Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: CraterShip on <06-25-16/2051:19>
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And the Rain Keeps Falling
The storm started a week ago with a near flooding deluge. Sewer rats huddle in overstuffed storm drains where the detritus of the streets has been carried. Once trash-strewn streets now reflect neon lights off their wet surface. Despite the downpour, the streets remain active. People rush from one covered doorway to the next. Several young women pass by carrying clear umbrellas with LED lit handles, others appear downtrodden, the slumped shoulders and shuffling gate of obvious addicts appear unfazed by the storm.
The pulsing sounds of heavy bass are felt more than heard from the nightclub across the street. The volume spiking every time the doors open to allow more patrons. Massive trolls that could have been twins stand under the awning at the door, while hopeful partygoers huddle beside what little roof extends over the sidewalk. You received word from your fixer to meet here a couple hours earlier with the promise of work. You watch from across the street as a public transit bus drops off the dregs of society half a block away. The lights of the bus momentarily pierce the veil of rain before dimming once again as the bus pulls away from the curb. You step off the sidewalk to cross behind the bus, avoiding the splash from the tires and the potholes. You skip the line, to the dismay of the hopefuls, and produce the message from your fixer as instructed to the bouncers. The one on the left smiles knowingly through a mouthful of tusks after checking the scan. He nods to the other, who opens the door to you.
Inside your senses assaulted by the pounding bass rhythms, strobe lights, and a spider’s web of laser lights playing through manufactured fog. The dancefloor is packed with the scantily clad beautiful people of the world, their bodies surging and ebbing as the music shifts from one beat to another. The message said to wait inside, and you would be contacted when everyone was assembled.
OOC: You are welcome to RP your way as much as you would like through the entire scenario up to this point, and once everyone has posted they are inside the club, and settled, I’ll advance to the next post.
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Marcus sits in the drivers seat of the Thundercloud Morgan, staring out into the night but not really seeing, lost in thought as he is.
The week so far had been short on satisfaction; the acid rain had been worse than usual even before the dark clouds moved in and the storm began, the landlord of the apartment complex in Tacoma had threatened eviction unless payment for the month ahead was made in full, and worst of all was the fact that every lead on the mysterious Dr. Johannsen had washed out like dishwater down the drain.
"Three weeks chasing ghosts" Marcus thinks to himself as anger wells up inside of him to match the dark skies overhead. "Three weeks, and what do I have to show for all my effort? Nothing. No names, no company information; it's as if whoever was behind Echo Lake never existed." He slams the steering wheel of the all-terrain vehicle with a gloved fist in frustration, then takes a deep calming breath and lets it out slowly. "Well, they can't hide forever" he mumbles out loud as he reaches into a pocket and brings out an amber plastic bottle. The label read "Rize, benzodiazepine, 2-4 pills per day" and the prescription for the anti-depressants was made out to one Marcus Brennan. "Eddie gets to go to the club today, though, while Marcus stays home" he muses as he swallows one of the pills, then deposits the bottle back into his coat pocket.
The call from Striker had been short and to the point, as usual. "Arrive at location X by time Y, speak to Johnson Z. So obvious, so bourgeois, so boring. Why can't they ever just get on with it; why this ridiculous pretense of civility when everything agreed to at such meetings is anywhere from borderline to highly illegal." Eddie sighs as his keen eyes scans the line to the nightclub entrance looking for trouble while his practiced hands brings out the silenced Remington machine pistol holstered under his left shoulder. With a mental command he ejects the clip and visually inspects the 15 subsonic rounds it holds before sliding it back home, then checks that it was set to burst fire before engaging the safety. The shoulder holster holds two more clips under his right shoulder, one loaded with subsonic rounds and the other holding gel rounds containing a powerful mix of DMSO and Narcoject, aka a combat cocktail. "Trouble rarely starts at the first meet but it never hurts to be at least a little prepared" he reminds himself. He's left most of his gear in the smuggling compartment of the Morgan, however, well hidden and locked away until it is needed.
With another sigh and light grumble for the weather he brings up the AR interface of his Meta Link and sets it to broadcast the fake SIN belonging to one Edward Allen Marshall while simultaneously switching the Evotech Himitsu into silent running mode and disabling the Marcus Brennan SIN broadcast, making the identity change complete. As he steps out of the vehicle he made sure the pistol was snug in the concealed holster, then brings up the collar on his long coat and pulls his ball cap down low to protect his eyes and to keep the rain out of his face as much as possible. He sprints across the road just as a bus pulls away from the curb and flashes the line an apologetic grin as he makes his way past the bouncers by giving them MARKs on the invitation ARO he'd received earlier in the day.
The transition from outside to inside is jarring; the sounds of the storm and of the city streets are displaced by rythmic bass felt as much as heard, and the muggy humidity of the rain soaked streets is forced to make way to the heat of a throng of sweaty bodies dancing the night away. Eddie shakes off the rain as he makes his way past the coat check point and into the club interior, looking for signs of his employer and other team mates. Seeing neither he makes his way to the bar by pushing through the crowd, the feeling of bodies pressing up against his a dull reminder that he is alive, and orders a synthetic gin and tonic. With little else to do but wait he lets his eyes wander over the crowd using the massive mirror behind the bar to hide his activities.
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Chaim slots the cab fare, sets his Ulysses coat to his favorite charcoal gray herringbone, and steps out. Into the rain, into the neon glare of the tawdry AROs, and carefully stepping over the detritus that's collected near one of the sewer grates, he bypasses the line, and gives his coat a good shake as the bouncer approaches. The door opens, and a wall of sound hits him in the gut, and as he produces his Renraku Sensei and reservation MARK, gives a curt nod to the trolls in the ill-fitting suits, and lets one hold the door for him as he enters.
"Have a good night now, sir," the one holding the door says absently.
Inside Chaim gives a quick of the main bar and dance floor. Good night. He'd guess it's about twenty metas over capacity already. How is it I've never been here? he wonders smiling at a trio of young corp-type women oblivious to his presence. Yeah, this place is alright. He'd have to thank Eddie for keying him in on this job. Speaking of which. . .
<<Anybody else here, or am I the first one at the prom?>> he whispers into his micro-transceiver, which is keyed into the team frequency.
No sooner has he set off the comm that Chaim sees Eddie at the bar ordering a drink. It's likely that the rest of the crew rode with him, sans Pale Horse, so they've got to be around here somewhere. Chaim approaches from Eddie's rear, but there's no sneaking up on the heavily augmented B&E expert. "Hoi, thought you'd be skulking around here somewhere," Eddie says. "I can smell you from a mile away."
"More like the mirror gave away my approach," Chaim answers, tipping his head toward the large smoked glass that hangs behind the bar. "Vodka press," he adds to the bartender who's just finishing up with Eddie's drink.
"Alright, so we gotta see the guy, and do the thing? You think the J's already here, or do we have time for a little pleasure before business?" Chaim asks as the synth liquor and soda is pushed toward him. "Cause I like this place."
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Even dressed to the nines in an expensive looking suit, the clothes Chaim were wearing wasn't the only that set him apart in the crowd. He had a sort of raw magnetism about him that drew people in, and even Eddie had to admit to himself that the man was more than just a skilled negotiator.
Grinning over his gin and tonic as Chaim reasoned out how he'd been given away, he takes a sip before answering. "No idea on the J; my fixer didn't give me much to go on on this one, just the name and time. Apparently we'll be contacted once everyone's here, and since it's just you and me so far, omae, looks like you've got time to ply your trade. Speaking of which, how about letting me be your wingman some time soon? This isn't exactly my kind of environment, if you know what I mean."
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"Drek, omae. Tonight I'll be your wing man. Just call me Lochos," Chaim says, a reference to the trid flick Valorous Sons, which depicted the PCC's aerial war against General Saito's forces in the CFS and the very close partnership between Lochos, and his squadron commander, Zeke. Chaim turns around and rests his elbows on the bar as he surveys the scene. The talent is out tonight, he thinks to himself as he scans over the crowd. There's the Aztlaner contingent all done up in Zoé/Armanté that Chaim wouldn't approach for a Mitsubishi Nightsky, much less just to get a friend -- was Eddie a friend? -- introduced to some pretty girls. Then there's the rowdy party girls, obviously out from U of W tonight to cut loose and kill enough brain cells to forget all that advanced polytechnics they'd no doubt been cramming for a midterm. They had potential, though they'd no doubt drink their weight in those sickly green FAB bombs before the night was through. One plus with the college girls, they might like a little bit of danger, and Eddie could provide that in spades.
The last group to catch his eye is the mixed-meta contingent. Probably employed by EVO, or some subsidiary. The elf in the pixie cut is probably just Eddie's style, and the ork woman knows how to dance, Chaim will give her that. The other two are nursing their drinks a bit too slowly, checking their AROs a bit too often, so Chaim estimates they've got maybe fifteen minutes before they bounce. "Well, Edward from accounting, ready the Arcon."
Chaim is about to cross the bar floor when the rest of the team materializes.
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Ichante sulks through the tunnels of the Ork Underground. Outside, it's raining. Underground, it's raining. The week of rain had saturated the earth, leaving the water nowhere else to go. The Underground didn't have proper drainage, so miniature rivers formed in the middle of tunnels. Ichante was not fond of water - except as part of strict grooming regimen - especially water that covered her ankles and sloshed into her boots. She levitates herself across the more ridiculous puddles that were more like little lakes.
Pale Horse must used to this but I'm not, she thinks to herself.
"Why did you move to Seattle?" Chaim had asked a while back. "Have you ever been through a Sioux winter?" she had answered. "Or a Sioux summer, for that matter."
That's why she lives underground: to get away from the weather. Seattle rarely got snow, and rarely got scalding hot. Thanks to thermal inertia, the Underground was a reliable 12 C year-round. Cool, but comfortable. She can live with that. It made things easy to spot with her thermal vision, if nothing else. When the world was cool, it was simple to see the devil rats.
Ichante lives near The Big Rhino, at Second & Seneca downtown. She longs to move to a larger unit near Lorstrugns, the luxury department store chain about eight blocks away. That way she could window shop all the time, even if Lordstrungs didn't carry much for petite dwarven women. She knows just what she wanted: The Ace of Coins! Black juggernaut hide with platinum thread stitching and solid gold accents. She aches for it, the juggernaut hide reminding her warmly of home, even if home was only ever stupid hot or crazy cold, never just warm. It would be so perfect for this club we're going to. But first I have to take care of this, what, almost forty grand of debt, she thinks to herself, rounding it up in a moment of self-pity.
She reaches the staircase leading up to an exit. There were a few stalls around the bottom of the staircase: an ork noodle lady, a Skraacha selling maps of the Underground and/or protection services that may or may not be optional. She stops by a dwarven tech and throws down ¥100 for the micro-transceiver that her team has been bugging her to replace. She plugs it in just in time to catch Chaim asking <<Anybody else here, or am I the first one at the prom?>> The signal is scratchy because she's still underground.
<<Untwist your knickers, I'll be right there>> she answers peevishly, still put out about the weather. She grits her teeth and goes up the stairs and out into the rain.
Why didn't I learn that barrier spell? she thinks to herself as she races across the street. Forget bullets; I need an umbrella.
Crossing the street, she looks around for Eddie's Thundercloud Morgan. It's an ATV that's ridiculous for city driving (unless you're in the Barrens) but on days like today it could actually be helpful for navigating flooded streets.
