21:34:39 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Fall Inn, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"Are you volunteering?"
Full Version: Living in the Shadows: IC
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21:34:42 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Fall Inn, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"No. But my services are for hire, if that's what you're wondering."
"No. But my services are for hire, if that's what you're wondering."
18:58:17 Friday, 12 January 2063, Capitol Hill Terrace, 1404 E. 14th Ave Apt 203, Capitol Hill, Seattle, UCAS
After making what passed for a plan with Reign later on in the evening, Tony got dressed, layering a sweater and his still scratched securetech coat over knockoff-designer tuxedo shirt and slacks. Lacing up his boots, a lesson from the Academy keep looping through his mind. There are time where you will be followed, whether or not you know it. Simonson said in the lecture hall after an exercise. What's important is that you don't panic. The people that will be following you probably have more resources than you. You have to be smarter than they are. Don't alter your routine until you have to, don't do anything out of the ordinary until it's necessary. Tony, Priest, and Salvo, along with the rest of the 20-odd class, listened attentively, actually wanting to test their wits and skills.
Tony shook his head at the not-much-younger-in-years image of himself; dumb, eager for conflict, damn near brainwashed with pro-Corp upbringing, willing to take on the world if necessary. And then we grew up he thought, tieing up his walking boots. We grew up, we found out what the world really is like. And they didn't tell us the half of it. I'd have been dead in a month if it wasn't for Sam. Or I'd have ended up like Priest.
Straightening up and smoothing his clothes, he checks his hair in the mirror, feeling a moment of guilt at his fling with Reign. "You read the reports, you know what she did. Those bills didn't get passed on just a smile," he told himself, pushing aside his guilt at that. Slipping the odd-looking Morrisey holdout into an interior pocket of his longcoat he walked out the door, setting a small nylon bristle from his hair brush in the door near the top end of the jamb. Hacking his doorlock wouldn't be out of the league of someone who could hack his telecom, he reasoned, having also decided to take a cab to general area of the meet as well.
19:40:17 Friday, 12 January 2063, The Waterfront Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Tony got to the general area of the bar still way too early for even him. Well, let's follow the profile he thought, spending twenty minutes window shopping, walking somewhat randomly up and down the sidewalk looking at new trideos and decks that he didn't need. The scratch in his coat tagged him immedietly to the semi-bored salespeople as "not a buyer", getting him some rude glances from the Sony store staff. He wasn't really looking, just trying to get a feel of the faces in the crowd, feeling the flow. His psec beeped, a reminder to move toward the bar and get ready for the meet.
After making what passed for a plan with Reign later on in the evening, Tony got dressed, layering a sweater and his still scratched securetech coat over knockoff-designer tuxedo shirt and slacks. Lacing up his boots, a lesson from the Academy keep looping through his mind. There are time where you will be followed, whether or not you know it. Simonson said in the lecture hall after an exercise. What's important is that you don't panic. The people that will be following you probably have more resources than you. You have to be smarter than they are. Don't alter your routine until you have to, don't do anything out of the ordinary until it's necessary. Tony, Priest, and Salvo, along with the rest of the 20-odd class, listened attentively, actually wanting to test their wits and skills.
Tony shook his head at the not-much-younger-in-years image of himself; dumb, eager for conflict, damn near brainwashed with pro-Corp upbringing, willing to take on the world if necessary. And then we grew up he thought, tieing up his walking boots. We grew up, we found out what the world really is like. And they didn't tell us the half of it. I'd have been dead in a month if it wasn't for Sam. Or I'd have ended up like Priest.
Straightening up and smoothing his clothes, he checks his hair in the mirror, feeling a moment of guilt at his fling with Reign. "You read the reports, you know what she did. Those bills didn't get passed on just a smile," he told himself, pushing aside his guilt at that. Slipping the odd-looking Morrisey holdout into an interior pocket of his longcoat he walked out the door, setting a small nylon bristle from his hair brush in the door near the top end of the jamb. Hacking his doorlock wouldn't be out of the league of someone who could hack his telecom, he reasoned, having also decided to take a cab to general area of the meet as well.
19:40:17 Friday, 12 January 2063, The Waterfront Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Tony got to the general area of the bar still way too early for even him. Well, let's follow the profile he thought, spending twenty minutes window shopping, walking somewhat randomly up and down the sidewalk looking at new trideos and decks that he didn't need. The scratch in his coat tagged him immedietly to the semi-bored salespeople as "not a buyer", getting him some rude glances from the Sony store staff. He wasn't really looking, just trying to get a feel of the faces in the crowd, feeling the flow. His psec beeped, a reminder to move toward the bar and get ready for the meet.
11:32:06 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
The jovial smile on Ivans face vanished like a snowflake on a tounge. The rage he felt every time he fought, every time he was forced into confrontation, swelled up in him. His vision turned red and his mouth tightened.
He took a single step toward the nearest ganger and flexed his arms. The massive black spurs sprang out of his forearms with a pop.
The jovial smile on Ivans face vanished like a snowflake on a tounge. The rage he felt every time he fought, every time he was forced into confrontation, swelled up in him. His vision turned red and his mouth tightened.
He took a single step toward the nearest ganger and flexed his arms. The massive black spurs sprang out of his forearms with a pop.
11:32:20 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
The gangers, more used to scaring metahumans into paying protection than actually fighting them, nearly drek their leather pants at the sight of the meter long spurs that dwarf the knife that their leader brandished. The poorly cut drugs in their system didn't do much to boost the 'fight' side of their reflexes either; normally used to shaking down much more timid metahumans, they weren't prepared to have to fight an obviously angry troll with a weapon as long as one of their legs, and ready to use it.
As they turn and run away, Ivan can clearly see the a logo on the back of their jackets; a moon, being scratched by a clawed hand.
The gangers, more used to scaring metahumans into paying protection than actually fighting them, nearly drek their leather pants at the sight of the meter long spurs that dwarf the knife that their leader brandished. The poorly cut drugs in their system didn't do much to boost the 'fight' side of their reflexes either; normally used to shaking down much more timid metahumans, they weren't prepared to have to fight an obviously angry troll with a weapon as long as one of their legs, and ready to use it.
As they turn and run away, Ivan can clearly see the a logo on the back of their jackets; a moon, being scratched by a clawed hand.
19:55:17 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
At the southern end of the historic Seattle Waterfront district, the Waterfront Bar butts up against the industrial outliers of the North Tacoma dock facilities. Its patrons were more proletarian than tourist, cementing its reputation as the place to go for those visitors seeking an 'authentic' working-class experience.
Two outdoor patio areas span almost the full facade of the downstairs bar, leaving only a narrow aisle next to the hostesses podium for entrance. Upstairs is the enclosed dining area, floor to ceiling windows giving an excellent view of the massive corporate container vessels navigating the Sound to either the lower Tacoma docks or on their way out to the Straits of San Juan De Fuca.
In response to Tony's inquiry, the bartender jerks her thumb towards the stairs leading to the dining area. It only takes him one scan of the tables and boothes to locate the Johnson.
Dressed in a stylish if unremarkable grey suit, the slim caucasian man is the personification of Corporate Efficiency. Tony remembered the type well. He sits alone at a table, a thin portable display unit placed deliberately close at hand. A second scan of the room highlights his escorts, a pair of athletic young men who's attention is focussed entirely on Tony. He knew that type as well.
The Johnson smiled at his approach, an expression completely devoid of emotion, serving simply as an introduction to the meeting. He half rose from his chair, indicating the seat across the table for Tony.
"Good evening, Mr. Francis. Thank you for being prompt to our meeting. The brief that I have for you will not take long to go over, but perhaps some refreshments before we begin?"
At the southern end of the historic Seattle Waterfront district, the Waterfront Bar butts up against the industrial outliers of the North Tacoma dock facilities. Its patrons were more proletarian than tourist, cementing its reputation as the place to go for those visitors seeking an 'authentic' working-class experience.
