Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: Poindexter on <03-08-15/1755:24>
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[Jacksonville, CAS. April 13th, 11:57am 2076]
The cold, wet, and acrid smelling night air is finally almost done being cooked off by the hot southern sun and the whole city seems to be having a fuckin party over the fact. As one of the first sunday afternoons of the new year with nice warm weather, the fact that this is a perfect day for grilling has been noticed by many. All through the hood, makeshift cookers have been set up, soy and krill patties have been brought to bear with all manner of sauces and spices. A few "ghetto celebrities" have even sprung for real meat and are throwing huge events in attempt to bolster their popularity and standing in the eyes of the people. Over in the nicer, gated areas of the city, kids play in sprinklers despite water rationing, happy well groomed families stand out on green well groomed lawns and discuss trids and gossip, while swilling liquor so expensive, it could send a kid to college. But the smell of smoke and BBQ sauce wafting through the air unites the city in a way few things, save sports can.
The beach is clogged with people of all shapes, sizes, colors, and income levels. As one of the least attractive surf spots in the world due to low wave size and power, most of the action on the sand is flirting, people watching, volleyball, and drinking. People also love to bring their dogs, which can occasionally get out of hand. Red Fives are out in full force today enjoying the nice weather; The roar of their high-powered engines can be heard in the background most of the time. The scent of motor oil mixes with the barbecue, suntan lotion, and salt air to bathe the beach in the strangest combination of smells. By the time night falls, it will be heavily tainted with the smells of cheap liquor, vomit, and cramsmoke. The beach can get really seedy at night.
It's at this point in the day that each of you gets a ping on your comm.
<<@Janitor [Jeighk] Mike says you down. Meet me in two hours at Stanwood and Sylvia. Big Pook's joint. I'm the tall squishy white boy. Don't come naked, but don't come heavy neither, wiz?>>
<<@Dolly [One67] Peace peace peace. You remember when we was at the trainyard chattin shit? Y'know, about shit? Well I do. Let's talk some real shit at Big Pook's joint at Stanwood and Sylvia, off Emerson. It's some shit talkers out here, but they's good people.>>
<<@Balls [One] Ayo, KID! What's really good, yo? You still plannin on headed out to this thang Big Pook be doin today? You know I'm finna put you on some shit, yo. Holler, wiz?>>
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<<Yo One! I be there buddy! the balls man be rocking... afterwards working! I be there no worry! Will bring guitar for non trogers guests! >>
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<<Yo One! I be there buddy! the balls man be rocking... afterwards working! I be there no worry! Will bring guitar for non trogers guests! >>
<<@Balls [One] Leave the guitar. Bring a vest.>>
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<<Yo One! I be there buddy! the balls man be rocking... afterwards working! I be there no worry! Will bring guitar for non trogers guests! >>
<<@Balls [One] Leave the guitar. Bring a vest.>>
<<Will do! >>
Balls spends the rest of the time practicing, how to stand how to walk how to talk.
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<<@Janitor [Jeighk] Mike says you down. Meet me in two hours at Stanwood and Sylvia. Big Pook's joint. I'm the tall squishy white boy. Don't come naked, but don't come heavy neither, wiz?>>
"Finally"
Mike's mood improved significantly. Being cooped up in his "not really a motel" for over a week without work has done nothing for his anger at the world in general.
The smell of bbq was the last straw - he'd probably have also taken an invitation of the Vory just to get out of this room.
His reply was short and to the point
<<I'll be there>>
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Dolly stretched, taking in the sun. As with most pixies, she was largely vegetarian, though a lifetime in the swamps of Louisiana had provided her extensive exposure to Creole cooking, and so she had developed a penchant for seafood. The smell of various meats wafted to her position on the roof of her home on Blount Island. She wasn't in any of the premium neighborhoods - and nowhere near the expensive beach front properties - but she could still hear the lapping of the waves on the beach and the sound of families enjoying the sand and surf. The families here could afford real meat, and real seafood, and so her stomach growled in hunger from the smells.
A soft chime from her commlink alerted her to the message from One67, so she searched blindly with her hand for her trode set - not wanting to open her eyes and fully awake from her relaxing sun bathe. At last her fingers alighted upon the custom-sized device and she placed it on her head, instantly gaining access to the wealth of information the Matrix afforded, but most particularly the message that had disturbed her. The trodes were an amazing piece of technology, providing input and output directly from a metahuman mind. But she wasn't metahuman, and yet they still worked anyway, thanks to years of refinement in the self-learning algorithms that allowed training on any organic, sentient brain. She mentally "read" the message, wondering just how urgent it was - she would have liked to lay out for a little longer - but her stomach quickly reminded her that it was time to eat anyway, so she might as well rouse herself from her near slumber.
The prospect of some work sounded good, and SixtySeven was good people as far as fixers went. She cringed at the expletives laced throughout his message, but that was more influenced by her Ivy League education than her personal distaste. Growing up in Orleans had exposed her to a variety of colorful languages, most of which swore in French, making the English expletives sounding harsh and inelegant to her ears. Of course, spending much of her life ensconced in corporate provided quarters had left her with only a hint of the rich language that characterized the geographical region from which she hailed. And so she cursed her plain - even haughty - sounding response, but sent it anyway. They had talked at length in person and he knew how she talked; she had nothing to prove by injecting colorful language into her messages.
<< @One67 [Dolly] Sounds exquisite. I'll be there after I've eaten. >>
She sat up and looked over at her commlink. Roughly as thick as a matchbook, it was also custom shaped to sit comfortably on her back while remaining between her shoulder mounted wings, thus not interfering with her flying. Of course, pixies didn't really require their wings to fly, it being more a function of magic than physics, but the physiological reflex was there to flap them when airborne. Her wings looked very much like those of a Dragonfly - gossamer like and nearly invisible until the light catches them just right, reflecting light much like the muted rainbow of a oil slick - but for one important difference. Dragonfly wings were permanently affixed at a ninety degree angle to their body, either spread wide or straight back, while Dolly's wings could fold "down" parallel to be body like a stiff cape extending down near her ankles. This made diving through narrow openings possible, but also - and perhaps more importantly - made maneuvering around the tight places of the sixth world much easier. Walking through a door with a meter-wide wingspan could be tricky, and walking around with wings trailing 18" behind you like lumber in some old slapstick comedy had its own set of problems.
In a practiced maneuver, she swept up the commlink and slung it across her back, latching the straps that went over her shoulders, but under her wings. She didn't know any neighbors, so she didn't linger long on the idea of stopping by to eat and run, and figured that really, a nice meatless burger appealed more than what was being cooked nearby. She wondered what sort of food Big Pook served, though she needn't have. Later, as she sped through the city toward the rendezvous, she found that there were street barbecues largely open to all and stopped at the outskirts of the crowd at Big Pook's large gathering to buy a small burger. It was way too much food for her tiny body, of course, and the friendly ork that was manning the grill was more than happy to cut her burger into quarters, giving her one and handing the other three to some of the children that swarmed the street looking for handouts. She munched happily as passersby snapped pictures of the Tinkerbell fairy in dreads.
Of course, before taking her trip into town, she had to prepare. She flew in to her house through an open window and headed to the closet to change into some comfortable but fashionable clothing suited to the weather but not revealing enough to expose her body armor, then to the bathroom to carefully apply the earthy "makeup" that was common to the practitioners of Vodou. The look changed depending on the time of year or the occasion, but usually just on her whim. But she had a default "mask" that she wore, and this is what she applied. She then summoned up a loa, exchanging some time in her body - especially time flying - for getting her there quickly. She slung a backpack over her commlink as well, throwing in her sneak suit in case it was needed later. Some reagents went into her pockets along with some credsticks and a dose of Psyche, then she checked that her biomonitor was secured to her arm before she flew out the window, mentally commanding it to close behind her and locking the rest of the house, then gave her body over to the loa and flew to the meet. The feeling of flying at 200 km/h is exhilarating, and she flew in almost a straight line to the meet, stopping only at the outskirts of the crowd to grab her meal.
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Balls arrive to the party escorted by his agent. An orc street doctor, that just happens to be his mother. As he is local and knows many people at that joint he spends some long minutes with pleasantries and small talks.
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Mike arrived wearing a long coat, despite the sweltering heat everywhere. He carried the taser inside the special holster of his Wild Hunt jacket, but had left his big gun inside the helmet compartment of his bike, together with helmet, mask and other armor pieces he didn't care to display in civil surroundings.
Now he just had to find this guy. The description probably fitted about a dozen people around here, so Mike did his best to identify him trough a tried and tested method:
He ordered a beer or at least what passed as beer around these parts and looked around
"Damned freak show here" he grumbled.
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Dolly darted above the crowd at Pook's still Concealed, having maintained it for most of the flight here, minus the time she spent buying and eating lunch. She surveyed the area looking for One67, deciding that if he was alone she would fly to where he was and drop her Concealment. She rather enjoyed spooking people like that, but was careful to only do so in friendly company. She didn't want her prank to cause a situation to devolve into violence. So, if she found him already with others, she would "de-cloak" and then fly over.
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[Big Pook's BBQ, Jacksonville, CAS. April 13th, 1:45pm 2076]
MAN, is it hot out here! There's maybe 175-200 people here on the corner, having blocked off the streets a few blocks up in all directions to make room for the party. Not only are there coolers full of beer and bottled water all over the place, some for sale, but two massive smokers have also been set up and the smell from them is just incredible. Men, women, and kids, mostly orks and trolls are hanging around all over the place, leaning against signposts, sitting down on curbs as well as more than a few folding chairs that have been brought over for the occasion. The overall atmosphere is one of good times. Smiles can be seen and laughter can be heard in all directions. The sound systems from about 4-5 different cars, all playing different songs at the same time create sort of a muddle of sounds until you get near what is generously being called a stage. There's a young dwarven DJ with crazy facial hair that sticks out on all directions and wide, fuzzy white sideburns working a vintage set of ACTUAL turntables with ACTUAL vinyl records up on the porch of a mostly burned out house. On either side of him is a massive stack of beatup black speakers, pouring out the music at a volume that could almost be considered a war crime. A few people, mostly women, crowd near the stage dancing, the looks on their faces telling of recent and heavy drug use.
