[dashifen]

The sound of sirens kept you up last night.  They sharply pierced the oddly quiet night and it took you a few moments to realize why:  the rain had stopped.  Sure, it rains 1 out of every 2 days in the city, but having 8 straight days of it was starting to grate on everyone's nerves.  Except that weird changeling with gills they interviewed on the news.  'Course, you didn't mind much.

A night full of sirens sometimes leads to a few days of work.

The morning dawned disturbingly bright.  The shining light of day tends is enough to make even the most hardened criminal wonder who might be watching, but these days on the streets of Seattle, things are getting tense.  The syndicates are starting to get punchy over something, and they're not talking to the likes of you.  Maybe it's time to start getting proactive before you get surprised by a situation you aren't prepared to handle.  You know what they say:  with friends like the Mafia, you already have enough enemies.

[Scarecrow71]

The first of the month always seemed to loom so large over Gregory's head.  The beginning of the month always meant things needed to be put in order for the coming month.  Groceries to buy, subscriptions to renew (or cancel), and bills to be paid.  Most of them normal, everyday working-class bills, such as rent and electricity, but one bill in particular...

It's already that time.  And I didn't make nearly enough on my last run, so an interest payment it is.

Gregory rolled out of bed, still half asleep as he rubbed his eyes and tried not to stumble into the bathroom as he yawned, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and spilled beer still on his skin from the night before.  His apartment wasn't posh, but it was nice, and he enjoyed the lifestyle his...employer, he guessed would be the best word...afforded him.  Set in a quiet building in Renton, just minutes from downtown in a 4 story converted factory, complete with the whole neo-retro-industrial look that made most wageslaves drool with anticipation at finally moving in.

The apartment wasn't overly large, but it had space.  2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a private staircase that led up 2 flights to his own rooftop patio.  The door to that staircase was near the kitchen, which was on the other side of the apartment from his bedroom, while the main door was in the living area, near the kitchen but off to one side.  Yes, this apartment was his, and it was paid for the next month.  But that one bill he had to pay just weighed on his mind.

He stepped into the shower and turned the water on, letting it hit his body to wash off the events of the previous night.

Yeah, she was cute, that's for sure.  Too bad she was a skank to boot.

He quickly finished showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, donning some pants and loafers, with a blue button-up shirt and tie, which all fit nicely over the form-fitting full body suit he never went anywhere without wearing.  He made his way past his nightstand, where he picked up his commlink and glasses, heading into the living room.  His fingers were so adept at hitting the correct sequence of keys that he finished his communication before he hit the living room.

<<To:  Nose>>
<<From:  Tacks>
<<RE:  That last job paid for shit, but I still gotta pay what I gotta pay.  Unfortunately, it's the minimum 5% because I've got other bills to pay.  Unless you'd have me living on the street, that is.

I need work, boss.  If you've got something for me, I'm all yours.  I'm gonna grab some breakfast and wait for your call.>>
<<Payment:  75 Y>>

At the end of the message, he hit the sequence of keys to transfer the correct amount of creds, frowning a little and scolding himself for not being able to send more.

He's gonna own me forever at this rate.  I'm never gonna pay this shit off.

He grabbed his jacket, even though it wasn't really cold outside.  He just needed an extra pocket to stuff his disposable commlink in so he wouldn't have to use the Sensei unless it was absolutely necessary.  He also needed the sewn-in holster for his Sakura Fubuki.

Never leave home without protection.  Only SnS, but the last time I needed it and I didn't have it that Ork almost put me in the hospital...

He grabbed his keys, locked his apartment behind him, and headed out in his Hyundai for the nearest Starbucks, his taste buds aching for his morning soykaf.

[Gustovness]

Gust had been working his silk tongue on the elf model for what seemed to be ages.  Her body language was his biggest fan, cheering for him to continue on and seal the deal.  He was mustering up his courage to invite her back to the bunker, but as he was about drop the invitation, he found himself fumbling for his keys as she hung around his neck, laughing on his door step.

Woah, looks like liquid courage must have turned into bottled amnesia for a minute there.  Looks like I haven't screwed it up yet, though.

Next thing he knew he was lying on his back with the elf beauty looking down on him, teasing him by slowly unzipping her dress.  Suddenly, a siren came wailing out from his night table.  Gust reached out and swung at whatever the hell was making the noise, but it wouldn't stop.  His house guest seemed to grow impatient, then annoyed.

Gust slammed blindly at his night stand again, missed his mark, then rolled to his side to focus on what he was making that infernal noise.  He grabbed his alarm clock, shut it off, and realized that he was actually all alone.  He looked around the room, dazed and half asleep, looking for her.  He looked back at his alarm clock.