Two outdoor patio areas span almost the full facade of the downstairs bar, leaving only a narrow aisle next to the hostesses podium for entrance. Upstairs is the enclosed dining area, floor to ceiling windows giving an excellent view of the massive corporate container vessels navigating the Sound to either the lower Tacoma docks or on their way out to the Straits of San Juan De Fuca.
In response to Tony's inquiry, the bartender jerks her thumb towards the stairs leading to the dining area. It only takes him one scan of the tables and boothes to locate the Johnson.
Dressed in a stylish if unremarkable grey suit, the slim caucasian man is the personification of Corporate Efficiency. Tony remembered the type well. He sits alone at a table, a thin portable display unit placed deliberately close at hand. A second scan of the room highlights his escorts, a pair of athletic young men who's attention is focussed entirely on Tony. He knew that type as well.
The Johnson smiled at his approach, an expression completely devoid of emotion, serving simply as an introduction to the meeting. He half rose from his chair, indicating the seat across the table for Tony.
"Good evening, Mr. Francis. Thank you for being prompt to our meeting. The brief that I have for you will not take long to go over, but perhaps some refreshments before we begin?"
11:40:20 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
Ivan watched the gangers retreat with fiery eyes. He wanted so badly to chase them down and grind there bones into dust. He hovered on the edge of losing control. Slowly, inescapably, the rage subsided and the somewhat goofy smile returned to his features.
Maybe next time they think twice about working the streets.
His spurs retracted with a jarring snap. He cracked his neck to the side once and let out a breath. All done.
He punched the code Virus gave him to get into her building,. It was a throw away code, she changed it regularly. The elevator would not fit him so he heaved a sigh and made his way up the steps to the top floor. At times he felt like the seracrete would give out on his weight. The wood floor to her apartment was worse.
The main door was huge, more like a castle door. Two heavy wooden doors, probably 4 feet wide each barred the entrance to her apartment. A hidden camera detected his presence and notified the wheel chair bound decker.
“Hoi Ivan, have it open once the building is secure.”
It wasn’t that she was paranoid, but she was absolutely physically defenseless in the chair, she spent a lot of money on security, mundane and other wise. “Ok its clear,” came her voice over the comm. The doors slid open on rails, exposing the spacious interior.
She was behind her console on her mobile chair. It was on magnetic rails and had access to all the major places in the apartment with the touch of a button. The big doors slid shut behind Ivan as he walked through. As usual, there was no place to sit in the living room. Virus preferred her guest stand.
“You look wonderful tovarich,” Ivan said in lieu of a greeting.
She smiled and impish smile; even bound in the chair she was incredibly attractive, and curvy in all the right places.
“Liar,” she replied.
“What have you got for me?” Ivan was eager to know what was going on.
Ivan watched the gangers retreat with fiery eyes. He wanted so badly to chase them down and grind there bones into dust. He hovered on the edge of losing control. Slowly, inescapably, the rage subsided and the somewhat goofy smile returned to his features.
Maybe next time they think twice about working the streets.
His spurs retracted with a jarring snap. He cracked his neck to the side once and let out a breath. All done.
He punched the code Virus gave him to get into her building,. It was a throw away code, she changed it regularly. The elevator would not fit him so he heaved a sigh and made his way up the steps to the top floor. At times he felt like the seracrete would give out on his weight. The wood floor to her apartment was worse.
The main door was huge, more like a castle door. Two heavy wooden doors, probably 4 feet wide each barred the entrance to her apartment. A hidden camera detected his presence and notified the wheel chair bound decker.
“Hoi Ivan, have it open once the building is secure.”
It wasn’t that she was paranoid, but she was absolutely physically defenseless in the chair, she spent a lot of money on security, mundane and other wise. “Ok its clear,” came her voice over the comm. The doors slid open on rails, exposing the spacious interior.
She was behind her console on her mobile chair. It was on magnetic rails and had access to all the major places in the apartment with the touch of a button. The big doors slid shut behind Ivan as he walked through. As usual, there was no place to sit in the living room. Virus preferred her guest stand.
“You look wonderful tovarich,” Ivan said in lieu of a greeting.
She smiled and impish smile; even bound in the chair she was incredibly attractive, and curvy in all the right places.
“Liar,” she replied.
“What have you got for me?” Ivan was eager to know what was going on.
19:55:44 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"A bourbon, neat, if you don't mind," Tony drawled amiebly, perking a bit to hear his last name used. Well informed, this greasy little weasel is he thought as he seated himself where the man indicated, matching the Johnson's plastic, standard issue smile.
"I'm sorry, but I wasn't supplied with your name, Mr. ...", he trailed off, trying to level the playing field a bit.
"A bourbon, neat, if you don't mind," Tony drawled amiebly, perking a bit to hear his last name used. Well informed, this greasy little weasel is he thought as he seated himself where the man indicated, matching the Johnson's plastic, standard issue smile.
"I'm sorry, but I wasn't supplied with your name, Mr. ...", he trailed off, trying to level the playing field a bit.
11:41:57 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
"Well, there wasn't a lot to find, at first," Virus said, sending a command to turn on the small trideo on a console in the corner. On it, a black and white picture of a man with a close cropped hair disemarks from a jet. The feed then switches to the same man, carrying a large bag and walking away from the plane.
"Guy apparently got here yesterday from Paris. Another guy from," Virus stops for a second, reviewing her notes, "somewhere in Europe thinks he's here for something not nice. You seen this guy before?" She says, noticing Ivan looking at the screen.
"Well, there wasn't a lot to find, at first," Virus said, sending a command to turn on the small trideo on a console in the corner. On it, a black and white picture of a man with a close cropped hair disemarks from a jet. The feed then switches to the same man, carrying a large bag and walking away from the plane.
"Guy apparently got here yesterday from Paris. Another guy from," Virus stops for a second, reviewing her notes, "somewhere in Europe thinks he's here for something not nice. You seen this guy before?" She says, noticing Ivan looking at the screen.
22:06:09 Monday, 08 January 2063 – Domain, 810 Bishop St, Tacoma, UCAS
Vedic saw them as soon as he felt them, dark shapes moving purposefully through the haze and strobes, stubby weapons snugged to shoulders, primed to engage. He shoved Lilith to the ground, knowing her arms would thrust forward to catch her, knowing she would skid on the slick metal grating, tearing flesh from her palms and knees. Bracing on her back, he scissored his legs around, aiming for the outside hip of the lead figure. He would strike at the fulcrum of the man's balance, a hammerblow that would send him tumbling to the floor, clearing one more obstacle from his path.
Vedic saw them as soon as he felt them, dark shapes moving purposefully through the haze and strobes, stubby weapons snugged to shoulders, primed to engage. He shoved Lilith to the ground, knowing her arms would thrust forward to catch her, knowing she would skid on the slick metal grating, tearing flesh from her palms and knees. Bracing on her back, he scissored his legs around, aiming for the outside hip of the lead figure. He would strike at the fulcrum of the man's balance, a hammerblow that would send him tumbling to the floor, clearing one more obstacle from his path.
19:59:45 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
Finn looks at Max oddly for a moment, sizing him up, weighing, judging… something, it would seem. But what that something is, neither Max nor John could say. Finally, without looking at his friend, he says, “For a guy who’s been out of the game for a long time John, it looks to me like you’re jumping back in with both feet.”
Keeping his gaze on Max, he answers, “All right, I’ll help you get your information. As for what it’s going to cost you, I want you to back up my buddy John here until he finds his niece. From here on out, you two are going to be a team, until you both get what you’re looking for. You can start by helping him out on his courier run tomorrow night. What do you say?”
Finn looks at Max oddly for a moment, sizing him up, weighing, judging… something, it would seem. But what that something is, neither Max nor John could say. Finally, without looking at his friend, he says, “For a guy who’s been out of the game for a long time John, it looks to me like you’re jumping back in with both feet.”
Keeping his gaze on Max, he answers, “All right, I’ll help you get your information. As for what it’s going to cost you, I want you to back up my buddy John here until he finds his niece. From here on out, you two are going to be a team, until you both get what you’re looking for. You can start by helping him out on his courier run tomorrow night. What do you say?”