A few picnic tables have been drug out into the street for the event as well, and sitting at one of them is a crew of all young males, five orks and a troll dressed MARKEDLY better than the rest of the crowd. Most people here are wearing very little, and what they are wearing is definitely "street-style" Baggy, flashy, lots of pockets, probably armored in some way. These seven men are dressed like some fashionable SK executives on a vacation. High end designer names, lots of cream colored soft looking garments, sharp creases in dryclean-only pants, expensive shoes, that sort of thing. Only the expensive and gaudy "thug-type" jewelry identifies them as who they are; Krubb Force high ups. They're not doing business though. A second look lets you know they're clearly playing dominoes and goofing off, enjoying the weather and the food like everyone else.
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Despite his trained eyes, Mike couldn't make out his contact anywhere.
Instead he made out the troll that this whole joint belonged to: Big Pook. Purely by accident, Mike had met him shortly after arriving here. He'd been a lot more polite than he expected. He would have reacquainted himself with the big man if the troll hadn't shared his table with Kuthk. Mike had met the Ork on the same day as Big Pook. Kuthk had been bleeding profusely from a stab wound. A stab wound he had received from a high heel stiletto wielded by Kuthk's angry girlfriend.
Back then Mike had calculated that a bit of a good deed in a new city would bring him good karma and maybe a local connection.
He'd been wrong. Kuthk was a psycho and had Mike known what he knew now, he probably would have assisted the girlfriend in finishing that bastard.
Jack used the trodes on his head to type a short message to One:
<<I'm at the meet, where the hell are you>>
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<<I'm at the meet, where the hell are you>>
<<Reply: Be there in ten. Hit up my boy Zane for free food.>>
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"Well, who the fuck is Zane?" said Mike to no one in particular. God, he hated being new in town.
But instead of sulking, he got on his feet and strolled over to the next bbq smoker:
"Oy, are you Zane?"
Mike made sure to pronounce it clearly so he wouldn't accidentally question the man's mental wellbeing...
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Balls make his round in the crowed, he is not touching any of the food or drinks. People tends to have strong opinions about him, either fans shaking his hands hugging him or giving him nasty looks thinking he is a poser, a sellout or what ever other excuse they have to ignore his obviously good music.
He first greets the DJ the legendary Beats: Yo Zane! party on man! I came clean just to have fun! my mom, like always is here but no suits today. Just chillin and bitching.
Afterwards he makes his way to the well dressed Troll and extend his hand. Or'zet: Yo! name is Balls... Great party! Nice to meet you. He extend his hand.
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Looking around, she failed to spot SixtySeven. She did, however, recognize the dwarf DJ from her first meeting with him and assumed they knew each other from the way they shared paints as they worked their magic upon some train cars. She was tempted to message 67, but decided to give him a few more minutes to arrive. She took advantage of the opportunity to survey the area and enjoy the music. The dwarf was playing some old stuff - she had assumed, at first glance, that the vinyl records were simply the result of some revivalist effort to return to the "good ol' days" of analog music. But from the tunes, she guessed that these were originals, some possibly dating back a hundred years or more - honest to Laveau antiques! Much like the turntable, truth be told.
That was a lot of valuable equipment to bring to such an open event. Either he had confidence that the situation would remain civil or there was additional security hiding among the crowd. Or, and this was a distinct possibility, he just expected that no one would realize the value of the equipment. She toyed with the idea of saying hello to the dwarf, but she didn't know his name - not that that had ever stopped her before. She was a very social creature, and after a few minutes with out seeing 67, she dropped her Concealment and zipped toward the DJ to say hi.
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He got on his feet and strolled over to the next bbq smoker:
"Oy, are you Zane?"
The adolescent ork male in wife beater and sagging blue jeans with flashy belt buckle gives you a wide, tusky, drunken smile as he shakes his head back and forth slowly. As he slurs out a few words in Or'zet, the only phrase you understand is:"...ten nuyen..." as the inebriated kid motions with his metal spatula at the meat on the grill. From behind though, you hear a voice speaking english loudly to the DJ.
Yo Zane! party on man! I came clean just to have fun! my mom, like always is here but no suits today. Just chillin and bitching.
Turning around, Janitor sees an elf, one of the only ones here, exchanging a few words with the DJ before headed off the table full of Krubb brass.
Or'zet: Yo! name is Balls... Great party! Nice to meet you. He extend his hand.
The talking and laughing comes to an abrupt stop as you approach the table and a shirtless ork covered in scars and tattoos growls at you briefly before the troll interrupts him. "You that same Balls that used ta rap with One and Zane back in the day?" Without taking his murderous eyes from you, the scarred ork answers him in Or'zet before you have a chance to. "Yeah, this that same keeb. That's his momma rightchea." The table erupts in laughter and "momma's boy" kinda jabs. "Hey, fuck yall trogs." says the troll, stopping the joking abruptly. "This keeb spit fire, yo. He's finna rock that stage, too. If fuckin One ever shows up." He motions for the group to make room at the table for you. "C'mere and sit down. Let's hear some styles, show these trogs whats really real, wiz?"
She dropped her Concealment and zipped toward the DJ to say hi.
He hardly notices your tiny form until you're hovering a foot or two away from his face, so deep is his concentration on what he's doing. Dolly has seen her share of parties and more than her share of DJs in her day, but nothing outside the old history trids comes close to what this dwarf is doing. After watching him work his machines for a moment, it dawns on her that he's not using ANY software! No auto-synch, no beatmatcher, no nothing. Barely visible through his long frizzy hair, you can see he's wearing a pair of headphones connected to the mixer with a cord. A CORD! All the effects, all the tricks, all the scratching, the fades, the scratches, the juggles, ALL OF IT; he's doing manually with his two cracked, paint stained, and callous hands. It's really quite the spectacle. You're not aware that he's noticed you until he shouts over the music without looking up from the tables. "Whaddup Dolly? You gonna make a request or sum?"
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"No, just watching the magic happen. It all sounds great, but it's mesmerizing watching you work." She watches for a few more seconds before remembering why she was here in the first place. "Speaking of work, I'm supposed to meet one here; you haven't seen him, have you?" Not for the first time, she's a little self conscious about her diction. However, it was taking all she could muster just to be heard above the music, and she thought she would feel silly trying to clearly enunciate idioms or sloppy vocalizations.
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"Speaking of work, I'm supposed to meet one here; you haven't seen him, have you?"
He does a "Pfft" sorta noise and shakes his head before responding "Yeah, that mug was here. Then, he started doin that "SIXSEVEN" bullshit and came up on some dumb shit. He probably go be back, but I'unno." Shaking his head in disappointment again as he fades in the next song and switches records out of his crate, he says "He told me to handle his shit if he aint come back, but I aint finna do that shit. Alls I know is..." He points at the skinny elf in expensive "street" clothes sitting with the Krubb heavies before using that hand to put the second headphone over his previously uncovered left ear. "... he got that mug here for same reason as you, wiz? Fuckin nova-prime gang-banger-ass 'Balls'. Nother mug, too. Some Ork, so good fuckin' luck."
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She looked where the dwarf gestured and saw the elf. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't place it. Was he a local celebrity, or had she met him before? The situation at the table seemed a little tense, so she decided to check in there later.
She nodded to the dwarf and mouthed the word "Thanks" when she could catch the dwarf's eye for a moment, then brought her Concealment back up and flitted off to see if she could spot the ork he had mentioned. After five seconds, she figured it was probably hopeless; there was a significant ork presence in the crowd, and with nothing else to go on, finding him - or her, the dwarf hadn't specified - would be impossible. She found a nice high perch near the dwarf's stage that gave her a good view of the event, and sat. She split her attention between the dwarf and the elf, as well as just general people watching.
She knew things were laid back here in Old Jack City, much like in the Big Easy, and so she didn't mind giving One another ten or twenty minutes to show. She was in no rush.
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[spoiler]Perception check (http://orokos.com/roll/263112): 11d6t5 6[/spoiler]
Mike nodded friendly to the vendor and went away again.
The noise was loud enough to drone out almost everything, but Mike was able to catch part of the conversation between the DJ and that Pixie that had suddenly appeared. Without haste he walked over to the DJ, patiently waited until he again had finished changing a song before talking to him:
"Did I hear this right, are you Zane? One asked me to come over for some gig. Seems like he made himself rare, but he told me, I should talk to you about details. Am I right in assuming that that pixie is also here on his invitation? I'm the Janitor by the way."
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Balls eyes the troll with appreciation and sits down- oh- the good old times with One and Zane... we'll be pulling one soon for old times sake. He sits with them for a short while, rapping a little bit and laughing. Waiting for one to show up, and for his shot on the open mike.
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"Did I hear this right, are you Zane? One asked me to come over for some gig. Seems like he made himself rare, but he told me, I should talk to you about details. Am I right in assuming that that pixie is also here on his invitation? I'm the Janitor by the way."