Ichante gets to the awning in front of the club and spends a full minute trying to correct her black hair. Pouting, she paws the water out of it while she studies the crowd lined up, waiting to get in. With some jealousy, she notes how much better dressed they are than she is. Her chemically-treated armor jacket keeps her safe and repels acid rain, but it would never be confused with high fashion. Yearning for the Ace of Coins grips her again as she flips the ARO invitation to the bouncer.
Clubs are not the best environment for dwarves, especially thin dwarves. Dancers and druggies and drunks are oblivious and dwarves getting knocked about is the default. She bypasses the coat check, knowing that she'll be bumped at least half a dozen times before she crosses the club. The armor jacket protects her from the bruises, but her pride still stings.
<<Alright, I'm here>> she says, switching to assensing to scan the crowd. Against her wishes, the aura of the crowd actually improves her mood. The happy revelry is infectious, especially on the astral, and she suddenly finds herself wanting a hit. She wasn't into Bliss or Zen. Novacoke should have been a good fit but she didn't have a taste for it. She liked Cram, but she was here to work, not dance or fight. Psyche would be fun, but I'm on a budget, she thinks. Grudgingly, she settled for a stick of betel chewing gum, staving off the craving for something stronger... for now, at least.
<<I've got you>> she says, spying the men by the bar. <<Watch your six: that Aztlaner with the pomade hair likes the look of one of you.>>
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good job the client liked slumming it, the last crash move had lost her her fancy dancing suit. smiling off the trolls advances (yer like I never get asked to smile, jeesh something original just once) her contacts danced in the flashing lights, "focus!" she told her self entrance exits flanks and tails. so a quick slack through the club using the creeps as fawning cover in the bath room (why do they always put curtains up in the ladies but never clean the toilets properly?) in to a stall and fiddle with the zip on her jacket count twenty fiddle again flush leave. so all ensconced she scanned the room more closely picking out the wolves and the lambs in detail this time trying to zero in on the client and the other assorted he'd gathered
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"Drek, omae. Tonight I'll be your wing man. Just call me Lochos" Chaim says. The name stirs a memory in Eddie's mind, and suddenly he is back in the underground lab being lectured by a faceless doctor on the history of the California Free State. The monotonous, droning voice of the egghead is almost enough to put him to sleep, but inattentiveness earns black marks, and black marks earns punishment, and he remembers pulling himself up and forcing himself to pay attention.
The silent reverie ends as quickly as it began, and with a grin worthy of the sleaziest used car salesman in the Barrens he responds with a slight drawl. "Roger that, Lochos; I'll be Zeke then." He hopes they have enough time to at least score a few commcodes before the Mr Johnson and the others show up; there had been a few women in the lab but they had all treated him like a science project and not a human being. "Fraggers, the lot of 'em. Not like the women in the real world. Not like these women" he thinks as he looks around hungrily, eyes glittering as lightly clad bodies writhe to the music. He always seemed to trip over his words when one of them approached him, though, and he hadn't quite worked up the nerve to ask anyone out yet, but maybe with Chaim's help he could finally...
Eddie groans silently as he spots Ichante, the dwarf spellslinger, making her way through the crowd and getting pushed around for her efforts. Even with all of his superhuman abilities he still couldn't help but stare in awe at the woman, looking for visual signs of magic. "Hoi, wizzer" he says as the slim woman makes her way to the bar, trying to keep a casually respectful tone. "Don't want to slot off someone who can turn you to mush or set you on fire with just their mind, after all" he thinks to himself as he gets off his bar stool. "Wanna seat?" He sips his synth gin and tonic, aka sin-and-tonic, as he stands, scanning the crowd for signs of anyone else he recognized, then nods at Chaim. "Another time, eh, Captain?"
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"Zeke?" Ichante asks, hearing the end of the exchange between Chaim and Eddie. "You know that's slang for 'vampire', right?" She looks around the bar and dance floor. A vampire could do worse for itself on a rainy night than a crowded club in Touristville, she thinks to herself, scanning the room on the astral to make sure there aren't any vampires around.
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Eddie looks around to see if anyone might have overheard Ichante's casual remark. Satisfied that everyone nearby was either high on life or drugs or both, he leans in close to the woman.
"Since when!? I ain't never heard of a vampire being referred to as a "Zeke", though I've come across terms like neck biters, haemophiles, leeches, and Renfields; of course, I never even met one so they're not exactly my area of specialty." He gives the dwarf a pointed look while sipping his drink before continuing in the same hushed tone.
"Besides, talking too loudly about the Infected these days could be bad for business, especially after the mess between McAllister and Fear The Dark, not to mention de Vries showing his true colours during that event." His eyes shines with intensity for a moment, and when he continues in a louder, lecturing voice he seems to have forgotten his own admonishment.
"Anyway, the reference was to Zeke and Lochos, the famous CFS pilots, not the unholy spawn of creatures like Vlad Tapish and Erzebet Bathory, twisted by HMHVV as they are. Who knew legends could just step right out of the history books and..." He trails off into silence and leans on the bar, seemingly lost in deep thought.
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"Since when!?
"I guess you have to be in the know," Ichante shrugs, demonstrating her magical ability to be catty and overconfident about things she knows relatively little about. She fails to suppress an eye roll when Eddie trots out the "legends stepping right out" cliche that was fresh 60 years ago. Eddie wasn't an elf or a dwarf, so unless someone stuck his round ears in a deep cryogenic freeze back in 1999 then he's got no excuse to be pretending like the 'legends' haven't been real for his entire life.
She studies Eddie's aura. It was both accurate and inaccurate to call it 'unnatural'. The nature of his implants made him look like a bit of a Frankenstein's monster on the astral. The pieces didn't look inhuman, but nor did they look exactly like the rest of Eddie either.
"So," she says, turning to Chaim and picking a drink up off the bar that isn't hers,"do you come here often?" She bats her eyelashes playfully, switching from apathetic to flirty as quickly as only a cat shaman can.
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As the group converses over the pros and cons of nicknames for vampires, a young elven woman approaches. She moves with the practiced grace of a dancer, managing to avoid being jostled by any of the crowd. Her skin tight bodysuit offers varying degrees of opacity, leaving little to the imagination. Neon lights adorn her necklace, bracelets, and hair, pulled up into a pair of dark pigtails. She bounces to a stop at the bar next to you, pauses to blow a gum bubble, and announces that Mr. J. is ready to see you. She turns to go, trailing overly tailored pheromone scents.
The runners are led first to a back room, then outside to a dark alley, and finally to an empty warehouse building adjacent to the club. In the short stint outside, you manage to avoid most of the dark rain, but the soggy cardboard smell tells you the boxes here have not fared so well. The warehouse is dark, except for a single florescent overhead lamp over a long table. A man in an expensive suit sits, smoking, at the table. Against a stack of boxes stands one other person, he wears a white Ulysses greatcoat. The man at the desk offers you a seat at his table.
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With a shrug to his companions followed by a slow, lingering look from the woman's heels all the way to her head, Eddie trails the woman closely as she turns. With some effort he manages to keep his eyes off of her swaying hips and on the surroundings instead, his mind subconsciously filtering out distractions and allowing him to focus on the details. Taking it all in, he is nonetheless surprised when they are lead into the street and towards a warehouse.
"What the..." He looks for signs that might hold information about the structure as he walks with his head held high, ignoring the rain as his keen eyes seeks out every shadowy corner and angles visible to the human eye.
"I've got a bad feeling about this already" he thinks to himself as the group enters the cavernous, dark interior. With some relief he notices only two people inside, one at a table in an expensive suit and the other in a greatcoat of some fashionable cut or another.
With another shrug to his companions he takes a chair at the table, ensuring that the holstered machine pistol hangs with a clean path for drawing, just in case. As he waits for Chain or the well dressed man to speak, he looks closely at both of the men in front of him, eagerly searching for clues that might reveal anything about their identities.
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Ichante watches the young elven woman approach. She hates her. Ichante is not particularly graceful or elegant for a follower of Cat. Ichante hates the woman's grace, her bodysuit, and her youthful exuberance with the bubble gum. Ichante snaps her betel gum in response, silently wondering if she could casually touch the woman to covertly cask physical mask. It might be good for her to walk around as an ork for an hour or two, Ichante thinks to herself. If the night were young and Ichante wasn't on the clock, she might do so, but it's a school night and Ichante needs to be professional.
Walking outside is annoying, but at least the rain helps suppress some of the elven woman's pheromones. I wonder whose balls she bounces up and down on, Ichante thinks sourly, wondering if that ridiculous dress would look any good on her.
Ichante manages to avoid rolling her eyes when she enters the warehouse. The theatricality of the dark room with only a single lamp is utterly absurd to her. This J has to be a breeder, she thinks to herself. For elves and orks, it might as well be full daylight in here. It's not like anything can hide in the dark from a dwarf or a troll either. She wonders if this job came via Striker or Suzette, the team's two primary fixers, either of which is competent enough to forward at least high-level dossiers to the Johnson that would presumably indicate that the team can see in the dark.
She accepts the offered seat while scanning the room on the astral. She sends a mental note to her spirit to stay outside unless called for.
<<@Team [Ichante] I smell money. Pretty girls with bioware are awfully expensive to be messengers. Men with expensive suits. The man against the boxes is wearing Mortimer of London. Either a Greatcoat or a Ulysses coat, I don't know. Men's fashion isn't my specialty. Either way, custom fit only: not available off the shelf. Three grand minimum. I don't recognize the cut of the suit of the man at the desk but it probably costs more than a suit made out of credsticks. Anyway, Chaim, no discount for these gonks.>>
She stays quiet and lets Chaim take the lead.
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<<I've got you>> she says, spying the men by the bar. <<Watch your six: that Aztlaner with the pomade hair likes the look of one of you.>>
<<haha. Chaim answers deadpan, but still checks his six anyway. Ichante takes an empty seat at the bar and the talk turns briefly to vampires, which is well outside of Chaim's wheelhouse, but when Eddie mentions Elizabeth Bathory, his ears prick up. Bathory, that might just be a hell of a handle for when I'm running in dresses and heels. I like the ring of that.
"So," she says, turning to Chaim and picking a drink up off the bar that isn't hers,"do you come here often?" She bats her eyelashes playfully, switching from apathetic to flirty as quickly as only a cat shaman can.
Chaim scoots an empty glass that hasn't been pulled back behind the bar yet over to the place where Ichante had purloined her drink. That crazy halfer will get herself into all sorts of trouble without some adult supervision.
"Can't say as I have. But I heard there was going to be a dwarf girl here tonight pretty enough for a man to make some really bad decisions."
"Well," Ichante answers with a flash of her eyes.
"Can't say I'm disappointed." It's a weak line, but Ichante seems to appreciate it. Eddie, of course, rolls his eyes, and gives Chaim a tap on the leg with his foot as a woman in a body suit approaches to take them to the meet.
The crew makes the trek through a back room, then into an alley, and finally into a warehouse where the Johnson waits under a single fluorescent light, seated at a table. Chaim appreciates the theatricality almost as much as he appreciates the man's suit. Chaim approaches with a "May I?" before pulling out a chair for Ichante and taking a seat himself.
"Mr. Johnson, I presume. I am Brasa. My associates and I are under the impression that you have some business opportunities that you'd like to discuss? We're all ears."
