[Wednesday 11:35 am, October 23rd, 2075 | The Fairmont Olympic Hotel | Downtown Seattle]
The old man smiled. "You have gathered quite an array of character, Inglewood."
"A bit of a disappointment compared to the last team, if I must say."
"Yes, yes." The old man's countenance fell at the mention of this. "But even the last team, as good as they were, failed. God rest their souls."
He grunted in exertion as he began to sit up. The elf started for him, but the old man raised an arm towards him. "No, no, stay there, Inglewood. I may be dying, but I still have the drive to stand, at least." He reached for his cane, a gnarled, curved piece of wood with an aura of history around it. Shakily, he stood up, clutching his cane tightly with one hand as his other aided with his rise. Inglewood could only look with a sort of sadness at this crippled form of a man.
The old man began to walk towards the elf. "Inglewood, I am going to change. I can't meet my guests in this bathrobe, as lavish as it may be."
"Of course sir."
"While I'm doing so, I need you to make the call."
Inglewood's stoic appearance suddenly faltered. "Now? Are you sure? But we haven't received her message yet! We don't know if she'll be--"
"Mr. Inglewood," interrupted the old man. There was a fire in his voice as he addressed the elf. "I am and old man, crippled and near death. But no matter what happens to me, this plan must continue! I trust my life that she will be there are the appointed time. Now make that call!"
The elf straightened at once. These were the words of one who commanded a commercial empire in the past. These were the words of a man who looked the future straight in the eye before he twisted it according to his will. These were words of power. And it awed the elf completely. "Yes sir, right away."
As Inglewood quickly made his way down the hall, the old man turned towards the other direction. He hadn't seen his faithful steward his excited for a time. It might be a sign of things to come. For good or for worse...well, time would have to wait. But one thing he knew.
The next eight calls would be the most important in his life.
Knockout
[Wednesday 11:40 am, October 23rd, 2075 | Bruno's Lights Out! Boxing Gym | Puyallup Barrens]
Knockout leaned forward against the wall as streams of heated water poured over his head. Bruno's was one of the few places in the Puyallup Barrens that actually had a decent shower. The fatigue was practically lifted from his body as he soaked in the shower. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he was calm. A warm darkness filled his mind, giving him peace.
A ringing interrupted his quietude as it resounded from outside the shower. Knockout knew this sound. It was Korobeiniki, a classic Russian song of courting compressed into a familiar midi form. The song would only ring for one thing. The Matryoshka were calling with a job.
Daisy
[Wednesday 11:40 am, Oct 23rd, 2075 | Reggie's Kung Pao Dojo | Redmond Barrens]
"C'mon, ya wuss! Give me 170 kilos! Lift that 170!"
Daisy's muscles were bulging as he slowly brought the weights upwards above his chest. Reggie, his friend and mentor, was now screaming at him, spit and all. It was his way of encouraging his students, Reggie often told him.
With a final grunt, Daisy fully lifted the weights, then rested them against the bars. He could feel his blood racing as he released his grip. As he got up, he could see Reggie grinning. "Haha, now that's pretty decent for a little trog like you! Towel yourself and get ready for another set. Warm up's almost over."
Daisy moved towards the bench and grabbed his towel. Reggie's dojo was a great place to work out. Sure, it was in the middle of the fucking Redmond Barrens, but Reggie had a reputation that scared away the scummiest of go-gangers. It also helped that it was located on the edge of Touristville. He surveyed the room, a collection equipment that definitely showed signs of wear and tear, some by him, most by Reggie. The mats were in the worst condition, ripped, crumpled, and other signs of having people thrown against it, students and go-gangers alike. The man was an uncouth bastard of a human, but Daisy couldn't help feel some sort of pride in training under him.
A loud buzzing attracted his attention to the lockers across the room. He could hear the vibration against the metal, resonating the sound around the room. A louder sound erupted from the back. "Hey, Daisy-boy! Shut off your goddamn comm!"
The Frenchman
[Wednesday 11:40 am, October 23rd, 2075 | The Frenchman's Neighborhood | Downtown Seattle]
He rounded the corner that led back to his neighborhood. It was a rather nice place, a series of apartment buildings like something you'd see out of one of those old American sitcoms. There was much less laughter than seen in the trids, and the area was dirtier than pictured. But it was home. For now.
The Frenchman began to jog in place as a truck rolled out in front of him. As he planned another lap around the block, he could hear the ringing of his commlink. An AR window popped into his view.
>>Incoming call...