Taking a disapproving glance at what you're wearing, the fuzzy little DJ puts one finger up before going back to what he was doing. A few seconds later, he takes one headphone off his right ear and says "WHAT?" After repeating yourself, he responds. "Yeah, that's me. I aint know no details though. I just know it's you, that pixie that was up here a minute ago, and 'big-ballin-ass gangsta killa' Balls over there." he says sarcastically while motioning with his head toward the lone elf at the table full of Krubb higher-ups. "Execs" they like to be called. "One got some kinda ignorant-ass bullshit he wants to get yall into. I'unno. But, I'm kinda busy yo, so..." He puts his headphones back on and returns to the mix. "OH YEAH! HOLD UP!" he motions to some orange raffle tickets next to the DJ booth while shouting over the music. "SPREAD THOSE OUT FOR THE CREW, WIZ? THEY FOR REAL MEAT, YO!"
Concealed in her perch above, Dolly observes the conversation; while lost in reciting some new verse he just recorded, but hasn't been released yet, Balls is simply rocking the picnic table and hears none of the interaction from far away near the loud speakers. As the Janitor looks toward the table Zane motioned toward, Balls finishes his verse and the table erupts into "OHHHHHHHHH!"s and "DAAAAAAAAAAAM!"s, even drawing a smirk of respect from the surly scarred ork, whom Janitor recognizes as Kuthk.
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"Done."
Mike nodded toward the DJ and took the three tickets.
The elf was easy to spot, but somehow the pixie had vanished in the crowd. Well, now was as good a time as ever to get to know this Balls guy.
With his large, but deceptively slow stride he moved over to the Elf and handed him the ticket. He tipped his head in greeting towards the big troll before he spoke to the elf:
"Oy chummer, catch some grub. Courtesy of Zane. Seems like we'll be in the same crew - provided this One fellow ever shows up again. If you see a pixie direct her my way, she got the same deal."
This exchange finished, Mike made a beeline for the burger bbq chef. Some real meat, burned to perfection sounded perfect right now. He didn't even mind that there probably hadn't been a cow or pig involved in the production...
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"Oy chummer, catch some grub. Courtesy of Zane. Seems like we'll be in the same crew - provided this One fellow ever shows up again. If you see a pixie direct her my way, she got the same deal."
Everyone at the table turns to look at you when you approach, and despite the volume of music, Big Pook, having overheard your exchange with Balls, speaks up. "Fuck Ye-yah, trog! It was this trog right 'chea done come up an- OH WAIT!" The big man interrupts himself in mid sentence, noting the confusion on your face. "You aint speak no Zet! I keep forgettin' yo!" Everyone at the table, including the funny dressed elf kid chuckle a little bit as Big Pook continues. "I's jus sayin' that this trog right here done spoke up fo ya, wiz? Ya boy SixSeven hit a trog up, wanna know if you straight, wiz? I told him what's really real wit it, wiz?" He leans his head back and crosses his tree-trunk sized arms in front of his chest, doing his best "bad-ass" pose for a moment before reaching one fist out and bumping it with yours. "Big respec, wiz?"
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"Damn right" replied Mike, returning the bump.
"You run a tight ship round here, you really know how to host a party."
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Balls stands up and Say "Big Pook, guys... you are awesome! ... but I got some shit to do for sixseven... Great party, respect!
He address the ork, and say. "Yo, name is balls... nice to meet you. I see you already know the executives of the Force."
Few moments later in a more private place...
One is nowhere to be seen, but he'll probably show up... he takes a big breath and adds *eventually*... I practiced all day to rap with him. You're into Goblin Rap?
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"Can't say, never really got into music 'sides the sound when metal meets the meat. Name's Mike by the way, but they call me Janitor. Nice to meet you too."
Mike shook the elf's hand and indicated over his shoulder: "Walk with me for a moment if you don't mind. I gotta appointment with a juicy piece of burned flesh over their.
...
So, you are a kind of celebrity around these parts. How does that mesh with being a runner?"
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I wouldn't say I am a professional - I am just starting...
The suits bring a lot of fame but if you ever tried to deal with them you'll understand how difficult they are - they take 90% so I keep doing some side jobs here and there. Mostly talking to people getting them to do things for one's clients. I can also do some magic by the way, I worked as a mage for almost eight years - it is good for self defense but I am more into music and talking.
May I ask why do they call you the 'Janitor'? it is a rather unusual nickname...
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Seeing the situation at the table turn more friendly as the elf's performance seemed to place the suits at ease, Dolly was tempted to head over to introduce herself, but thought better of it - better that someone she knew be there to make the introductions. And she still couldn't place the familiar face of the elf.
Before she could resolve her conflict, an ork showed at the table, handed the elf a piece of paper, said a few words, and then the two wandered off. Dolly assumed that that must be the ork that the DJ had told her about, and saw her opportunity to introduce herself. Dropping her Concealment before leaving her perch, she flitted over to the two as they made their way to one of the giant barbecues that were grilling up meat for the hungry crowd.
"Greetings." she all but yelled above the din of the crowd. Further away from the dwarf's platform - she really should have gotten his name - it was quieter, but still loud enough to make it difficult to talk. "Balls is it?" She nodded to the elf. "My name's Dolly. I think the three of us are here for the same thing - to meet with One about some work." The last was both statement and question.
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Dolly?... what are you doing here? Haven't seen you for a decade.
We studied magic together... I wasn't called balls back then... Jimmy Edwin. He extends his finger.
I don't know what the appropriate greeting to your kind he giggles.
Mike!... Dolly here was probably the most powerful mage in her class. She was quite an attraction at university being one of the first pixies to ever study there.
To dolly: You may not remember me but it is difficult not to remember you... You where the only one too small to sit on a chair. I am a big fan Dolly... he bows.
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Mike grinned: "Because I take the trash out and I often have to clean up other people's mess.
Good to know, that we have someone with Mojo on board. Are you any good with spirits? A few years back I worked with a dwarf shaman locating bail jumpers. Funny guy, a shame what they did to him. But never mind that. You obviously are smart enough not to advertise your abilities. "Geek the mage first" is after all still a very common saying around runners.
But to business: I'm kinda new in this town as well as this part of the country. I'm more than happy to leave the talking to you, should this run demand such. I on the other hand will do my very best to watch your back and dispatch any threats to your six.
By the way, what mode of transportation do you use? I myself am more a biker."
At that exact moment the pixie appeared.
"Hi Dolly, name's Mike, but on business you can call me Janitor. Here, I got a voucher from Zane for you." He extended the ticket towards the small creature without flinching at the sudden appearance - but only just.
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Mike grinned: "Because I take the trash out and I often have to clean up other people's mess.
Good to know, that we have someone with Mojo on board. Are you any good with spirits? A few years back I worked with a dwarf shaman locating bail jumpers. Funny guy, a shame what they did to him. But never mind that. You obviously are smart enough not to advertise your abilities. "Geek the mage first" is after all still a very common saying around runners.
I can do spirits yes - I hardly use magic tough. People don't like having your mojo in their problems.
I couldn't hit a fly - literally tough I never learned to use a gun or anything like that. I am versatile enough to play the mage if we need one.
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Things clicked. "Jimmy! Quite the charmer as I recall - you are also difficult to forget." She takes the proffered finger and shakes it, giggling. "That'll do nicely as a greeting, but a bow or a nod works too."
She turns to Janitor as he introduces himself. "A pleasure to meet you." She takes the ticket he offers and scans it. "I'm afraid I can't make use of this, if one of you would like seconds, it's all yours. Otherwise, I'm sure I can find someone that needs it more than I do." Charity was a big part of Vodou, and Dolly, due to her diminutive size, was almost always giving food away.
"I heard you ask about spirits as I flew up. I have a way with the loa - for reasons known only to them, they choose to bless me with more powerful gifts than I ask for. However, you should be aware that the spirits I summon cannot materialize on their own, but must be offered a vessel, preferably a live one. You may be familiar with the term "possession". It is an uncharitable description, but an apt one."
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Balls softly say... Shhh... don't speak about possession tradition in here... some of the folks may find it offensive. I
I personally have no problem with it spending so much time with Mages from all sort of different traditions.
But we got the two options I'm a Christian and my spirits tend to look like angles or daemons depending on the reason for summoning. I do not believe them to really be angles or daemons but I think they respect my religious upbringing.
Lets not talk too much about magic - we seem to have a lot of it in this cycle anyhow.
He nods at Mike... you should get seconds I don't eat that much... I still may want to perform tonight.
I could use some *thing* gosh I wish it was real meat.
It is clear from balls expression of balls face once he takes his first byte that he is not used to soy replacements. He does continue eating it, if somewhat with a hint of a struggle.
-
"You sure? Smells like they actually did find a cow." Mike waved his ticket in front of the chef and purchased a steak between two slabs of bread. He declined condiments in favor of the real flavor. With a satisfying crunch he began to demolish his meal. Yep, real meat. Not that he had it often, but of the small luxuries he had afforded himself in the past real meat was definitely one of them.
After he had finished chewing, he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief from his pocket and spoke again:
"So we have a Face, Spell Slinger and a Tank. I wonder what One wants us to do. Probably won't be to tech heavy or there would be a decker on board."
-
"You sure? Smells like they actually did find a cow." Mike waved his ticket
After a few suspicious bites balls conclude: Yes definitely a cow. I wonder if they have some beer - I am way too sober for this.
"So we have a Face, Spell Slinger and a Tank. ."
Before Mike finishes balls starts giggling - It sounds like the beginning of a joke.
-
"Hopefully not. I got obligations to fulfill and I need a paying job - no matter how much meat we get here" ,Mike answered.
-
One has good reputation... It is a real job. He'll get here - He's just a rather unusual fella' - He's also into street graffiti - one of the best around here - if you are interested in that kind of stuff.
