[Jack_Spade]

[spoiler]
Drug durations:
Drug duration Aisa: 20+2d6 24 minutes
Drug duration Dopadrine: 1d6 50 minutes

So Isaint will by now have stopped hallucinating (and received 2 stun damage)

Now that Hard Target is out I'll also add a few modifications to my gear (especially ammo select for the Ruger Super Warhawk and easy breakdown for my rifles)

[/spoiler]

Isaint felt clearer now. The hallucination had gradually gone away until only faint whispers remained.
Like Al he gave Frisk a small bundle. It was less grisly but contained instead the dead mime's weapons including his weapon focus. On an impulse he squeezed Frisk's shoulder for a moment and nodded to her. There where no words that could have done any good.

When they stopped to discuss, he again connected his medkit to the sick girl with an infusion, so they could at least monitor and stabilize her state and get her back to consciousness - but no success. The girl stayed unresponsive.
[spoiler]
First Aid stun damage: 8d6t5 2
[/spoiler]

To Al's question he answered:
"I still think we should do the hand over close to one of the army bases here in London. They do have a strictly enforced no-fly zone, so that we should be safe from surprise attacks by air. Hopefully Neonet won't insist on taking a blimp to the meet.
I don't know how much time we have until the meeting, but if we can we should visit a shadow clinic beforehand. Or at least the girl should.
I just received a ping from my new drone, an Aeroquip Dustoff. I can take her as an emergency transport anywhere within London within 15 minutes.
So if you know an address for a discreet medic service, now is the time to share."
While he said that, his coat changed to display an approximation of a medic uniform with a big red cross on the back.

 

[adamu]

Al agreed with both of Isaint's points.

So first things first. "Yeah, I got a sawbones we can definitely trust. She's right over inna Docklands - hopefully they don't think we'd be crazy enough to go back there. We take the van I got comin' won't be much more'n yer medevac's fifteen minutes, an' we don't have ta split up. But yer call. I'll let 'er know we's on our way."

<<Patty? Al...Yeah...Yeah, that's fer soon. Great...Listen, toots, I got a girl here, poisoned bad. Somethin' exotic. Topical job from some freaks inna Below. Forwarding the medkit reads. We's fifteen ta twenty out...Hell yes we got cash...See ya soon.>>

Call made, he returned to the other matter. "Personally, ol' Al likes places with just a little less o' the Man inna mix. But ya knowed whatcha was doin' so far, reckon I'll follow yer lead. Less anyone else objects, I say pick yer partickalars an' I'll relay 'em to Fairy Twinkle."

[pistolgrip]

Not knowing much about the area, and therefore not understanding why they couldn't simply get to the surface and leave, such as to a hospital, was making Aaron quite cross. He paced back and forth, spinning the cylinder on the Ruger Warhawk and looking around for signs of trouble.
"Okay, I see sunlight. Technicality. I want to be standing in it." he said as he shoved the Ruger back into its holster. "Let's just get the job done. Anywhere close is fine by me."

[adamu]

Al gave the anxious giant a slap on the back. "Trick is, kemo sabe, we done come up inna Temple District - security's locked down tighter'n a virgin Catholic school girl's knees. An' ever'one's more posh than royalty. We got hurt people, we look like shit, an' we's carryin' enough obvious weapons ta call down three or four FRTs they catch even a glimpse of us." He lit a cigarette and offered one to the ork, then continued in his graveyard gravel voice. "But listen, yer so eager fer a tan, might not be the worst idear. I got our ride onna way in, should show any minute. You lose the bow, stow the six-shooter, if'n you can git up outta this here hole without bein' spotted by any of the cops I just saw, you can help guide 'er in, take a quick glance around afore we all hang our asses out." He shrugged. "Provided ya think ya can blend with all the barristers an' solicitors out on they lunchtime strolls, that is."

[obidancer]

The Frenchman stepped in. I think I can handle that, if you guys want.
I have my suit in my bag, and my handguns are my only weaponry. I can easily blend in. And I'm good behind a wheel if needs arise.
What do you think, should I change?

