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Bliss, Blessings and a Piece of Hell [IC]

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Volker

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« on: <09-19-15/0756:33> »
Bhadra 22 2131 (7th of September 2075), 10am

Cinder

Monsoon finally is about to seize. Tomorrow, the big festival of Indra Jatra is going to draw swarms of people to the Place of the King's Palace, Durbar Marg, to celebrate the Living Goddess Kumari. Every now and then, heavy rain washes away the dirts and plastic bags of Kathmandu's people, the fumes and dust of its streets, the ashes and bones of its dead, and the blood and brains of those who didn't last.
But for you, it was a day like any. There would always be dirts and bags and ashes and bones and blood and brains. And yeah, there would always be festivals. Some caste, some religion always had a festival. Few were as big and as important as Indra Jatra - even more so since The Living Goddess Awakened - but the police job was as dull as any day.
That is, it was a lot duller. And the thought of it burnt you from the inside. The last weeks you felt like a policeman. There was work to do. About two weeks ago, a young boy came to the police department. Said his name were Lucky, but his friends weren't, and played a song in front of the whole police department. Most thought it a joke and so he was dismissed.
But once a fellow policewoman told his story in an aside, you knew it was worth following the lead. You knew it, because you didn't hear the name "Shree Yela Sai Baba" for the first time. So you met him. Asked questions. Talked to your boss. The case was investigated. People interrogated.
And then: the file closed. Over and done with. That was three days ago.

You sighed heavily. You longed for some gulps of Chaang but you knew that the drinking cops were the bad cops. You didn't join your teammates' behavior because you were one of the few who wanted to make a difference.
And failed in doing so. Mornings suck.

Bhadra 22 (7th of September 2075), 12am

You commlink buzzes. It's Kira, a workmate who was as enthusiastic as you were. You just want to answer the call when you realize it's only a voice message.

"Hey. I managed to get hold on a special friend. Come to Sanchowk's Carpets in Jamal. Be prepared to ask anything you wanted to know the last couple of weeks. And hurry up, you lazy bastard."

Bhadra 23 (8th of September 2075)

Scarcrow

Indra Jatra sucks.
Nepalis suck.
Dal bhat sucks.
Rain sucks.
Why would any sensible people celebrate the end of raining season on a rainy day anyway?
Damn, those streets suck.
You wanna buy proper food but for proper Western food you need money. And if you had money you wouldn't be here.
Oh sweet Jesus, dal bhat sucks!

Your life has been a misery the past couple of weeks. Your short-time girlfriend broke up with you and with a name like Scarcrow it's not easy to find a new one. The hookers have you pay double and it's not real fun anyway. Oh, and you don't want to eat rice anymore. Time for a job.

It's afternoon. You know you should spend the time training, but you found it increasingly difficult to focus on your daily exercise in a country where everybody is as relaxed as a cut sinew. Instead you sit in a bar and drink some rakshi, silencing that nagging feeling you should go and do something. Anything.
That feeling sucks.

And then it rang. buzz buzz it went. Jesus, mercy you think, but you take your commlink anyway. In your claws it looks like a potato chip picked up from under the table. But the potato chip is buzzing and when you answer the call with a sigh, it says something that really doesn't suck at all:
"Need a job?"

Mark

That's life. Who cares whether the weather is crap? Online, it's always shiny. Who cares whether all the people gets exhilarated at the same day because of some Goddess who sits around idly threehundredfuckingsixtyfour days a year? Online, no one is idle and it's just a wonderful day to kill some virtual Nazis.
The tank simulation in The Dark Side was dashing. It felt almost like rigging. You became the tank and aiming with the cannon was like pointing at something with your index finger. Yet, the AI was strong, and it took all your talent to evade the enemy rockets.