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That I do, Johnson will suffice for now. The interests I represent are in need of some... Less than legal assets. You see, there is something we would like you to acquire. In our line of work, it is important to be the first to reach certain goals, and we have received word that a competitor may have beaten us to the punch. We simply cannot let that stand. We are prepared to compensate you for services rendered of course, but we will require a certain level of anonymity. As such, this will be the only contact you will have with me. My associate, here he pauses to indicate the man in the white overcoat, will be your primary form of contact if anything should arise. He has all the details you may need. I suppose you are all interested in payment of course. I offer a sum of 10,000 nuyen each.
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With a mental command through the trode net, Eddie composes a reply to Ichante.
<<I'll take your word on the suit; do you see that pin he's wearing? Looks like Ares to me; definitely no discount for these guys, Chaim.>>
With Chaim and the Johnson exchanging the usual pleasantries, Eddie keeps his attention constantly moving. "Fire escape, personnel entrance/exit, skylight, double doors probably cargo dock, fire extinguisher, wait, what!?" Carefully hiding his surprise from affecting the muscles in his face, he quickly shoots another message to the team.
<<10k each for a heist, and that's the starting price? Make sure you pump this guy for details, that's not exactly chump change even for someone like us.>>
Eddie began thinking of all the things he could do with ten thousand nuyen in his account. "That's rent for several months, with enough left over to grease some serious palms about Echo Lake. I could even ..." Realizing he was day dreaming again, he forced his attention back to the meet, thankful to discovered it had been only seconds this time.
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A pleasure bunny as a messenger then this, too many trid chumbatta. Really hope she's a club employee and not yours, with those tailored's I could follower all Overton,
And now your dropping big figs for a team of upon comings, wer doer fur?
We just because your paranoid .......
Really need to hear what white coat has to say about this job cos my feather's itching now
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Ichante's heart gives a small leap when she hears the proposed sum. Starting the negotiations in the five figures! she thinks. Chaim's pheromones working double-time on this chummer. Her paranoia about what the job might entail wars with her inner sense of self-worth that knows that this is the Right and Proper sum for a professional of her caliber, oh and for her teammates too, she supposes.
Her mind races with what she would do with the funds. First I'll move to that larger apartment next to Lordstrung's, then I'll get that Ace of Coins dress that will put elven bubblegum slitches in bodysuits to shame... Actually, the money would go to pay off the Lakota mafia that she had recklessly borrowed money from to finance ... whatever. She kicks herself for her lack of financial planning, for borrowing so heedlessly. It would take three more jobs like this just to see the light of day, and this job wasn't even done yet.
I just hope Great White here isn't Mitsuhama, she thinks. Pale Horse has a bit of vindictive streak and will geek him on the spot. That would be such a bother.
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¥10,000?! Chaim keeps his face impassive, even when his vision is flooded with text messages. Still, he thinks nodding his head thoughtfully, a number like that needs to be commented on. Of course, there was always playing it the other way, "Oh yeah, chummer, I don't normally get out of bed for less than 12. And back when I was doing work for Damien, you know Damien don't you? . . . and all that drek.
"Ten thousand nuyen is not an insubstantial amount of money," Chaim says, settling on his strategy. "But in this line of work an 'acquisition' can mean anything from a smash-and-grab on an armored car convoy to a exfiltration on extraterritorial grounds. I understand your need for anonymity as I likewise understand any reticence you may have toward divulging any unnecessary details prior to my team and I accepting the job. And let me also add that I don't want any specific information on this job should we decide that we're not a good fit here, or that it is wise for us to decline. If such is the case you can rest assured that this meeting never happened.
"But, for us to move forward we do need some, let's say, generalities about the work. This thing to be acquired, is it living? Will it fit in a suitcase? Is its location on extraterritorial property? In transit? Are you prepared to offer any logistical information, such as its exact location or blueprints, or will we be operating in the dark on that front? Given your description, I will assume that a timeline must be adhered to, but are we talking about a number of hours, a number of days, or a number of weeks?"
Chaim gives one of his easy smiles as he waits for the Johnson to respond, and mentally types out a quick message to the team.
<<@Team [Brasa] Am I missing anything? Pin looks Ares to me too. Looks like we're going up against one of the big players. Let's make sure it's worth it.>>
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Yes, I suppose some generalizations would be prudent, he begins with a slightly condescending tone, the item in question is sensitive in nature, though not living. It will need to be transported in a specialized case slightly larger than an average suitcase. It is likely to be difficult to reach as it represents the cutting edge in research in its field. Asher, do you have anything further to add? he turns to the man in white.
At first he makes a face as if in pain, reaches into his pocket for an unmarked bottle of pills, takes two, and then moves towards the table.
We have an informant inside the compound that has identified a major breakthrough, indicating movement in the near future. We estimate no more than one week. If you choose to accept, I will make the necessary arrangements and provide more exact details regarding what we know of the location, although to keep things in general terms, we do know the item in question is within Seattle. No need to move into extraterritoriality issues currently.
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Eddie makes a mental note of the name Asher, as well as the shape and size of the pills the man in white ingests. Taking a closer look at the coat, he notes that it somewhat resembles a lab coat. "Sensitive, but not alive. Man, I hope this isn't a biotech job..."
<<If this thing we're supposed to retrieve is sensitive, it could just as easily be dangerous, too; hazard pay might be on the table. And if this thing is as state of the art as the J indicates, we might need to disappear until the owning corp stops looking for it; call it an exclusivity fee or something?>>
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is that sensitive means we dropit it fizz hiss bang or drop it tinkle millison usless pieces? MAtrix
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Ichante assenses the room. She sees a curious bubble around Great White. He seems to give her a small smile and a little shake of the head, as if to say "oh no you don't". Ichante smirks, her opinion of the man improving immediately. She likes playful; she likes hard-to-get.
<<@Team [Ichante] Might not be a bigger player. Maybe Ares is kicking a little dog but they need it done right. Spending fifty or sixty on us is an easy call if it's going to save fifty or sixty million.>>
Ichante doesn't really believe that it's going to be a milk run, and she'll be mad if Chaim doesn't press for hazard pay or exclusivity fees - she liked the sound of that - but it's in her nature to be contrary. Little dogs, for example, don't often have "compounds" or beat Ares to market with "major breakthroughs". Not impossible, but not likely.
How the hell does he keep that coat clean in Seattle? she wonders, her thoughts drifting back to Great White. Vinegar with baking soda? A toothbrush?
-
<<If this thing we're supposed to retrieve is sensitive, it could just as easily be dangerous, too; hazard pay might be on the table. And if this thing is as state of the art as the J indicates, we might need to disappear until the owning corp stops looking for it; call it an exclusivity fee or something?>>
<<@Team [Brasa] I like your thinking, chummer.>>
"As my colleague has pointed out," Chaim says, motioning toward Pale Horse, "the sensitive nature of the acquisition does give us pause, even if the details of that sensitivity need to be divulged after we have accepted the job and heard from Asher here. In our experience items of such sensitivity carry either risks to our persons, a necessary 'cooling off' period during which we are unable to accept any further work while target corporation or institution exhausts their investigative resources, or some combination of the two. As such, I think it only fair that some sort of hazard pay, or even an exclusivity fee be discussed.
"I think I speak for my team when I say that we are very interested in this job, and truthfully this is just the kind of work we are most suited toward completing quickly, effectively, and quietly. I think it only fair that the pay reflect both the quality of the team and the particular challenges of the work. If I add in twenty percent for hazard pay, and a flat 3,000 as our exclusivity fee -- as I must assume that both will be necessary, I think that ¥15,000 per runner is still a steal for you and your employer, as well as being completely palatable for myself and my team."
Chaim waits for a counter offer, should the Johnson feel so inclined.
-
wow did I really say that? I just wanted to know if we needed a padded bag or an armoured one. but anyhow go boy screw the corper for more cash
-
Mr Johnson and the team's negotiator go back and forth for a short time, it is obvious they are both seasoned artists of their craft, and while Chaim makes solid arguments for their services, the corp representative is difficult to budge.
I am willing to accommodate to some of your points. This will likely be dangerous, but that is the general definition of your profession. However, I can see the need for exclusivity, and an willing to add ten percent to the final price, as well as an option of up to fifteen percent of the original offer up front in the form of needed equipment. If that is acceptable, then Asher will handle the details, if that is not acceptable, then I feel our time has been for naught and we must conclude our business.
-
As the Johnson presents his final offer, Eddie catches Chaim's eye when he looks around to the other team members.
<< Nice going, omae; I thought for sure this guy wouldn't budge at all. You know I'm in. >>
Eddie gives the face an almost imperceptible nod before resuming his careful watch of the room, not noticing that his left foot is tapping along to a non-existent beat.
"Great, now that all the haggling is done with we can finally get to all the juicy details! Please don't be a biotech job, please don't be a biotech job, please don't be a biotech job" he thinks, simultaneously both nervous and excited. He quickly glances over at the man in the white coat, once more trying to take in every visible detail ranging from his clothes and physical appearance to his body language and general demeanor. "Asher, huh? Wonder if he's planning to sell us into slavery like his biblical name-sake. And wearing all white in this city, on days like today? Sheesh. Man must have a platinum contract with at least a couple of cleaning services."
Eddie shakes his head curtly, staring at the floor in disgust. "Aaah, who am I kidding; he's a fraggin' corper, probably got in-house cleaning services as part of his contract." His eyes narrow slightly at the thought of the privileged few lording it over the world in their fancy clothes, before he realizes he's staring the man straight in the eyes. With the barest inclination of his head, hoping the man will take it as a sign of respect among equals and not a challenge to his authority, he then takes a deep breath. "Drek, focus! Let's see what this cat has to say while playing the part of the dedicated and obedient 'runner."
-
Chaim looks around the table, sees the brief nod from Eddie, and the rest of the crew, and smiles. "Mr. Johnson, I believe we have reached an agreement. We will coordinate our necessary requirements through Asher, and I believe that our arrangement will benefit all of the parties present. Asher, I look forward to hearing what you have to say."
-
That's all I needed to hear. Mr Asher will coordinate the rest with you. And with that Mr Johnson got up from the table, paused briefly to past Asher on the shoulder, and made his way out of the warehouse the same way the runners had come in a few minutes before.
Once he was gone, the man in white pushed away from the boxes he'd been leaning on and walked to the large bay doors. With a loud clanging rustle, he freed the locking chains and cycled the door open. On the other side was a rain soaked view of Seattle's harbor, and the brightly lit metroplex across the water. The chilled air and whipping rain obscured much of the view and caused everyone to tug their jackets a little closer.
Gentlemen, and lady, this is your target... he pauses a moment and set up an AR display on the table, the projected screen highlighted a medium building across the harbor, Newhaven research hospital is home to some of the brightest minds outside the big ten. We have a man inside, a Dr Nelson, who has kept us informed on their activities. Recently he reported they had made a breakthrough on a new vaccine for HMHVV. We need to beat them to that vaccine, plain and simple. You all will infiltrate the hospital, make contact with Dr Nelson - he will provide you with the necessary equipment to safely transfer a sample of the vaccine, obtain a sample, destroy what is left, and copy their research files before deleting any files they have remaining. You will need matrix support as well, which is why we have already contracted Pixel. The Decker enters the room on cue, and introductions are made.