[Jack_Spade]

"That's a good idea. But you should wait until the van provides cover.
But just to be sure, you should disguise your face. There are a million cameras out there and the Druids have enough government contacts that they surely can access the facial recognition database - not to mention they'll still have spirits floating around looking for us.
When we emerge we'll have to move and fast at that.

As soon as I've taken apart my rifle and changed my appearance to that of a municipal worker, I'll help the rest of you get topside."

Isaint actually had already begun to do that: With the push of a button his rifle went to pieces and found their way into his backpack.

#194

[adamu]

Even as the team made their preparations for and quick and discreet emergence from the underground passage, a clean but non-descript white van with no markings but displaying all the proper licensing in AR slowed to a crawl as it passed the alley mouth, then carefully reversed around the corner into alley, nearly filling it, and neatly obstructing the view of the manhole from the street. Almost immediately, a youngish human in workman's flats emerged. Al recognized him as one of Chastity's errand boys. He shut the driver's door, took some cigarettes from his pocket, and appeared to wander off for a smoke.

He'd left the engine idling, but Al knew he'd never be back. 

[adamu]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~12:35, Ferndale Shelter, Ferndale Street, Docklands, London]

No sooner had Al pulled the Bulldog into the shelter's garage than a pair of slovenly looking characters hauled the rear doors open and moved Natasha onto a waiting gurney. They wheeled her into a surprisingly well-appointed backroom clinic area, parents at each side of her.

Al stepped out with the rest of the group and was greeted by Dr. Patricia Kwon. She was a Korean woman, tall for her ethnicity, but not for her metatype. She had sharp green eyes and her mouth always seemed to be darkly amused at everything around her. When Al had been an all-too-regular customer back in his smuggling days, she'd had a pert, muscular physique that made people take notice. Now, twenty years later, because she was an elf, she still did. Al licked his lips, and she just half grinned, half sneered in that way of hers. "I've been working from the data you sent me. I don't know what the hell it is, but I've broken down some of the chemistry and I think - I hope - I can do something for her."

She'd talked while she walked, and they were in the treatment room now, her assistants already running a line into the girl's arm. "How long?" Al asked.

"You on a clock?"

"Oh yeah."

"Set it back."

"Negatory, amiga. They catch us here, we's all dead."

Her eyes flared with sudden anger. "Asshole."

"I am who I am, an' that's the game you's in, darlin'."

"Well, the price just doubled. Give me thirty minutes to see if I can get the levels right - if I do, it won't repair the damage, but it should stop the toxin's progress."

Then they carried Tobbin in. "This one stays. Don't fret, they ain't after him." Then Al left the room, returning to the garage, to Spike, to the others.

"Wheels up in thirty. I'll make the call."

On the way over they'd selected a spot. Royal Victoria Gardens was next to a new power station on its west end, and just south of London City Airport - the airspace would be strictly controlled, but there was little in the immediate vicinity to warrant a heavily armed security presence. That said, there was some upscale housing on both sides along the water. It was a good balance, too nice for the bad guys to roll heavy unnoticed, but also too nice for street thugs to blend. It sat on a cusp of the Thames north bank that was off the beaten track, but the A117 and A112 offered good escape paths to the east and west, respectively.

<<eTher - Royal Victoria Gardens, forty minutes. There's a parking lot in the northwest corner. Let us know how you're coming in.>> The parking lot was screened on two sides by tall trees, and on the other sides by structures - if they watched their angles, they'd be okay on sniper fire. He sent the text, hoping the encryption on his Caliban was enough.

It was close enough to the water that he was tempted to call his boat over, just for another way out. But it had been at his place when they hit it - they'd be watching it. Which gave him another idea - he called the autopilot and sent the thing west to loiter near the Greenwich Yacht Club. Couldn't hurt to pull at least a little of their surveillance resources.

"Place is only a five minute drive from here - anyone feel like goin' on ahead an' settin' up?"

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint felt a splitting headache from the aftereffects of the drug cocktail, but he refrained from asking for medication. A bit of rest would take care of it on itself.
He still hadn't retrieved the drone, but it was comforting to know that it floated around, ready to assist him and the team.