Then an ARO blended into your field of vision. Easy. You owned the game. Not in a legal way, but it was yours. Like a girlfriend. You don't really own it, but it always gives you the feeling that it's yours. Without stopping in your movement you answer the phone.
What the caller says, however, manages to finally draw your attention away from the Nazi tanks.
"Money, sweetheart?"
"normal speech"
whisper/"under your breath"
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"foreign language"

luckace

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« Reply #1 on: <09-19-15/0917:50> »
"Need a job?", the oh so sweet words echoed through his bored mind. A big grin spread on his face, shifting the bulging scars on his face upwards. Need a job? You bet I do!
A job, money, maybe some new, profitable contacts... That was exactly what he needed right now! He pictured a good soysteak, a pretty woman, a botlle of whiskey before his eyes, then realizing that he hadn't even answered yet.

He emptied the rahksi in one big sip and fumbled some crinkled rupy-notes out of his pocket, ready to leave the bar if there were any potential overhearers around him.

"Scarcrow's service of problem-solving, who can we do for you today?", he then imitaded the voice of an assiduous call-center-worker.
"What is it ya need? A grammar-teacher or someone to save a pretty girl from danger? For the latter I'm ya man."

He found it difficult to hide his excitement. Come on, give me something! Anything's better than this!
« Last Edit: <09-19-15/1516:29> by luckace »
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gilga

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« Reply #2 on: <09-19-15/1051:58> »
"Money? Everybody knows there is no money here... Don't be silly sweet heart... I may need to go back to Europe soon... "

Since Mark arrived money was not on the table, what the locals called lucrative he calls 'not worth leaving hot sim for', Mark was wasting his life savings in retirement but the odd thing was, the money was gone and he was not dead yet.

Suicidal? nah... that would be so desperate Mark thought that the pollution will finish him one way or the other... perhaps it was his magic that kept his body going and did not let it give up... who knows. If he is going to live so long he might as well make some money but local employers pay so little it is hardly worth it to leave the house.
 

Jack_Spade

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« Reply #3 on: <09-19-15/1521:53> »
"Hey Ryan, are you going out on patrol already, you still got two hours downtime you know?" Cinder groaned inwardly at these words. Tictoc, the duty sergeant hadn't seen the streets in 20 years and should probably have taken his retirement five years ago, but the old fart had refused. Probably because he enjoyed being an insufferable living timetable to much.
"Yes, I've got a meeting."
"A meeting? There's nothing in the calendar about that."
"Only learned about it a few minutes ago."
"You know that the chief wants you all to keep your time sheets tiptop."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll do so after I'm done policing for today. Gotta run."

Without waiting for a reply Cinder made his way out of the station. Bad enough that his fellow policemen had no interest in solving real crimes, the bureaucracy tried to stop him doing his job too. Only last week they had asked him to file all his contacts into the online database - including all his snitches with their real names and addresses. Madness. It would be more merciful to visit them himself and shoot a bullet into their heads - quicker too.

Sanchowk's Carpets in Jamal was a new address to him. He made sure that his uniform and armor sat right before starting the bike. Technically he rode it on duty, but the bike was his personal one. It worked out since the department saved on costs and he didn't have to argue with the paper pushers about on and off duty use. He decided that this was an unofficial endeavor and deactivated the GPS locator.

Through rain and people he made his way to the meet...
talk think matrix

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

Volker

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« Reply #4 on: <09-20-15/0806:23> »
Cinder

When you arrive at Sanchowk's Carpets, you realize that the shop has long been closed. It lay in the heart of the city, and around it the streets were crowded with people, bikes and more AROs any sane mind can bear.
Inside, however, there was nothing.
Nothing except a table, four chairs, Kira and a sweating man.
Kira was Kira, stunningly beautiful as ever, in a modest, natural and a quite innocent way. She wasn't what you would call a hottie. You would feel ashamed to picture her nude, for example. But she was a beauty, the same kind of beauty snow-clad mountains, forest lakes or the Ocean head. She smiled when you entered and despite the awkward situation with the sweating bald man on a chair in a long-forgotten shop you can't but smile back.
Then your eyes dart to the other one. He looked kind of Indian. Something in his skin, his eyes, his scalp. You couldn't put your finger on it. He wore a fine suit, grey silk, and nice shoes. His armpits were moist and you knew at the first glance that this wasn't only due to the warmth. He was nervous, as nervous as can be.

