[adamu]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~05:58, Back on Widow’s Way, London Below, London]

Tapping laboriously on his screen - hadn't wanted anyone to overhear a voice-to-text - Al saw the message from Goodbye (why was her text signature Goodnight?) and then, just like Christmas in hell, there was the hippy-witch's cigarette case.

Spike was already bounding back towards him, but before the huge black dog was halfway back Al threw his own bar back the other way, sending the dog scurrying off in delight. Couldn't very well have him in the crossfire if this went to shit.

He put one of the proferred smokes between his lips, shamelessly pocketed the case, and lit up the cigarette. Glancing with appreciation at Nitro's ingenuity, he reflected that he'd better enjoy it - the way these threats were escalating, it could well be his last.

[gilga]

Solo looks at Al ISaint and the rest all tensed up. He tell them "Guys, please...  give me a chance these aren't the first people I hacked, and these aren't the first people I pissed up. If it is my time to go, it is my time to go, It is a professional hazard.  You stick to your job - there is no fame in dying - and they are too many and you cannot protect me from them. I do not wish anybody to die in my name - I have taken enough life in the past. I am the villain, not some saint that is worth saving"

To Fortune he said trying to defuse the tension.
"I know you have come through a lot of effort with your show of force, I appreciate it. That data must be precious to you and the tapestry. I'll tell you what, I will make you an offer something that is within my power to grant. "

He pasues trying to build a little bit of tension.

"The reason you all flocked here is that I posses a rare combination of talents, I managed to cross your firewall, dodge your agent and grab some data. I did so in order to figure what you were really after. I never trust what people tell me, especially powerful people...

True, I was detected and it is indeed a flaw in my capabilities, I will continue to train and improve these capabilities. Your security was very solid, and the conditions were far from ideal - you witnessed a great decker in action. One that is also an established mage. Not only decker and a mage, but someone  that likes poetry too " He laughs shortly and then smiles his million dollar smile.
He is proud of his capabilities,  he earned the data and was not going to apologize for taking it.

"Sure you have the number advantage, but it still does not change the fact that I am more useful to you as alive as a contact -  than dead.  If I am gone, you will notice that my capabilities are not so easily replaced.  I am the best that money can buy and you will find me extremely useful to your cause in the future."


Solo feels happy, he told them the entire truth. Their defense was especially strict and he got inside anyhow. He did so while maintaining a powerful illusion spell - and he had a spirit that few people can summon channeled in his body.  It was indeed an impressive display of skill, in both magic and decking.  Few runners were capable of such feats. 

He tries to guess Fortunes reply under the mask, and Solo is not sure if to extend his hand or ready his gun. One thing Solo knows - he did not get to his current standing by avoiding risks. He wasn't vengeful and was always loyal to whomever employed him - providing the employer kept his end of the deal. He was on nobodies side - and his link number was a great addition to anyone that wanted to get stuff done.

[Jack_Spade]

"Saints die for their belief. That's how they get to be saints."
A private message to Solo read: <<Just show them you delete your local content of their data and send a request to your contacts to delete the new data as thorough as they can manage. You selling your skills to them can't hurt either.>>

#116

[gilga]

Solo texts Isaint:
>> I do not lie to people I want to work with. I really cannot undo what was done.

What you are suggesting will not have the effect you think. My contact have probobly already shared their data in a shadow grid and right now the best minds in the shadows are trying to crack it for their own hidden agendas.  It is easy to throw a stone to the ocean but it is very difficult to take the same stone out of the ocean.

That contact and I are blood, he knows that I will never ask him something like that. Data is not only my life it is my personal security. If I am dead or compromised - all my secrets from all my career goes to public grids. I salvaged many secrets over my years and this pact is what kept me alive so far. Former victims and employers are personally invested in my continual survival. If anything, having that data away and controlling just how public it gets is my insurance policy.

If you think they want an empty 'delete data' gesture and are too silly to discover that it was too late. I do not agree, I think it was better to tell the ugly truth to the face. People can forgive you for many things - but lying like that makes enemies.
.

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight gives a long, lazy look around. Violence is brewing on the air, and for the first time in a year, she welcomes it. Her SecondSkin goes a smoky grey color, and the back, from neck to hips, disappears entirely. Her collar is glowing with opalescent fire, and on her back is a glowing LED tattoo of bright green feathers with silver bones. A celtic knot in the same color is visible on the point of her right hip, and a slowly-rippling biotattoo in basic black, a ring and halo symbol, becomes visible through the grey opposite it.

"Frag fame. Frag fame, and saints, and numbers." Goodnight says idly. "I have a job to do. I will guide you through Below, all of you. We are not through Below, and I was picked to deal with the threats we might face. I admit to not expecting murderous clowns with a deathwish, but needs must..." She looks at Isaint, and the smile she shoots him is a wicked little thing, full of promise and malice, but not directed at him. For him, the expression is approving, even comradely. "Can you handle your end?" She asks calmly. "Because if they make a move, I figure Nitro will turn the first five or so into samosa filling, and then it will be up to us."