12:44:02 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Carla smiles like the cat who just ate the canary, knowing full well that this was what Eyes would do all along. She doesn’t seem inclined to rub it in however, seemingly content to know that things worked out as they had intended it to.
“Actually,” she answers Eyes, this time with a great deal less venom than her previous comments towards him (another ruse, perhaps?), “we’ve already found you a team.”
“You've got a meet tomorrow at noon. They’ll be going exactly where we want you to be going. We found out through our network that there’s a team working with the MPA to hit one of Saito’s camps, and the particular camp they’re hitting just so happens to be where Janet is being held. Fortunately for us, they’re looking for a decker. We've already set you up to meet with them as a candidate, so all you need to do is accept the job, do your job for them, and arrange things to ensure that Janet gets out alive and functional in the process. How’s that sound for straightforward and simple?”
Carla smiles like the cat who just ate the canary, knowing full well that this was what Eyes would do all along. She doesn’t seem inclined to rub it in however, seemingly content to know that things worked out as they had intended it to.
“Actually,” she answers Eyes, this time with a great deal less venom than her previous comments towards him (another ruse, perhaps?), “we’ve already found you a team.”
“You've got a meet tomorrow at noon. They’ll be going exactly where we want you to be going. We found out through our network that there’s a team working with the MPA to hit one of Saito’s camps, and the particular camp they’re hitting just so happens to be where Janet is being held. Fortunately for us, they’re looking for a decker. We've already set you up to meet with them as a candidate, so all you need to do is accept the job, do your job for them, and arrange things to ensure that Janet gets out alive and functional in the process. How’s that sound for straightforward and simple?”
14:30:43 Tuesday, 09 January, 2063 - Buses and Monorails and Trains, Oh My!
And somewhere in the midst of all that helter-skelter, she receives a phone call. Checking the caller ID, she sees the caller has identified themselves as simply, “Tin Star sent me.”
And somewhere in the midst of all that helter-skelter, she receives a phone call. Checking the caller ID, she sees the caller has identified themselves as simply, “Tin Star sent me.”
20:02:12 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
"Fraggin' whoa, there, chummer. We're just followin' the data. Right now, it's pointin' at these Camps." Glancing at Max, he added, "And thanks for the thought, but I can handle tomorrow night just fine."
Ignoring him, Finn kept his gaze on Max, though a grin did slowly creep across his face. "Well? Have you decided? As an added bonus, you get him to lose that dreky sweater and I may even make this my top priority."
"Fraggin' whoa, there, chummer. We're just followin' the data. Right now, it's pointin' at these Camps." Glancing at Max, he added, "And thanks for the thought, but I can handle tomorrow night just fine."
Ignoring him, Finn kept his gaze on Max, though a grin did slowly creep across his face. "Well? Have you decided? As an added bonus, you get him to lose that dreky sweater and I may even make this my top priority."
20:02:32 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
Max didn't take his eyes off of Finn.
"Deal."
He wasn't about to tell Finn that he had already promised John he would do what he could to help find Nora.
'Let him think he won, at least I won't have to pay him.'
Max didn't take his eyes off of Finn.
"Deal."
He wasn't about to tell Finn that he had already promised John he would do what he could to help find Nora.
'Let him think he won, at least I won't have to pay him.'
11:42:03 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
Ivan looks intently at the screen, racking his memory for any sign of recognition on the mans face.
"Was there manifestation?"
Ivan looks intently at the screen, racking his memory for any sign of recognition on the mans face.
"Was there manifestation?"
20:02:44 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
Why's everyone keep givin' me drek about this sweater? It's itchy, but it ain't so bad...
John looked down at the sweater, then snapped his head back up as Max said "Deal."
"What the frag! Hoi! Over here! The fraggin' street samurai? With the guns and the 'ware and the mean? Why you actin' like I ain't here?"
Ignoring him, Finn stepped forward and stuck his hand out to Max.
"You know I can fraggin' handle myself, Finn. You've seen it. Why are you tryin' so fraggin' hard to make sure I got backup on this? First the kids and now Max. I though it was a simple courier gig? What the frag am I movin' anyway?"
Why's everyone keep givin' me drek about this sweater? It's itchy, but it ain't so bad...
John looked down at the sweater, then snapped his head back up as Max said "Deal."
"What the frag! Hoi! Over here! The fraggin' street samurai? With the guns and the 'ware and the mean? Why you actin' like I ain't here?"
Ignoring him, Finn stepped forward and stuck his hand out to Max.
"You know I can fraggin' handle myself, Finn. You've seen it. Why are you tryin' so fraggin' hard to make sure I got backup on this? First the kids and now Max. I though it was a simple courier gig? What the frag am I movin' anyway?"
20:04:01 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
Turning towards John, Finn recoils in mock astonishment. “John? Is that you chummer?” He pretends to look really hard, then straightens up and grins. “Well I’ll be. Couldn’t hardly recognize ya. Thought some squatter in a really ugly piece of drek sweater wandered up here by mistake.”
He turns serious again. “I’m doing what I did back in the bad old days chummer. Watching your sorry hoop, because evidently you’ve forgotten how to do it yourself.”
“You wanna run that one by me again chum?” John’s voice turns slightly antagonistic.
“You’re staring to play in the big leagues again John. This ain’t no two-nuyen Yak enforcement job you’re running. You’re tracking missing persons some people obviously have an interest in keeping missing, breaking into supposed not-for-profit clinics that have stealth prompts, the Star just one wrong move away from your SIN-toting friend over here, a buncha kids you’ve suddenly decided to be a parent towards, hell, I don’t see anything but problems and weight on your back.”
“So? I’ve been doing fine so far, not a scratch or an enemy in sight.”
“They never are in sight John, least not until it’s too late. Or have you forgotten?” The decker gestures towards Max. “The way I scan it, your chummer here can at least provide you some magical backup, as well as someone to watch your back in the first place.”
Finn ticks off the points on his fingers as he continues, “Second, this guy’s about one bright cop away from getting his SIN yanked and finding himself the target of a Lone Star investigation. You and I both know the longer he keeps this crazy search for his friend up, the higher the odds he’s gonna enter the wonderful world of the SINless real soon. I’m trying to be a good guy here, help him get his feet wet in our world by sticking him with you, so you can show him the ropes and keep him alive. In exchange for the lesson, you get someone to watch your back. Everyone wins, right chummer?”
Although he didn’t want to admit it, his friend had a point. Still, John couldn’t keep a distasteful look off his face as he replied, “OK Finn, I see your point about Max. But what about the kids? Why are you trying so fragging hard to get me all this backup on the courier job?”
Turning towards his computer screens, Finn looks away from his friend for a moment. Without looking back at him, he says softly, “How old are those kids John? Sixteen? Seventeen? Maybe even fourteen or fifteen?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, but continues, “Iris is a good girl. That was her first meatbod run you took her on, broke her cherry, you know? And she’s only eighteen years old.”
He looks back at John. “How long before those kids take a stab at a run for real? Trying to move up off the gang ladder into the big boys, maybe running with the syndicates, or trying to fly solo? What would’ve happened to Iris if you weren’t there John, if it was just a bunch of inexperienced kids like your little friends?”
His eyes bore into John, who simply stared back, almost hiding behind the chrome spheres he called eyes, letting the metal shield him from where his friend is trying to go. They both knew the answer to that, but John said it anyway. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out. At least her, if not all of them. We were a wrong move away from getting fragged.”
Finn nods. “You care about those kids chummer. Or else you wouldn’t let them tag along with you like that. I’m trying to put them in a position to stay alive when they hit the shadows, for your sake chum. You already lost enough friends as is.”
“Jesus Finn, you tryin’ to tell me you’re working on setting me up with a crew of kids?”
Scowling, Finn answers, “You idiot. No. They’re a couple years too young and way too new to run with you. It’s your heart dummy. You know, the thing that beats real fast whenever you think about…” He cuts himself off abruptly, not meaning to go there, at least not now, not in front of Max.