-
Balls is glancing around the gathering to see what his mother is getting upto. He can't spot her through the crowd at the moment, but he DOES spot a familiar human. As though he'd been there the whole time, Balls notices One67 on stage, standing behind Zane and talking with him. One is in a pair of baggy, paint stained green sweat-pants with holes in the knees, a dirty, paint stained grey t-shirt with a faded cartoon catcus on it, flip flops, and goggles around his neck. His hair stands straight up about a foot in that odd "white guy fro", but its shaved on the sides as well as where a baldspot would be. He looks utterly ridiculous. He also looks like he's had the ever-loving crap beat out of him recently. His nose is bleeding, his left eye is swollen, and he holds his ribcage tenderly with his right hand. Some of the paint stains on his clothes might be blood now that you think about it. Zane looks a HAIR away from furious with him. He's obviously trying to ignore the tall, goofy, bleeding human and concentrate on his mix, but One just keeps talking. As Balls is about to point him out to the others, Zane finally points him toward the three of you, standing in a small, but loose clique near one of the giant meat smokers.
He limps toward you, and halfway there, lets out an "AAAAYO!" with all the force and bravado you'd expect from a perfectly healthy man. Once within range, he slaps hands with Balls and Janitor before bowing to Dolly with a smile that reveals his blood stained teeth. "Wiz, yo. Sorry it took a mug a minute to get here. Got caught up in some shit, wiz? He answers any questions or concerns about what happened only with "Yo, this aint shit, yo. I done worn many an ass-beating in my day. The fuck that mug think he go show a mug that a mug aint seen mad times, wiz?" for whatever the hell that's worth. He quickly changes the subject, saying only "Follow me, yo."
He moves the group straight toward one of the cars blaring out ridiculously loud music, maneuvering everyone into a semi-circle around the trunk, where the speakers are. Once so positioned, he begins fishing around in his pockets, producing a high end electric lighter and a hand rolled spliff. Dolly assumes it's Ones drug of choice; Zen. He smoked tons of that stuff last time they met. Balls figures that's probably what it is as well, but has heard tale from Zane that sometimes, a little bitta Bliss finds its way into Sam's blunts. Janitor has no idea what is being lit up, smoked, and passed around the circle. After taking the first hit, One exhales into the sky and says, "Even if you aint hitting this, pretend to, for real. Aint no one go give a shit about us if we look cool, wiz?"
[spoiler]If you're not gonna hit it, gimme a Cha + Perform roll.[/spoiler]
After passing it to Dolly first, he begins laying down the plan. "This one's real simple, yo." He looks at Balls. "Yo, you know that mug, Skim kid, wiz? Mid-level Krubb mug? He's got this ring. I need yall ta get it, wiz? I got this burner here, wiz?" Producing a small brown burner comm from his pocket, he passes it to Balls and continues to address the rest of the group. "It's a ARO on there, details bout the ring and shit. Ya got one week to get it, and when ya do, ya get five stacks a head, yo. But, here's the thing. Can't no one get seriously hurt and can't no one die. I mean, none a his people, I mean. This gotta be either some ninja type shit, or it's gonna have ta be a straight jack, but not a beatdown. Yall chill? Any questions?" The spliff has made its way back to him by now and he hits it a couple times as he listens to your concerns.
[spoiler]gimme an area knowledge: jacksonville, Gang knowledge, or sprawl life roll to see what, if anything you know about a "Skim Kid".[/spoiler]
-
Dolly takes the spliff, holding it with her entire hand, and takes a small drag from it. "I can see to your wounds if you like, One." she offers as she exhales, before passing the joint to Balls.
Zen wasn't new to her as many Vodou practitioners used it during their ceremonies. Hacks, mostly, but the trance-like state did help when performing rituals. Usually all of the participants took it, though the non-Awakened were usually there simply as vessels for the loa to inhabit. These sorts of celebrations usually involved multiple rituals and multiple summonings as the houngan (or houngans) traded rides in a body for favors form the loa for themselves or their followers. Dolly had participated in a few of these - Vodou had strong roots in charity and such ceremonies allowed mundanes to seek favors from the loa with a Vodou priest or priestess as an arbiter. Other, more ancient, drugs were also used. But in the corporate world, such narcotics were usually frowned upon unless absolutely necessary, and they most certainly were not when it came to Vodou.
[spoiler]
Int 5 + AK:J 1 = 6
Area Knowledge:Jacksonville (http://orokos.com/roll/263670): 6d6t5 2
[/spoiler]
"I'm a little leary of pissing off the Krubbs. Your word - we pull this off clean, none of it ever comes back on us." She was a little shocked that her speech was drifting into something more relaxed than normal. She began to wonder if there might have been something else mixed in with the Zen.
-
Wiz, look at yourself... got too smart this time - I call mom! . Balls picks up his comlink, and calls his mother.
...
-
Wiz, look at yourself... seems like you got too smart this time. I'll call mom. She's a good doctor.
One completely refuses all offers medical care, and messages your mom right after you do that he's fine and she should enjoy the party.
The name, "Skim Kid" does not ring any bells with either you or Dolly.
-
Okay man... as you wish.
He kindly refuse the spiff and giggles... mom will literally kill me. Perhaps some other time when she is not around.
[spoiler]
Performance - why tough? (http://orokos.com/roll/263752): 20d6t5 5
[/spoiler]
About ring sure no problem - where do you suggest we start digging tough? who is this fella' Skim kid you mentioned? Why does he have the ring? what it look like?
[spoiler]
sparwl life (http://orokos.com/roll/263751): 9d6t5 1
[/spoiler]
-
About ring sure no problem - where do you suggest we start digging tough? who is this fella' Skim kid you mentioned? Why does he have the ring? what it look like?
"It's on his hand, yo. ALL the time. Fool sleep with that shit on, wiz?"
-
"I'm a little leary of pissing off the Krubbs. Your word - we pull this off clean, none of it ever comes back on us."
One nods approvingly at the question. "You smart, girl. I done thought bout that already. That's why I had yall meet me here on the block, wiz? All these Krubb-ass mugs done seen me with you and know we down. Anything come back on yall? Come back on me harder, yo." He smiles all wide before continuing. "To that end, I can getchall some brand new 'listics aint no one seen yet, half price...
-
Mike had no desire to smoke anything, especially not if he might have to use Kamikaze in an emergency. So he just pretended to take a little puff from the joint.
[spoiler]CHA+Performance (http://orokos.com/roll/263774): 3d6t5 1[/spoiler]
"Do I get this right: We either break into his sleeping quarters while the target is there, or we stage a little hit and run, knock him out and take all his valuables including that ring.
Skim kid, now why does that name ring a bell..."
[spoiler]Gang Knowledge (http://orokos.com/roll/263775): 8d6t5 2[/spoiler]
-
Balls ask the following question
Whats so special about that ring? how does it look? I'd also appreciate a picture of the mark.
-
"Do I get this right: We either brake into his sleeping quarters while the target is there, or we stage a little hit and run, knock him out and take all his valuables including that ring.
One shrugs a little bit as he passes the spliff back through the circle. "Or whatever else yall decide to do. The plan is on yall, wiz? Alls I'm sayin is, less force used, less pride go come into shit and make a mug look too hard into how shit done came to be, wiz?"
Skim kid, now why does that name ring a bell...
[spoiler]Gang Knowledge (http://orokos.com/roll/263775): 8d6t5 2[/spoiler]
[spoiler]He's a young cat. Latino Ork male. New on the block, but rising fast. Only been making a name for himself in the last couple months. Ruthless. Aggressive. Smart. Corner boy who loves expensive and flashy things. You've only heard the name, never seen him.[/spoiler]
Whats so special about that ring? how does it look? I'd also appreciate a picture of the mark.
One reaches out and thumps the burner he just handed you with one finger. "Aint you listenin, kid? ARO on the burner. Pics and all that good shit." He smiles at you and cocks one eye-brow. "You sure you aint been burnin some of this before I showed up?" he indicates the spliff making it's way back around to you. "As for special... It aint shit special about it. It's just shiny as shit and flashy as fuck. Straight up jing here yall, wiz?"
He looks around at the group. "Now whatchyall think bout them masks, huh? A mug wanna place an order?"
-
Thanks but no thanks - you seem to be into something over your head looking like you do. You come late and you smoke drugs on the meetup. You bring us to high profile party to meet of the same Force we're going to mess with. Heck this ring dude may even be in there right now.
You are getting careless old friend. And the parking lot is not a discreet place not at all.
I'll sit this one out unless you tell me what's the real story - are you in trouble?
-
Thanks but no thanks - you seem to be into something over your head looking like you do. You come late and you smoke drugs on the meetup. You bring us to high profile party to meet of the same Force we're going to mess with. You are getting careless old friend.
I'll sit this one out unless you tell me what's the real story - are you in trouble?
He laughs and lets out a "Pffft" sort of noise. "Mug like me aint never in trouble. I just thought you was down. I thought you could use the work. I thought you was tryin to be some kinda runner or some shit, but I see your momma and your fuckin record company be takin real good care of a mug, huh?" He takes the burner comm back from you and hands it to the Janitor with the words, "You down, right?" He turns his head back to Balls. "You excused, yo. Enjoy the food. Feel free to get up on the open mic later on if you want, but I gotta deal with some shit at the moment, wiz?" He takes the spliff passed back to him by Dolly and waves you away with the hand holding it.
-
I do need the cash... I just suspect that there is more to it than you are willing to say.
'adios' guys
he returns to the party.
-
After the well dressed elf has left the circle, One pulls out his comm and punches a few commands into it. "Yall still gonna need a face, wiz? I'm bout to dig into the vaults for this one..."
