[SgtBoomCloud]

Around 11:00 AM

Arc blinked as her comm went off after Sarge left with his truck, checking the messages to see they were from Angel and Hrock.  Smirking, she tilted her head up at Tuska.  "Yo, your boy's gonna be by with his picks for ya before we outta here.  Wiz bang.  We'll see what he's got eh?  and we'll just gotta be back by sundown for my uncle Hrock too.  Man, busy drek all day..."

<<@Angel: Works for me.  Don't be late, or you'll find an empty place, ya feel me?>>

<<@Hrock: I can handle that.  Thanks Uncle <3>>

Now that's out of the way, let's see what this bike has to offer us...

[Duck N. Cover]

     Tuskaloosa hadn't reached the drop off before Arc's Americar sidled up to the curb, with the familiar click of the trunk latch disengaging.  She wedged the rucksack into the back to keep it from shifting too much before closing the lid and worming her way into the open back seat.
   
     “Hoi”

    “Hoi yourself!”

     The spry lady seemed in as good a mood as she'd been in the night before.  She also seemed as busy, if not more, given the early afternoon itinerary she rattled off as they moved into the groomed main streets and arterials.
     
     She was itching to ask about the upcoming evening but Arc had insinuated that would be a topic for back at the shop.

     All the mechanic gave her was, "If y'all didn't pick up on it, our job tonight's gonna be straight outta some action trid by the looks...I'm getting a loaner bike for tonight you can use.  Think you're up to it?"
   
    “I can't say one way or the other until I see the loaner.  If you're asking me if I'm up to Bike-fu with an off-the-street Hyundai Hopper, I'm going to have to disappoint you...”
   
     Arc roared.  “The Laser's Edge, huh?  Null sheen--nobody but Bond could pull off that drek.”

    “I thought somebody tried.  A couple of seasons back.”

     “You thinkin' of that cliffhanger on Sherlock?  That was a Papoose, tricked out for Watson...”

_     _     _


     One package pick-up and drive-thru soycaf raid later, Arc slid the car into the open bay of the garage.  "Think the white-haired one is sleeping off the night, so make yourself at home.  Got a little time to kill before we need to be anywhere.”
   
     Tuskaloosa nodded.  She dropped her bag off beside one of the couches, stripped off her duster and draped it and her helmet on the pile.  One of the couches looked big enough, and after a careful test she sank into it to concentrate on polishing off her eggnog soycaf.
   
     She was about to ask where the empty cup went when the growl of a truck motor heralded a visitor.  Before she knew it the bay door was up and Arc making a beeline for the troll-sized behemoth's bed.  Arc was clearly well-known; Tuskaloosa had planned to stay in the garage and leave the mechanic and visitor some privacy...
   
     "Whoo...ain't these a coupla beauts. Wiz bang, Sarge, this is a real solid."
   
     Curiosity beat Politeness off with a stick.
   
     As she walked up, a weathered troll pushed a massive King Scorpion past her and into the garage.  Arc was a step behind with the Rapier in tow.
   
     "This set o'wheels gets pulled into drek and traced to us,”  he growled,  “you know it'll be hell to pay with th'boss, right?"
   
     She noted the tattoo on his bicep: a wolf head howling to a crescent moon.  It was not new to her; she had seen such inks on Angel and his posse.  Even Arc wore one.
   
     That was where comparison ended however.  The scarred tusker's tat was far more embellished: the moon his wolf howled to boasted a silvery net of craters...and the darker set of pole-to-pole paw prints.  Several gem-socketed stars littered the space beyond.
   
     Probably has a LED tattoo underneath, to make the moon glow like that—and he has a 'boss'.

     She couldn't even imagine what that person's ink looked like.

     "It's null sheen, omae,”  Arc replied as they returned to his truck.  “I'll get this fixed up and tune'n'trick your grandau's bike for hopscotch, she'll love it.  Don't let me keep ya, I'll hit you up when I get this thing good to return, aight?"
   
     His eyes skipped up over Arc's head for a moment and met hers.  It was just for a moment, but his look said it all: your leash is in Arc's hands, Pup.  "...Yup. Hunt well under the moon, little Arcwelder."
   
     Before the truck's motor had snarled to life, Tuskaloosa had returned to the recess of the garage to take her own look at the loaner.  She concurred with Arc's assessment: a couple of hours worth of elbow grease would have the slab of motor muscle good as new.
   
