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[5e IC] Call of Fate [2076 Game Thread]

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BrickyardBabe

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« Reply #30 on: <01-21-16/0234:23> »
"Halfpint, I believe it was." Iris said absently. She glanced at the Johnson and gave a minute shrug when she caught Deckard's eye again. Social snubbing was a risky thing to do, especially with a Johnson, but Iris had found that she could usually count on her charms and her voice to get her out of any social trouble that her impetuousness could get her into. And to be frank, seeing his reaction to her possibly-accidental slight would be more valuable than the few dozen words it would probably take to smooth things over. If he didn't call her out, that would mean that he either needed the team very badly, or was the type to afford his 'runners a certain latitude. Conversely, if he did make mention of her comment, how he did it would tell her a great deal.

Nevertheless, she'd cast her dart already and now she could be polite, if not exactly pleasant. She rounded gracefully on the Johnson and briefly met the eyes of the goon she'd identified as a passably competent mage, smiling pleasantly while she waited for Mr. Johnson and Al to answer. For some reason that she absolutely couldn't fathom, she really didn't like this meet. Maybe it was the ragtag nature of the assembled 'runners, maybe it was the way that this terribly unfashionable dive was populated with people armed to the teeth, maybe it was just the discomfort she was getting off of Robyn, but the hairs on the back of her neck kept wanting to rise up and she kept remembering how Lau Daiyu had arranged a meet with all of her rivals and contemporaries when she came to town.

Then locked up the building, sealed the vents, turned off the A/C and kicked in the halon fire suppression systems in the restaurant they'd all been at.

With that cheerful thought circle the edges of her consciousness, Iris watched the Johnson's face, still smiling that trid-perfect smile that didn't reach her cold, opalescent eyes.

Jack_Spade

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« Reply #31 on: <01-21-16/0334:38> »
Isaint was certainly surprised to see Jackhammer - to say the least. When Torrent had spoken of "you three" he somehow had assumed that he meant him Al and the Frenchman, not Jackhammer. Now the thought seemed dumb in hindsight. The Frenchman had after all gotten information about his past - from himself as it were. What could the man do other than go and find the Irish mafia.
"Jackhammer, wow. I honestly didn't expect you to meet us again. A beer you shall have - but maybe at another joint? I mean you probably could stomach what they serve here... Ah what the hell, Iris, if you are going anyway please get our associate here a closed bottle of the best beer they have here - on my tab."

At Deckard's reminder about the Johnson he nodded: "Of course, no offense meant, but as long as not everyone is present I expect there won't be any explanations. This time around we seem to have a good mix of already acquainted members. That should make this whole thing go smoother than usual."

Isaint just had snuck a short glance into the astral and had been almost blinded by the amount of power around. One thing was clear: A throwdown here would most likely topple the old building.

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« Last Edit: <01-21-16/0953:08> by Jack_Spade »
talk think matrix

To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield
Revenant Kynos Isaint Rex

adamu

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« Reply #32 on: <01-21-16/0414:21> »
"It is tonight," Al replied to Alyce's query about his drink choice. Right now, the harder the better.

All around him the team was greeting and sizing each other up. A real flurry of conversation. Somewhere in his mind he was glad to see Jackhammer show, and he stayed sharp enough to shake the other ork's hand.

But it was like he had two brains - and he did find time to congratulate himself on his prodigious mental capacities - one was nodding at Isaint and checking out the Johnson and keeping from tripping over the damned mutant beast, the other was entirely focused on her.

Al Guthrie. Glad you're alive. Let's have a drink and catch up. Hardly the joyful reunion he might have hoped for - had hoped for the dozens of times he'd imagined it - but then what could he expect? He'd made his choices.

Most of them bad.

He should have spotted the ponytail. How could he forget it? But he'd never seen her wear anything but jungle gear, and that outlandish steampunk get-up had thrown him off. But when she'd stood and he saw the way the skirts parted n front and the petticoats hung half an inch from scandal, he'd thought, yup, that's Alyce all right.