-
"If we're going to be working with a second stringer for a Face, we'll need a little extra for picking up their slack." The Zen was certainly making her more relaxed, and apparently more brazen. "In fact, give us a chance to review the ARO, get a feel for the job. If we think we can manage it as a two person job, we'll just split Balls's cut. Deal?" She wasn't sure if it was from the heat or from the Zen, but the buildings nearby were undulating a little.
[spoiler]
Not sure what modifiers to add/subtract, so just rolling base:
Negotiate 3 + Charisma 8 = 11
Negotiate (http://orokos.com/roll/263993): 11d6t5 1
Sucktastic.
[/spoiler]
-
"If we're going to be working with a second stringer for a Face, we'll need a little extra for picking up their slack. In fact, give us a chance to review the ARO, get a feel for the job. If we think we can manage it as a two person job, we'll just split Balls's cut. Deal?"
He narrows his eyebrows and takes a long deliberate hit off the spliff, thinking about your proposal, probably doing some math in his head. Still not having exhaled, he squeaks out, "Well, I already called a mug, and he aint no second stringer, But tell ya what? I'll tell him to hook up with a mug tomorrow evening, round seven." He finally exhales the massive cloud of chem scented smoke. "Yall come get at a mug round six and lemme know whatcha think, wiz? If ya need the face, I'll send him your way bout an hour later, If ya don't..." He smiles optimistically. "If ya don't, I do ya six g's each and I do ya the masks for seventy-five percent off. Whatchyathank, yo?"
-
"First of all: I got my own mask. Thank you very much. Second: I got no problem with the run per se, as I don't intend to stay here for ever, but I agree with my chummer there, that the pay could be much better regarding the fact, that we have to be gentle and will face some very violent people without any compunctions to do likewise.
Now the facts: Where does the target live, what are his defenses and resources and most important: Is this hit time critical.
As I see it you can pick two out of three: Fast, cheap or subtle.
And let me be plain here: We don't necessarily need a face, although it would make a lot of things easier, but we definitely need reliable information. So drop that act for a moment and get real: Are we gonna start a gang war with this hit? If I am going to have that on my conscience I at least expect a decent compensation to sooth my bleeding heart. SOKA?"
[spoiler]Negotiation (http://orokos.com/roll/264107): 6d6t5 1[/spoiler]
-
"First of all: I got my own mask. Thank you very much. Second: I got no problem with the run per se, as I don't intend to stay here for ever, but I agree with my chummer there, that the pay could be much better regarding the fact, that we have to be gentle and will face some very violent people without any compunctions to do likewise.
Now the facts: Where does the target live, what are his defenses and resources and most important: Is this hit time critical.
As I see it you can pick two out of three: Fast, cheap or subtle.
And let me be plain here: We don't necessarily need a face, although it would make a lot of things easier, but we definitely need reliable information. So drop that act for a moment and get real: Are we gonna start a gang war with this hit? If I am going to have that on my conscience I at least expect a decent compensation to sooth my bleeding heart. SOKA?"
He's clearly quite pleased with the way the conversation is going, or at least he's good at faking it. He raises both his palms toward you as he speaks. "Aight aight aight. Chill. Dang, yall mugs is more paranoid than I am. Lemme break it down, wiz? First off, I know you got a mask already, but you might not have one you can just dump and not give a fuck, wiz? As for where he lives, he aint really "live" anywhere, see. He jus got a buncha baby momma spots he stay at; least ten, twelve of em. Far as defenses, he puts most his money into flashy shit, so he gon have more bling bling than bang bang, wiz? He got a few real nice rides, a few real nice guns, nothin crazy. Still, I'd do recon of your own to make sure. He does have a thing for high end audio, so he's probably had his ears done. Probably got some high end shit put in, too. Now, on to your issue of time. Is it critical? Naw. Not really. Let's say the deadline is a week, but it's a soft deadline, chill? That's just how long I told my boy that it would take for me to get it. I aint finna get shot or nothin, he just gon start hasslin a mug, wiz? So if it takes eight days, ten days, whatever, I aint really give a fuck. I just don't want it takin no month an shit, ya feel me? Fast, Cheap, or Subtle and I get to pick two? I'm goin cheap and subtle. Fuck fast. Take your time. Do the shit right, yo. As for a gang war?" He gives you the kind of look you'd give a child who, despite trying their best, still can't remember their multiplication tables. Shaking his head, he says, "You smart, but you stupid too. Maaaaaan, I got connects all over the city, yo. Dixie mugs, fivers, Krubb fuckers, all types a minor little crews too that aint had they names ring out yet. And a mug be walkin freely through all they hoods, cause it aint no beef. If it was some beef, a mug would have to choose sides and most this city would be off limits. Fuck that shit, I got trains to bomb, yo. For real though, if yall aint know shit else about OneSixSeven, know that if he hirin you on some 'gang war' type a shit? It's on some stoppin it type a shit, and that's what's really fuckin real." He takes another hit from the rapidly dwindling spliff. "I keep tellin yall; This is just a simple ass jack move."
-
Dolly was remotely aware that the negotiation was going poorly, and was quite certain that the Zen was to blame. Her best course of action at this point was to cut her losses and try to get to a place where she could wait for the drug to wear off, then analyze the situation and see what could be salvaged. Also, the nearest grill was making some rather threatening faces at her, as well as belching its smoke into some rather obscene shapes, so she was more than a little panicked.
"So ka. I'll check da fax and get back acha 'round six 'amarra." Her speech was certainly regressing - her tongue was having trouble going where she wanted it to on the time scales necessary for proper speech. She'd need a written request in order to form a proper "t" sound. One did not smoke his Zen weak. She sent a mental command to her comm to request a copy of the ARO from the burner, along with a note to delete it upon reading - the file was on a burner for a reason, after all.
-
"Well, I'll extend you some trust on that. I'll do a little research of my own, but I think I'll get you your precious. Regardless, you'll hear from me soon."
To the pixie Mike said:
"Hey, are you ok? You look a bit pale around the gills. How about I treat you to some coffee while I do my research. Would give us also a bit of time to compare skills and tactics."
[spoiler]
Mike starts an extended Matrix Search on the target based on the information One gave him (I guess it's with -2 modifier for obscure knowlede)
Matrix Search (http://orokos.com/roll/264187): 5d6t5 2
Matrix Search (http://orokos.com/roll/264188): 4d6t5 3
Matrix Search (http://orokos.com/roll/264189): 3d6t5 1
Will take about an hour and a half.
What I want to know: Where does he check in at what times (social media stuff), who is his current favorite girl, what does he drive and where does he like to park and finally: What kind of stuff does he reveal about himself (Music taste, favorite sports(team), etc.) that could be used lure him somewhere.
[/spoiler]
-
She looked at the ork, his features becoming distorted, hellish. "'m arrigh. Jus' need a hour 'a 'lax." She struggled to pronounce the last word again, "relax. Cash ya affa da'." Too late she realized that when she had taken Zen before, it had been in a fairly controlled atmosphere. This was anything but controlled, and far from familiar. If she didn't find someplace more contained that she could crash soon, it could get ugly. Although, she could let the loa take over, get it's joyride, hopefully keep her out of too much trouble. It would at least be immune to the hallucinations. She pondered this while trying to hurry along the meet so she could get somewhere private and freak out alone.
-
Mike looked worriedly at the small pixie. He wasn't particularly surprised at her reaction - at that size and weight the blunt must have hit like smoke hut.
But neither did he know her nor her inclination to be helped. With magic types that kind of good samaritaring could get you into a world of hurt. So it was probably best to leave her be and get on with work:
"Soka. Don't get into to much trouble. I prefer my chummers to be alive on the run."
He took his leave and found a coffee shop with reliable matrix access, where he spent the next two hours looking up what he could find about the target.
-
After the ork left, she bowed hastily to One and flew off, dodging the dragons and nightmare beasts that the clouds of smoke off the many grills had become. After she had navigated past the edge of the larger part of the crowd, she let herself become hidden again, and asked the loa to once again enter her body. "Please, get me home safe" she asked, and felt as the effects of the drug receded, her body and ailments now for the spirit to worry about.
The spirit did not take her straight home, nor had she expected it to. The loa loved the physical world, but they needed a body to inhabit in order to interact with it. Traditionally, the loa were thought to be ancestors, spirits of those that had gone before. In that view, the possession allowed them to once again enjoy life, and enjoy they did - that was another reason that Vodou rituals were filled with dancing and music and color and yes, drugs. A boring ritual risked causing a disinterested spirit to wander away, taking someone else's body with them. Nowadays, the loa were just as often considered spirits from other planes as meathumans that had shuffled off their mortal coil long ago. In this view, an unattended spirit was a recipe for disaster, making the entertainment factor of the group summoning that much more important.
In her case, she was able to supervise the spirit on her own. Normally, when a body was possessed, the consciousness of the original owner was suppressed. They had no recollection of what transpired while the loa took control, or even of the phoopage of time. It was like blacking out from a drinking binge. In most cases, they didn't even remember the possession itself. But when a summoner was possessed, they remained fully aware, able to perceive the world through their senses. And so she was able to see as the spirit darted toward another part of the city, enjoying the freedom that flying provided. It perched on high ledges and watched the events below with interest, then moved on to the next area with blinding speed, repeating the process.
After a half an hour, it finally grew bored with this adventure, especially as it could sense through the spirt-summoner link that the Zen was still affecting Dolly and she was becoming increasingly agitated as the noise and activity caused nightmarish images to fill her senses. It shot straight up, well above the city, providing a stunning view of the crowds below and the shining water of the Atlantic as it stretched off to the horizon, then dropped down low to the swampy areas away from the bulk of the crowds. There it chased dragonflies and investigated various animals and items of interest. The natural setting calmed Dollys mind and the hallucinations turned bright and cheery. The dragonflies became pixie children, laughing and playing in the sun. The fish sang as they popped up to the surface to grab insects, and the frogs lept and sang baritone. Colors flew from the water as the sun glistened, casting rainbows everywhere she looked.