As stated before, you will have approximately one week to complete your mission. Before Newhaven can announce their research. Any questions?
-
When the Johnson suddenly got up to leave, Eddie had to force himself to keep his hands still and not go for the gun holstered under his shoulder. "Getting a gun drawn on them would probably upset even the calmest J's out there".
Watching Asher move towards the back of the warehouse didn't assuage his nervousness one bit. "I hate sitting in the open in rooms like this," he thinks as the man in white opened the bay doors. "Freakin' corpers could double cross us at any minute if they damn choose. Can't trust 'em further than you can throw 'em, the whole lot of 'em." With a frown he narrows his eyes and focuses on the metroplex, the cold wind gusting through the structure barely registering to him because of a tiny little implanted organ constantly suppressing sensory input. When Asher mentions the word Newhaven, Eddie feels his stomach drop. "Of course it had to be biomedical. Frak!"
He struggles trying to make out the details of the building across the water as painful memories wash over him, and suddenly realizes that he's missed a few sentences of Asher's pitch as an unknown individual walks into the room. With a mental command he replays the audio captured by the micro-camera on his ballcap, catching up on what Asher said before the newcomer walked in. "A deck jockey, eh? Nice to meet you, My name's Eddie, and infiltration and acquisition is my game."
Eddie stood and walked towards the open door, eyes fixed on the target while he quickly reviewed the op in his mind. His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour, but he wanted to wait for Chaim to take the lead again. "At least it's a cure, not a disease. I guess we just meet up with this Doctor, steal a few vials, destroy the rest? Although..." He paused for a moment before continuing his train of thought. "What if we introduced another chemical to the cure rendering it useless? Less chance of the sabotage being immediately known that way, and might even bring some humiliation to Newhaven if they announce a faulty product." He suddenly realizes he has spoken those last sentences out loud when Asher and the other team members turns to look at him. "Dangit! So much for that plan."
-
So Asher goes in for the theatrics, Chaim thinks wryly as the warehouse doors comes to it rest with a clang. The man in charcoal goes about retrieving a cigar from the synth leather pouch in his breast pocket while the man in white drops the bomb. HMHVV, no wonder this is paying forty-four K. And vaccine, huh? What nasty fragging thing are we really making out with. His mind cycles back to the brief conversation in the bar. Glad Ichante's in on this one. What was it she said, 'be in the know'?
<<@Team [Brasa] Ichante, we're going to need your expertise here. Chime in on the stuff I miss.>>
Asher finishes his speech, and a green-haired elf walks in and introduces herself as "Pixel."
Scratch that. Fifty-five K.
"Pleasure to meet you," Chaim says, transferring his cigar to his left hand and extending his right. "Brasa," She'll do. A little wild-looking for any real infiltration work, but then again sometimes the easiest place to hide is in the glare.
As stated before, you will have approximately one week to complete your mission. Before Newhaven can announce their research. Any questions?
"Mr. Asher, I want to know everything. Will we have access to Dr. Nelson prior to the run? Do we have details on security personnel and shift changes?" As he talks, Chaim pulls a tear-drop shaped cigar cutter from his overcoat, snips the cigar neatly at the shoulder, and begins toasting the foot with his lighter. "Maglock ratings, wards, para-security in general? Popular bars with the staff? Anything to do--"
"At least it's a cure, not a disease. I guess we just meet up with this Doctor, steal a few vials, destroy the rest? Although..." Eddie paused for a moment before continuing his train of thought. "What if we introduced another chemical to the cure rendering it useless? Less chance of the sabotage being immediately known that way, and might even bring some humiliation to Newhaven if they announce a faulty product."
"This is possible," Chaim says, pointing the lit cigar in Eddie's direction. "Of course, it's more time intensive to adulterate the samples than to destroy them. But it'll be doctoring the research data that's real wizzer. Oh, but imagine the possibilities. At first they'll run additional tests, and then more as they try to figure out what variable they've missed that account for such good results one day, and such poor ones the next. And then the blame will be shifted, and that's a big one because if they walk in and it looks like a bunch of shadowrunners were running around doing shadow work, well, you chalk that up the losses, and try to recreate your research even though you won't be first anymore.
"Ah, but when drek just goes bad, first somebody's head's gotta roll for it. And then days, maybe weeks later depending on what Pixel here can piece together, when it's pieced together for them, when the vaccine hits the trids, well by that point they may not even be second. I understand this is beyond the scope of what you're doing here, but if you think it's a good idea, why don't you float it to Mr. Johnson, and ask him if that isn't worth a measly twenty percent surcharge.
"I'm sorry, where were we?"
-
Ichante hears that it's going to be a biomedical facility and lets out an all-too-audible sigh. Wiz, that's going to set Eddie off, she thinks to herself. She rolls her head over to Eddie and sees his aura swirling like a storm on Puget Sound. I wonder if Great White will pick up on his reaction. Strike one for us.
"Doesn't sound too bad," she says with mock bravado. "What's the worse that could happen? That the vaccine actually causes the disease it is meant to protect against, so we're going into a laboratory of goblins, gnawers, and ghouls?"
She turns to Asher with a raised eyebrow. "So which strain of HMHVV is it meant to protect against? Personally, I'm going to guess Strain III. Most visible, biggest potential market."
Ichante considers the new arrival: an elf, with bright green hair and purple eyes. Her aura is unexpected. There's a datajack, sure, but also ... upgraded muscles? Ichante wonders what the story is behind those.
Inside, Ichante is at war with herself over what she should requisition. She's as susceptible to toys as anyone, but she also knows that she's technically the one paying for them. But the Johnson started out higher than we expected and Chaim bid him up more. So it's like playing with house money, right? Either way, I'm getting more than I expected, so I should just order what I want. So convenient a thing to be a reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or make a reason for every thing one has a mind to do.
The nuyen clouds her vision; her mind races with possibilities. A Yamaha Raiden! No, EX-Explosive ammunition! No, Cereprax! Arrgh! She mulls over her options while the others greet Pixel.
-
Pixel entered on cue from a side entry as the Johnson made his theatrical introduction. Truthfully she hated that kind of Drek but she had learned to just roll with it. Everyone had to do something for fun after all, maybe this guy enjoyed the trideo style intros.
Standing just apart from the others she greeted them with a jut of her chin. On appearance she stood of average height for an Elf, her hair was an audacious neon green hanging well down past her shoulder on one side while the other side of her head was shaved to scant millimeters with twin lines clipped into the short hair ending at an openly displayed data jack at her temple. Her gaze Sept across the, the glow of purplish light accenting her irises much the way a cats does when light catches them in the dark and she quirks a brow slightly to their brief examination of her. Over her right eye almost like an eyepiece is a Renraku Sensei with bits of data flitting across it though it's not entirely obvious if she's reading it or not. Her clothes are well tailored, almost like stage clothes of a popular Trid band, pleasing to look at low cut and covered in a well worn leather long coat.
She remains quiet as the others chatter about the job they face, she herself was already pissed about being in the rain because she knew she was going to get sick, she always got sick. The notion of walking into the den of a terrifying disease didn't help but Nuyen was Nuyen. Sighing she flicks off the Comm link feed catching the last portions of conversation having become bored with browsing the DJ s lackluster Playlist.
"I can get that information if we have to...shifts and layouts. Shouldn't be too hard, most are public access anyway. Not like your going to encrypt some poor guys work schedule right? Anything else they dont want to share I can dig for."
-
pale horse shifts her stance slightly, eddie going all uber-plan fantasy island made her uncomfortable, too close to corporate mumbo jumbo. she wonders it great white hunter wore the coat to test him. the job was testing her wasn't so bad corp against corp but being the heal of the bullies boot always put sand in her knickers.
focus, target environment route in route out. method of extraction method of destruction. she forced her mind to focus on the details pushing out the little nagging thoughts. besides she needed the money to replace her shot kit
" we should do a ground recognisance and nail down the form up and bug out points first" her blank eyes looking at each in turn, "its all just talk till then, soonest done soonest finished" she looked down at the map and smiled as the logic of the plan wrapped round her at blanketed out all other thought.
-
You can all decide your next steps yourselves, the commlog on the table has my contact information when you're ready to order any gear you may need. As for plans, guards, and Dr Nelson, I don't have the first two, but I imagine a good Decker could get them, or check archives as you need. Dr Nelson, however, is a different story. We communicate through drop locations as his only access to matrix communication is only locally accessible. Once connected directly to their systems, he'll be obviously labeled. His last communication indicated his office was on the 7th floor. Nothing more to add, so Asher leaves the runners to their plans and coordination.
-
Pixel takes a cursory glance at the map and folds her arms glancing at Pale Horse only momentarily slightly uncomfortable with anyone who smiled to themselves that way. She thinks for a moment and reaches to a pocket as if suddenly remembering something and then a moment later turns her attention back to the group still giving the map a cursory glance before watching mister cloak and dagger and his lab coat sidekick exit the room. Idly she wondered what they did when they were going off to do when they weren't playing the mysterious fixer, splurge on trids and chicken wings? who knew. In any case she had more pressing concerns, like the payday that lay before them. She had often been told that her aloof attitude could be offputting to most, but she never let that stop her before so now was no exception.
"Well I agree with nailing down our routes first, if you want someone to sniff around on the ground I have a drone or two in my shop that could monitor by air. Maps are fun and all but they don't account for current events...construction, detours, late night marching bands....so eye's on target before we do anything is a good play. While your all doing that I can go dig around in the Matrix see what I can find to make this easier unless you need something pressing, or plan on ordering a pizza."
-
Ichante watches Great White leave with annoyance, not having received an answer to her question of what strain of HMHVV the vaccine was for.
"I'll take the astral," Ichante says with unconcealed pride. "I'll see what magical security is like, at least on the exterior, while Redcloud" - her guardian spirit materializes next to her, with abs like a washboard and delts like woah - "watches my back. Eddie, keep an eye on me, wiz? Chaim, maybe sweet talk your way into some soykaf if we're going to be at this all night, neh?"
That Chaim. Gotta break his balls a bit lest they get too big for his own good.
Ichante takes a seat, hunkering down into her armor jacket to ward away the cold breeze flowing in through the large bay door. Luckily she had opted for the additional insulation when she purchased her armored jacket, leaving her relatively snug. Still, she wishes she had a scarf. Moonsilver makes a shawl out of spidersilk ballistic cloth. Can you buy that separately or does it only come with the dress?
Still, she can use the wind and rain. They are full of Wakan Tanka, the power of life that animates everything in this world. She will draw inspiration from them, just as she does the rocks and snow and soil. Just as the rain finds every crack and crevice, so will Ichante find every gap or oversight in the facility. She bites her lip with a shiver as she turns to her conjuration.
Redcloud, we are the scouting party for a raid. While you are with us, I ask that you look over my friends and me, and protect us from harm.
Ichante closes her eyes and slips off into the astral. She rises slowly, keeping a close eye on Chaim that he doesn't poke her while she's "away", then ascends through the roof of the warehouse. Suddenly, she's in the tempest. The mana is fresh and natural, the continual rains of the last week having scoured the sky of the worst of its pollutants. With Redcloud in tow, she rockets off toward the facility, eyeing the dancing spirits of the storm and wind. Arriving at the facility, she circles high above, feigning disinterest while covertly assessing the grounds.