11:00am.

He let out an annoyed sigh.

Damn it, I always get so close...

He sat up in bed and collected himself.  Before getting up, he checked his commlink for messages and the latest updates from his friends and blogs of interest. He walked 3 yards from his bed to the closet sized bathroom of his tiny studio in the Penumbra district.  The location was nice but so damn pricey that every single square foot of space had to be considered when figuring rent.  After freshening up, dragged his feet into the "kitchen' and made himself a soyshake to prep him for the gym in an hour or so.  While working on his shake, Gust applied the electrodes for his commlink on his forehead and surfed the matrix for a while, giving his body time to wake up before hitting the weights.  After giving himself some time to digest his breakfast, he threw on his workout gear, put on a baseball cap to cover the electrodes, and stumbled out of his apartment he called ''the bunker" for being so small and catering to the most rudimentary needs.

It's enough for him, he thought.  He didn't have much but what he did have was of high quality.  Then again, there's always room for improvement. . .

[Father_Twilight]

Sirens in the night, not a usual thing to hear out in the Puyallup Barrens. It was unusual enough to keep Whisper from getting a full nights rest, and give him something to think about. Seattle's underbelly had been seething lately with goings on of which he was unaware. It was starting to make him nervous, and Whisper didn't enjoy that sensation. With a sigh he turned away from the window and walked over to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stood under its heat for a long time, his muscles soaking in the soothing heat as he tried to calm and center his mind. His shower was a large communal style locker room, so kneeling down on the tile and meditating under the spray of water was a relaxing act Whisper enjoyed as part of his daily ritual. He tilted his head back to let the spray of water wash over his face before lowering his head and taking slow, soothing breaths. When the water started to cool he stood and lathered up with soap, cleansing himself before shutting off the water. He dried off and walked out to his bedroom, stepping around a gaping hole in the floor on the way.

In his bedroom he threw his towel into the hamper before slipping into loose fitting clothing, something that was easy to move soundlessly in but wouldn't draw attention. Attention to detail, it's what seperates the good operatives from the dead ones. Whisper had seen a number of men who lived in the shadows make the mistake of wearing obvious combat gear, clothing and styles that as much as screamed the fact that the wearer dealt in the trade of death. Yet they always seemed surprised when the man they took to be a wage slave walks up behind them and shoots them in the head. Never broadcast information you don't want others to know, in fact never broadcast information that is true. Whisper lived by that creed, which is why he tagged a private investigator tag to the inner pocket of his coat today. If someone was going to pick up information on him, he was going to make certain it wasn't true, in fact he was going to guide their search for information to exactly where he wanted it. Never reveal a weakness, never reveal the truth.

Whisper reached under his pillow and pulled out his holdout pistol, lifted it to his face and checked to be certain it was loaded and still the same weight as when he put it under his pillow the night before. With a nod of approval he then walked over to the large brass pole in the middle of the room and with one arm and a leg grabbed hold and slid down to the ground floor of the old firehouse he was living in.

On the ground floor he had a number of tables set up, each holding a seperate array of equipment precisely laid out, and he walked over to his weaponry table. Setting down his pistol he took a seat, drawing his gun cleaning kit over to him he began inspecting and cleaning both of his pistols, a morning ritual he never passed over. Every inch of both weapons was gone over with an insane attention to detail. Ever nick and sign of wear noted, the smell of the weapon taken in and compared to the last time he smelt it, ever detail absorbed with fanatic devotion. When he was done he pulled out his comm and shot off a quick text.

<<To: Tankz>>
<<From: Whisper>>
<<Hey Omae, been a vibe in the air lately of things going down. Been a while since I had a job and I am getting short on nuyen, any work sloshing around in that oversized head of yours? If not any word on what's getting the underworld tense? Appreciate any information you have for me chummer, and you know me, I always repay a favor.>>

That done Whisper stood up and walked to an open area of the floor. He sank into a deep crouch before springing up in a standing jump. At the height of it he snapped his hands up and caught the iron bar he had placed there. He began doing a series of chin-ups before swinging himself down and landing in the position to do push-ups. He used the momentum of his fall to kiss his chest to the concrete before pushing off with a low grunt of effort, lifting his upper body off the floor and clapping his hands before resuming his push-ups. He carried on for a short time before he stood. He then sank into a low stance, and while carrying out a low, even breathing pattern began to go through the forms of Tai Chi. This was how he centered himself, losing himself in the forms kept his body limber, made certain he didn't tense up his muscles at the wrong time, kept his blood flowing and his body trained to react as it had to when the time came for him to call on it.

When he finished his workout he returned to his gun table, and began cleaning and checking his guns again, one can never be too careful.