     "So, Tuska, whaddya think?”  Arc finished.  “I know it ain't your baby, but it'll take ya...”
   
     The rider nodded. “I think the sooner it's ready, the sooner I can whisper it.”
   
     Arc was already on the floor however, an open hand outstretched.  “Here, hand me that 3/4" allen wrench...."

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena walks out to the garage and sees Arc and the Troll, Tuskaloosa, at work on a huge King Scorpion, the kind built for a Troll.  For a moment her still-fogged brain wonders how Arc put the bike together so fast, then she sees the engine sitting off on its own and surmises that this must be something she is working on, probably for the Howlers.  She waves a silent greeting that the others don't even notice and sees a cup of caf on the counter.  Not sure if it is hers, Yelena leaves it be and goes to sit on the couch, too tired to even go see the bike the others are working on or move the stack of gear on one end.  The ragged couch feels so fragging good that when she closes her eyes for a second she falls sound asleep.  No one can abuse a body like she has and not need time to recover.  The six or so hours of sleep at the club and two more here are just not enough.  Her body just gives up and slides to one side in a most unlady-like position, sprawled against the duffle, not that she really cares right now.  Yelena pulls the huge duster over her body and head to keep out the light and dim the noise a bit, then slips off to sleep.

[ismilealot]

@ Arc & Tusks  Angel is as good as his word. Forty-five minutes later you hear the knock and it's his face on the security camera. When he steps in he says, "Weapon, evening dress, and jewelry. All suitable for a woman of ill-repute." He lays down a beautiful semi-automatic sized for a trolls hand as well as the holster and ammo and a high tensile steel blade with a slimline strap on holster. It was followed by an armored vest, leather breaches and boots and a supple pair of gloves. "Check it." he reaches over and picks up the holster for the blade. "The side what goes against your skin is soft so it don't chaff. But it aint slippy so it don' move. You need a blade when you need it. You don't wanna be huntin' fer it. An it's slimline so it can be hidden in a lot more places. It be the same one my momma uses." He grins and looks at Tuskaloosa, "That be a slider holster an them be shock gloves cause I know what a lady likes to have right up against her skin yo."

[SgtBoomCloud]

Arc wasted no time getting the door open as she let Angel in with the goods he had promised, leading him to a workstation with Tuskaloosa.  "I take it y'all already met, so let's cut to biz.  What cha got?". She trailed off, the mechanic noticing the couch having a form occupying it, covered by the troll's sister which had also moved.  Yelena.  And still passed.  Turning back to the others, she gave a tilt of her head as she tapped her ear, indicating to please refrain from shouting.

As he went over the goods, Arc was the first to pick up the pistol, finding all the parts in good order but widening her eyes a bit at the weight.  Tossing and twirling it in the air, she caught it by the barrel and passed it to the troll lady.  "it's legit.  Whaddya think?". The mechanic herself seemed to approve of the attire...the vest night need updating in some cases, but it was light on the body, and the King Scorpion could provide more protection anyways.

After the exchange was done, Arc gave a thump of her chest to seal the deal with the pretty boy ork, seeing him out and leaving Tuskaloosa to equip herself as she desired for now.  In the meantime, the human girl took a break from fixing the bike to check on her Srui, taking the soycaf up and setting it on the table next to her.  Reaching up, she tapped at the slumbering form.  " Hoi...you're not dying on me, are you?"

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena's sleep is broken by what seems like an earthquake as she is shaken severely in what has to be an attempt to twist her head off her shoulders.  The familiar aroma of warm soycaf penetrates her brain at the same time as the light stabs through one bleary eye and she sees Arc's face peering at her, a to-go cup in her hand.  "Ah, Srui.  Yelena bad night.  Time leave for Marco?  Arc take cup away.  Yelena too tired to want wake up.  Arc pour Yelena in car when go."