-
Watching the man who called himself Asher as he made his way out of the warehouse, Eddie stalks over to the table where their employer has left behind a 'link. "Well, that partly explains the rate for this job; next to no intel on the site itself or the target, and a single on-site contact who uses drop boxes of all thing; good thing we've got a week for this gig."
When Pale Horse and the new-comer starts talking about routes, he scoffs loudly. "What good are routes if we don't know where we're going. If Dr. Nelson has an office on the 7th floor what we're after could literally be anywhere; we could recon the whole grounds for all the good it'll do us when we make a move days from now. Heck, at this point we don't even know if we'll have to go in by water, tunnel in from underground, or just have Brasa waltz up to the front entrance with that million nuyen smile of his." Eddie grins at the face before proceeding.
"What we do need to know before we start planning for routes is where exactly our target is, what kind of security this place has both exterior and interor, how many guards are on premises, and if they have on-call or on-duty mojo and/or matrix support. Biomedical research probably means clean rooms and redundant security systems, as well as possible test subjects we'll want to steer clear of" he says with a scowl, "and they might even have other... biological... security on-site. With the facility located just north of Rosemont the local badges could have a response time of anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, but a corp like Newhaven is likely going to have private contracts above and beyond what the wageslaves get, which means HTR if things go south."
The young man is in his element now, and his mind is racing with the potential security design implications of a facility this size. When Ichante states she'll do Astral recon, he nods to himself. "Don't go away for too long, Ichante; we need to relocate to a facility of our own choosing before we settle in for the long haul. Pixel, see what you can dig up in 15-30 minutes while Chaim and I see about finding us a better location." The implication that he doesn't trust their employer comes across strong in his tone.
He keeps an eye on Ichante until she slumps in her chair, seemingly sleeping. "Stay safe, chica" he thinks to himself as he ponders what it must be like to literally leave ones body behind.
-
Watching the man who called himself Asher as he made his way out of the warehouse, Eddie stalks over to the table where their employer has left behind a 'link. "Well, that partly explains the rate for this job; next to no intel on the site itself or the target, and a single on-site contact who uses drop boxes of all thing; good thing we've got a week for this gig."
"Indeed," Chaim says. "This one has frag-up written all over it, and that means good legwork all around. In fact, why are we meeting with Dr. Nelson anyway. This isn't his extraction, and we'd better be going in with a good idea of where the vaccine is located, what the security is, and how to get it out to begin with. He's going to be more of use before the infiltration, so I want everything on him you can get, Pixel.
"And while we're on it, what in the good ghost's drek made you think it was a smart play to make out like we don't need every last bit of intel our employers can provide us with? Maybe you like scanning the last six years of invoices to see if the maglocks have been updated since building plans hit the city archives, but I don't like wasting time for that sort of thing. Do this whole team a favor, and the next time the grownups are talking, you keep your deckhead mouth shut and your ears open."
Straightening his tie, and adjusting a cufflink with his free hand, Chaim watches Pixel's expression carefully. He's out of line, and he knows it. Still, the new decker is an unknown quantity, to say nothing of her quality, and he needs to see how she responds to pressure before there's a gun pointed in her face, or she's going up against a hotshot corp spider.
When Pale Horse and the new-comer starts talking about routes, he scoffs loudly. "What good are routes if we don't know where we're going. If Dr. Nelson has an office on the 7th floor what we're after could literally be anywhere; we could recon the whole grounds for all the good it'll do us when we make a move days from now. Heck, at this point we don't even know if we'll have to go in by water, tunnel in from underground, or just have Brasa waltz up to the front entrance with that million nuyen smile of his." Eddie grins at the face before proceeding.
"What we do need to know before we start planning for routes is where exactly our target is, what kind of security this place has both exterior and interor, how many guards are on premises, and if they have on-call or on-duty mojo and/or matrix support. Biomedical research probably means clean rooms and redundant security systems, as well as possible test subjects we'll want to steer clear of" he says with a scowl, "and they might even have other... biological... security on-site. With the facility located just north of Rosemont the local badges could have a response time of anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, but a corp like Newhaven is likely going to have private contracts above and beyond what the wageslaves get, which means HTR if things go south."
"Agreed. I don't need to see how good your pilot program is, Pixel. I need to see what you can do in the trix."
When talk turns to finding a more suitable location to continue at for their respective legwork tactics, Chaim starts digging through his link. "If we just want to make a night of it, I have a friend who may be able to provide us with a meeting room in a downtown bar. If we want to go ahead and spring for a clubhouse for the next ten days, I have a couple different avenues to tap, and I can float the cost until payday. Whaddya think, chummers?
-
that sounds good to me lets move before peoples tongs start wagging. is it a nice place or will I have to dress up?
-
If Pixel seemed affected by the tirade it certainly didn't show on her face, she regarded chaim with a sort of quirked eyebrow and let him say his piece. The overbearing types were nothing new to her and being both elven and female she was quite used to being singled out or being dismissed by another, partly it was the reason she never trusted anything that another person said. She was sure he had a a point but there was something about being spoon fed that Pixel had always hated. It reminded her too much of her parents and truthfully she preferred to do legwork herself. Shrugging at him she meets his gaze.
"If you feel like trusting that guys intel, if he had any, then be my guest. Personally it's too many variables, if he didn't present it right out then he either doesn't have it or is hiding something. The info you need I can get and get it before you plan on hitting this place and we won't have to wonder if anything was intentionally left out or omitted for some game the guy in the pretty coat and his friend are playing. So if your finished 'dad' I have work to do."
Following the exchange she then responds to the notion of workspace.
"Agreed. I don't need to see how good your pilot program is, Pixel. I need to see what you can do in the trix."
When talk turns to finding a more suitable location to continue at for their respective legwork tactics, Chaim starts digging through his link. "If we just want to make a night of it, I have a friend who may be able to provide us with a meeting room in a downtown bar. If we want to go ahead and spring for a clubhouse for the next ten days, I have a couple different avenues to tap, and I can float the cost until payday. Whaddya think, chummers?
"It doesn't matter to me either way. I can jack in from a soycafe if I wanted to and establish a link to your comm's, I'm content to go to my usual site but if you want me to stay with you guys wherever your going then I'll do that....and nooo...."
She looks pointedly at Chaim the motion sending her green hair cascading about one shoulder.
"...before you say it I wan't planning on actually going to a Soycafe. Any place I can jack in will do...I'd prefer my shop but...."
She simply shrugs without finishing the sentence.
-
Ichante's astral form returns to her body. Merging the two, she opens her eyes and reflexively starts combing her hair with her fingers, as if it might have gotten mussed flying through the astral. It's a ridiculous habit but one she can't break. She licks the tip of her fingers and and tries to tamp down an unruly portion of her bangs that seems prone to frizz regardless of the rainstorms of the last week.
She stands and accepts a soykaf from Chaim, which is of questionable origin given the neighborhood. She trusts her dwarven tolerance for pathogens by taking a sip and finding it exactly as dreadful as she hoped. She scoops up a packet of hydrogenated vegetable-based non-dairy creamer and adds it to the soykaf to give it a sickly greyish hue somewhat akin to ghoul skin.
"I'm back," she announces unnecessarily, but it's a habit from being 50-100cm shorter than the rest of the world. "Scoped out the exterior; didn't take a chance poking my head inside. Not at this hour at least. Nothing too remarkable about the exterior. Building is ten stories, surrounded by lightly wooded hills. It's the tallest building around. The trees appear to be landscaped, so maybe the hospital owns some of the surrounding grounds too instead of just the building. Perhaps there are additional security measures in the woods but I didn't see them from the astral.
"There is a guard booth at the entrance to the parking lot with a fattie just waiting to retire. There are rent-a-cops patrolling the grounds. Not Awakened, little cyber, no paracritters. No watchers or spirits that I could see. It gives off the vibe of a regular hospital - hope, despair, life, death, all that - so they might have to play it soft on the visible security, at least externally, so that they don't alarm the guests."
She gives a look to Eddie. "From the outside it did not appear to be a den of torture and inhuman experiments, but maybe we'll get lucky inside, neh?"
She sips the soykaf again before her eyes fall on Asher's commlink. "Before we submit our equipment requests we should figure out next steps. It looks like a public facility so it's not impossible that we could pose as potential guests, or agents of a potential client, or donor, or so on. I doubt any of us have the chops to pass as a potential doctor or researcher so that might be out.
"If Chaim poses as a prospect, one or two of us could tag along as a security, or assistants, or general entourage. Enrique and I" she uses the name from Chaim's fake SIN - "have UCAS SINs that complement each other. Maybe Enrique gets out the blush and toner, disguises us up a bit, and walks us straight in the front door to get an inside-out view. If we go that route, I'm going to need something presentable to wear though."
She mentally tabs through the options. Couldn't do Mortimer of London or Zoé on that budget, but Vashon Island's Synergist Business Line has some nice designs out for the autumn season. Still custom-made. I wonder how long they would take to deliver? We're on the clock.
-
"Let's go for something more permanent; I'm guessing the kind of leg work we'll need on this won't be done in a night, so we might as well settle in for the long haul. Somewhere nearby Newhaven, preferably, overlooking the site if at all possible."
Eddie mentally reviewed the intel Ichante had provided, nodding as she laid out a possible avenue of approach.
"Sounds good to me; I can pose as a bodyguard if necessary."
-
"If you feel like trusting that guys intel, if he had any, then be my guest. Personally it's too many variables, if he didn't present it right out then he either doesn't have it or is hiding something. The info you need I can get and get it before you plan on hitting this place and we won't have to wonder if anything was intentionally left out or omitted for some game the guy in the pretty coat and his friend are playing. So if your finished 'dad' I have work to do."
Parental issues, eh? Chaim mentally files that one away for future use. Among shadowrunners it was rare to find one who had what you'd call a good family life, but Pixel has SINner written all over her, probably raised in the enclaves, good schools and all that drek. Not that he cares. Not that he's in a position to care, but it's good to know regardless.
"Far be it from me to hold you up, PIxel. Let's see what you got," Chaim says before turning to Eddie and Pale Horse. "I'm gonna do the best to keep Ichante off my back, and go get that soykaf. Figure I better make it six?"
With that, Chaim makes his way out of the warehouse, and back into the night's rain. He makes his way a block down to the closest Stuffer Shack, finishes off a carafe of Seattle's Finest™, and has to wait for the next one to "brew," while he flirts with the cashier. He barely makes it back to the warehouse before Ichante comes lulling out of her trip, and starts doing that weird thing with her hair again.
She gives the specifics in that clipped, all-business tone of hers, and when talk comes to their acquisitions, Chaim agrees with the assessment.
"Yeah, I'd like to see what Pixel comes up with before we submit anything," he says. "There are a lot of avenue we could go with, from maintenance crew to potential donors, to staff. I like that security doesn't seem to heavy on the outside, but things could look very different in the research wing."
He smiles when Ichante talks about the two of them going is as some kind of rich corpers. She'll do just about anything to justify some new threads.
-
"ok chummbatas, I'll go earn my keep, I'll recce the perimeter and scope out some observation posts. Is there anything else on the list you want me to check?"
she turned to chain. "this will be my rout in and this" she used a stirred from the soycafe "is my rout out, if I call to tell you help drive towards me"
"please"
"if I call and tell you that i have a rout in planned out; I'm lying and I'm burned"
"oh and are we looking for cafés or apartment to do this overwatch?