So they'd sat in the booth. It was a real big booth. But there were a lot of them in it, and he could feel her warmth...what had she said? But now we are here for a job. He'd get that drink in him. Then take one thing at a time.
« Last Edit: <01-21-16/0943:22> by adamu »

Mercy Merchant

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« Reply #33 on: <01-21-16/0947:16> »
Robyn hears all that everyone is saying but files it away unless she hears any sort of key word or phrase that should grab her attention.  There is obviously a bit of time before the real meeting begins so she takes the hand closest to Al and moves it to cover one of his.  Leaning closer, she whispers, "I am very glad that you are alive.  All the money I spent looking for you only got me answers that you were dead somewhere.  I refused to believe that and just kept looking and waiting.  Can you talk later or is it too late for that?"
"Speech"  *Thought*  <Matrix>

adamu

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« Reply #34 on: <01-21-16/0958:37> »
Dammit. It almost made him angry how the touch of her hand sent a jolt through him. Well, at least she was civil, which was probably more than he might have expected.

But then he wouldn't have expected anything less from her.

He pitched his voice only for her enhanced hearing to pick up, though he knew he was surrounded by paranoid people with enhancements of their own. Privacy was pretty much out of the question. "Reckon it's never too late to talk. Better git to it, though. My experience since I started doin' these sorts o' gigs is, once the suit across the table gits done talkin', things gon' start movin' real fast."

Mercy Merchant

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« Reply #35 on: <01-21-16/1014:35> »
Robyn put her mouth to Al's ear and whispers very softly, her breath warm on his neck, "Then I will get to it.  Life is complicated, I know that.  Drek happens.  So here it is.  I fell in love with you on that trip.  If you had given any hint you wanted me, I would have been in your arms and would have followed you anywhere.  But you were a bit distant and I thought it was another woman you were staying true to.  I am still in love with you.  Life changes and more drek happens, but that will not change.  If you are still loyal to that other woman, you can tell me to sod off and I will.  But it will not change the fact that I am in love with you.  We should talk more later, if you want to.  Neither of us is what we were then and things should be said."  She backs her lips from his ear a bit but continues to whisper.  "Will that do for starters?"
"Speech"  *Thought*  <Matrix>

adamu

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« Reply #36 on: <01-21-16/1040:30> »
The Scotch had arrived, and Al barely avoided spraying it all over the table top. "Damn, woman, when I say git to it, you sure as hell can git to it," he whispered urgently, struggling not to choke on the fiery liquid. He'd already been reeling just from the sudden meeting, and her abrupt and unguarded confession - so unlike the hesitant ambiguity that had tortured him in the jungle - had sent him rushing behind his habitual defenses.

Better for her that way anyway.

"Yeah, that'll do jist fine fer starters. Never mind what I said 'bout talkin' now. Shee-it. We'll pick this up later." Then, chagrined by his rough tone, he added, "But ol' Al sure as hell ain't gon' tell ya ta sod off."

adamu

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« Reply #37 on: <01-21-16/1420:10> »
Alyce has always wondered what might have happened if she had just told Al she was in love with him eight years ago.  She is not interested in pussyfooting around the issue this time.  She lost him once and has now lost another lover and realizes that time is too short, even for a keeb, to not speak her mind.  Besides, skirting the issue did not do so well last time and he did ask for her to speak.  In her mind, her heart has been aching long enough.  She is deeply conflicted over the love she feels for Al and for Calista at the same time, but loving Al will not reduce what she feels for her vampire lover one bit.  And she does not want to pass on this.
 
She sits back in the booth with a slight smile on her face as Al digests what she has said and his struggle to keep his whiskey down is obvious.  Her heart is racing as she considers what Al has said.  Maybe he is free of the other woman now.  And he did say that he wanted to talk later and that would give her a chance to say everything she wanted to say to him.  For now, though, there is a meeting to pay attention to.  Keeping her hand on Al's, she reaches for her drink with the other and shoots it back, letting the liquid fire coat her throat on its way down, adding fuel to her desire.  She upends the glass on the table and says out loud, "One dead soldier."
 
She leans over to pet the huge hound at her side, saying softly, "He came back, Al.  He came back."

adamu

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« Reply #38 on: <01-21-16/1523:37> »
Son of a bitch. Push it the hell aside.