[ismilealot]

@ Subaru  George calls you and says, >>Matsuuri says you handled yourself competently last night. And are smart enough not to object to the cover that's needed for the job. She also said that if we're going to continue to use you in these sorts of assignments that you would benefit from some acting lessons. So, while trix support is generally handled from a distance, it is unwise to refuse to lay a path for the future. I told her that I would discuss it with you and see if you believed yourself competent to handle assignments that would be far more physically dangerous and would thus justify the expense of the lessons and the addition to your debt. But, if you did well with the acting lessons and proved yourself able to handle more dangerous assignments the rewards would be far higher. You're pay for last nights job is fifty percent higher because of the danger involved. Even though that danger was minimal, only requiring you to wear a dress and dance a bit. Think about it and let me know.<<

[Duck N. Cover]

     Tuskaloosa was so focused on unscrewing the bolt at hand, she missed Arc's departure.  It wasn't until she caught Angel's jaunty call that she noticed.
   "Weapon, evening dress, and jewelry. All suitable for a woman of ill-repute."
   She stood up, caught the shop towel the mechanic pitched at her and closed the distance to the workplace Arc and Angel stood beside.
   The shop's proprietress grinned widely.  "I take it y'all already met, so let's cut to biz.  What cha got?" She also tapped her ear and gave a nod.
   The rider turned around: the direction of Arc's nod. Funny, I don't remember throwing my coat around like that...
She spied a handful of white hair leaking from beneath it and got the hint.

     Angel was in full commissioned salesman mode when she turned around.
     She took in the pile of clothes: a pair of gloves on an armored vest, resting on black leather breaches.  An equally black pair of boots to one side topped it off.
     There was no guarantee the clothes would be appropriate enough for tonight's activities; as a scale-up from her current fare they were fabulous.
     She was especially pleased to see the armored vest; she hadn't worn hers to the staff introduction meeting—it was in a safe part of Seattle, right?--and had been without one for the last six months.  It was probably the longest stretch of time she hadn't worn one: just another piece of a lady's unmentionables.
   
    He was picking up a sheathed knife beside the pile however.  "Check it--the side what goes against your skin is soft so it don't chaff. But it aint slippy so it don' move. You need a blade when you need it. You don't wanna be huntin' fer it.”
   The troll nodded in agreement.  Truth be told, she was used to having a substantial blade; the survival knife was a Personal Carry for its tools, but it was always in addition to a fighting blade.  The sheath technology was new to her, but she could see the value in it.
   “An it's slimline so it can be hidden in a lot more places. It be the same one my momma uses."
   “Your mother is a wise woman.”  She reached out and tapped the drape of breaches. “This better not be spray-on tight though...no sheath is going to hide it in that case.”
   He wagged his eyebrows and winked.  “So?”
   “Make that cutter able to hide in 'a lot more places', then limit yourself?  Makes no sense chummer.”
   “Chip truth, that.  That's why the lacin' up the sides, right?  To make it loose or tight.  Tuck the flaps away an you can show leg--fer the stitched on look.”
   She had to give him that, although she was certain she knew which way the orc probably preferred.

     Beside her, Arc had been putting the gun through its paces.  With a snap of the wrist it was tossed, caught by the barrel and offered to her, stock first.  "it's legit.  Whaddya think?"
     Angel made a disapproving noise.  “Of course that's a legit Crusader II!  Ain't no way a Lady would go with a knock-off.”
     
     Growing up in Detroit, Tuskaloosa had seen her share of Ares armaments; the Crusader II machine pistol was no exception.  This particular specimen was in exceptionally nice condition.
     “This,” Angel said as he held up the silencer, “is for times when the lady wants to be discrete.  That,” he continued, pointing with the noise suppressor and grinning, “be a slider holster an them be shock gloves cause I know what a lady likes to have right up against her skin yo."
    I'll bet you think you do. “And if one is good two is better?” she replied and tapped the groves on her right forearm; the place where her own hidden arm slider and gun would be, if she hadn't removed them to work on the bike.  It also left no doubt that he'd taken notice of the shock glove and Guardian when they last met.  “You do realize the Crusader is too big for even that slider, right?”
    “I'm sure with enough lube it'd do fine.”
   Inside she groaned at giving him the opening for that.
   “But the Crusader goes here,” he said, picking up a concealable quick draw holster from its place beside the box of ammunition on the workbench.
   Tuskaloosa blinked. “Then what's the  slider for?”
   The orc grinned.  “Lady's choice.”
   I give up. “I have to admit—you know your stuff.  You know how to arm a lady.  ...And if I ever meet one, I'll send her your way.  In the meantime,” she said, grinned right back and held her hand out for the holster, “I believe I can put all of this to good use.”

_   _   _


     While Arc finalized the deal with Angel (“let me handle him”), Tuskaloosa loaded the machine pistol's clip from the box of ammunition.  It gave her hands something to do as she brooded. I still don't know what Arc has planned.  We may still need to go shopping.
     She finished the load, slipped the clip into place smoothly and received smartlink confirmation before returning the gun to the holster on the workbench.
   