-
Eddie sighed when Pale Horse started talking. This one is more hyper than even I am...
Hang on, let's not get too excited here. Once we get relocated we can discuss physical recon in more detail, but Ichante already got us the basics. When we need more we've got drones, so there's no need to expose ourselves and potentially alert the target just yet.
-
As the team begins making a rudimentary plan, they are hesitant to divulge too much in the warehouse for fear of listening devices. They decide to relocate, and Chaim sends a message to his fixer.
Hey, chum, yeah I've got a spot not far from the coordinates you sent. A bit north to be exact. A bit of a hole, but it'll put you about 5 minutes out from the high rises. Mostly overlooked by the corps nearby. Just remember me when this is done with, and leave some o the take on the dresser.
Safe house acquired, and plotted, the group quietly make their individual exits back through the club, where the escort woman nods her approval before locking the outside door once again. Outside, the rain has unbelievably increased to the fist-on-metal pounding of obese drops. What few patrons remain on the streets appear to be so far gone on their drugs of choice they don't even realize they're getting wet.
The crew arrives at the location provided by the fixer. It is a small loft apartment located above an abandoned garage. A loose hanging door opens into the garage, but the loft is protected by a hefty looking mag lock with a pin pad and thumb reader. It opens quietly on smooth hinges with the code provided by the fixer, and appears to accept everyone's thumb prints. The second fact leaves the runners wondering how the fixer got that information, or if the lock doesn't actually need a specific thumb at all. Inside, partitions are set up, dividing a kitchen and dining area from the sleeping cots. Burn marks on the carpet and a lingering odor of gunpowder hint at previous teams' usage. The walls are stained the yellow brown of wear, but nothing appears truly dirty.
Welcome to your new home for at least the next week.
-
Safe houses I have known and loved... at least There are no sign asking us to label our food
-
Eddie pulls up the collar on his armored trench coat as he makes his way to his all-terrain vehicle. "At least this torrential downpour takes the bite out of the acidity, the city almost smells clean for once" he muses as he gets behind the wheel and fires up the powerful engine. "No conditions for anything fancy today; slow and steady wins the race".
He navigates the route to the safehouse Chaim has managed to acquire on short notice while wondering what it must be like to have such an extensive network of people to rely on. "Must be nice" he sighs wistfully, considering his own calling card consists of the people on the team and Striker. "No man is an island, I think the saying goes. Well, in this weather, we all damned better well be or we'll go under just like Atlantis..." After a few particularly treacherous turns where the extended suspension travel of his ATV prevents him from going under a feet or more of bubbling water, as well as a slight hydroplaning incident that could have been a lot worse, he finally pulls up to the address on the west side of Lake Sammamish.
Parking as close to the abandoned garage as possible to avoid the flooding streets, he then grabs a dufflebag from the compartment of his truck and walks inside. Eddie quickly surveys the interior to make sure there are no hidden surprises from previous occupants, then moves to check all the windows to look for avenues of attack and escape. He's methodical in his approach, but the place is small enough that it doesn't take more than a few minutes. With a quick message to the team he flops down in a chair in the dining area.
<Not bad, Brasa. Not bad at all. This'll do nicely.>
-
Leaving the warehouse, Ichante shudders as the rain hammers her head and slides down her hair to deposit itself at the base of her neck. She wishes there were a team troll that she could use for rain protection for moments like these.
She slides into Eddie's Thundercloud Morgan, grateful for the increased seating capacity. These four-wheel all-terrain vehicles were popular for tearing around the prairies back home in the Sioux Nation. She hadn't expected to find many in Seattle, but the Seattle rain coupled with the potholes in the Barrens made the Morgan a reasonable choice. She hopes that her request to Redcloud to "protect us from harm" also extends to not driving off the road and drowning in an overflowing ditch. She wasn't really worried - Eddie had better reflexes than most, thanks to some bioware - but this rain could undo the best of drivers.
The heavy rain pounds on the roof of the Thundercloud and Ichante notes the parallel. At least it isn't snow, she keeps telling herself. Seattle weather, however unpredictable, was nowhere near as extreme as Cheyenne or Butte, which is half the reason she had moved here in the first place. The other half involved some rather persistent Lakota mafia types who were always asking about this ¥10,000 or that ¥10,000. They were very tiresome.
Ichante cradles her soykaf for warmth on the drive, looking out at the depressed thermograhpic landscape that was practically drowning under the rain. By the time they're at the safehouse, she's relieved just to have survived the commute. The safehouse will be more about staying safe from the weather rather than the locals.
Ichante points out the maglock reader to Chaim. "Is that normal?" she asks, knowing he knows a bit about hardware. "Does Suzette have our biometrics on file or that thing just a fancy doorknob?"
Inside, after taking the tour and quickly claiming the least-stained cot as her own, she turns to Chaim, looking for the plan. "So, you want to sweet talk your way in or what? Pale Horse and I can pose as your Awakened Amerind female bodyguards. Because 'Enrique' has a 'type', you know? You gander."
-
she couldn't ignore the joke not matter what Yellow bear said;-she tried to hide it but she knew her face had darkened better walk it off and stuff the demon backin the box, work bury it in the work. turning suddenly she chimed inseriously guys, do you want me to scope out the immediate or you guys ok for me to dry off? personally I'd be less jumpy if I knew roughly what the area looked like out there; or we working on lock down? pale horse tried to get some feeling in to her voice just like Yellow Bear explained she couldn't ignore the joke not matter what Yellow bear said;-
-
Ichante points out the maglock reader to Chaim. "Is that normal?" she asks, knowing he knows a bit about hardware. "Does Suzette have our biometrics on file or that thing just a fancy doorknob?"
"If Suzette has our biometrics, that is most . . . alarming," Chaim says, giving the door a push. Inside, Chaim can make out the wiff of gunpowder over the damp smell of his fellow runners, and some sort of mildew. Growing up, a place like this would be a palace, in his early twenties a hovel, and in his present state of affairs, it's just about like home. Ah, the winds of fortune, and all that.
He helps Eddie haul in some gear from the Morgan and sets about the task of helping the young infiltration specialist check for bugs. "Behind the food processor's always a good spot for a bug," he says. "There's usually a natural electrical interference there, and sometimes trace amounts of radiation, so a low level sensor can get lost pretty easy."
"So, you want to sweet talk your way in or what? Pale Horse and I can pose as your Awakened Amerind female bodyguards. Because 'Enrique' has a 'type', you know? You gander."
Before Chaim can answer, Pale Horse indignantly pipes up.
seriously guys, do you want me to scope out the immediate or you guys ok for me to dry off? personally I'd be less jumpy if I knew roughly what the area looked like out there; or we working on lock down?
"Well, what are we trying to find, Pale Horse?" Chaim asks, looking over the plans that Pixel sends over. "Looks to me like we've got two potential floors where the target may be held. If there was a research floor in the basement, I'd think that was our spot, but I don't know what to make of the choice between five and eight. Our contact is on the seventh floor, so eight is closer, but do we even know for sure if he's involved in the target? Maybe Pixel can cross-reference our contact, the good Doctor Nelson, with either of those floors. In fact, an employee file would be just wizzer.
"Ichante, you know I can certainly play the role of gander. And I do love some waggly fingers, mi corazon. If everyone's itching to put meat eyes in the place that seems like a good enough plan as any. Additionally, I'd like to find us an 'in' for the good as soon as possible. Pixel, if you can find records for contract work that'd be useful. Changing out air filters, plumbing, etc. could all work. We might want to save some social engineering for the staff. Maybe we pick out a doctor, or director of operations who will be all too keen on giving us a private tour. Maybe we can find a bar where these chummers like to hang and lift a keycard or two. I'm just thinking out loud here. What do you think, Eddie? This isn't your first rodeo."
Chaim sets the food processor to work on some noodles, and takes up residence on one of the well-worn chairs, flips the trid on absently, and starts switching between some old combat biking reruns and the nightly news.
-
Eddie smiles viciously as Chaim starts talking about bars.
"You know me, bossman, they'd never even notice. Of course, cards won't do us much good without a way to copy them, as they'll realize they've lost them sooner rather than later. Last I heard that kind of equipment is kind of expensive, and requires skills neither of us have. Unless Pixel here has the ways and means, I think we'd be better of identifying possible candidates for later, which I can certainly get started on."
Without prompting, he starts flipping through the employee record AROs, looking for onsite personnel that match the team members and making some notes along the way, then looks outside once again before remembering what the adept had said just a few minutes ago.
"You want to go out there in this just to get eyes on the target? Your call, omae, but if you get pneumonia while you're out there it's coming out of your own cut. Chip truth."
He continues looking for physical matches among the staff while absentmindedly cracking his knuckles. The combination of reinforced bones and highly elastic joints make for rather loud sounds, particularly in the enclosed space of the safehouse, and he doesn't even notice some of the other team members annoyed stares, caught up as he is in his new pet project.
"As long as I get to stay dry for another few hours it's all good." He smiles to himself as he stumbles across a janitorial member who looks like a dead match for Ichante. "Hah, like she would dress down in coveralls and carry a plunger for a shiny gig like this..." He nonetheless marks the file "Potential" and keeps going, looking for some bigwig that Chaim can impersonate.
"Hey, Brasa, how's your knowledge of... uh... oto-rhino-laryn-gology... these days?" he chuckles despite having to sound out each part of the medical term for ear, nose, and throat medicine. He knows full well that the face is a man of many talents, but he's definitely not a medical doctor. "Maybe we need to get you watching some medical soaps instead of that combat biker garbage, even though I'm pretty sure you could pose as a urologist or a gynocologist any day of the week, amirite!?" The jest is clear, mere banter between professionals, if not exactly close friends.
-
pale horse dropped the attempt at empathy and went back to her usual distant monotone . "Chaims' plan sounds good we really could do with eyes on also we could see if there are any greasy spoons or Kawphee carts the staff use to and from shift:- let see if loose lips will sink the ship? but pleeease i'd rather not play the hooker; acting isn't my strong point.
we have not bugout plan if this place gets blown that's why
just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to nail me
suddenly a thought struck her does that guard roster give duty stations?!
she picked up her caf and walked over to the table with the plans
hide it in the job just focus, routines and pay grades
-
Pixel entered the safehouse along with the others, she was slightly more at ease with everyone here, not that she trusted anyone but Jacking in with a crowd around who most definitely don't want to get shot at gave her a certain sense of reassurance and helped quell that paranoia she always felt ever since the Humanis had left her for dead after a deadly ambush. Brushing the thought aside she glided quietly to a corner deep in thought her usually smart mouth quiet as she focused on the task at hand. Hatter had once told her Decking was alot like music or art and so Pixel had developed a sort of pre routine before jacking in. Sitting cross legged she popped in an ear bud drowning out the banter going on nearby to the keening wail of some newly popular screamer band, taking a deep breath she let it out washing away the irritation of the cold and damp, of being outside and the exchange of the Chummer who reminded her of someone she had wanted to forget. With a graceful flick of her hair she exposed her data jack near her temple and slid her Renraku Tsurugi into her lap and connected first her comm which immediately lit up with a million points of code glittering across it's surface.
