to her." He looked around as he spoke, partially to address the crowd, but also to look for obvious hostiles and the nearest exits in case things got hairy. As he looked around he could see the elf-girl out of the corner of his eye. She was rubbing her arm where he grabbed her, but she was still there. The twenty, however, was nowhere in sight.
One of the punks spat on the floor. "Big fraggin' deal, gramps. Wot's it to us?"
Turning to face the kid, John smiled, "Actually chummer, I was hoping that someone here could help me." Turning back to the crowd, but not before he saw the kid sneer, he raised his voice again. "Her name is Nora. I have a picture here in my pocket. I'm going to reach in and get it now."
Mindful of the mood of the crowd, John slowly and deliberately reaches into his shirt pocket with one hand while holding the other in plain sight. Slowly, he pulls out the photo and hands it to the girl. "I'd appreciate it if any of you would be willing to take a look at it and tell me if you've seen her around."
I hope this fraggin' works!
14:59:49 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
"You assume correctly, my dear. Well, well, well, what have we here?" He (she?) leaned forward across the rapidly moving car, giving a sense of a flash of cleavage as the wind whipped the curled blonde tresses. Suddenly no longer laughing, Sybersnake shrank back, trying to dodge, but not before their host had planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek. "I was going to give you what I'd dug up of background, Father, but that was before I saw who you've brought me!"
"I'm going to be sick," whispered Father Bremen ... slowly, as though the words were being dragged out, and out, and o u u t t ...
Time had become sticky, and Virgil's every word struggled through molasses as he tried to reassure Father Bremen, trying to figure out what was happening; Tiffany trying to stand up in the car and failing, saying something, but the words s t r e t c h e d --
Across Dragon's eyes suddenly scrolled a message, so quickly Dragon's slowed reflexes could only barely comprehend it:
She has been tagged with a slow utility, and so have you. Keep him talking!
For Virgil, just for a moment, the illusion of words spoken in astral space was absolutely perfect.
For Tiffany -- but no one knew how the message had registered for the reporter, only that the three of them: each of them knew that the others had received the same message, and that not one other person had intercepted it.
Father Bremen clung desperately to the bars in front of him, not seeing much of anything.
"You assume correctly, my dear. Well, well, well, what have we here?" He (she?) leaned forward across the rapidly moving car, giving a sense of a flash of cleavage as the wind whipped the curled blonde tresses. Suddenly no longer laughing, Sybersnake shrank back, trying to dodge, but not before their host had planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek. "I was going to give you what I'd dug up of background, Father, but that was before I saw who you've brought me!"
"I'm going to be sick," whispered Father Bremen ... slowly, as though the words were being dragged out, and out, and o u u t t ...
Time had become sticky, and Virgil's every word struggled through molasses as he tried to reassure Father Bremen, trying to figure out what was happening; Tiffany trying to stand up in the car and failing, saying something, but the words s t r e t c h e d --
Across Dragon's eyes suddenly scrolled a message, so quickly Dragon's slowed reflexes could only barely comprehend it:
She has been tagged with a slow utility, and so have you. Keep him talking!
For Virgil, just for a moment, the illusion of words spoken in astral space was absolutely perfect.
For Tiffany -- but no one knew how the message had registered for the reporter, only that the three of them: each of them knew that the others had received the same message, and that not one other person had intercepted it.
Father Bremen clung desperately to the bars in front of him, not seeing much of anything.
18:12:12 Sunday 07 January 2063 – Virtual Daze Arcade
As John hands the photo to the girl, he sees her eyes light up in recognition. "Hey, you're a friend of Nora's? Why didn't you..."
Whatever she was going to ask about what he didn't do was quickly cut off by what he did do. Namely, hit the deck as fast as possible as a hurled body when flying through the air at him, limbs flailing wildly as the figure shrieked in fear before crashing into the dancing video game.
Sparks flew everywhere as the machine's screen flickered and died, and chaos ensued as everyone, fearing the truce was off and they were gonna get screwed, immediately attacked the person next to them. Guess someone's trigger finger got a little too itchy. And just as she was about to talk. Dammit John! He thought to himself.