      Arc was already back to the King Scorpion. “Tuska, think ya can hand me that 22-gauge pipe and that thermal rotary slicer?"
     “Which one is that one?” she asked, holding up two lengths of 22-gauge pipe.
     “...Yer left.”
     The piece in her right hand returned to where she found it.  The slicer took a little longer to spy among the various tools, but she found it and returned to Arc's side.

     Once Arc finished the triage of parts she placed them on the floor.  Starting with the ones that required the most work she rebuilt what could not be patched and patched what could not be replaced.
     Besides the occasional tool or part retrieval, Tuskaloosa bent or beat back into shape parts for the mechanic;  it wasn't much, but it was what she could contribute.
     With the more complex issues covered their pace increased.
   
     Arc handed her a shop towel; they concluded the project with a final polish.  The work was by no means seamless, but it was clean: there were signs of repair, but it took knowing where to look to find them.
     “Hope ya hungry, I sure hella am,”  Arc rumbled.
     Now that Tuskaloosa thought about it, breakfast had been some time ago...
     “Think you mind sharing the backspace with Sleepyhoop over there?”
     “No, but...you sure she's not dead?”  The work had not been done in silence; not once had Yelena stirred.
     The woman chuckled, then grabbed her holster and a jacket.  “The keeb's place is downtown, but shouldn't give us an issue.  Come on, let's get her in, and then we can go pick up Firefly...”
     “The room's empty, right?” the troll asked with a nod to the bedroom area.
   “Yeah.”
   “Give me just a tick then.” Hastily, she reached for her new things and grabbed the knife sheath, holstered machine pistol and the armored vest.  Once around the door, she dropped her bundle on the nearest bed and pulled her shirt off.  The vest was pretty straight forward; she shrugged the t-shirt back over it.  The Crusader came out and onto the bed long enough for her to get the holster in place under her left armpit.  The knife sheath went on her left arm; the hilt just past her wrist.
   
     By the time she returned to the garage proper, Arc had removed the duster/blanket from the still sleeping elf.  She took the offered coat and draped it over her shoulder, then strapped her old arm slide—and its gun—back on her right forearm.
     In the meantime, Arc had dragged the limp elf into a fireman's carry; they weren't getting very far.
     Tuskaloosa slipped under the elf's left arm, put her hand on the unconscious woman's waist and stood up.
     Arc nearly stumbled at the sudden loss of mass.  “I'll get the door,” she chuckled.
     Having Arc inside the car made the hand-off and belting in of their charge a much easier operation.
   
     At last, Tuskaloosa slipped on her coat and crawled into the back seat.
     Arc finished the close-up of the garage and slid into the driver's seat. “Thanks.  We can test the bad boy out when we get back, eh?  I think we got it in working order though, so that's wiz.”
    “It looked good to me,” the troll remarked, “but a test drive is definitely in order.  Still, I'm kind of concerned about what comes after.”
     “Gettin cold feet?”
   “No,”  the troll said firmly. “But...I know you're waiting until everyone that is a part of this is together.  To synchronize and all that.  But I don't know what I'm going to be driving into, and I'm worried about making two mistakes.”
     “Two mistakes?”
   “Yeah.  Being improperly dressed and being under armored.”
     “I hear ya.  Tell ya what: hear me out first.  If you think those'll be a problem after you do, let me know and we fix it.  Sound fair?”
    “Sounds fair.  I just hope we don't get crunched for time, is all.”
     “I hear ya there, too.”

[gilga]

Flashback  (with Blake)
==================

@ Marco  Blake answers you, "It'll have to be at his office. You'll come in about an hour before his plane is due to leave. It'll explain the rush and why you can't stop and talk to anyone. We've got an exact replica of his car down to the plates and registration and garage pass. Security is going to scan you. It'll do a full body scan and you'll have to match his specs exactly. It's why we need someone with your particular talents. Only a flesh-changer can be that exact under scan. If somehow you're caught try to talk your way out, but above all stall. I will be in the building. Use the codephrase. "You're not my date tonight." and I will get you out. You'll have the buildings exits and security codes as part of your package. But, that's one of the things that's been my primary responsibility. To know all of that and have passcodes for every exit and mousehole in the place. The level of security is high. Lockdown will happen in under a minute. But, it's not maximum security prison high. There are still ways out. But, I prefer a non-violent solution of possible. That's why I've got the data I've got. It's to give you every opportunity to bluff your way through this and get out without anyone the wiser."