The last job he'd done they'd lost more than half their team, and the ones that had made it through had survived by the skin of their teeth. The people at the table were no lightweights - he had no doubt this job would be as suicidal as the last one. No way they were getting through without staying sharp. No way they were getting through it carrying around a bunch of baggage.

With Princess Iris off at the bar, he half stood, leaned across the table and extended his hand to the guy next to Isaint. "I gather you're Deckard. Alouicious Harlan Guthrie, esquire, at yer service."

BrickyardBabe

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« Reply #39 on: <01-21-16/1531:56> »
While she was waiting for the Johnson to answer, Iris mentally browsed around the open connections in the eatery. There were a few, not many but a few, herself included. She suspected that, like hers, most of the ones she was seeing were burner 'links, though the bar and food counter had an open connection for ordering, and it was from here that she ordered what drinks had already been requested, leaving a tab open on her credstick and flagging the ARO for the rest of the table. On the one hand, she no longer had a reason to slip away and speak with Deckard, but on the other hand, she didn't have to figure out how to carry drinks from bar to table while still being able to get to her wand in a hurry.

Drinks came, a gin and tonic with something that in a dim light could pass for lime for her- on the basis that gin already tasted like jet fuel, so it couldn't be much worse for being in Angel's- and scotch for Robyn and Al, delivered by a dead-eyed, impassive looking teenage waitress with way too much mascara and eyeliner that met her halfway between bar and table with a tray. Iris left her a hundred-nuyen tip and a small smile in gratitude, then leaned against the edge of the booth, sipping her drink and trying not to shudder. It tasted like the bar looked, and Iris idly wondered if the wretched stuff would eat a hole in the floor if she spilled it. Probably not, she reflected. The building was still standing, which meant that it had to be tougher than it looked.

Iris turned her head to ask Isaint about himself, but she was interrupted by seeing Al's jaw clenching and eyes bulging around a mouthful of scotch. At first she thought that the scotch was even worse than the gin, or maybe that his glass had been filled with devil-rat piss by mistake- probably not that uncommon in a pit like this- but then she realized that Robyn was just pulling away from whispering something in his ear, and Iris was immediately on alert. She took in the whole situation, the look on his face, and hers, the way she was oriented toward him, the stories she'd told about him during their months working closely to locate Calista, and it all snapped together in a flash of clarity.

Iris' eyes flashed hotly and her lips turned down in a scowl that she knew Robyn couldn't see. She was irrationally angry at the thought that Robyn might have feelings for this man when she still didn't know what had happened to Calista. Yes, it had been months, and yes, Calista was probably dead. But they didn't know and Iris certainly wasn't going to give up her friend. Iris took a deep breath and schooled her face back into a pleasant mask, turning her attention away from the reunion and looking to Isaint and Deckard. Again she went to speak and again she had to stop as Al leaned across the table, apparently missing her return with the drinks, despite having actually drunk one.

Hard to fault him, that scotch looked particularly harsh, and he was getting up there in years, if his face was any indication.

Iris took another drink from her glass and leaned against the booth, waiting to see if Al would speak to her directly.

Aria

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« Reply #40 on: <01-21-16/1642:37> »
[Saturday July 4th, 2076; Angel’s, Old West End, London]

Moments before the meet was actually due to start a tiny figure slips in…this has to be Halfpint.  With barely an acknowledgement to the newcomer, and certainly no response to Iris, the J clears his throat and speaks with brusque clipped tones that indicate he isn’t a local

“Right, let’s get down to business as all seven of you are here.  Torrent tells me that you are at the top of your game so it won’t come as any surprise to you that this one is going to be difficult.  I have fragmented data pointing at an artefact that was stored here in London at the end of the Eurowars.  The crash virus has degraded it but our techs have pieced together what they can.  The snag is that the artefact is buried in a decommissioned arms bunker that now lies under the West End Underplex!  As you will know security down there is some of the best in London…”

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Jack_Spade

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« Reply #41 on: <01-21-16/1701:06> »
Isaint gave a low whistle through his teeth: "That certainly sounds like a tall order. This artifact, what size are we talking about? And is the security aware of its presence or rather will it be missed? And please tell me that we are not trying to get to a still functional Trident pay-load. Retrieving ABC-weaponry is something I do have an aversion against."