Regaining his composure, Finn instead says, “All I’m saying is these kids mean something to you, and as a favor to you and them, I’m trying to keep them alive by sticking them around you so you can show them enough to stay alive a little longer, just like your buddy and new partner Max,” he motions to the shaman.
He raises an eyebrow. “What better way that to give them a milk run? Nothing fancy, nothing crazy. Just simple escorts where they do a little watchover, collect some creds, get a little experience in the protocols of it all?” He shrugs. “They’ll be doing it on their own soon enough, if they aren’t already. Would you rather them do it with you or without you?”
Turning towards John, Finn recoils in mock astonishment. “John? Is that you chummer?” He pretends to look really hard, then straightens up and grins. “Well I’ll be. Couldn’t hardly recognize ya. Thought some squatter in a really ugly piece of drek sweater wandered up here by mistake.”
He turns serious again. “I’m doing what I did back in the bad old days chummer. Watching your sorry hoop, because evidently you’ve forgotten how to do it yourself.”
“You wanna run that one by me again chum?” John’s voice turns slightly antagonistic.
“You’re staring to play in the big leagues again John. This ain’t no two-nuyen Yak enforcement job you’re running. You’re tracking missing persons some people obviously have an interest in keeping missing, breaking into supposed not-for-profit clinics that have stealth prompts, the Star just one wrong move away from your SIN-toting friend over here, a buncha kids you’ve suddenly decided to be a parent towards, hell, I don’t see anything but problems and weight on your back.”
“So? I’ve been doing fine so far, not a scratch or an enemy in sight.”
“They never are in sight John, least not until it’s too late. Or have you forgotten?” The decker gestures towards Max. “The way I scan it, your chummer here can at least provide you some magical backup, as well as someone to watch your back in the first place.”
Finn ticks off the points on his fingers as he continues, “Second, this guy’s about one bright cop away from getting his SIN yanked and finding himself the target of a Lone Star investigation. You and I both know the longer he keeps this crazy search for his friend up, the higher the odds he’s gonna enter the wonderful world of the SINless real soon. I’m trying to be a good guy here, help him get his feet wet in our world by sticking him with you, so you can show him the ropes and keep him alive. In exchange for the lesson, you get someone to watch your back. Everyone wins, right chummer?”
Although he didn’t want to admit it, his friend had a point. Still, John couldn’t keep a distasteful look off his face as he replied, “OK Finn, I see your point about Max. But what about the kids? Why are you trying so fragging hard to get me all this backup on the courier job?”
Turning towards his computer screens, Finn looks away from his friend for a moment. Without looking back at him, he says softly, “How old are those kids John? Sixteen? Seventeen? Maybe even fourteen or fifteen?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, but continues, “Iris is a good girl. That was her first meatbod run you took her on, broke her cherry, you know? And she’s only eighteen years old.”
He looks back at John. “How long before those kids take a stab at a run for real? Trying to move up off the gang ladder into the big boys, maybe running with the syndicates, or trying to fly solo? What would’ve happened to Iris if you weren’t there John, if it was just a bunch of inexperienced kids like your little friends?”
His eyes bore into John, who simply stared back, almost hiding behind the chrome spheres he called eyes, letting the metal shield him from where his friend is trying to go. They both knew the answer to that, but John said it anyway. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out. At least her, if not all of them. We were a wrong move away from getting fragged.”
Finn nods. “You care about those kids chummer. Or else you wouldn’t let them tag along with you like that. I’m trying to put them in a position to stay alive when they hit the shadows, for your sake chum. You already lost enough friends as is.”
“Jesus Finn, you tryin’ to tell me you’re working on setting me up with a crew of kids?”
Scowling, Finn answers, “You idiot. No. They’re a couple years too young and way too new to run with you. It’s your heart dummy. You know, the thing that beats real fast whenever you think about…” He cuts himself off abruptly, not meaning to go there, at least not now, not in front of Max.
Regaining his composure, Finn instead says, “All I’m saying is these kids mean something to you, and as a favor to you and them, I’m trying to keep them alive by sticking them around you so you can show them enough to stay alive a little longer, just like your buddy and new partner Max,” he motions to the shaman.
He raises an eyebrow. “What better way that to give them a milk run? Nothing fancy, nothing crazy. Just simple escorts where they do a little watchover, collect some creds, get a little experience in the protocols of it all?” He shrugs. “They’ll be doing it on their own soon enough, if they aren’t already. Would you rather them do it with you or without you?”
20:07:30 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
The conversation was obviously something Finn thought John needed to hear, but Max wasn't so sure it was something he needed to hear.
Finn was definitely right about one thing. Max had been dangerously close to being arrested already and he had the feeling that before all was said and done he would run into Detective Morris again if he wasn't more careful.
Max waited politely for Finn and John to finish their conversation for speaking.
"You are right. I am very close to losing my SIN and if I want to continue in this line of work, I will need a way to keep my identity a secret. Would you be able to set up a fake SIN and if so how much would something like that run?"
The conversation was obviously something Finn thought John needed to hear, but Max wasn't so sure it was something he needed to hear.
Finn was definitely right about one thing. Max had been dangerously close to being arrested already and he had the feeling that before all was said and done he would run into Detective Morris again if he wasn't more careful.
Max waited politely for Finn and John to finish their conversation for speaking.
"You are right. I am very close to losing my SIN and if I want to continue in this line of work, I will need a way to keep my identity a secret. Would you be able to set up a fake SIN and if so how much would something like that run?"
11:44:45 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
The image does jog Ivan's memory, but the man is so pedestrian that he's hard to recognize.
"Was there manifistation?" he asks.
"A manifest?" Virus smiles. Parsing Ivan was an acquired skill. “Nope. Private flight, they don’t have to file them. I did find out that that guy was the only one on the plane, though. That plane, at least.,” she clicks off the screen, turning Ivan’s attention back to her.
The image does jog Ivan's memory, but the man is so pedestrian that he's hard to recognize.
"Was there manifistation?" he asks.
"A manifest?" Virus smiles. Parsing Ivan was an acquired skill. “Nope. Private flight, they don’t have to file them. I did find out that that guy was the only one on the plane, though. That plane, at least.,” she clicks off the screen, turning Ivan’s attention back to her.
20:06:28 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
John looked at his friend silently. He knew Finn was right; had even admitted to himself that he cared about the kids even though he'd originally just intended to use them to find Nora. He just didn't know he was so transparent.
"A'ight, Finn. You got me fraggin' pegged. Always were too smart for your own good. Of course I'd rather they do it with me around."
As the decker looked back towards his bank of monitors, John could see the small, smug grin spreading across his face. Seeing this, he almost snapped off an angry retort. Something like, "Anyone else you want me to potty-train while I'm at it!?!" Instead, he let his friend have his little victory. He knew the guy was just trying to help; doing good in his own way.
John looked at his friend silently. He knew Finn was right; had even admitted to himself that he cared about the kids even though he'd originally just intended to use them to find Nora. He just didn't know he was so transparent.
"A'ight, Finn. You got me fraggin' pegged. Always were too smart for your own good. Of course I'd rather they do it with me around."
As the decker looked back towards his bank of monitors, John could see the small, smug grin spreading across his face. Seeing this, he almost snapped off an angry retort. Something like, "Anyone else you want me to potty-train while I'm at it!?!" Instead, he let his friend have his little victory. He knew the guy was just trying to help; doing good in his own way.
20:07:54 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
"Would you be able to set up a fake SIN and if so how much would something like that run?"
Seeing Finn swivel back to face Max from his pleather chair, John jerked a cybered thumb towards the door. "Sounds like you two got some biz to discuss. I'll be down in the back room. Just come down when you're ready, Max."
"Would you be able to set up a fake SIN and if so how much would something like that run?"
Seeing Finn swivel back to face Max from his pleather chair, John jerked a cybered thumb towards the door. "Sounds like you two got some biz to discuss. I'll be down in the back room. Just come down when you're ready, Max."