I take a moment to process my feelings in private. I feel an odd tranquility as if I was born to do these things, It is acceptance. What ever will be will be, and fear does not serve any goal in here. For a long time I tried to be something that I was not, but no amount of external pressure is going to make a warrior out of me, an assassin.  My way is the way of subterfuge and stealth. I belong to the shadows, and I lived inside the shadows all my life. I was just too afraid to admit it. I keep my positive attitude smile not a shred of concern to be visible on the outside.

 I need to grow and I need to do so fast if I am going to survive. I cannot sense the astral on my own and cannot mask my aura, these are my most obvious weaknesses, but there is so much I can do about it right now. It will take time but I learned to speak like a devil and I can learn other things, if I am careful enough I will grow. It is painful to admit that these last two years were a mirage as I was never a legitimate UCAS citizen. I am under a fake SIN issued to me by my overly zealous masters. I am infiltrating the UCAS and I take my cover so seriously that it is real in my eyes. I gullible and naive and my social magic is not backed up by real street wits. I have to learn and perhaps it is not even about masking and assensing. Perhaps I need to understand how the shadows work.

I am not a hammer, but Gabriel is wiser than the rest. He knew all these years that I will not be a hammer yet he kept me alive. Protected me from retribution and excessive irreversible physical damage. He sent me to the UCAS instead of killing me - tricking a naive boy into thinking he is doing him a favor. He was the first one to show me that soft tactics are more effective on me than threats. I owe Gabriel my life but I cannot be sure of his true motives, he probobly wanted to use me for something different. I was always a tool and I seem to be more successful in the shadows being sneaky, than in the light as an enforcer.

My way is clear, everybody need something and instead of futile power plays where I am simply too naive and inexperienced to win, I will focus on negotiation.  They will give me what I want and I will satisfy their dark desires. My life are going to be dirty, but freedom has a price and a rose cannot survive without thorns. If that Shilla is ever found alive, we are going to resolve this relationship. I deserve closure and her behaviour is not something I am going to tolerate anymore.

I think at Blake, calming my thoughts in mastery that I practiced years I am only transmitting what I want.

"Just so we are in complete understanding -  you are interested in the magical version of being him.  Has anyone checked the place for magical defenses? I can take care of it if not, but I need to know before I get in. If someone that knows him assenses me then I am probably exposed. I am not skilled enough to mislead mages and I cannot duplicate his aura, if someone that is familiar with his aura assense me I will look difference. No emotional and rush and stress they can make the aura different and I will have to capitalize on these - but astral security is our weak spot we need to verify what they have.  I cannot control my astral signature not yet, can barely see that world in my own eyes. "


Then I text Sophie >> Dear Sophie, do you want to go shopping soon? I need a new suit and could use your sensitivity to details, it is going to be a brilliant suit and it has to be flawless. Can you help me out? How about tomorrow? afternoon or Monday?

It is not good to buy clothes alone and Yelena or Arc are not exactly the kind to help me out in there. To them my apartment is an amazing joint filled with luxury, but it is actually a modest apartment for people with actual SIN and a regular job. It is, only fancy in the eyes of the poor SINless. Wage mages can definitely expect this kind of lifestyle.

[ismilealot]

@ Marco. Sophie answers you. >>Marco, of course I'd love to go shopping with you. Youwould be so much fun to dress. And let's plan on getting a massage for couples afterwards.<<

[SgtBoomCloud]

After Angel accepted the cred and said his goodbyes ("Ain't no sweat little Arcling.  You send me a pic of her in that getup and have her call me aight? ha-HA!"), Arc let Tuskaloosa alone to inspect and get acquainted with her new kit, idly wondering if the troll was looking for something a little, well, more.  Either way, the mechanic wasn't going to worry about it, and with Yelena confirming her need to rest, her focus redirected to the bike she was needing to fix up for tonight.

The mechanic started with checking through the framework of the bike.  It made sense: the frame was designed to distribute the weight of the bike, channeling the various levels of gee-forces that would be exerted when the bike was traveling and rounding turns.  If any part of the frame was off or not properly connected, that force would bind at a particular point, causing failure of the structure at the most inopportune moments.  Thankfully, with the current state of things she had to strip the bodywork off anyway, so no harm done.  A quick runover with her eyes and diagnostic software told Arc the good news: it was beat up, but not damaged.  The engine, gas lines, and the electrical were all good too, so that was a plus.  The exhaust on the other hand..