Fingers tapping along the glass surface of her deck she brought up her on board program list and selected a few things she would need, a plan already formulating in her mind on digging for the information they could use to pull this off...and hopefully not contract some horrible disease in the process. She certainly had a lot of data to browse through, finding that could be time consuming but Alice could handle that and make it look like a completely innocent search by some random contractor so common data shouldn't be difficult to come by. Though she could certainly rearrange a few things and will likely need to snoop about some personnel or managers files and that was something she would do herself.
Selecting her trusty agent program a stealth program and a file editor she tapped a few more buttons letting a pair of her fingers linger on the screen for the biometric screen lock to detect her prints and engage the deck, then while still bobbing her head to the rampant music assaulting her eardrums she jacked in.
The safehouse instantly fell away as the corpeal world was replaced by a glittering city of data and whirring motes of light moving to and fro. Above the sky changed to that of large data chunks looming like clouds, ever watchful and threatening to bring down wrath upon the unwitting decker who got careless with themselves. Glancing down at her shimming form which scintillated with tiny motes of light racing along her curves Pixel took a moment to admire her newly tweaked Avatar. Tracing along the shining image of a pixelated musical note topped by a top hat on her forearm she mimicked a sigh and with a gesture called forth her Agent program Alice.
"Alice...I have a task for you. The building in the file marked on my deck, I want you to go to the public archive and download available building plans for everything within fifteen blocks of that building, then you are to download water and sewer plans for that area as well. Once you are done I want you to reference all contracted work carried out in the designated area and make note of quotes and companies who carried out that work for the last year. If you are queried at all you are simply a search program for a local restaurant chain expanding into the area. Respond with nothing more than that and do not search outside public record. When your done bring the data back to my deck and mark all the data relevant to the target building only and dump the rest. Now go on...."
Watching the agent program melt away into the grid to carry out it's task Pixel floated across the data scape resisting the urge to stop by some of her favorite hangouts whose glow shone enticingly from even this part of the grid she was on. It seemed like the data bite was hopping tonight. Oh well. Pushing her digital self further she propelled across the datascape flitting as gently as a butterfly on the evening air until she saw what she was looking for, a floating island all by it's lonseome, the private grid of the building they were looking to infiltrate. Hopping onto their grid wouldn't be a problem but she didn't intend to stay there overly long. Touching a virtual hand to her ear he voice sounded on the teams comlink only slightly digitized with a faint musical chime to it.
"I'm looking at the grid for our building, Alice is off collecting some general data we can use....but once I go in there I'll be running silent so if you have any last requests besides the obvious stuff you want to look for now is the time to ask me."
-
"Well looky here," Chaim says, examining the files on the security team that Pixel sends over, and muting the combat biking. "Looks like most of us have a match. At least after I break out the rouge anyway. Let's take this in steps.
First, Pixel, see if you can get me an invitation to the inside of the hospital, plus two guests. I know Ichante's keen on playing the role of lady of the night--"
"I'd rather not," Pale Horse breaks in.
"We could be dignitaries, inspectors, consultants," Ichante adds.
"Yeah, sure," Chaim says, still all big-picture in his head. "So let's get our initial in just to put eyes on the place. Ichante can scout the astral, Pale Horse and I can handle scoping out physical and electronic security, and we can see what there is to see."
He pauses for a moment, and his eyes flit to a particularly nasty crash, no less gory while muted. "Actually, I'll probably have my hands full just playing the doting patron, or demanding inspector, whatever. Eddie, what do you think? You need to come along on this?
"Anyway, that's step one. After that we'll need personnel files on the security guards we wish to impersonate, as well as Dr. Nelson so we can start planning for the insertion proper. I can doll us all up, Eddie can figure out how we're going to get some weapons in, and the night of, we'll get those pesky vid feeds looped, and grab up the goodies. Hoping, of course, that Ichante isn't right about us wading into a den of ghouls who are far from 'cured.'"
-
Watching the decker slip the jack into her skull made Eddie's stomach churn. "Trodes are bad enough, I can't imagine why anyone would voluntarily choose to plug their consciousness into a machine." He shuddered and turned away from the limp form in front of him, taking in the sharp, somewhat acrid smell of spent propellant mixing with the heavy, damp scent of fresh rain.
Eddie, what do you think? You need to come along on this?
"Huh?"
Realizing that Chaim had been talking to everyone, Eddie quickly recovered by replaying the conversation in his head. In the briefest of instants he paused while looking at Chaim, then responded.
"Go with you. In there? Pass. I'll take the outside; Pale Horse is the more intimidating figure anyway and can play your bodyguard or whatever, while I take a look at the outside." He looked straight at Pale Horse and spoke in an even, factual manner. "Even without my chameleon suit I'm arguable a better infiltrator, and the suit gives me an edge against thermal and sonic sensors. If we're going out at night or in this," he said jerking a thumb at the weather outside, "we'll need every advantage we can get." Eddie wasn't just boasting; the ware "they" had stuffed him full of had dramatically enhanced his body in many ways, some of which gave him an almost supernatural ability to hide.
"Barring mojo, ain't a sensor in the world can pick me up when I put my mind to stay hidden" he thought when the messages from Pixel started coming in. He sorted through the information while the conversation went on at the table.
"I'm looking at the grid for our building, Alice is off collecting some general data we can use....but once I go in there I'll be running silent so if you have any last requests besides the obvious stuff you want to look for now is the time to ask me."
Eddie's augmented mind easily handled the two information flows at once, and he composed a message through his trodes while responding to Chaim in the flesh.
<Just one thing; check what kind of roof access we're looking at; if there's a way in I can smuggle gear in that way and meet you on the top floor.>
"Plan sounds good, Brasa. I'm hoping this deluge will let off in time for us to be able to do recon without buying wetsuits. Last I checked diving gear is expensive..." The last was said with a humorous tone, but he knew exactly how much gear like that cost. "That job sucked balls; if I never have to infiltrate through a sewer again, especially one that's water access only, it'll be too soon."
-
Listening to the bodiless voices that filter through the Matrix to her from her connected commlink Pixel waits and listens with a slight hint of impatience holding out her digital hand and generating one of her Marks where she casually spins it in place before dismissing it with a wave once the last of the requests are in.
"A way in huh. Hope you have something nice to wear."
Shortly after Pixel closes her digital eyes and for a second her image on the grid flares brightly before she melts into data scape disappearing from the grid she is on and appearing on the grid for their target building. The grid for this place was sterile and boring as one might expect, worker programs looking much like your average office wage slave went to and fro going about their business without so much as glancing her way. While Pixel enjoyed her flamboyant appearance she wasnt so ignorant as not to realize that hete that would ne detrimental. With the slightest of mental effort she interfaced with her deck and adjusyed her avatar to resemble one of the worker programs, drab dull and colorless it rankled her but was nessecary.
Moving among the autonomous programs she looked about for her first of three targets. A giant glowing envelope slowly turned over a cluster of glowing boxes nearby and Pixel made her way there. Laying her hand upon the top most box she reached into the mail server taking the time to look for the Human Resources Manager. After identifying the address she took a look through other mail addresses and forwarded memos until she found a common address from something akin to a board or head office then created an interoffice memo from that addrrss directing the facilities Investment Director to recieve a delegation from an important investment firm tomorrow and give them a tour, its heavilky suggested in such memo to make sure they leave impressed.
Leaving the interoffice node she makes her way to a security port and places her hand upon it. Interfacing with the general inquiries option she brings up the data on access cards and simulates a random security check on where the security cards are being used instructing the matrix to flag illegal access of any cards. She selects some random guards and includes their Doctor spanning back a week....that way her efforts will look like a simple non invasive secruity check but shes betting wherever the doc is using his card the most is where their lab will be. Storing any data she can get back into her deck she then moves on to her final target. Operations management.
Moving again among the worker programs she puts her digital hands inside the Operations node. She is queried almost immediatley and responds with a schedule check search. Given the near public access a shift schedule is she makes note of the number of people attributed to security as well as how many are working on the lab floor, or at least what looks to be a lab floor. Slithering her will a little deeper into the system she creates an approved bereavement request for one of the guards and an approved time off request for another attatching the address of the human resources department she found as confirmation of approval. She initiates a schedule change to cover the missing two putting them on the target floor the night of their proposed operation as any other team members they need who match the profiles she had selected who had originally been off for that night. While moving those who had been assigned to that floor to different assignments from each other to lessen the liklihood of anyone coming to work and comparing notes. With that covered she then sends an unedited version of the original schedule to those members they were impersonating and who had the night of the op off with an attatched note citing schedule confirmation so that to those she had picked it would still seem to them that they had that night off.
Pleased with her schedule juggling she makes a copy of the selected guards, plus any who might have a tag on their file for awakened or magic adepts of any sort as well as the Doctors before turning to the camera system. She simply accesses the video feeds of random cameras along every floor at the access points and security posts saving a virtual snapshot of each to her deck as well as external cameras to the roof and other entry points to the building. While doing so she disguises her efforts as a standard functionality test of equipment. Though she definately makes note of where cameras aren't....especially if it's an entire floor.
Stepping away from the node she turns to make her way out but then stops at a financial cluster. Ignoring the droning personae of mindless programs working beside her she makes a budget inquiry for the last fiscal year, specifically on company spending. That should at least give them some sort of idea what kind of budget they have dropped on building improvements and security measures they might have on hand. If they are paying out to some Mage or Shaman for special protections of sorts they would likely see it reflected there if not in the files or screen captures.
Once she has completed her long night of data sleuthing she makes her way off the grid to meet with Alice who should by now be waiting for her at her exit point.
-
ok. mr chaime? what would be the dress code of this little opp? I only ask because I don't have any formal business attire. everything I have is "utilitarian" (spirits above that sounded wrong coming out of her mouth)
Bear was right about his being a step up, she was going to have to start thinking much harder about back grounds from her on in no grounds to hide in here. and if any one laughs at her in a business get up they will meet their ancestors much quicker than planned
-
Chaim receives the next packet of info from Pixel, and gives out a low whistle. Yeah, this is the kind of thing they don't tell you during the meet. He then turns to infiltration expert.
"Sorry to say it, Eddie, but you may need to dig those flippers out of storage. You getting a load of this?"
"I'm thinking they've got a basement down there after all," Eddie says.
"So, what do you guys think? I say we move forward with the delegation angle tomorrow morning, and plan to check out the grounds after dark. Any other ideas?"
ok. mr chaime? what would be the dress code of this little opp? I only ask because I don't have any formal business attire. everything I have is "utilitarian"
"Ichante, you got anything Pale Horse can borrow?" Chaim asks, clearly all-too-pleased with his joke. "It won't be armored, but let's see about getting you some off-the-rack niceties to wear, on Papa Brasa's dime."
<<@Pale Horse [Brasa] It's 'Brasa' in front of company, dear. We don't know if Pixel's got her ears out. If I was going hotsim around strangers I know I would.>>
-
pale horse blinked, her face went into neutral as she looked at ichante, "eh? what? don't get it?" she blinked twice and tried as smile and defaulted to the shrug I;m sorry but i seem to miss the....errrr...hmmmm...(snaps fingers in triumph) context"
as Ichante expanded on what she meant, her eyes strayed to the screen Chaim had out "can I see the floor plans?...Please"
-
Eddie just stared at Chaim with a dead-pan look on his face.
"I had to burn almost all of my gear last time, omae; ain't no cleaner known to man can get that smell out, and that's chip truth." Sighing loudly, he continued. "But if that's what it takes... Do we have anything that can recon the tunnels remotely, or did I just the draw short straw on this one?"