He nodded at the change to a power station. All around a safer proposition should a shout out occur.
"I will. I still need to call my new ride and re-equip. Besides, I can change my face and hair at will, so I'm in less danger of being recognized."

Having said that he concentrated and began to change behind his mask

[spoiler]Disguise check (w/ face sculpt and keratin control): 14d6t5 5 [14d6t5=4, 4, 4, 6, 4, 5, 3, 6, 2, 2, 4, 6, 2, 5]
[/spoiler]

When he revealed his face he looked a cross between an artist and a new age priest. A mental command changed his coat to be pure white.

<<Susi: Run silent protocol with wrapper program for obvious equipment. Full defense.>>

"Be safe and set your equipment to regularly reboot. We lost our last hacker, so all we have left is my agents."

[adamu]

Al watched in amused amazement at Isaint's translformation. "Sheee-it, boy, ya done turned yerself into a damned hippy," was all he could say. But he took the ork's advice and set his Fairlight to reboot every five minutes.

Not that he used it for much of anything anyway - his few wifit-enabled pieces of gear were well behind its firewall when they were active, but they were all manually shut off ninety-nine percent of the time.

[Aria]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~12:35, Ferndale Shelter, Ferndale Street, Docklands, London]

<<eTher - Royal Victoria Gardens, forty minutes. There's a parking lot in the northwest corner. Let us know how you're coming in>>

The reply is satisfyingly rapid

<<Fine, I will be there. My limo will pull in to the parking lot and we’ll keep this brief. I will arrange for a payment transfer upon verification of the good Doctor’s health>>

And talking of health, Doctor Kwon came to find the group in the sparsely appointed waiting area, made to feel smaller by the family’s restless pacing.

“Well you’ll be pleased to know that Natasha is stable.  I wasn’t able to identify the specific compound but I suspect it was a derivative of Gamma Scopaline, something designed to make her more suggestible.  There doesn’t appear to be any lasting damage and she is sleeping off the abuse you lot have been through over the last few hours.  She’ll be up and about by this evening I would think…”

And then Al’s life becomes just that little bit more interesting

<<Al [Silk]: I spoke to Requiem and he said he’d seen you in London.  I trust all is well now.  I have a job offer for you in Oxford but I need you to get over there now, it’s a narrow window of opportunity.  Can you make it in the next ninety minutes?  I can send you the details in transit…>>


***
_#65

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint had left the hospital with mixed feelings. He didn't like leaving the family and his chummers after all they had endured, but securing the area was equally important. Like Al he didn't dare calling his bike to him. It was to easy to slap an RFID tag on it.
He did stop by the inner couryard. A DocWaggon ambulance drone had just landed there. Isaint had to smile, his contact hadn't lied - this machine was a beauty.
Inside he found the promised equipment, but the only thing he took out was a poncho that he stashed in his coat. A few things left his backpack and found its way inside the drone. For one thing the illegal rifle. The taken apart Ruger would have to do for the moment.

He gave a mental command and the drone closed its doors and took off.
Isaint strode outside and called a robo taxi. He didn't take the direct route to the park but instead changed SIN and Taxi two more times while walking at least a km before the change.

After that it was a walk in the park...

#196

[adamu]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~12:45, Ferndale Shelter, Ferndale Street, Docklands, London]

"She’ll be up and about by this evening I would think…”

"Well PTL ta that. Git 'er loaded up, we ain't got long." And, raising his voice to the group, "Green lights across the board, folks, new J's confirmed she'll make the meet. Bringin' a stretch job into the parkin' lot. We deliver now, she pays later." He watched their reactions at that, knowing it might not sit well. But hopefully they'd take his word that eTher was good for it - they were all operating past exhaustion.

And then he got the message from Silk. Son of a bitch. He was already at the point of using toothpicks to keep his eyes open. Half his kit had burned in the fire, and the other half was stashed in the Toyota Elite he'd sent to Horace's place. But he owed Silk. Since he seemed to be stuck in this ridiculous biz for the time being, that relationship was too important.