Before she knew it, the Zen was wearing off and the hallucinations faded. The spirit had gotten her home after a fashion - the wilds still called to her, even though she had spent her life among the cities of the metahumans. And it had kept her safe. She considered the task fulfilled, and gently urged the spirit back to the astral.
Thank you for this gift.
She checked in with the ork, then once again took the spirit into her self to carry her quickly there. Still unfamiliar with her new teammate, she willed herself visible before entering the coffee shop that the ork had chosen, then flew to where he sat after spotting him. He looked at her with a concerned crease to his brow and she nodded deeply and said "I am fine now. Thank you for your concern." She alighted on the table near where he sat and settled to her knees, sitting on the balls of her feet. "I haven't had a chance to review the ARO yet" she said quietly, hoping to avoid eavesdroppers. There were more than a few, as the sight of a pixie rarely failed to garner attention. She decided that switching to comms would provide better privacy, and so she continued there.
<< @Janitor [Dolly] Give me a few minutes to catch up and we can discuss plans. >>
She opened the file and perused what it had to offer, paying close attention to elements that indicated potential defenses against Awakened threats.
-
Mike just nodded and ordered discreetly a small espresso for the pixie. After exchanging com codes, he wrote back:
<<No sweat, I'm still collecting data.>>
-
Finally, Mike had finished his search and looked toward the pixie waiting for her to finish as well:
"Well, I got a few interesting bits about Skim Kid. First of all: One was right. That guy has a serious thing for polygamy. I count at least 12 different women, most of which he seems to have a kid with. The oldest is an eight year old ork boy. But he seems to spend a lot more time recently with the second oldest: A 7 year old ork girl, born to an elven mama. There seems to be school trouble. So we might be able to lure him there with a convincing call.
But the guy just doesn't seem to be able to stay at one place for two nights in a row. Also he doesn't seem to use the same car twice. Spends lots of time at a pawn shop just off Emerson.
His interests are goblin-rap although only as a casual, no real pattern there suggesting he would be a particular fan of any group. But he is a sports nut. Regularly goes out to watch boxing-matches and MMA fights. Usually with a new girl.
So a honey trap could work if we can find a good looking, reliable hooker... Ah, scratch that. He's probably seen those tricks before. Still, some tickets to a fight sent to him as a gift, bumping into him to soil his clothes and than wait for him on the john.
What do you have?"
-
<< @Janitor [Dolly] So far, not a lot. The dossier we got from One is basically just a pic of the ring and a pic of the 'mug' we're supposed to take it from. I still need to map out his Awakened security. Give me a couple minutes to scout it out. >>
She becomes concealed again and calls the loa into her body one last time. "Please keep me safe until I return" she asks, and once the spirit acknowledges she projects from her body, looking briefly around the cafe before flitting off through the astral towards the various residences the Janitor had highlighted. Cautiously, she scouts a few of them, being sure to include the residence of the 7 year old ork girl. Lastly, she scouts the pawn shop. She does not enter any of the locations, just sneaks a peek from the outsides looking for wards or Awakened nearby, but looking for angle that might afford her a view of the inside where possible.
[spoiler]
Sneaking Astrally to avoid detection. Not sure if the Concealment stays with her or her body, but it is a penalty applied to the observer so it is not included here anyway. However, I'm not sure what attribute to link to Sneaking when done on the astral - in Tabula Rasa we used Logic, but looking at the Astral Combat table, Willpower seems to be the Agility analogue. So I rolled with Willpower as it is my larger dice pool (at 7), and you can take three dice and one hit off the end to adjust it down to Logic (at 4).
Sneaking Astrally (http://orokos.com/roll/265401): 12d6t5 3 [2, 5, 3, 1, 3, 4, 6, 2, 4, 3, 5, 3]
Astral Perception - making 5 rolls to represent 3 random houses from the list, the specific house that the 7 year old lives at, and the pawn shop.
Astral Perception (Assensing) (http://orokos.com/roll/265403): 5#11d6t5 2 3 5 4 2
Of course my worst roll is at the pawn shop. Oh well, at least the residence of his favorite brat got a decent roll.
[/spoiler]
Once she returns, she bids the loa farewell, once again drops her concealment, and relays what she discovered to the Janitor.
<< @Janitor [Dolly] The ring he's wearing is very interesting. I'm going to search the Matrix for information on it. It just, I don't know, doesn't seem like the sort of bauble you'd just randomly find - either he custom ordered it or it came from somewhere and has a history that might prove illuminating. >>
She sips from the espresso while she browses the Matrix looking for info on the ring, discussing plans as she goes.
[spoiler]
I'm not sure if this is an extended test, so I only have the one roll. I can roll more if needed.
Computer 4 + Intuition 5 = 8 (drop dice as needed for modifiers):
Matrix Search (http://orokos.com/roll/265430): 7d6t5 2
8th die:
8th die (http://orokos.com/roll/265431): 1d6t5 0
[/spoiler]
-
Dolly summarizes what she has found on the ring as they talk.
<< @Janitor [Dolly] Looks like the ring is the work of a dwarf jeweler from Aspen. Almost a legend in the trade as far as I can tell - very exclusive. Every celeb that is anyone either owns one of his pieces, wants one, or is on the waiting list to get one. A bowel movement from him catches six figures, and the list to get one is three years long with a 25% non-refundable deposit. Even claims that Lofwyr's on his Christmas card list. This ring is well above Skim's paygrade, so there's gotta be a story behind how he obtained it - either he's got a secret life or stumbled into one hell of a score. All I can say is it wasn't magical when the dwarf sold it, but what happened after that? Hard to say, but apparently it's popular to enchant his pieces. >>
She finishes the espresso and mulls over the info, weighing the options for a plan.
<< He's got some warded rooms at the pawn shop and the second floor of the house with the troubled kid. The other places are unprotected as far as I can tell, other than whatever he brings with him. Let's move forward with your plan, but don't commit any serious resources to it until tomorrow. I want to see where he sleeps tonight and try to figure out what kind of security he fields. Might influence our plans some. >>
-
<<@Dolly[Janitor] Good idea. Can you have him monitored by one of your spirits, or do we do this the old fashioned way of following him around. If at all possible, I'd like to keep the kids and there mothers out of it. We don't want a blood feud if anything goes wrong.
Also, do you happen to know where he is right now?>>
-
<< @Janitor [Dolly] I'm not sure where I would start to find where he is currently, but my plan is to check each of his residences this evening around midnight. He should be at one of them, and I can see what his entourage looks like astrally. >>
<< The only potential problem I see with trying to railroad him into a bathroom at a public event is that even if we can keep the bathroom free of random observers, he may travel with bodyguards that would accompany him into the bathroom when he goes there to clean out any stains. Observing him as he travels around tonight and tomorrow will help us fine tune the plan. >>
<< If we do decide to take One up on his offer for another team member, we should also give them a chance to chime in before the plan is set in stone. It's polite, and it might save us from some aspect we missed, or provide better odds of success. Our time table certainly allows for it. Meanwhile, if you want to find a few potential events to use and get the lay of the land so we can be sure where to "accidentally" run into him to ensure he goes to the restroom of our choice, etc, we can hopefully be ready to just pull the trigger once we have everything else we need. >>
She knows that she shouldn't do any recon from her home lest it come back on her. But for now, home sounded good. There was little she could do until then aside from rest. "Let me know if you need any help from me. I'll contact you in the morning with what I found." She stands up, preparing to leave. "Thank you for the drink."
-
"My pleasure, be safe."
Mike tipped his hat and settled back into his seat.
<<Agreed. But I don't expect his bodyguards to accompany him to the toilet when there is an exiting fight going on. They are after all gangers and not trained professionals. At least I hope so. That is actually the main reason, I'd choose this venue: It's loud, it's exciting, alcohol flow and if you hit someone just right, it will look like he is just drunk. Personally, I prefer a taser for that, but we could use a double dose of CS+pepper punch on a slab patch to make him vomit before he goes down. Keeping the loo free will be the work of the second person with a discreet "now cleaning" sign that is removed just before the mark wants to enter.
But enough shop talk for now.
Have a good night.>>
Mike knew he had been cooped up to long in his hide out and was reluctant to return. But he was on a job and that meant a certain discipline. He got up, payed the remaining bill and went back to his place.
The next morning he was again punctual at the meeting place.
-
After bidding farewell, Dolly again summons the loa to take her home and hangs there for the rest of the day, briefly heading out around dinner time to get a meal before the festivities die down. She passes the time mulling over the task her and the Janitor were assigned, but makes little progress other than to curse herself for not demanding some sort of advance on the job. Perhaps at tomorrow's meeting once they have finalized the agreed upon terms.
As midnight nears, she slips into her sneak suit and then summons the task spirit again. The effort stresses her more than usual, but the loa that answers her call is also much more cooperative than usual. In the astral, it assaults her with questions about her past, her original parents, her fame, even her race in general. She patiently answers them honestly - to earn the favor of the loa is no small thing, and appeasing this spirit with simple answers was a small price to pay to remain in their good graces. With the spirit once again possessing her, guiding her physical body about at great speed, she is nearly impossible to spot. In addition to the suit providing her with near invisibility, her innate concealment makes her even more difficult to spot, her small size more difficult still, and the cover of darkness only adds to the skill required to detect the tiny pixie. And, in addition to all that, the spirit is skilled in the art of sneaking, using all of these advantages to their greatest benefit. With her body so well hidden, she feels safe enough having the spirit guide her within a half kilometer of each residence, sticking to the least populated areas in that range, so that she can astrally project and scout the possible hiding places of her quarry.