Isaint had dropped his previous joviality and concentrated on the Johnson, trying to notice any signs for deception or misdirection. 
talk think matrix

To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield
Revenant Kynos Isaint Rex

adamu

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« Reply #42 on: <01-21-16/1702:08> »
Robyn had let Al's hand slide out from under hers when he stood up to offer his hand to one of the others.  She's smiled as she saw the familiar Al, and was so very glad that he had not really changed all that much.  It may have been a bit unfair of her to tell him like that, but she had wasted eight bloody years because she had not done it when she should have.  She put her hand back on her lap and watched the others with her senses, idly scratching the other Al between his ears as she set her systems to working.
 
She had checked the feed from Sasha outside and used the cover of the table to release Misha from a pocket, sending the microdrone out to sit above the table with its sensor pointed out into the room.  As the drone flew off to its position, she set her 'link agent to a continuous scan for hidden icons in the immediate area and prepped her deck for action in case things started to go south here.  Robyn was not concerned about the group of runners, but she nonetheless identified several obvious icons as weapons, noting which might be the best targets to be hacked.
 
Robyn had then taken the time to make some soft clicking sounds, alerting the Hell Hound of which target she was most interested in if they needed to jump.  Then, shortly before the Johnson started talking, she turned her face to Iris, saying, "Iris, thank you for the drinks.  I can take the next the next round.  The man next to me is Al Guthrie.  I have spoken about him often, I know.  We shared a very interesting trip to Cambodia about eight years ago.  Right before he disappeared.  He is a stand up guy and very good when things start to go south.  I am sure that you will get on with him."  Once the Johnson started talking, she continued her communication with a private message, encrypted with a code they had worked out months ago during the search for Calista.  >>Remember that I can sense body language probably better than most people because I do not rely on sight.  Be angry if you must, but I am not giving up on Calista.  I want to find her more than ever now.  I would give my life for hers if she asked for it.  But even before she...........left.........we had agreed to an arrangement where she would do what she needed to survive, and that would probably entail sleeping with others to get her blood and essence.  And I do not think she would begrudge me some happiness of my own.  I cannot forget her and it would be impossible to love her any less than I do.  I hope that you can understand that.<<

adamu

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« Reply #43 on: <01-21-16/1712:23> »
Having greeted Deckard, Al was just about to touch a courtesy base with Princess Iris when the rigger showed up and Mr. Silent decided to get things going.

And what he said brought one urgent question to the scruffy human's mind. Forgetting the manners his Ma had taught him, he didn't even wait for the man to answer Isaint's question: "Whoa there Nelly, hold up fer a sec. Now you'll pardon me fer askin' this right up front, but when you say 'under the West End Underplex,' is you talkin' about some fergotten basement under that shoppin' mall they got down there? Or is you talkin' 'bout it bein' in that freak show maze o' nightmares extends off from it?"

BrickyardBabe

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« Reply #44 on: <01-21-16/1730:24> »
>>Your business, not mine. Do what you have to do.<< Iris sent back to Robyn, uncoded. Her posture was relaxed and her expression perfectly congenial, but her eyes were cold, and they narrowed further as the Johnson laid out the job, and tightened around the edges as Isaint had his brainstorm about retrieving a hot nuke. God alone knew what could be under the underplex. Widow's Way dated all the way back to the Roman empire, after all, and it was a sad truth that while retrieving a live nuclear warhead or a Red Masque payload would suck hard enough to strip the chrome off a trog's prothesis, it was entirely possible that they may be getting sent after something even worse.

To Al, Iris quipped, "It is Below. Even the basement is a 'freakshow maze of nightmares.' And if it was just a basement in the underplex mall, they'd have found it long since, don't you think? That place has been in continuous operation for more than thirty years." She sighed through her nose. "Mr. Isaint's points are quite well taken. To them I would add, Mr. Johnson," she stressed the stereotypical name only slightly, "would you be so kind as to tell use whether there are access points in the Underplex that you know of? It would be easier to assess our capability if we know whether we have to move through half of London Below or if we can simply go straight down from Shadowtown." Iris produced a small, expensive commlink from inside her cloak, tapping notes into a holographic screen before adding, "Likewise, if we are going to need special containment measures, it would be most helpful to be told before we're in the same room as the target."