"Tuska, think ya can hand me that 22-gauge pipe and that thermal rotary slicer?"  Her eyes were roaming over one of the exhaust vents, the piping warped and pitted with all a manner of holes...a 22-gauge should replace it nicely if she could cut it to the right length.  Taking the pipe in one hand, she hooked up the cutter to her arm and pulled her goggles on over her eyes, making two careful measures before cutting the pipe, using the heat from the tool to shape the ends to match the actual exhaust.  A few minutes later, the old pipe was detached and discarded, the last one welding on with an electrical current and some spare steel.   Arc welding: severely out of date, but no less effective..

The alignment was next on the priority list: especially with a bike, any misalignment of the wheels is fatal in a critical situation, as the tread wouldn't catch the way it was meant to.  And by the look of things, this front axle was off by a good 17 degrees to the left...and with a long front axle the way a chopper was designed, that could only make the error that much more pronounced.  Detaching the safety catches of the frame to the front axle, it was a simple matter of wrenching the handles into the proper positioning...the troll was a definite boon to this, if only for her sheer strength alone.

And that brought up a point in Arc's mind as she directed this Tuskaloosa to assist in bringing tools and moving parts.  She didn't have to hold the troll's hand through the whole thing, and that helped.  This one's worked in a shop before...not quite enough to make a career about it, but she certainly was part of some work.  Didn't she say her bike was made for her?  Maybe she helped with that too...  She was smiling a bit as she worked through these thoughts, taking one last inspection before giving a nod to the taller woman, gesturing the to various parts of the body and armoring scattered about.

They weren't pristine..but with some heat and guided precision force, it wasn't too hard to get them to a shape that they were mostly intended for.  Piece by piece, each was refurbished and then placed back on the bike, soldered into place and bolted in everywhere else.  The work took time and was labor intensive, but it was pretty simple and as the time wore through the midday, the pair of young women could see the fruits of their labors with each piece, the bike restoring to more of its former self with every piece added.

Eventually, as the last bits of the bike were put together, Arc's inner chronometer displayed a flashing 13:00 in her peripherals, signalling that it was time to move towards the next thing of the day: lunch at Marco's.  Heaving a sigh as she wiped her brow, the human girl did a quick job of wiping the dirt and grease away as best as she could, handing the rag up to the she-troll to do the same.  "Hope ya hungry, I sure hella am.  Think you mind sharing the backspace with Sleepyhoop over there?"  she gestured to the unconscious Yelena, who hadn't really moved since Arc checked on her.  Grabbing her own Predator and holstering it at her back, the girl donned her synthleather jacket, sipping it up to her chest to give her an all around cleaner look.  "The keeb's place is downtown, but shouldn't give us an issue.  Come on, let's get her in, and then we can go pick up Firefly.."

Pulling the duster away gently, she handed the garment up to Tuskaloosa before reaching underneath Yelena's form.  The Russian was O U T out, completely unresponsive as the human grabbed her arm with her other hand, tugging and grunting a bit as she pulled her up over her shoulder.  Thankfully, the troll decided to assist, and between the two of them had managed to successfully "pour" the elf woman into the Americar, propping her up against the door and belting her in, making sure her head was not going to flail about.  Locking up the shop in a few minutes, Arc was ready to go, nodding to Tuska as they piled in.  "Thanks.  We can test the bad boy out when we get back, eh?  I think we got it in working order though, so that's wiz.."  Firing up the engine, she sped out into the streets.

This time Arc was kind enough to put some music on, but kept it low to respect her sleeping passenger and so conversation would continue.  Driving in full manual, the mechanic smiled a bit as she felt her stress levels start to fall: driving was very therapeutic for her.  Her day felt much less busy now that it was half done...after the lunch, it was just a drop off from Hrock, final touches to the plan, meeting with Jaime for dinner, and then hijack a mage.  Simple, right?

