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[5e IC] Storm Force Whisper [2076 Game Thread]

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[Thursday September 10th, 2076; Citadel Game [Private], Matrix Host: SEAѤ67-∑2]

The wind whistled across the bleak moorland bringing the scent of autumn with it, but if Silk’s nearly nude form felt the chill she gave no sign as the silks of her persona rippled around her.  Overhead, constellations never seen in the real world wheeled and danced as the host accepted data from Silk’s own network and spun it together to mesh with the Citadel’s own architecture.

The pattern was nearly complete…after six years… it had been too long but she was honest enough with herself to know that to try this sooner would have ended in disaster, no matter how much she wanted the truth behind the web she had unravelled.

Aria’s petite form appeared beside her unbidden “you could have done this on your own host you know?  No need to use my resources so heavily”

“Yes, but who would look for it here in a game world rather than the files of an up and coming data broker?”

Aria conceded the point with a bow and a wink “So, you’ve found out who was responsible for Mother’s death, your mother, now what?”

“Find Monarch and find out why that bastard targeted one of his best teams for removal”

Aria looked uncharacteristically sad “You know they say ‘be careful what you wish for’, you may not like the answers that you find”

“True, but they would be better than no answers.  I know running is dangerous, mum didn’t expect to live a long and happy life… but this wasn’t a stray bullet in a fire fight… she was executed, by her own bloody fixer.  What part of the Pattern is that?  We will dig him out of his hole and ask him some rather pointed questions.  Once I’m satisfied we’ll dump him on the authorities and let them have their pound of flesh.”

“You don’t want to kill him then?”

“I’m not stupid, that won’t bring mum back and I think I will get more satisfaction from watching him rot, denied access to his power base…”

“Let’s get out of here… it’s cold!”


And so Silk reached out to Al, itinerant wonderer, and more importantly for her purposes, a nexus in the Pattern…his actions were so hard to predict, hopefully they would not see them coming.

<<Al, it’s Silk.  I promised you a job in the near future and that time has come.  I know you won’t like it but can you assemble your team and meet me in the Citadel?  I would prefer face to face but you’re scattered across Europe and this needs to move quickly now.  I am hoping you can get Isaint, Deckard and Robyn together for this.  The Old One has told me some of what happened in London, I don’t know who you were working for or how you managed it but you make a formidable team>>


[Thursday September 10th, 2076; dilapidated Caravaner on bank of the Thames]

Al was demonstrating to an enraptured Spike how to eat a Double-Soyrito without taking the cigarette from your mouth when his working 'link - the Fairlight - started playing Me So Horny, signalling a message from Silk.

Well, work. And not a damned moment too soon, he having nearly depleted his stash on luxury excursions and military-grade explosives.

<<See what I can do. Make it witchin' hour Greenwich.>> he replied.

Then he composed a voice message to all three requested parties, layered on as much encryption as he could, which was not half bad, then sent it direct to Robyn, with a request she protect it more and deliver to the other two.

The message: <<Attached the dets onna fancy-pants game host in Seattle. Silk uses it fer virtual meets. Requests the presence of the four of us as and when, but soonest. I'm gon' tell 'er midnight GMT. Be there or be square, mi compadres.>>

[Thursday September 10th, 2076; Former warehouse, North, outside London]

Isaint was just putting away the broom when his commlink beeped. Not the Transsys but the Fairlight - that meant work. The timing was excellent he had to admit: Whatever could be cleaned in his new home had been cleaned, all furniture was installed and/or constructed and even the drones were all nice and clean in their charging stations. There would have literally been no excuse to put off looking for a job or calling his chummers.

Upon receiving the message from Al via Robyn  he frowned. An online meeting wasn't as dangerous as a real life one, but there were still dangerous entities around. Isaint sent a confirmation message and began preparing for the meeting - mainly by updating his matrix security and his iconography...


[Thursday September 10th, 2076; dilapidated Caravaner on bank of the Thames]

For his part, Al wandered out to the small mountain of scrap that was accumulating from all the work he'd been doing on his cars and dug around until he had the makings of a crude 'trode net, then to his shop to assemble it while he downloaded the necessary ASIST software.

And he ate another double-soyrito - better to puke in volume than dry heave. He hated dry heaving.

Mercy Merchant:
Robyn takes the message from Al and notes that his encryption skills seem to be improving and makes a couple of additions before sending it off to ISaint and Deckard.  She is familiar with the game site as the host for the wonderfully good Vampire Hunter game.  She has spent many hours wiling away the time in the alternate world of that game.  Sometimes too much time.  But it is so easy to just slip into her vampire lord character and exist in a completely different sort of life.

She considers something and fires off a response to Al.  >>Al, I have forwarded your message on as requested.  You know, I can translate the meeting and send it to you on a trid screen if you like.  There would only be a second or so delay in the conversation for you and you would not have to be in the matrix.<<


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