20:08:03 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
Finn shakes his head at Max's request. "Talking to the wrong guy chum. I'm too out of the biz to have the network needed to set up a Fake ID for you. You're going to want to talk to a fixer about that. They're the ones who have the kind of connections to get what you need. Anything else you need from me before it's time for your meet?"
Finn shakes his head at Max's request. "Talking to the wrong guy chum. I'm too out of the biz to have the network needed to set up a Fake ID for you. You're going to want to talk to a fixer about that. They're the ones who have the kind of connections to get what you need. Anything else you need from me before it's time for your meet?"
20:08:13 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
"Nothing else from me." He replies to Finn
Looking at John he says, "After we get settled in the bar, I'll project and keep an eye out for our contact."
"Nothing else from me." He replies to Finn
Looking at John he says, "After we get settled in the bar, I'll project and keep an eye out for our contact."
19:57:02 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"For the purpose of tonight's meeting, you can call me Mr. Johnson." He motions to the waitress, delivering Tony's drink order before turning back and pushing the datapad across the table. A floorplan of a medium sized building is displayed in false topography.
"My employer has received information indicating that an illegal surgical theater is operating out of this location. Ordinarily, this would be a simple police matter, however it appears that whoever is running this operation has a supply of cyberware manufactured by my employer. In order to avoid the downturn in public opinioin, we would like you to infiltrate the location, destroy any stock of cyberware on hand, and plant evidence which implicates one of our competitors. We will provide you with all the necessary data. My employer is prepared to offer you three thousand nuyen for this task, one third up front."
"For the purpose of tonight's meeting, you can call me Mr. Johnson." He motions to the waitress, delivering Tony's drink order before turning back and pushing the datapad across the table. A floorplan of a medium sized building is displayed in false topography.
"My employer has received information indicating that an illegal surgical theater is operating out of this location. Ordinarily, this would be a simple police matter, however it appears that whoever is running this operation has a supply of cyberware manufactured by my employer. In order to avoid the downturn in public opinioin, we would like you to infiltrate the location, destroy any stock of cyberware on hand, and plant evidence which implicates one of our competitors. We will provide you with all the necessary data. My employer is prepared to offer you three thousand nuyen for this task, one third up front."
20:08:31 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
"Actually, chummer, we should wait in the back. Follow me." Looking over at his friend, John added, "Thanks again, Finn. I'll stop back up after we meet this fragger Rosie's sendin.'"
Turning, he nodded to Max and led the way back down to the bar area. Showing Melinda a lopsided grin, John stepped behind the bar and refilled his soykaf. Looking at the shaman, he gestured with his cup. "Need a refill, chummer?"
When Max declined, John came back around the bar. "This way." Then, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it, he led the way past the pool tables and dart machines, past the nearly empty booths, into the back room.
A bare florescent light fixture harshly illuminated the small room. A circular table and several worn but matching chairs were the only contents. Choosing a seat facing the door, John sat and took a sip of the 'kaf. "Frag. Too hot." With his free hand, he gestured for Max to have a seat.
He watched as the pale shaman took a seat and arranged himself. "Ok, John. I'm going to astrally project so that I can be on the lookout for our contact."
"Hold a sec, Max. We got some time before this shaman shows."
The shaman sat back up, regarding the old runner with a curious expression. "Yes?"
"Uh, right. Up there, what you asked Finn about? If you're serious about that, I may be able ta help. Get you in touch with the right people, give some advice, that sort of thing. But like I said before, once your in the fraggin' shadows it's hard ta step out."
"Actually, chummer, we should wait in the back. Follow me." Looking over at his friend, John added, "Thanks again, Finn. I'll stop back up after we meet this fragger Rosie's sendin.'"
Turning, he nodded to Max and led the way back down to the bar area. Showing Melinda a lopsided grin, John stepped behind the bar and refilled his soykaf. Looking at the shaman, he gestured with his cup. "Need a refill, chummer?"
When Max declined, John came back around the bar. "This way." Then, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it, he led the way past the pool tables and dart machines, past the nearly empty booths, into the back room.
A bare florescent light fixture harshly illuminated the small room. A circular table and several worn but matching chairs were the only contents. Choosing a seat facing the door, John sat and took a sip of the 'kaf. "Frag. Too hot." With his free hand, he gestured for Max to have a seat.
He watched as the pale shaman took a seat and arranged himself. "Ok, John. I'm going to astrally project so that I can be on the lookout for our contact."
"Hold a sec, Max. We got some time before this shaman shows."
The shaman sat back up, regarding the old runner with a curious expression. "Yes?"
"Uh, right. Up there, what you asked Finn about? If you're serious about that, I may be able ta help. Get you in touch with the right people, give some advice, that sort of thing. But like I said before, once your in the fraggin' shadows it's hard ta step out."
20:10:20 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
John was obviously concerned and probably figured that Max would never be cut out for this "business" and he was probably right, but Max had reasons for inquiring about a false identity.
"Is this the life I would choose right now? No, of course not, but I don't have much of a choice. I can't go back to the University and my attempts to find gainful employment have been blocked. So until then I have to find work. I was hoping to just do some paranormal investigation and research work until I could find something more permanent, but when you look like I do, you have to take what you can get. I just figured it would be better for me to work under an assumed name if the jobs I take straddle the more grey area of legality. I don't want my reputation tarnished any more than it already is. It is pretty much the only thing I can bring to the table when a legitimate job comes along. So yes, I would be grateful if you could at least inquire as to the cost of a false ID. Hopefully I will never have to use it."
John was obviously concerned and probably figured that Max would never be cut out for this "business" and he was probably right, but Max had reasons for inquiring about a false identity.
"Is this the life I would choose right now? No, of course not, but I don't have much of a choice. I can't go back to the University and my attempts to find gainful employment have been blocked. So until then I have to find work. I was hoping to just do some paranormal investigation and research work until I could find something more permanent, but when you look like I do, you have to take what you can get. I just figured it would be better for me to work under an assumed name if the jobs I take straddle the more grey area of legality. I don't want my reputation tarnished any more than it already is. It is pretty much the only thing I can bring to the table when a legitimate job comes along. So yes, I would be grateful if you could at least inquire as to the cost of a false ID. Hopefully I will never have to use it."
19:59:17 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
How very...predictable Tony thought, studying the floorplan and taking a sip of the low-end bourbon, trying not to grimace as it goes down with more fire and less flavor than the good stuff. "What's the time frame? Also, what parameters do you have for this job?" he said, leaving the plans and looking up at the probably mid-level resource adjuster he appeared to be talking to.
How very...predictable Tony thought, studying the floorplan and taking a sip of the low-end bourbon, trying not to grimace as it goes down with more fire and less flavor than the good stuff. "What's the time frame? Also, what parameters do you have for this job?" he said, leaving the plans and looking up at the probably mid-level resource adjuster he appeared to be talking to.
20:00:09 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"As soon as possible, although no longer than four days. We'd prefer to have nothing to trace back to us, of course, and we'd also prefer to have it appear that the destruction was an inside job. This contains the deceptive information we'd like you to plant." The Johnson slides an unmarked OMC across the table.
"As soon as possible, although no longer than four days. We'd prefer to have nothing to trace back to us, of course, and we'd also prefer to have it appear that the destruction was an inside job. This contains the deceptive information we'd like you to plant." The Johnson slides an unmarked OMC across the table.
20:00:49 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Hmm, that tells something, at least Tony thought to himself, weighing the OMC in his hand before placing it gently back on the table. He'd always thought it odd that the tiny things held so much information.
Looking back up at the Johnson, he said, again amiebly, "Any objections to collaterial damage? Personally, I'm not opposed to it, I just want to line out the job. Before we talk price, that is," he finished, leaning back in the straight-backed chair and taking another sip of the foul whiskey, again trying not to pull a face at the cheap drink that Johnson had ordered.
Hmm, that tells something, at least Tony thought to himself, weighing the OMC in his hand before placing it gently back on the table. He'd always thought it odd that the tiny things held so much information.