As she speaks, she sends a quick message to ShadowDancer and Girl Flower. Girl Flower wasn't guaranteed to show up, but ShadowDancer, her sister Victoria, would. In a fit of curiosity, she'd once clocked her sister's speed. She'd always been fast, but HMHVV had turned the sweet girl into a bullet with legs. Should could run better than twenty meters per second and sustain it. At a sprint, she simply defied clocking. Her home was approximately a klick and a half of tunnels away. She does a bit of math, figuring in the time to grab the sword and wargear, and then best speed and came up with ninety seconds. Goodnight nods to herself. Good enough.

<<Trouble at Nightside's east entrance. Murderous elf clowns. GF, if you're in the area your mojo would be welcome. We might need some patching up afterwards. SD, get your ass in gear. This might be a show, and we've got scared kids with us. And...bring the blade. Time to remember old lessons.>>

[Jack_Spade]

<<In that case, let's hope they are rational and not a bunch of emotion driven freaks that want to see you destroyed even if it could cost them their own life and/or safety. So in case this get's ugly: Nice having known you.>>

Isaint just nodded to Goodnights question. Better to keep this short and without any further misunderstandings.

Isaint's coat did not change to ridicule or inflame the clowns - it just turned a muddy brown texture to blend in with the environment as did his mask. It probably wouldn't help much, but every little thing counted in a fire fight.

[gilga]

Solo looks at Goodnight and say "Please, I do not wish any of this... We are all tense but there is already enough death in my story." To Isaint he texted: >>It was indeed a fun ride. The murderous emotional one is our beautiful guide, these people follow seers and calculations about the tapestry and the total good of humanity. I do not sure they will behave like you describe. For some odd reason they tried to protect us, they could just ignore us and let us deal with the Shedim ourselves.

He texts Goodnight >> I beg you beautiful and disturbed girl. I understood that somehow you are both delicate and gentle and a killer. Sometimes you are the kind that slaps when you get angry and in other times anger lead to the monowhip.

Look at Natasha - consider things from her eyes, she is still young. She has done nothing to deserve all this. What are you offering me?  a massacre as the good result and us dying as a bad result. These things are totally unaccepted. It will scar Natasha and William, it will scar their parents. They may never recover from either scenario.
This is not a story I want to tell, please, my sins are great and their weight is heavy.
There may come a day where you feel the same -  that you do not want to kill anymore. Maybe then what I am saying will make sense to you, but now please respect my wishes.   

I do not wish anyone to die in here, if somebody has to die it is best be me this mess is my own doing. Saving me is not your job, it endanger your job. Think about your sister, look at Natasha, they wouldn't want you to do that. 

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight's reply comes almost immediately.

<<They're already scarred. They have been beset by men and monster, lost their home, their peaceful little lives, and any hope of security or safety. Even if this extraction is completed, they will be marked by it for the rest of their lives. Ask yourself what would be more damaging, seeing those appointed their protectors slaughtering the strange, inhuman, near-alien harlequins, or seeing the man they've seen fight to protect them throw his life away for no reason?

And don't call me girl. I'm a woman, and I swear to god that if one more person talks to me like a child or an idiot, I will add them to my list of things to exterminate today.

Now, we will try not to massacre them. I don't always kill when I fight. But if they make a move, my reputation and my ability to survive in Below depend on me being fast, decisive, and taking no drek from anyone. I one hundred percent do not care if you want to make some noble sacrifice. If those clowns make a move and don't leave me any choice, I will stack their bodies like cordwood and I'll sing a cheerful tune while I do.>>

Then carefully, moving in slow, deliberate motions, Goodnight shuts off her commlink. Good luck stealing data from a dead piece of plastic and optical chips.

[Aria]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~06:05, Nightside Market, London Below, London]
 
Despite the palpable tension and drawn weapons the Harlequinade seem relaxed, their poses suggesting jovial amusement…
 
Hecate’s triple voice ripples
 
“Single combat?  We are not in the Wild West! And we do not need to prove ourselves to you.  We do not kill for sport or pleasure or even for expediency, even we cannot see the full extent of the Pattern and what effects the loss of a single life needlessly taken might have.  There are some that shine brighter in the Pattern, many of you here have that effect and we would be foolish to snuff those out.  Do we disappoint you…?
 
Yet you stole from us, information is as valuable to us as to you and our secrets should not be lightly revealed.  Give us the name of the person to whom you sent the data and our Muses will try to limit the damage done.  We will take your offer of a future favour… I do not doubt that our paths will intersect in the Pattern ahead.
 
You go into the market now, if you wish to leave anything with us, that buzzing monstrosity perhaps…?” as she indicates the Bumblebee hovering somewhere near her head “then we will keep them safe for you here.  We perform tonight at sundown, we hunt our foe tomorrow.  Join us if your fates permit it, revel in the ancient and the new sagas, perhaps even dance with us?  Cross blades if that is your desire.
 