As he tried to pick himself off the ground while staying alert for any attacks that might come at him, he glimpsed the girl crawling quickly off through the arcade.
Frag! She's my only good lead right now! I better get after her...before I get my faced stomped in by these yabos he mentally corrected himself as he came face to face with a pair of gangers blocking his path to the girl.
As John hands the photo to the girl, he sees her eyes light up in recognition. "Hey, you're a friend of Nora's? Why didn't you..."
Whatever she was going to ask about what he didn't do was quickly cut off by what he did do. Namely, hit the deck as fast as possible as a hurled body when flying through the air at him, limbs flailing wildly as the figure shrieked in fear before crashing into the dancing video game.
Sparks flew everywhere as the machine's screen flickered and died, and chaos ensued as everyone, fearing the truce was off and they were gonna get screwed, immediately attacked the person next to them. Guess someone's trigger finger got a little too itchy. And just as she was about to talk. Dammit John! He thought to himself.
As he tried to pick himself off the ground while staying alert for any attacks that might come at him, he glimpsed the girl crawling quickly off through the arcade.
Frag! She's my only good lead right now! I better get after her...before I get my faced stomped in by these yabos he mentally corrected himself as he came face to face with a pair of gangers blocking his path to the girl.
14:59:49 Saturday, January 6th, 2063 - Puyallup Street Clinic // Cyberspace
That is IT! That is FRAGGING IT!!! If we make it out of here, and clear up biz with all these other motherfragging rat sons of slitches, I swear to frag I am going to hunt this cowardly, double-crossing drekhead and fragging CRUCIFY his OR her sorry hoop to a fragging WALL! Dragon thought in a rush of anger as he saw Sybersnake shrink back and his combat instincts took over as he realized they were being attacked.
Dammit to hell Virgil, your fragging priest friend doesn't even have contacts he can trust and he brought us to this guy? Without a word that he, she, or it is this fragging unreliable?!!??!?!? Goddammit after we get out of here there's going to be a FRAG of a lot of words flying around, right before I start thinking about how to find this bastard and make him suffer but fragging GOOD!
As soon as he got the message through his image link, he quickly cut off that train of thought and focused on the only think he could do. Namely, keep this bastard talking. "Whoooooo arrrrrreeeee youuuuuuuu tallllkkkkiiiiinnnngggg aaaabbbbboooouuuttt?" His words were slurred, but clear, at least he hoped. "We'reeeeee juuuusssstttt heeerrrreeee toooooooooooooo taaaaaaaaaalllllllkkkkkk aaaaaabbbbbbbboooouuuuuuuuuttttttt Juuuuuuuulllllliiiiiiiaaaaa..."
Whatever you're going to do he thought to the voice that had tipped him off, do it fast!
That is IT! That is FRAGGING IT!!! If we make it out of here, and clear up biz with all these other motherfragging rat sons of slitches, I swear to frag I am going to hunt this cowardly, double-crossing drekhead and fragging CRUCIFY his OR her sorry hoop to a fragging WALL! Dragon thought in a rush of anger as he saw Sybersnake shrink back and his combat instincts took over as he realized they were being attacked.
Dammit to hell Virgil, your fragging priest friend doesn't even have contacts he can trust and he brought us to this guy? Without a word that he, she, or it is this fragging unreliable?!!??!?!? Goddammit after we get out of here there's going to be a FRAG of a lot of words flying around, right before I start thinking about how to find this bastard and make him suffer but fragging GOOD!
As soon as he got the message through his image link, he quickly cut off that train of thought and focused on the only think he could do. Namely, keep this bastard talking. "Whoooooo arrrrrreeeee youuuuuuuu tallllkkkkiiiiinnnngggg aaaabbbbboooouuuttt?" His words were slurred, but clear, at least he hoped. "We'reeeeee juuuusssstttt heeerrrreeee toooooooooooooo taaaaaaaaaalllllllkkkkkk aaaaaabbbbbbbboooouuuuuuuuuttttttt Juuuuuuuulllllliiiiiiiaaaaa..."
Whatever you're going to do he thought to the voice that had tipped him off, do it fast!
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