>>Caller ID: Eduardo Estevez
>>Answer? (Y/N)
As he contemplated answering his fixer, he saw something in the corner of his eye. He turned, and he saw three things. The truck that was blocking him began to pick up speed as it headed towards the road. A red car, possibly a Bentley, was speeding up the road. A red-haired female elf ran right into the road, where both vehicles would eventually meet her.
Cross
[Wednesday 11:40 am, Oct. 23rd, 2075 | Cross's Apartment | Downtown Seattle]
The commlink LED light turned on and began to buzz. Immediately Cross grabbed for it immediately, scattering his guns and cleaning equipment around him. As he put it on, an AR window promptly popped into his view.
>>Incoming call...
>>Caller ID: Mr. Green
>>Answer? (Y/N)
It was at this moment a loud thumping noise thundered through the floor, catching Cross by surprise. He almost dropped the comm, which continued to buzz. He could hear the thumping getting louder. Outside his window, he could near noise. Lots of noise.
Johnny
[Wednesday 11:40 am, Oct. 23rd, 2075 | Loveland | Puyallup Barrens]
Loveland, Puyallup's amusement mile. At night, it was quite the place to be, with call girls attracting men off the streets for a night of debauchery. Vendors wave and shout to passing people, selling their wares to meet the quotas beset upon them by Mafia and Yakuza. Lights, noise, and chatter filled the nighttime air.
In daytime, however, the place was practically a ghost town. Just as Johnny liked it. He strolled down the streets in his snakeskin boots and duster coat. Hell, he could've whistled if he were in the mood to. He chuckled. This was just like one of those western trids he admired so much. He began to fall in a sort of reverie as he imagined himself as John Wayne walking down the dusty streets as a modern urban cowboy.
It was at this time he felt his commlink vibrate inside his pocket.
Dacre
[Wednesday 11:36 pm, October 23rd, 2075 | Outside the Honeypot Cafe | Auburn]
It had only been a short amount of time since he left the cafe when he felt the commlink vibrate in his hands. He began to fumble the commlink in excitement as he made to put it on as quick as he could. An AR screen popped into view.
>>Incoming call...
>>Caller ID: Gerome Marcs
>>Answer? (Y/N)
Gerome? Who was Gerome again? Dacre furrowed his brow in confusion. He wasn't really good with names. Faces, he could do. But not names. This one sounded familiar, though. Who was Gerome again? He knew he had heard it recently.
((Roll for Memory(2): Logic + Willpower))
Pepperface
[Wednesday 11:40 AM, October 23rd, 2075 | Pepperface's Basement Apartment | Downtown Seattle]
<<GET YOUR PENILE CYBER-UPGRADE TODAY!>>
<<FEELING LONELY? xXx COME ON BY THE IRON CHAIN, WHERE THE LADIES WILL TREAT YOU WELL XxX>>
<<ONLY 20% OFF! COME NOW SEND MONEY BUY MORE! -m1tsuh4m4>>
Pepperface took a sip of soykaf. He reminded himself to get something to block all this goddamn spam. It was in unusually strong force today. He continued to scroll down his messages, shifting through spam, some bills, and family messages he didn't care to look at. He casually deleted these messages as he glanced through them. Spam. Bills. Spam. Spam. Spam. Bills.
Three thumps caused some dust to fall from the ceiling onto his head. A very loud, very cranky voice shortly followed. "Turn off the dern music, you techie scalawag!" Pepperface sighed. His upstairs neighbor was suffering from dementia again. Pepperface was tempted to shout back up, but at that moment, he heard a ringing tone, and an AR window opened promptly.
>>Incoming call...
>>Caller ID: GF Charlie
>>Answer? (Y/N)
Finally, something was happening. However, as he began to lean forward and accept the call, the thumping resumed. Does this guy ever let up? But...this wasn't the regular thumping he heard. It sounded different. It sounded...wrong.
Red-Haired Elf
[Wednesday 11:40 am, Oct. 23rd, 2075 | 4th Ave. | Downtown Seattle]
Nothing enthralled him like speeding down the streets, weaving and bobbing between cars and traffic. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, creating a natural high that only encouraged the elf to speed down the lanes. The raw heat radiating between rubber and asphalt coupled with the howling wind cut by ten tons of steel and electronics engaged him like no drug could. Lola was the freedom that he hoped would allow him to ride away from his past. To ride away from all his misery and pain at eighty miles per hour.
A message icon popped into his view. However, it was at this time another red-haired elf, a female, ran out onto the road in front of him. Further down the road, he could see a truck speeding towards him.
((Roll a Pilot Ground Vehicle test(2): Pilot Ground Vehicle + Reaction[Maneuverability+2],-1 for sudden action))