And a man, a real man, worked for a living. You didn't have to like it, you just had to do it. It was thirty more minutes until the meet, but since of course the whole thing was sure to go off smoothly without a hitch, then, if he kept the pedal to the metal and didn't even stop to piss, he could make it back to Oxford in an hour. Well, maybe more like an hour and a quarter, though at that speed his van with the squeaky clean new reg would be burned by half the traffic cams in Buckinghamshire.

He spoke a text: <<Want ta help, but need two hours. Got three stand-up hombres here with me. Serious pros. Should I invite them to the party?>> but didn't hit send.

"Now wait jist a doggone minute," he muttered to himself. She'd said Requiem mentioned he'd seen Al in London. Something didn't add up. Al's memory was a bit hazy with the whirlwind of the past few days, but he checked back through his texts. There it was, from the day before, some stuff about the deal with eTher, and then: <<PS - is Requiem still good people and did you send him?>> She already knew where he was. Plus, he'd just let Req know what a sorry state they were in just a couple of hours ago, which he'd have mentioned if he'd talked to her. And hell, the way she was tight with eTher, he'd be more than a little surprised if she didn't also know about the timetable for their imminent meet.

Either it wasn't her, or she was playing at something.

He deleted the first text, then spoke a new one: <<Negatory, sweet cheeks, we got a buyer fer our little math-clan here, goin' fer a hand-off up Hampstead way, headin' there in thirty. But send me the full details o' the next job an' maybe I can skin that can some other way. Or, if your job is mucho urgento, say so an' we'll put Mr. an' Mrs. Numbers on ice somewhere safe, take care o' yer deal first. PS - send me some cartons o' Winstons, ya git a chance, these Limeys ain't got no decent smokes.>>

[pistolgrip]

Aaron sat. It was a simple gesture. Just a large ork, dressed in full body armor, a huge revolver on his hip and an actual compound bow on his back, seated on a small bench, elbows on his knees, head on his folded hands. They hadn't gotten much sleep, all in all. They had gotten a hex or two, the bad side of some blades, and a chemical bath. The girl was unconscious. The boy was miserable. The wife was a wreck, and the doctor looked tense enough to have a stroke. Tobbis looked like he was probably going to change career paths and Al always looked like hell. Isaint looked like someone else every minute. Aaron had to wonder if he even remembered who he really was, or if he'd been completely subsumed by his shadow life. Frenchman quite openly didn't remember who he really was, but he seemed to be holding it together, maybe better than anyone. Aaron had heard from Mel, before she disappeared, that the mysterious Frenchman was loaded with high-end augmentations and had some sort of special training. Maybe this was all his version of normal. But it sure as hell wasn't Aaron's.

"Jackhammer." He reminded himself. He realized with all of this, his old life was probably never coming back. "My name is Jackhammer."

[Aria]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~12:35, Ferndale Shelter, Ferndale Street, Docklands, London]

<<Negatory, sweet cheeks, we got a buyer fer our little math-clan here, goin' fer a hand-off up Hampstead way, headin' there in thirty. But send me the full details o' the next job an' maybe I can skin that can some other way. Or, if your job is mucho urgento, say so an' we'll put Mr. an' Mrs. Numbers on ice somewhere safe, take care o' yer deal first. PS - send me some cartons o' Winstons, ya git a chance, these Limeys ain't got no decent smokes.>>

In response to Al’s text he received a live call from Silk, her surprisingly worried face appearing in the tiny viewer on his ‘link

“Al?  Two hours is no good, I need you out of London now!  Please don’t argue, the job is real but that isn’t the reason.  This is bigger than both of us and there’s no time to explain something like this here…are you meeting eTher, is that why you wanted the intel on her last night?  I’ll call her, relocate your meet…your job is hosed, you just don’t know it yet…stay in London and the ramifications could be huge.  I know this is a lot to ask and an even bigger thing to try and sell to your team but please believe me, it’s important.  And give up smoking, it’s doing crap things to your lungs!”

***
_#66