Looking back up at the Johnson, he said, again amiebly, "Any objections to collaterial damage? Personally, I'm not opposed to it, I just want to line out the job. Before we talk price, that is," he finished, leaning back in the straight-backed chair and taking another sip of the foul whiskey, again trying not to pull a face at the cheap drink that Johnson had ordered.
20:01:25 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"Your discretion, just keep in mind the overall objective of the mission."
"Your discretion, just keep in mind the overall objective of the mission."
20:03:18 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"Hmm," Tony says, glancing back at the map on the table a bit more, and forcing himself not to plan anything specifically, but running through a couple of permutations of proto-plans, seeing the entrances and general layout of the place.So, had some 'ware get out, Mr. Johnson? Or did you just decide this place isn't up to par anymore?
Pushing that aside, he leaned back again in the chair slowly and swirled the remaining finger or so of cheap booze in his glass with one hand. To the Johnson, he drawled "I can get this done for you. Not for what your asking, though." Cocking his head to the side in some parody of mental arithmetic, he added "Let's say
6000, and half up front."
"Hmm," Tony says, glancing back at the map on the table a bit more, and forcing himself not to plan anything specifically, but running through a couple of permutations of proto-plans, seeing the entrances and general layout of the place.So, had some 'ware get out, Mr. Johnson? Or did you just decide this place isn't up to par anymore?
Pushing that aside, he leaned back again in the chair slowly and swirled the remaining finger or so of cheap booze in his glass with one hand. To the Johnson, he drawled "I can get this done for you. Not for what your asking, though." Cocking his head to the side in some parody of mental arithmetic, he added "Let's say
6000, and half up front."
20:13:03 Tuesday 09 January 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
Knowing that there was more to the story than he'd yet heard, John was sympathetic. Or, he felt as much sympathy as he possibly could for a man living in a luxurious penthouse apartment such as Max. Still, from the sound of things, it seemed like Max hadn't always been in this situation...or looked like this.
"Yeah, that's how it works, chummer. I ain't never met a runner yet that dreamed of doin' this as a kid. Sure, some people do, and some of 'em even make it to the shadows, but fraggers like that never last long."
He took a sip of his drink, winced, and sat the cup aside to cool. "Nah, no matter the why if you gotta... you gotta. Now for the how. First off, like you already figured, is a fake SIN. Then you'll have ta build a life for your new ID. Get a place ta live, and so on. When you run, you should operate outta the new doss. 'Specially if you want to keep that fancy penthouse. Then..."
Glancing at the shaman, John shrugged and said a bit sheepishly, "Sorry, chummer. First things first, right? The ID. We'll see what we can do. I'll ask around, but contacting my fixer'll have ta wait. Remember when I said my meet went bad this afternoon? Well, it went really fraggin' bad for her. That was her blood on my shirt. She'll be out of the game for a while, but I got other people I can ask."
"Thanks, John."
"Hey, nul persp. Now maybe you should go watch for our new friend. It's almost time for 'em ta show."
Nodding, Max leaned back as before, closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing. Finally, his body slumped and John knew he had gone astral. Reaching out, the old runner took a tentative sip of the 'kaf.
Knowing that there was more to the story than he'd yet heard, John was sympathetic. Or, he felt as much sympathy as he possibly could for a man living in a luxurious penthouse apartment such as Max. Still, from the sound of things, it seemed like Max hadn't always been in this situation...or looked like this.
"Yeah, that's how it works, chummer. I ain't never met a runner yet that dreamed of doin' this as a kid. Sure, some people do, and some of 'em even make it to the shadows, but fraggers like that never last long."
He took a sip of his drink, winced, and sat the cup aside to cool. "Nah, no matter the why if you gotta... you gotta. Now for the how. First off, like you already figured, is a fake SIN. Then you'll have ta build a life for your new ID. Get a place ta live, and so on. When you run, you should operate outta the new doss. 'Specially if you want to keep that fancy penthouse. Then..."
Glancing at the shaman, John shrugged and said a bit sheepishly, "Sorry, chummer. First things first, right? The ID. We'll see what we can do. I'll ask around, but contacting my fixer'll have ta wait. Remember when I said my meet went bad this afternoon? Well, it went really fraggin' bad for her. That was her blood on my shirt. She'll be out of the game for a while, but I got other people I can ask."
"Thanks, John."
"Hey, nul persp. Now maybe you should go watch for our new friend. It's almost time for 'em ta show."
Nodding, Max leaned back as before, closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing. Finally, his body slumped and John knew he had gone astral. Reaching out, the old runner took a tentative sip of the 'kaf.
11:46:27 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
"Really, other than that, there's just not a lot out there at the moment, at least on the 'trix. Some rumors about the Mafia and the Yak's squaring off out in Tacoma, a couple of strange messages that don't really mean much. The gangers out here are hyped up about something, but they may have just gotten a bad shipment of BTL's or kamikaze. Had to fry one of them yesterday, trying to get in the door," Virus says, and Ivan can imagine that, if she could shrug her shoulders, she would have.
"You heard from Cross lately? He keeps his ear to the ground a bit more than I can," she says, giving him the same beautiful smile as earlier, but tinged with a bit of sadness.
"Really, other than that, there's just not a lot out there at the moment, at least on the 'trix. Some rumors about the Mafia and the Yak's squaring off out in Tacoma, a couple of strange messages that don't really mean much. The gangers out here are hyped up about something, but they may have just gotten a bad shipment of BTL's or kamikaze. Had to fry one of them yesterday, trying to get in the door," Virus says, and Ivan can imagine that, if she could shrug her shoulders, she would have.
"You heard from Cross lately? He keeps his ear to the ground a bit more than I can," she says, giving him the same beautiful smile as earlier, but tinged with a bit of sadness.
21:34:58 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Fall Inn, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Marquis takes another small drink. It would be wise to go with back up, but if ends up being nothing...
Another sip, then he sets his half full glass on the table, his hand still resting around it.
"How much would that cost me?"
Marquis takes another small drink. It would be wise to go with back up, but if ends up being nothing...
Another sip, then he sets his half full glass on the table, his hand still resting around it.
"How much would that cost me?"
20:03:48 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"Five thousand, half up front," counters the Johnson.
"Five thousand, half up front," counters the Johnson.
21:35:22 Thursday 11 January 2063 - Fall Inn, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Karma laughs.
"Don't make it sound like your propositioning me. Nothing up front, at least not until I know what's involved. Keep a thousand in reserve and if it gets heavy at the meet, we can talk more assuming we're both still alive on the back end."
Karma laughs.
"Don't make it sound like your propositioning me. Nothing up front, at least not until I know what's involved. Keep a thousand in reserve and if it gets heavy at the meet, we can talk more assuming we're both still alive on the back end."
11:46:27 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
"Da, I did a job for him yesterday, that when all this got started, a man called me and told me to be warry of old foes. I am thinking he was talking of mafia. But this man is not known to me. I will give Cross call, maybe he will know. Dazin Liebchin," Ivan smilled at the girl.
"Da, I did a job for him yesterday, that when all this got started, a man called me and told me to be warry of old foes. I am thinking he was talking of mafia. But this man is not known to me. I will give Cross call, maybe he will know. Dazin Liebchin," Ivan smilled at the girl.
12:46:14 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Eyes shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly. What a perfect little trap. "Well, you're quite the operators, aren't you? Yeah, I guess that answers my question and raises a dozen more." He glanced sideways at Angela and, in a low voice that can't quite hide the bitterness, commented, "And you call me a shadowrunner."
Finally deciding to eat some of the forgotten plate of food he had ordered--it felt like a week ago--Eyes took a bite and composed his thoughts. One question sprang immediately to mind that could be a big problem. "Do they know that whatever they're doing is getting co-opted by our rescue mission?" He couldn't resist adding, "Or is that my job?" If they're expecting to pull a fast one on a bunch of paranoid, criminal whackjobs they've got another thing coming. Eyes tried to steel himself to leaving if they told him something he really didn't want to hear, but he knew that if Angela gave him another one of those looks he'd cheerfully take on the whole runner team for her sake.