Fortune, send out your sprites, recover what is lost, and we will use the secondary protocols for now…”
 
With no visible command but with a fanfare and flurry of moment the clowns disengage, leaping and bounding to put themselves a respectful distance from the group, although they are still in the entrance to Nightside…
 
One figure that had been standing aloof however approaches…rather than the motley of the others he wears a skull mask and a machine gun is cradled on his hip, bourn by an additional mechanical arm of bone and biofibre…
 
“Guthrie?  What are you doing in the middle of this mess…?”
 
***
_#39
 
 
 

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint nodded at the leader and put the rifle back on his shoulder: "A really commendable philosophy. Godspeed."

After their guides dispersed Isaint turned to Goodnight: "First things first. The family needs a secure place to rest - I trust you know a friendly bar or hostel where we can set them up for a few hours. We'll also need to buy them some necessities."

#118

[adamu]

[Thursday June 18th, 2076, ~06:05, Nightside Market, London Below, London]

"Heh heh. Messes is where I seem ta be spendin' most o' my time these days."

Al looked up from his perch on the ground. He didn't get up.

"But ta answer yer question, kemo sabe, reckon I'm sendin' a text while these hotheads sort theyselves out."

As the clowns drifted away, Spike came bounding back, and Al put a skinny arm around the dog's neck, dragging its slobbering snout down into his lap. Scratching the back of the animal's head, he continued, "But, well sir, maybe it's that groovy halloween mask, or maybe it's that extra arm that's throwin' ol' Al's mem'ry off, but I'm afeard ya have me at a disadvantage."

[gilga]

To Goodnight >> I am sorry for the bad use of words, woman definitely but start acting as one, adults control their anger. Being the biggest and toughest is good for a while, but there will always be someone bigger out there. I do not socialize that way. I am many things but noble is not one of them. Deckers are often grabbed extracted, threatened and bullied. At the end of the day we provide a service that is in high demand. Killing us is just bad for business, eventually these methods extend our cycles of employment. There is always the risk but I like my odds better with words and wits.  I must be getting old and soft, but I will be a little sad if you or Natasha die because I am too scared to go through with my decker philosophy.

To Hecate he said: "I am afraid that I will have to disappoint you again. I am truly sorry but there is one thing in this business that you should understand, if I am to start selling out my friends I am already dead. Appreciate me for what I am, you wouldn't want me sending angry customers to your backyard as well. Think about it and you will find that deep down you actually hoped me to give you this answer.

If you care about my professional opinion, I think you are relatively safe. From brief examination your code seemed complex and you are aware that your data was compromised. By the time that code is broken you will already be using a new one.  Everything you will do to interfere with this code is an admission of importance, it will give context to an otherwise random piece of information. Metaphorically, you cannot stop the ripple effect of a stone cast into a lake by throwing in another stone.

If you must take the path of active action...


He sighs, the words do not come easily to Solo. "I do respect force, and it goes against my judgement. But I can provide you a handle, a bread crumb to lead you eventually to a position of power outside of the shadows. However, you cannot call me friend if you follow that path. So it is either my cooperation or a bread crumb. Even as a future employer, and even if you have the tactical upper hand. Even then you should respect the red lines of my profession.

The only reason I am even suggesting giving you this, is because with the amount of firepower you brought you could as well take this breadcrumb by force."

As the clowns retreat, Solo nods at Al. "Thanks" He say.  Maybe it is an age thing, but Solo prefers it like that. A silent raise of a gun, no discussion. Sometime avoiding actions works better than acting.

To the rest he said: "I am sorry you had to experience it all." He hated to admit it but he sort of liked these creepy and arrogant people. Solo always try to achieve his goals with the minimal amount of necessary force. He has an assault rifle - but firing it is only after the more subtle approaches fails.

He looked at the newly arriving target with curiosity, "who is Guthrie?" . Eyeying the group,  he thought "did he refer to Al as Guthrie?" .

[Aria]

"But, well sir, maybe it's that groovy halloween mask, or maybe it's that extra arm that's throwin' ol' Al's mem'ry off, but I'm afeard ya have me at a disadvantage."

The figure laughs, a disturbing graveyard chuckle presumably the result of voice mod tech, and pulls the grinning skull away to reveal a typically good looking keeb, although with a few extra wrinkles...

"Requiem, I'm a friend of Silk's...although I've not seen her since I've been dancing with my new comrades..." he reaches down, either to shake hands or perhaps to pull Al off the floor...

[adamu]

Al took the hand up without hesitation. "Well then, any friend o' Silk's...." Damit, now he remembered this guy. That party last year...He held up his commlink. "Reckon that's who I was just textin'. Crazy coincidence, or is that girl's reach even longer'n ol' Al had imagined? "

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint looked questioningly at the newcomer. Friends in unexpected places were alright, but the number of people that just found their way to them had to bring them sooner than later another hit-team.
Only when he heard Al say that he requested the help did he relax.
"Hi there, or as we'd say at home: Servus." He looked at Al again: "This "Silk" is a friend of yours? Anything we should know about that before anyone of this group feels the need to start a hacking operation?"