-
The searching goes quickly, between the speed boost from the spirit and the near instantaneous travel within the astral. It isn't long before she comes upon her quarry "sleeping" in a four story apartment building deep in Krubb territory. While there are no visible signs of astral security, and neither Slim nor his companion are Awakened, the high density of people makes it hard to determine just how much physical security is present. It is tempting to visit the building physically to get that information, but she doesn't want to take that risk without at least getting input from her teammate.
She commits Skim's aura to memory, then returns to her body, temporarily ejecting the loa so that she can use her trodes and commlink to send a message to Janitor.
<< @Janitor [Dolly] I found him deep in Krubb territory. No astral security, can't get a good look at the physical security without risking a closer look. Worth the risk, or hold off until we have better control of the situation? >>
>> Attachment: Skim.loc
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<<@Dolly[Janitor] Probably dumb to ask, but if he has no astral safeguards, couldn't you send a spirit to him to snatch that ring? Or make one of them possess him? I could be there in like 20 minutes to take the thing from the scene.
In any case, I'm in for a visit. The sooner we get the ring, the sooner we can expect cash."
Mike already had his trousers back on and was tying his boots. A night excursion was exactly what he needed in this sticky heat.
-
Dolly acknowledges Janitor's message and asks him to bring a tag eraser or some signal blocking container for the ring, then stealthily flies to the roof of the building where she found Skim, scanning the area as she approaches to get the lay of the land and possibly spot some of the physical security she might have to avoid. She ponders what she learned during her astral trip here and determines that the only access to the outside for Skim is the building entrances on the first floor, the roof a story above, or the balcony in the same suite in which he was sleeping. The building is windowless leaving the balcony as the only access to the outside without leaving the suite, so Dolly takes one last astral peep at the suite and the adjacent rooms and hallway for signs of life, and double checks the ring for enchantments. She then outlines her plan with the loa - possess the unconscious Skim, sneak out of bed and to the balcony, looking for any cigarettes on the way for a cover story if needed, then leave the ring on the balcony and return to bed just as quietly. After Dolly has retrieved the ring and left the area, the spirit will return to the astral and erase any signs of its presence before returning to Dolly and expediting her trip to meet up with the Janitor.
It's rare for even the best laid plans to survive contact with reality, but Dolly crosses her fingers just the same, and puts her plan in action.
-
[Victory Apartments, Southside, Jacksonville, CAS. April 14th, 12:26am 2076]
Tonight is even hotter than today was, and the sound of parties is thick in every direction. The spirit of sunday afternoon has slowly morphed into a festive sunday night. Technically, it's monday, but the city as a single entity has decided not to think about the fact that it has to wake up in six hours for work. People are thick in the streets, for all the reasons you'd imagine, thick with sweat, flush with cash, and drunk with friends. The only place where there's any relief from the coking humidity and stagnant swamp air is up on the rooftops, where there's a little bit of wind, but there's no one up there.
No one but Dolly and Janitor. At least, that's what it looks like from what they can tell, perched on top of the very building their target, "Skim Kid" currently lay sleeping inside. From up here, observing the crowd below makes social interactions alot more obvious. It almost looks like a trid game from up here; one of those "stealth strategy" games that you keep seeing commercials for. There's obviously five or six orks you can see who are armed and posted up, as well as one troll. You both can tell from their GQ style of dress and their unique Or'Zet accent and slang that all six of them are Krubbs. The troll and two of the orks are hanging out on a corner about three blocks east, drinking and smoking, talking and laughing. The other three orks are posted near the entrance to the building you two are atop, but it's tough to tell if they're Skim's people specifically, or if they're just security for the drug trade that is happening out of the first floor lobby. It could be both, really. Skim's girl stays on the third floor of the building.
@Malevolence
The loa considers your plan as you lay it out, nodding it's head at the appropriate times and listening intently. When you're finished, it answers. "Is he with a woman?" After seeing you nod in the affirmative, it continues. "This one has many women. Men such as that build women adept at noticing a slip from bed." It scratches it's head for a moment in thought before suddenly smiling abruptly. "This will be a joyous challenge! May I improvise if I am discovered?" it says while eagerly nodding it's head.
-
"Honored loa, you are doing this favor for me, and I am grateful for any assistance you can provide. I would prefer you to not be discovered in the first place, but if you are, improvise how you like - I have merely provided some ideas. If you can't convince them you are this person, then flee on foot - they are not likely to harm your host, though they may try to disable him. You can ditch the ring discreetly during the chase so that we can recover it later. Ideally, they will never know anything is amiss until he awakes tomorrow and discovers the ring is gone, but if they know something's wrong anyway, we may as well complete the job. Oh, and one more important thing - no one is to come to too much harm, so fisticuffs only. Don't throw anyone off a building or into anything worse than a broken bone or two. Please."
She was a little concerned with the prospect of having a spirit, even a loa, attempt to pass itself off as a human convincingly. The loa's eagerness didn't help this feeling. But loa were difficult to curry favor with as it was. To flatly deny them a request would take a long time to recover from. Though revered, they could be much like children, requiring constant guidance to keep them from causing too much trouble. It was a delicate balance that the vodouisant had to carefully orchestrate if she wished to remain in the good graces of any given loa nation.
All she could do for now, was cross her fingers and hope things worked out.
-
Mike had started to look around and noticed several gang members that might become a problem. It seemed as if many of them were still a bit drunk from alcohol and drugs - not enough to be unable to do their job but inebriated enough to be guided more by emotion than rational thought.
Again he brought up his comlink and started a search for the links of the gangers. "Know your foe" was a useful advice and Mike wanted to know whatever he could gather about them.
He was no hacker, but he knew a thing or two about social engineering...
[spoiler]
If they are within 100m I should be able to see other devices without a search check.
Butt just in case: Matrix Perception: Matrix Perception (http://orokos.com/roll/273333): 7d6t5 2
Matrix Search: Matrix Perception (http://orokos.com/roll/273332): 7d6t5 3
Mike is looking for the names of the guards and their social profiles. He is interested who has a steady girlfriend and if that girl knows the other guards.
If a distraction is needed, Mike will fake the call and set a jealous gang member against another... 8)
[/spoiler]
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"Honored loa, you are doing this favor for me, and I am grateful for any assistance you can provide. I would prefer you to not be discovered in the first place, but if you are, improvise how you like - I have merely provided some ideas. If you can't convince them you are this person, then flee on foot - they are not likely to harm your host, though they may try to disable him. You can ditch the ring discreetly during the chase so that we can recover it later. Ideally, they will never know anything is amiss until he awakes tomorrow and discovers the ring is gone, but if they know something's wrong anyway, we may as well complete the job. Oh, and one more important thing - no one is to come to too much harm, so fisticuffs only. Don't throw anyone off a building or into anything worse than a broken bone or two. Please."
As she speaks with the Loa, Dolly notices Janitor next to her on his comm, whipping through AROs, apparently seeing if he can dig up some dirt on any of the guards nearby. His facial expression says it's not going well though. The Loa peeks over at you expectantly, waiting for you to give it the order to "Go".
-
Dolly relays the finalized plan to Janitor, waits for him to object or get into position, then gives the spirit the go ahead. Relying on Janitor to keep an eye on things from the meat world, she splits her attention between the that and the astral.
-
Mike cursed silently. Why had those gangers to be emotionally stunted man-children, unable to form a stable relationship? He sighed. That question answered itself.
But just in case he kept their comlink numbers ready to dial. He would just have to use greed instead of jealousy if he wanted to set them against each other.
To Dolly he said: "Sounds solid enough. Go ahead, I'll watch your back."
-
For the Janitor, it's a slightly tense five minutes. His experience keeps telling him that a squadron of roto-drones is going to pop up from behind and lay into the two of them at any time, or that there's a sniper waiting for him to be on just this very rooftop right now to get revenge for that job back in the day that went bad, but nothing happens. The rooftops are clear as clear can be, and the streets never stop partying. For Dolly, it's different. She's had nothing but confidence in her Loa the entire time and so when she sees the sliding glass door open and Skim Kid step out onto the balcony for a smoke in his boxer shorts, she's not suprised, but she is pleased. He takes a few drags off of a handrolled spliff, found in an ashtray on the balcony before looking up at you and smiling. When he's had as much as he wants, he turns back toward the door and leaves the spliff where he found it and the ring you're after next to it on a crappy glass end table before headed back inside.
-
"Now, that is a pleasant surprise." Mike switched all his gear into silent mode. "I'll keep an eye on the matrix environment, while I go down to my bike. If you could fly over there and bring the ring down to me, I'll have the tag eraser ready and we can make ourselves scarce.
You ever had a ride on a Mirage?"
-
Pleased at the result, she nods at the Janitor's plan and quietly flits down to the balcony. She snatches up the ring quickly, barely stopping, and after returning to the roof, she gives the all clear to the loa to make his exit, thanking him and promising him . She takes a moment to examine the ring in detail, then she takes an indirect route down to meet up with Janitor. Just before arriving, she turns her sneak suit to solid black, kills the wireless on it, removes her mask, and drops her concealment, making herself visible and inconspicuous - or as much so as a pixie can be. She still makes an effort to stay out of sight of the guards they had spotted earlier.
As she hands the ring over to Janitor, she messages him.