"This is Ravinder," Kira explained.
Ravinder. You knew the name, but it took you a second to figure out, why. The boy, Lucky, had mentioned him. He was one of the key figures in the whole case. But what was he doing here, at this place? After the first second of surprise, you felt a gush of shame rushing through your mind. Despite your enthusiasm you allowed the police department to drop the case. You didn't move on on your own. Kira did. It should have been you inviting her at this place. You won't let this happen again. You won't let the boys down again.

"Ravinder declared himself ready to ... answer some questions. Sit down, and listen. You might find interesting what he has to say..."

[spoiler]Kira explains the whole situation to you. You can access all the informations our other group extracted from the very same Ravinder. He tells you about Faruke, Frozen Yoghurt and his role in the plot. Feel free to ask any more questions. The reason why Ravinder tells you these things freely is that Kira threatened to turn him down. She is still going to do it, but if he speaks she gives him two days headstart to escape the temple people before they can take revenge.[/spoiler]


Scarcrow

You can almost hear the frown on the other side of the connection. "No, actually, I need neither a dragonslayer nor a grammer teacher. I need muscles. I have a Mr. Johnson for you. He'll expect you at the Momo Palace at eight.
And don't try to make jokes. Your jokes are as terrible as your looks."

Mark

"I don't think you have to. I got a Mr. Johnson for you, and he's offering a lot of dough. If you're interesting and you think you can still play in the upper league, come to the Momo Palace at eight. If not, tell me now. I promised a good decker, and I'll find another one if you think you're too old for the job."
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thought
"Matrix/email/..."
"sub-vocal"
"foreign language"

luckace

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« Reply #5 on: <09-20-15/0934:20> »
Byron wasn't very emphatic, but somehow he had the weird feeling that this guy didn't like him. Good thing that he was used to people not liking him.
"No pretty girls involved? What a bummer...", he answered with overacted dissapointment.
"All right, I'll be there."

Eight pm... he thought as he left the bar. That would give him enough time to do a quick work-out. Or just to go home, watch a movie and masturbate. Yeah, that sounds better.
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Jack_Spade

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« Reply #6 on: <09-20-15/1301:28> »
The talk with Ravinder was long and Cinder made sure he got all the details right.

"... so they really have started to wire up children to become professional hitman? Wow. That's disgusting on so many levels. Kira we've got to put a stop to this. I've got to put a stop to this.
But we won't get any help from the department - the case is closed and they clearly have no interest in reopening. I fear we have to look somewhere else for help. I'm betting the corp behind all this has enemies and that kind of tech must be of interest to their competitors. If we can play them against each other, we might have a chance to get the kids out.

Do you still have that contact to that fixer? Tell him I'm in for a job."
talk think matrix

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

Volker

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« Reply #7 on: <09-20-15/1539:14> »
Cinder

"I-I really don't know why they did it. They certainly implanted some kind of headware. I can even tell you the guy's name. The one who did it, that is. Maybe he knows them better. Just give me, say, two lakh1, and I tell you the name and where to find him."

A short Matrix search shows you that Faruke is a daughter enterprise to Renraku. Thus, any competitors to Renraku would meet those criteria. A good fixer, however, would know who whould have the best interest in this matter.

1 2 lakh equal 2,000 nuyen.

[spoiler]If that's all right and you don't have any more questions, I'd say we skip the tiring details. Kira contacted her fixer. Within remarkable short time, a Mr. Johnson could be found who indeed takes care of the situation. Kira even managed that you were being kept close to the case. Hardly 24 hours later, you were to meet your new team fellows at a restaurant called "The Momo Palace".[/spoiler]
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gilga

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« Reply #8 on: <09-20-15/1540:52> »
Mark answers "I wouldn't call myself good but I'll play the part. I am still alive it got to give me some credit in this profession."

Packing his drones and equipment to his pick up track, Mark leaves for the meeting point.

Jack_Spade

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« Reply #9 on: <09-20-15/1658:17> »
"Deal." Cinder nodded to Kira.
"I've got to go, or Tictoc will pester me about missing the start of my shift."