Her mind did flit back to the name she gave to Samuel Brotherton, and for a moment gave a little panic.  But then she recalled the last time she was with Henri and his fam with Jaime, and the discussion of her SIN name that was on display came up.  There was no bad blood...thanks to Bettina, Henri fully understood how Redmond operated, and even legitimately working residents often sported fake SINs to get by: it was common practice after Crash 2.0.  So, while she had entrusted her birth name, it was understood she would show up as a miss Lauren Summers.  Lucky break.

Sending a ping to Firefly confirming the pickup time, Arc was able to arrive there right on schedule, the girl seeing the younger human at the curbside.  She was dressed in the outfit she met Firefly in..that strange simple robelike thing with the full headscarf doodad.  Pursing her lips, Arc curiously wondered why a teen would wear that, especially someone with the nova skills of a decker.  Ah well, life's little mysteries...  Pulling up gently, the rigger opened up the front passenger door, letting the decker in and giving a simple quick gesture to the back to indicate Yelena's sleeping form.  "In one piece huh?  Good to see.  Got everything ya need? We bout to go downtown, but then we hittin' my place after, wiz?"

Once everyone was in, the drive downtown was fairly uneventful.  Well, as uneventful as it could get anyway.  The tall skyscrapers and busy streets of downtown Seattle, even on a Sunday, was a stark contrast to the sprawl of the Redmond Barrens, and it always staggered Arc.  It made her feel small...and not necessarily in the physical stature sense.  Arriving at their destination, she parked the car and took a few moments to rouse Yelena, who by now had a few more hours of rest under her belt.  "Hoi...Srui...we need to carry you up to ya boy's place too?"  She spoke gently, letting her decide on her own what her drug hangover-addled limits were at the moment.

Carrying her or not, Arc led the four of them into Marco's apartment complex, checking in and getting a reminder of where Marco's place was.  The doorman gave the group a fairly funny look...new faces and all that..but did not argue as the ascended the elevator.  The clock read 14:06 when the door to the male keeb's place was knocked three times by something metallic, signaling his guests' arrival at last...

[gilga]

There was something odd about the rose, I could sense it, sense it... not smell it. Perhaps I am only imagining it all but I can sure that it echoed emotion. I concentrate keep my entire focus and then it is that sound again very weak and I can barely hear it.  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK... wait this is not how passion sounds like. I cannot hear that passion with this lack of harmony and repeated sound. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK there it was again. What can it possibly be? I open my eyes and look at my place the table is set and the pasta is getting cold. I’ve been dancing alone with myself for a while now. If I wasn’t a mage I’d belong in an insane asylum as I hear voices and listen to flowers. However, being magical does has some perks and I do not perceive myself as insane.  KNOCK KNOCK KNCOK it takes the third set of knocking to get me back to the real world. Listening to flowers? Dancing with Agrat... I better not mention these things to my friends.

I open the door with my best smile and say... “Sorry I was dancing... Do you like traditional disco? I look at the clips in the trids and the fabrics are so ridiculous. Fixed colors and without any tricks... and these are the guys that perform. Somethings are better heard but not seen... it ain’t pretty.”  I greet them inside, my place is spotless and the new bar is almost exactly like the previous bar. The only difference is that now it is an original rather than a cheap fake from one of Jimmy’s artist friends Raul the Mule - that was quite a bizzare name for a carpenter.  “I hope you like Linguine... I say as I lead my guests to seat... there is also wine if you’d like drinking. I am so glad you came I have some wonderful news.” To my new guests the most unusual thing about my apartment is the library a full wall of library with actual books and no obvious digital entertainment other than a cleverly disguised music system.

[Shaman_Yuri]

At least the snow stopped...

As is often the case in Seattle, the snowfall last night is already fading into the gutters.  It doesn't feel much warmer given the wind had increased and there's a cold drizzle in the air, but the magical white that covered the ground will likely be gone by nightfall.  I wonder if we'll see more snow later in the winter?

I didn't have to wait long for my ride to arrive.  Arc-sensei had messages me just a few minutes ago telling me to stand where she'd dropped me off last night, and like clockwork here she is. 

Initially I expected to slip into the back somewhere, but instead the front passenger door beckons.  I shrug and slide into the open seat, belting in and closing the door behind me.  My human mentor smiles and jabs her thumb in a backward motion.  I look behind me and see a sleeping Yelena and very awake troll crowding what would normally be the voluminous rear portion of the Americar.

"In one piece huh?" Arc observes.  "Good to see.  Got everything ya need? We 'bout to go downtown, but then we hittin' my place after, wiz?"