<< @Janitor [Dolly] Should we tell One that we have the ring, or save it as a surprise for our meet tomorrow? I imagine he's still up if we wanted to arrange to drop it off tonight. >>
-
<<Faster is better. Let's get that piece as fast as possible to its new owner. If this blows up, I don't want to be holding the bag.>>
-
As Janitor wipes the data tags and scans for any that might be left, Dolly sends a message to One.
<< @One, Janitor [Dolly] Hey, we have a gift for you. You free to meet tonight, now? >>
She then takes a position on Janitor's Mirage and as they depart, awaits One's reply.
-
[Phillips Highway northbound, Southside, Jacksonville, CAS. April 14th, 12:41am 2076]
It's a gorgeous night for a bike ride and Janitor is a fine driver. No one looked twice at the two of you as you started up the bike and tooled down a sidestreet for a few blocks before turning onto Phillips and disappearing into the night. It's as if you haven't stolen a six-figure valued ring from a violent drug dealer in his sleep as you obey the speedlimit and roll through the "safe part" of the ghetto, on your way to riverside, as you assume that's the area One67 is most likely to be. You've only been on the road for five minutes or so, the Fuller Warren bridge still looming before you in the near distance when you get a response from your contact.
<< @One, Janitor [Dolly] Hey, we have a gift for you. You free to meet tonight, now? >>
<<@R4ngT34m [Jeighk] Busy shootin a trid, yo! Rooftop! Old bikeshop, wiz? College and stockton, Yamean?!>>
-
Dolly looks to Janitor before sending the okay.
<< @One,Janitor [Dolly] We'll be there in a few minutes. >>
"Once we cross the bridge, let's take a few precautions just in case we have a tail, maybe a switchback or something." She then shifts her perception to the astral and looks behind them for any astral entities that might be following.
[spoiler]
Astral Perception (Assensing) (http://orokos.com/roll/277395): 11d6t5 4
[/spoiler]
-
"Wiz."
Mike nodded while he hit the accelerator, so he could make the next traffic light on deep yellow while keeping an eye on the following traffic. Next he looked for a roofed parking lot. There he stopped for a few moments and took a look into the matrix for potential spy drones following them.
[spoiler]
Matrix Perception (http://orokos.com/roll/277605): 8d6t5 1
[/spoiler]
When he was satisfied he took of again towards the "filming location". Hopefully, they wouldn't be witness to a snuff film or some other deranged fetish. Despite his experience, Mike still had problems to keep his lunch in when confronted with that kind of stuff.
-
[Rooftop of the Bikeshop, Riverside, Jacksonville, CAS. April 14th, 12:52am 2076]
College and Stockton is an active drug corner and business is booming right now. The good news is it's about 2 degrees cooler here in Riverside than on the Southside due to the westerly winds moving over the St Johns river to get to you. The bad news is that Riverside smells a LOT worse for the same reasons. The man running the show here on the corner is a large Filipino ork with long cartoon red hair. You haven't seen him talk with anyone, except to get more food from one of the numerous temporary stalls set up on the street nearby, but you're sure he's the manager of this particular area. And a profitable little area it is, even without the citywide party that seems to be happening at the moment. After parking the bike, the two of you find your way around the back to the fire escape and, following the flashing lights and loud music from above, climb your way to the rooftop.
As your gaze reaches up over the edge, you come face to face with what looks like a major motion picture being filmed up here. There's a crew of about eight or nine people, mostly humans and dwarves, controlling three large mobile lighting rigs as well as the near dozen or so flyspies and rotodrones hovering and swarming around the three performers who are bathed in light from multiple sources at once. Two of the men, you recognize as Zane, the dwarven DJ from earlier, and One67. But the third, a young, well-muscled black orkish male with thick, tight cornrows; you don't recognize. They're standing on the edge of the building and rapping cryptically in all directions as a young human magician off camera (Although, it'd be fair to say that due to the sheer number of cameras up here flying around, there probably isn't a single inch of this rooftop that is actually "off-camera".) projects a constantly changing stream of clothes onto their bodies, presumably through trid phantasm or some similar spell. He's making no effort to hide his involvement in the process, and is in fact, hamming it up a bit, swaying and dancing with the music as his illusions change again and again. He almost seems to want people to know "Hey! I'm the mage, here!"
It only takes maybe half a verse before One67 notices the two of you and smiles all huge. He stops in mid-verse and starts walking purposely toward the two of you with that big goofy grin of his. "Ayo!" His large voice booms over the music for a brief moment and you notice the trid crew behind him collectively give a disappointed groan as the filming abruptly grinds to a halt. "Ayo, Fuck yall mawfuckers, yo! Yall mugs be gettin paid by the hour and shit, so for real, fuck yall and all that bullshit, wiz?" He finishes yelling at the crew as he passes by a folding chair, picking up a spliff from it on his way to meet you. "So... Whatchyall think, huh? The set-up... The beats... The concept... Shit is frakkin nova, yo, wiz?" Then, he changes his tone to a more serious one.
"So, what's the deal, yo? I know yall aint come here to be in no rap trid..."
-
As soon as Mike had seen the cameras, he had reapplied his ballistic mask - no need for video evidence...
"Damn straight. The deed is done. We got your precious. And with any luck no one knows yet it's gone.
But would you mind to step away from the cameras for a minute? I'm allergic to fencing gear in front of witnesses."
-
Dolly is wary of the crowds of strangers. As Janitor stops his bike, she darts up into the night, racing more to get ahead of the crowds than to get to One. Even during the height of her popularity, most of her "appearances" were studio events, usually shot in small venues with a relatively small film crew. It was odd, her nervousness around crowds, as pixies tended to live in communities of hundreds, flitting amongst the heaving boughs of the larger trees of a forest. She supposed it was more to do with all of the people in the crowds being so big.
Out of decorum, she waited near the roof for Janitor to catch up, not announcing herself or dropping her concealment until he was with her again. They emerged onto the roof together and soon One came over to meet them.
"So, what's the deal, yo? I know yall aint come here to be in no rap trid..." One said, and Jack responded in the negative. Truthfully, Dolly was a little tempted to at least stay and watch, but it was time for business first. And despite the noise, there were too many ears around.
<< @One [Dolly] Too many cameras - and witnesses - for discussing business openly. We've decided to take your offer of six gees per with no Face. Toward that end, we saw an opportunity and took it. Job's done, so you can take delivery of your ring now or whenever you have our nuyen. >>
-
"Damn straight. The deed is done. We got your precious. And with any luck no one knows yet it's gone.
But would you mind to step away from the cameras for a minute? I'm allergic to fencing gear in front of witnesses."
He gets a look of amused astonishment on his face, contemplating what your words might possibly mean.
<< @One [Dolly] Too many cameras - and witnesses - for discussing business openly. We've decided to take your offer of six gees per with no Face. Toward that end, we saw an opportunity and took it. Job's done, so you can take delivery of your ring now or whenever you have our nuyen. >>
One feels the buzz of the comm in his pocket, retrieves it, and reads the message quickly. As he does, his jaw drops. Looking back up at the two of you like you'd just come back with the Kraken's head, he inhales to say something, then cuts himself short. He puts the spliff in his mouth and lights it, taking a big long hit off it before blowing it out toward the sky in a massive cloud with a huge smile. Still holding it in his lips, he says, "Chip truth? A mug thought yall been done some legwork or sum and yall mugs was comin back to hit a mug up for some supplies or whatnot, but yall actually got the shit on you, right now? Daaaaaaaaaam, yall mugs are some NOVA ass runners, huh?" He takes another hit off the spliff before offering it to the two of you again. "Yall smoke after a run? Either way. Yall done took real good care of a mug tonight, so I'll tell ya what. I'm doin yall seven five a piece for bein so god damn quick, yo. That cool with yall mugs? I got it on me right now if yall want it now. Just pull out and let a mug slot ya, wiz?" Seeing the looks on your faces and your discomfort at the idea of conducting illegal business in front of all these cameras, he quickly adds, "Over there, down them fire escape stairs, word?"
During the exchange, One just seems like he wants to get this done quickly and get back to his video shoot. He barely inspects the ring, only giving it a cursory once over in the flashlight of his comm before dropping it in his pants pocket and producing a credstick.
Five minutes later, the two of you are back on street level, down one expensive ring, but up a credstick with a fifteen thousand nuyen balance. One had asked both of you if you wanted to be in the trid he was filming, and damn near BEGGED Dolly, but you both declined for your various reasons. The night is still young and the party the whole city is having doesn't show signs of stopping anytime soon. Whether your profits will be saved and invested in your future or blown through during a wild night on the town is up to you.
-
Mike had politely declined One's offer of a blunt.
Now he was splitting the cash. When he gave Dolly her part he said: "Was a pleasure working with you. I'll probably be in this town for a while longer. Ring me up if you want another go on the bike or are up for a run."
-
After splitting the nuyen on the credstick, Dolly bids Janitor adieu, saying "I have a promise to keep now, but I too hope we can work together again in the future." Cloaking herself in magic, she flies into the night, high above the city streets.
Honored Gran Boa, you have aided me greatly this night. You may have this body until daybreak on the lone condition that you take good care of it and the possessions I carry. Eat, drink, dance, sing, but please do not bring shame upon me.
The Gran Boa respects you, child. His allies are well rewarded, and well taken care of. I accept your gift, and promise to abide by your request.
And with that, Dolly allowed the loa into her body. The remainder of the night was a blur of activity - zooming high above the city, reveling in the freedom of flight, clandestinely observing the partiers, and even participating in the festivities. But true to the spirit's word, come sunrise, she was nearing her home at the spirit's accelerated pace when the summoning magic was spent and the spirit wordlessly departed. She knew it would be at least a day before her body recovered from the all nighter, but for now, she simply looked forward to sleeping in her bed.