...

For the meeting with the Johnson, Cinder made sure to be clothed a lot more discreetly. Still he made sure to have his beloved revolver in a concealed holster with him. He felt guilty about working with criminals, but the cause justified the means.
He straightened his shoulders and went in.
talk think matrix

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

luckace

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« Reply #10 on: <09-20-15/1807:37> »
Byron was completely unarmed when he headed for the Momo Palace. In his case "completely unarmed" meant one knife in each heavy boot, one in his quick-draw-holster that was concealed by the sleeves of a dark coat. He wasn't wearing his armor-jacket though, to avoid unnecessary attention at the restaurant.

[spoiler] Not sure how this works, but I guess we can have average stuff like a coat without having that listed with our gear? [/spoiler]
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Volker

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« Reply #11 on: <09-21-15/0027:27> »
all

The Momo Palace was quite a place with some taste. It was relatively clean, neat and well-decorated. The menu promised seven different kinds of momos (buff, chicken, veg, chilli, veg chilli, cheese and onion, spinache and sheep cheese; all of them either steamed or fried) and the staff was polite and elegant. After you introduced yourself (or, in Scarcrow's case, even before that), you were brought into a backroom in the first floor. There, too, the inventory was tasteful (with the exception of a huge, rough wooden chair who absolutely didn't fit in but seemed rather robust). Especially today, on the first day of Indra Jatra, the tables were nicely decorated. Before you are allowed to go in, a friendly (and very young and nice-looking) waitress asks you to undo your shoes and puts tika on your forehead. You can hear soft Western music in the room. Mr. Johnson is not yet here when you arrive.
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gilga

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« Reply #12 on: <09-21-15/0140:37> »
I seat silently as I order my momo, no meat so I will not be tired in the meeting. My years of experience have made me a good judge of character. I also did some time in many joints so I smell a policeman a mile away. Something about them and the way they look at scum like me. I am a bit wary when Cinder arrives, perhaps I am in troubles? The troll doesn't make it easy.

But this doesn't add up if I was in troubles they'll be many cops raiding my place I have many illegal toys they will find something if they look hard enough. A dirty cop? What is the story  of that troll either... I spend a short time in silent trying to figure out if I want this job or not. I am no hero and I know that sometimes life and death only depends on picking the right employer. 

"A good decker?" She said, I have no illusions there are better deckers, a good decker is the one that knows when to deck and when to do something else.  The silence is awkward but the way people deal with awkward tells you somthing about them. My face are giving nothing and I enjoy my momo or whatever it is I just ordered.
« Last Edit: <09-21-15/0144:03> by gilga »

Jack_Spade

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« Reply #13 on: <09-21-15/0313:41> »
Cinder sat down, his gaze steely and neutral. He acknowledged the existence of the two with a nod but avoided to open his mouth. There was just to much chance for a social fauxpas.  Had he really just entered here to meet a Johnson? That was the first step to become a shadow runner, a criminal.
But the die was cast, and one thing he wasn't was a quitter.
He already missed his boots. With a shake of the head he declined any offer of food. He needed all his composure to not show any nerves.
talk think matrix

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

luckace

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« Reply #14 on: <09-21-15/0603:38> »
Byron hesitated when the waitress asked him to remove his shoes, wondering with amusement what the young girl would do if he refused. But he didn't want to cause a fuss on the very first meeting, so he just rolled his eyes and obeyed.

Walking into the room, he took a quick glance at his companions in spe. Looks like I'll have to do the heavy lifting... There were one older human and a younger-looking elf. He decided to call them old guy and pretty guy for now and paid no more attention to them. Names din't matter to him.
Returning the nod, he grabbed the sturdy chair and positioned it so that he could sit and eat with a direct view at the door. He took it that Mr. Johnson would pay the bill, so he ordered two plates of buff-momos, but only water to drink. I'll need a clear head.

Scarcrow waited for his food silently. He wasn't the guy to start a conversation.
« Last Edit: <09-21-15/0606:36> by luckace »
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