"Sounds fine, Arc-sensei," I answer simply.  "I have what I need for a few days in my bag," I add, indicating the backpack now in my lap.  "My rent is through the month so I thought it would be fine to worry about things like my futon, pillow, and the like later.  I still have people I need to talk to before I want it to look like I'm moving out.  My roommate, especially, is out for a few days and she deserves to hear it from me before I bail on her."

I appreciate that Arc just nods at that as she moves the Americar back into traffic.  We make the rest of the journey in amicable silence.  My eyes widen a bit when we arrive at our destination.  I knew Marco-san was a fancy dresser, but apparently his means allow him to live like he dresses.  The building is nothing compared to a Renraku Arcology, of course.  My family were upper crust in one of the original AAA corporations.  Still, this would be the fanciest time I'd spent since...well...last night.  Hopefully the company would be better...

After several attempts at knocking by Arc-sensei, the elf man opened the door and beckoned us in.  The place was as fancy as I would expect from the silver tongued mage.  The smells are incredible and my mouth salivates for the first time since my last spell kicked me in the gut despite its success.  Uncomfortable with Marco himself, my eyes are drawn to the wall of books.  Despite the large, uninviting crucifix displayed prominently in the center, I make myself inconspicuous by sidling over to the peculiar library and examining the selection.  After the book I'd already handled, I wonder what other curious tomes this man might have on hand...

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena struggles against the tide of consciousness but fails, finally opening one then the other eye.  Looking about, it takes a minute to realize where she is.  "Frag, Srui.  How the drek Yelena get in car?"  She looked at the Troll.  "Ah.  Yelena know now.  Hello Tuskaloosa.  And hello decker girl."

Yelena climbs out of the car on her own and stretches before following the others into the building.  She uses the elevator time to shake herself fully awake and is smiling as they approach Marco's door.  She frowns a bit when it takes three sets of knocks to get Marco to come open the door.  She pauses to sniff the air, aroused at the aroma wafting from the kitchen.  "Marco take long open door.  Have woman hiding?  Food smell wonderful.  Yelena off wine today.  What news?"

While talking to Marco, the Russian Keeb watches Firefly go to the books.  Something jars a bit and she smiles as she considers the slight irony of the Muslim girl and the Christian cross.

[gilga]

Most of the book in Marco’s library are religious in nature but there is also representation to general philosophy, poetry, cooking and even magic. Subaru might recognize an early edition of “The Grimoire, A Manual of Practical Thaumaturgy” a must have book for mages that advance on their own. It is considered the most extensive and balanced book with background, notions and philosophy from the most popular magical traditions.  In contradiction the book next to it is notorious as the most useless of arcane books.  “De Forma Absolutionis”, is disguised as a Grimoire book, but it is actually a book about ethics and the proper use of magical arts. It’s suggestions are considered naive and impractical. The most notorious of them is not using magic to harm people in any way.  Your photographic memory quickly tells you that the book you saw the other day is not part of the current collection.
 
"Marco take long open door.  Have woman hiding?  Food smell wonderful.  Yelena off wine today.  What news?"

“Woman hiding... Don't be silly, if you want to be involved with a mage you will have to trust me. I have many options for getting a lover out of an awkward situation and what you might imagine a woman hiding in a closet or something like that is not one of them... The simplest thing is to make her a little bird and send her home. So you will just have to believe me when I say that there is no woman...  I was dancing and got a bit carried away into my own thoughts. "

Marco change the music to soft jazz. Just the jam no words seems ideal for eating and conversation. He thinks to himself.  "I have already set the table... Make yourself comfortable. I hope you came hungry.” Marco sets the table and seats his guests, Tuskaloosa posed a logistical challenge and Marco had to put a small sofa instead of a chair that would be too small.

Marco gives Yelena and Arc each two credsticks. “Since Sam is gone we need a new arrangement for our work. I talked to Blake and we now get 10k a week as long as we are engaged with the club. The credsticks I gave you contain 10k for previous week and another 10k for this week. Expect a new one next Sunday.” He then looks at Firefly and Tuskaloosa apologetically and say “It seems like I will need to negotiate something for you too as well. I did not understand that you were on board the previous time I’ve seen you... Arc is a bit mysterious at times but I trust her judgement.”  He fills the glasses with red wine to these that are interested and with a soft drink to these that are not.

After a bit of dining he say “So Yelana how was your date last night? You had me and Firefly worried.”