Maybe.
Eyes shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly. What a perfect little trap. "Well, you're quite the operators, aren't you? Yeah, I guess that answers my question and raises a dozen more." He glanced sideways at Angela and, in a low voice that can't quite hide the bitterness, commented, "And you call me a shadowrunner."
Finally deciding to eat some of the forgotten plate of food he had ordered--it felt like a week ago--Eyes took a bite and composed his thoughts. One question sprang immediately to mind that could be a big problem. "Do they know that whatever they're doing is getting co-opted by our rescue mission?" He couldn't resist adding, "Or is that my job?" If they're expecting to pull a fast one on a bunch of paranoid, criminal whackjobs they've got another thing coming. Eyes tried to steel himself to leaving if they told him something he really didn't want to hear, but he knew that if Angela gave him another one of those looks he'd cheerfully take on the whole runner team for her sake.
Maybe.
12:48:19 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
And give him another one of 'those' looks she does, a pleading, doe-eyed, hurt look that adds yet another knife to the dozens she's already left in his heart over the years. “James…don’t be like that. It’s not what you think,” Angela whispers quietly.
Funny, it never is… Eyes can’t help but think bitterly to himself.
“Actually, if you must know, from what I understand the runners contacted the MPA on their own. We just got lucky and happened to hear from the MPA that there was a team already interested in going where we wanted to. When we heard they were looking for a decker, we talked it over with the MPA and decided that we may as well keep the confusion to a minimum and just use the same team that was already working with the them in the first place. We arranged for one of the runners to hear about you, then we took the liberty of setting up the meet,” Carla explained.
“And uh,” chimed in Nervous Stan, whom Eyes had almost forgotten about, “one of their goals is to rescue as many people as they can. So it doesn’t even look like your job will conflict with theirs. In fact, it seems like you have the same goal, to a large extent.”
Oh my god, this is almost too easy. There’s got to be a catch. There’s always a catch in a situation like this. Everything’s set up perfectly for me, like God decided to cut me a break and make all the pieces just magically fall into place. What am I missing here? What am I not seeing that’s going to get me killed? Eyes struggled to put the pieces together in his mind, kicking them around, moving them, twisting, trying to make the information he had fit.
A silky, soft sensation on his wrist drew his attention, and he glanced over to see Angela lightly caressing his hand with her fingertips, her sleeve trickling across his skin as she did so, and he knew all too well she was definitely something he needed to add onto his ‘list of things that could get him killed’. And the damnable misery of it all was if it was her, how much would he really mind?
And give him another one of 'those' looks she does, a pleading, doe-eyed, hurt look that adds yet another knife to the dozens she's already left in his heart over the years. “James…don’t be like that. It’s not what you think,” Angela whispers quietly.
Funny, it never is… Eyes can’t help but think bitterly to himself.
“Actually, if you must know, from what I understand the runners contacted the MPA on their own. We just got lucky and happened to hear from the MPA that there was a team already interested in going where we wanted to. When we heard they were looking for a decker, we talked it over with the MPA and decided that we may as well keep the confusion to a minimum and just use the same team that was already working with the them in the first place. We arranged for one of the runners to hear about you, then we took the liberty of setting up the meet,” Carla explained.
“And uh,” chimed in Nervous Stan, whom Eyes had almost forgotten about, “one of their goals is to rescue as many people as they can. So it doesn’t even look like your job will conflict with theirs. In fact, it seems like you have the same goal, to a large extent.”
Oh my god, this is almost too easy. There’s got to be a catch. There’s always a catch in a situation like this. Everything’s set up perfectly for me, like God decided to cut me a break and make all the pieces just magically fall into place. What am I missing here? What am I not seeing that’s going to get me killed? Eyes struggled to put the pieces together in his mind, kicking them around, moving them, twisting, trying to make the information he had fit.
A silky, soft sensation on his wrist drew his attention, and he glanced over to see Angela lightly caressing his hand with her fingertips, her sleeve trickling across his skin as she did so, and he knew all too well she was definitely something he needed to add onto his ‘list of things that could get him killed’. And the damnable misery of it all was if it was her, how much would he really mind?
12:49:50 Friday 12 January, 2063 - Miner’s Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Despite himself, Eyes visibly relaxed at Angela's touch. He had no defenses against her, and he knew it. "That 'large extent' bothers me a bit. But more than that," Eyes trailed off for a second, distracted, before coming back into focus.
"It looks like I have two choices here," he said, thinking out loud, "On one hand I can be up front about rescuing this specific person with this, runner group. They'd probably ask for extra money from us, but it's probably better than trying to deceive them. Hmm."
Eyes looked back at Carla, as she's obviously the one tasked with answering questions. "Do we know anything about this, shadowrunner group?" he asked her, "How many there are, what they can do, who they are? Did the MPA tell us anything else about them?"
Just then it occurred to him that he's been thinking and speaking about the University as "us" again, for the first time in years. It had slipped in, so unconsciously he'd been saying and thinking it for several minutes now without even noticing. Maybe it had never left his thoughts in the first place?
Despite himself, Eyes visibly relaxed at Angela's touch. He had no defenses against her, and he knew it. "That 'large extent' bothers me a bit. But more than that," Eyes trailed off for a second, distracted, before coming back into focus.
"It looks like I have two choices here," he said, thinking out loud, "On one hand I can be up front about rescuing this specific person with this, runner group. They'd probably ask for extra money from us, but it's probably better than trying to deceive them. Hmm."
Eyes looked back at Carla, as she's obviously the one tasked with answering questions. "Do we know anything about this, shadowrunner group?" he asked her, "How many there are, what they can do, who they are? Did the MPA tell us anything else about them?"
Just then it occurred to him that he's been thinking and speaking about the University as "us" again, for the first time in years. It had slipped in, so unconsciously he'd been saying and thinking it for several minutes now without even noticing. Maybe it had never left his thoughts in the first place?
11:49:55 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
"Don't mention it. I'll keep lookin', if I find anything I'll let you know." the chairbound decker says, smile turning more genuine. "And watch your back out there; most of the gangs down here don't really like metahumans all that much," she says sadly, not really surprised by the blind hatred of otherness that many people out here had. She'd experienced it herself, as well.
"Don't mention it. I'll keep lookin', if I find anything I'll let you know." the chairbound decker says, smile turning more genuine. "And watch your back out there; most of the gangs down here don't really like metahumans all that much," she says sadly, not really surprised by the blind hatred of otherness that many people out here had. She'd experienced it herself, as well.
20:05:09 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
Weighing over the offer in his head, Tony played with the OMC for a second, flipping the chip back and forth between his fingers. Like I've got a choice in this he thought; turning down a decent paying job that didn't look too hard wouldn't be a great idea if he was planning on making enough money to bust anyone out of jail. Or continue to eat, for that matter.
"Deal," Tony said, slipping the OMC gently into his inside brest pocket and hoping he'd waited an approporate amount of time to decide. Reaching for the pad with the schematics of the building, he adds "And where do you want the drop off to be?"
Weighing over the offer in his head, Tony played with the OMC for a second, flipping the chip back and forth between his fingers. Like I've got a choice in this he thought; turning down a decent paying job that didn't look too hard wouldn't be a great idea if he was planning on making enough money to bust anyone out of jail. Or continue to eat, for that matter.
"Deal," Tony said, slipping the OMC gently into his inside brest pocket and hoping he'd waited an approporate amount of time to decide. Reaching for the pad with the schematics of the building, he adds "And where do you want the drop off to be?"
12:01:55 Thursday 11 January 2063- 18-41 Aberdeen Ave S. Renton, Seattle, UCAS
Ivan graced her with a toothy smile, "Da, I will keep low profile."
A few minutes later he was back on his bike. He was just sitting on it though. The snow continued to fall, and his hopes with it. He didn't want to let anyone else know about his past, but it seemed he wasn't going to have much of a choice.
Ivan graced her with a toothy smile, "Da, I will keep low profile."
A few minutes later he was back on his bike. He was just sitting on it though. The snow continued to fall, and his hopes with it. He didn't want to let anyone else know about his past, but it seemed he wasn't going to have much of a choice.
20:05:44 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
The Johnson pauses halfway through the act of closing his attache case.
"There is a contact LTG on the last page of the layout documents, leave a message there once you are complete with the task and we can arrange for a drop off of the remaining funds."
The Johnson pauses halfway through the act of closing his attache case.
"There is a contact LTG on the last page of the layout documents, leave a message there once you are complete with the task and we can arrange for a drop off of the remaining funds."
20:06:35 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"Certainly, Mr. Johnson, " Tony said with politeness, halfway bordering on hostility. He hated dealing with this guy when he was on this guy's side, much less now that he was on the other end of the table. Reaching across and snapping this little twirp's neck would be so easy, he could do it before the bodyguards even reacted...
Money's money, and how many times did people think that about you, eh? You'll have time. Taking a deep breath and making it look like he was tired of the meeting itself, instead of letting out some frustration and pent-up anger at corporate authority, Tony downed the rest of the rotgut and turned his attention back to the Johnson
"And about the half up front..."
"Certainly, Mr. Johnson, " Tony said with politeness, halfway bordering on hostility. He hated dealing with this guy when he was on this guy's side, much less now that he was on the other end of the table. Reaching across and snapping this little twirp's neck would be so easy, he could do it before the bodyguards even reacted...
Money's money, and how many times did people think that about you, eh? You'll have time. Taking a deep breath and making it look like he was tired of the meeting itself, instead of letting out some frustration and pent-up anger at corporate authority, Tony downed the rest of the rotgut and turned his attention back to the Johnson
"And about the half up front..."
20:06:52 Friday, 12 January 2063 - The Waterfront Bar, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
The Johnson smiles, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit coat and withdrawing a certified credstick.
"I believe this is the agreed upon amount."
The Johnson smiles, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit coat and withdrawing a certified credstick.
"I believe this is the agreed upon amount."
20:35:19 Friday, 12 January 2063 - Sufficient Grounds, Downtown Seattle, UCAS
"Thanks for the drink." Tony says, pocketing the credstick and the datapad. Glancing at the bodyguards to try to see which particular corp he could direct his ire toward, he saw that they were just as careful as their boss: bland, standard issue attire that was suitable for an evening out but didnt' attract attention in the slightest. "I'll be in touch," he says to the Johnson, giving the plastic smile once again and leaving the dining area as an automated cargo vessel steams off to sea in the distance. My ship hasn't sailed or come in yet, though. Has it? he thinks as he navigates his way out of the bar, under the watchful eyes of the bodyguards.
The cold wind off of the Sound greets him as he steps out into a brightly lit Downtown, blocked out mostly by the layered clothing and an upturned collar Tony thought of just as he walked out of the door of the Waterfront. Keeping his hands in his pockets and his eyes open for any faces seen more than a couple of times, he walked north along the strip, seeking out a coffee shop to get rid of the godawful sickly-sweet taste of the cheap whiskey out of his mouth. Finding an all-night one a chilly block and a half up from the bar, he ducks in. Damn, they even have today's paper he says to himself, realizing that he's gone most of the day without reading it. Settling in with a latte and a today's Journal in a table in the back of the shop, he remembered to call Ran. Well, I'll actually find out who I talked to today, and who I need to look out for he thought, digging out his psec and making the call.
Ring. Ring. Ring
"Thanks for the drink." Tony says, pocketing the credstick and the datapad. Glancing at the bodyguards to try to see which particular corp he could direct his ire toward, he saw that they were just as careful as their boss: bland, standard issue attire that was suitable for an evening out but didnt' attract attention in the slightest. "I'll be in touch," he says to the Johnson, giving the plastic smile once again and leaving the dining area as an automated cargo vessel steams off to sea in the distance. My ship hasn't sailed or come in yet, though. Has it? he thinks as he navigates his way out of the bar, under the watchful eyes of the bodyguards.
The cold wind off of the Sound greets him as he steps out into a brightly lit Downtown, blocked out mostly by the layered clothing and an upturned collar Tony thought of just as he walked out of the door of the Waterfront. Keeping his hands in his pockets and his eyes open for any faces seen more than a couple of times, he walked north along the strip, seeking out a coffee shop to get rid of the godawful sickly-sweet taste of the cheap whiskey out of his mouth. Finding an all-night one a chilly block and a half up from the bar, he ducks in. Damn, they even have today's paper he says to himself, realizing that he's gone most of the day without reading it. Settling in with a latte and a today's Journal in a table in the back of the shop, he remembered to call Ran. Well, I'll actually find out who I talked to today, and who I need to look out for he thought, digging out his psec and making the call.
Ring. Ring. Ring
20:29:03 Tuesday, 09 January, 2063 - Loveland Quinn's Bar, Puyallup
Projecting, Max watches curiously as the regular business of a bar obviously more than half in the shadows plays itself out on what had been apparently going to be just another normal day. As normal, that is, as any day which involved his ersatz partner doing who knows what (he cringed even from thinking about it too much) -- and he himself almost arrested, surveillance outside his own building of the "don't leave town" variety and one of those won't-let-go detectives on his tail, feeling himself sucked ever deeper into the quicksand of the shadows himself --
Blazingly, staggeringly beautiful. That's the first thing that catches Max's attention, even before he manages -- with difficulty -- to identify gender (and it's a definite struggle to keep thinking of this one as male, on some visceral level it seems not to matter in the slightest) --
Absolutely sure of himself.
The girl who'd been introduced to him as Melinda is leaning over the bar counter ... half ... flirting? Ignoring, certainly, the instructions from earlier and the quiet signal that Finn would surely be sending out by now.
Max returns to his body, hopes fervently the awkward, embarrassed heat he can feel in his face hasn't reached anything visible to the others. "Our contact? I think he's downstairs."
Projecting, Max watches curiously as the regular business of a bar obviously more than half in the shadows plays itself out on what had been apparently going to be just another normal day. As normal, that is, as any day which involved his ersatz partner doing who knows what (he cringed even from thinking about it too much) -- and he himself almost arrested, surveillance outside his own building of the "don't leave town" variety and one of those won't-let-go detectives on his tail, feeling himself sucked ever deeper into the quicksand of the shadows himself --
Blazingly, staggeringly beautiful. That's the first thing that catches Max's attention, even before he manages -- with difficulty -- to identify gender (and it's a definite struggle to keep thinking of this one as male, on some visceral level it seems not to matter in the slightest) --
Absolutely sure of himself.
The girl who'd been introduced to him as Melinda is leaning over the bar counter ... half ... flirting? Ignoring, certainly, the instructions from earlier and the quiet signal that Finn would surely be sending out by now.
Max returns to his body, hopes fervently the awkward, embarrassed heat he can feel in his face hasn't reached anything visible to the others. "Our contact? I think he's downstairs."
14:31:03 Tuesday, 09 January, 2063 - Buses and Monorails and Trains, Oh My!
Helter-skelter it might have appeared to others. To Alleycat, it was only natural that she try to fill every part of a day with substance, in a world which, usefully, does remain right-side-up all the time and isn't monitored 24/7 by an overstuffed tigercat. I'll make the lines within which I draw, thank you very much ...
In her ear sound the words that substitute for a masked LTG number: "Tin Star sent me."
To the anonymous caller, who's given his or her letters of introduction and not one thing more, she says shortly, "Go."
Helter-skelter it might have appeared to others. To Alleycat, it was only natural that she try to fill every part of a day with substance, in a world which, usefully, does remain right-side-up all the time and isn't monitored 24/7 by an overstuffed tigercat. I'll make the lines within which I draw, thank you very much ...
In her ear sound the words that substitute for a masked LTG number: "Tin Star sent me."
To the anonymous caller, who's given his or her letters of introduction and not one thing more, she says shortly, "Go."
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