Clearly not overly pleased at the prospect of wading through sewage, he nonetheless brings up an ARO and starts looking for appropriate gear.
-
Begrudgingly, Eddie finds himself once again outfitting for a venture into the depths. The rain has driven most people indoors, and as his truck splashes through the potholes, few heads lift at the sound of the passing engine roar. Supplies in hand, the adept traverses the city blocks nearest to Newhaven. It doesn't take long to find a secluded alley and the manhole cover just as Pixel mapped out. Maybe she'll be able to work her way into the circle of trust the runners share already. Time will tell.
Eddie makes quick work of the cover and slides quickly into the putrid muck before anyone notices what's going on. The darkness of the clouded skies feels ever more oppressive underground, and the thin break of his flashlight does little to push back the black wall. Water ruins quickly through the pipes, lapping up and over his boots and ankles, a myriad of reflecting eyes scatter ahead of the tight break of his light.
Navigating takes significantly longer than he would have liked, the jumble of mismatched and overused passageways make it difficult to find the correct path. Over time, he realizes the correct path, and makes his way to a series of small locked doors. Each is identical in size and shape, approximately 2 feet on each side, large enough to squeeze through, but not comfortably for the average person. Through the layers of grime and plaqued on debris, a key hole is visible. He can see what appears to be rubbing marks along the edges like something was pushed through the hole that didn't quite fit, and from beyond he can barely discern a pair of voices. One deeper, muffled by the walls and running water, the other more clear, closer. Yeah, went through yesterday. This popper left a mess in here. Gonna be a few days before this gets cleaned up and the next one comes in. Better put in for OT. Laughter echoes sickeningly and fades away. As he looks around the hole once more, the outline of a barely fleshed hand can be seen caught on the tunnel wall. As he reaches for the claw like fingers, the skin sloughs off and drifts away in the current, leaving crumbling bone and connective tissue behind.
It's time to get back to the team. The tunnels take him back the same way, and he returns to the safe house to clean up and discuss his findings.
-
The return to the sewer entrance had taken considerably shorter than had finding his way from the entrance to the target site, and Eddie let his mind wander for a moment while he retrieved the survival kit he'd stashed away after making his entrance.
"45 minutes, give or take. At least it wasn't a wasted trip; the presence of the subterranean entrances proves there's more to Newhaven than meets the eye." He removed the canister of C-Squared and liberally applied the cleaning agent to his chameleon suit and shock gloves, as well as the rest of his gear that had been exposed to the elements. "The trail should be easy enough to follow; let's hope no one comes looking for electronics any time soon." Stripping out of the chameleon suit, he made a mental note to re-apply more cleaner at the safe house and to hang it out to dry. At least the coveralls didn't smell too bad, unlike himself. "Man, I need a shower. And some sleep."
Content that the long night would almost be over, he climbed the ladder to the surface easily, pausing only to use the endoscope in order to ensure there weren't too many people around, before making his way into the morning dawn. He quickly stashed his gear in the smuggling compartment of the ATV and jumped into the drivers seat. The engine roared to life and Eddie smiled at the familiar sound. "Nothing like the sound of a naturally aspirated engine purring on all cylinders to brighten up your day."
The drive to the safehouse was uneventful, and after parking outside the garage he grabbed his gear and headed inside. Finding a spot to hang his suit from proved to be easy enough, and placed a micro-camera above it before giving it a once-over with industrial strength cleaning fluid. He then took the stairs up to the safehouse itself, and was pleasantly surprised to find the rest of the team assembled around what looked like breakfast.
"Hoi, chummers!" he exclaimed cheerfully, and grabbed himself a cup of soycaf before sitting down on one of the plastic chairs in the room. By the looks on everyone's faces, the smell was worse than he thought. "Yeah yeah, I smell like sewage. I'll grab a shower in a bit. That can wait, though, 'cause Pixel's intel paid off and I hit paydirt; there's definitely some sort of structure underneath the Newhaven property, though I can confirm that it's a mess of tunnels, too. I laid a trail of RFID tags and set them to run silently, so we can enter or exit underground in roughly an hour, if necessary."
He paused for dramatic effect, taking a long swig of the hot soycaf. "Here's the kicker; there are several doors that lead into the structure, all with locking mechanisms, looking for all intents and purposes as if they're just part of the wall. Not conventional doors, mind, more like... I dunno... pens, is the feeling I get, 2 by 2 . Like the ones at the racetrack keeping the dogs in?" Another drink drained the cup, and he set it down on the table. "And there were definitely people inside. I barely caught the tail end of a conversation, and they talked about someone "going through yesterday", and something about a "popper" leaving "a mess in here". Oh, and they were talking about OT because they'd need to clean up; "a few days before this gets cleaned up and the next one comes in" were his exact words."
He swallowed before continuing, still a little uncomfortable at the thought of what had happened next. "And I found a hand; seemed human enough, but it had what looked like claws instead of fingers. It was stuck in the wall, near enough, and almost completely decomposed; it literally decomposed when I touched it." With a thought he created an ARO containing all of the information he'd collected, and gave out MARKs for everyone in the room to it. "Anyway, it's all in there. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a shower..."
-
Pixel melted away from the grid of the hospital her concious experiencing a moment of detatchment before a faint shimmer on the public grid saw her business like avatar push upward from the glimmering floor of data streams. Stretching languidly she made a face at her reflection on a nearby node and made a gesture restoring her flowing avatar of swirling motes and glowing neon hair which hovered about her like an underwater dancers. She smiled at the waiting figure of her agent program who dissapated in a flash downloading into her deck and disseminating the gathered data to the uplinked comms of the team.
She lingered for a moment looking out over the grid wondering if Hatter was jacked in out there somewhere and she resisted the urge to reach out for him. He would find her again someday she was sure. Brushing her hands over her mark it shimmered briefly downloading all of the particulars of her excursion including the data on the doctors card usage, the security snap shots of the stations, schedules, the altered shift schedule, copies of the tour invitation as well as all the rest. Especially the data on the room in the basement. Then her own form dissapated in a whirling spray of tiny musical notes and top hats.
CLICK!
Pixel plucked the data jack out of her temple as her deck made a soft sound and she took a moment as the shift back to the real world assaulted her senses. Catching the last part of the conversation about the cages she flipped her hair idly to one side while taking a moment to ensure the data was filtering to the rest of the team.
"I wouldnt be suprised if they are testing on ghouls or something....they are hiding something big in that basement."
She sighed with a slight melodramatic effect and focused her purple glowing gaze upon those present and slightly arched her brow.
"Funny they failed to mention that part huh? Like I said...they either dont know drek or are hiding things. Anyway you chummers have a tour tomorrow....and we have our security shift plus the docs movements for the last while up to today so....we should know just where he'll be."
She stands arching her back and stifling a slight yawn as her deck winks out nearby shrouding her in dark from its faint glow.
"Think I'll go lie down somewhere."
-
"we're not the next test subjects for a program are we?"
-
Ichante rolls over on her cot when Eddie barges in with his cheerful news about the sewers. "Shhh," she shushes him, "that's all terribly interesting, about the disintegrating hands and everything, but I simply have to get some sleep or I'm going to show up for my Lordstrung's appointment with bags under my eyes." With that she rolls over and returns to sleep, troubled by nightmares of ghouls with frown lines, crow's feet, acne scars, large pores, melasma, spider veins, and unsightly jowls.
Unable to sleep deeply due to fear of oversleeping, Ichante gets up in the morning with frizzy hair only to find her handsome guardian spirit is gone like a one-night stand with Traceless Walk. A long, wet ride from Redmond to Downtown Seattle perched on the back of Pale Horse's Suzuki Mirage does nothing to improve her mood. She shows up at Lordstrung's looking like a well-armored drowned rat in the middle of a AAA department store. She only makes it past the highly skeptical security troll by flashing the ARO of her reservation and protesting her innocence. By the time she gets to Lordstrung's Hall of Measuring and Pampering she is near tears, which probably wouldn't be visible given the raindrops stored in her hair that are steadily being released down her face.
"Oh, my dahling!" protests the effeminate ork who sweeps in to rescue her. He's wearing a high-collar floor-length coat with back shoulder flaring and flowing-but-layered lower half that Ichante instinctively identifies as the Ace of Cups from Vashon Island. "Come with me! We have to get you out of those... wet clothes!" He throws a plush towel around her shoulders as he leads her to the unisex spa, where he pushes her into a shower that blasts her simultaneously from six different shower heads. He gives her a terrycloth bathrobe that is thick enough to stop small-caliber bullets and that was clearly meant for someone taller than a dwarf. She emerges with a meter-long train of robe trailing behind her as the ork, introduced as Valentine, asserts his authority over her corporeal form. Ichante soon finds herself reclining in a chair with form-fitting gel cushions. She's asleep before she knows it, waking up some time later to discover some sort of vegetable slices over her eyes. Her stomach grumbles audibly and she has to resist eating the strange, watery slices.
"No time for breakfast?" Valentine asks as he undoes her braids and washes her hair gently in 40 C water that has been filtered via reverse osmosis. He stops to clap imperiously with shampoo suds on his hands. A Renraku Manservant lumbers forward through the curtain of shampoo bubbles with a tray of fresh fruits, pastries, herbal teas, and sparkling water. Ichante would stare except for the fact that she has vegetables over her eyes and can't see any of it. Valentine feeds her like a mama bird while applying various facial products. She tries the first grape of her life, followed by a slice of something else.
"What is this?" she asks with wonder.
"That's a satsuma," Valentine replies succinctly, eliminating her split ends snip by snip with his silver shears. "They grow them in California Free State and the CAS but we import ours from Japan."
After drying her hair, applying conditioner, and then wrapping it up on top of her head in one of those towel tornadoes, Valentine seizes her hands and gives her a manicure while chattering on about the Neo-Aztec influences that define the styles of Armanté this season. "Aztechnology was a major supporter for Vitorrio Armanté’s shadow war with Zoé to recover the rights to the line name back in ’73," he says with a conspiratorial whisper, before proceeding to her feet while lamenting the lack of originality in Mortimer of London's most recent lines.
Once Ichante is suitably settled in her heavy robe and towel hair and facial mask and toe-separator thingee that women use to keep their toes separate while their nails dry, Valentine steps forward with a heavy leather-bound tome that he carries with an expression of deep reverence.
"I understand you are here for the Synergist Business Line. These are the fabric samples. Please, take your time."
Ichante opens the heavy book slowly as it casts a golden glow over her. She flips from page to page, eyes wide with wonder and the botulinum toxin treatment that Valentine injected around her face. She runs her hand over each sample as Valentine fills her in on the wonders of superwools with a maximum fiber diameter of 11.25 µ or less. "It comes from Awakened bighorn sheep!" he says with genuine excitement. "Can you believe it? There are rumors that Heritage is working on a new fabric derived from wild satyr wool!"
After careful consultation, Ichante selects a light grey fabric with subtle white pin stripes that will make her look imperceptibly taller. Valentine bows deeply and withdraws walking backward, lest he turn his back on his client.
"Wait, what about my measurements?" Ichante cries with some alarm to no avail. She is left to console herself with the tea sandwiches, petit fours, and kombucha that the Renraku Manservant - named Jeeves - provides at regular intervals.
"Thank you, Jeeves," she says absentmindedly, wondering if she could string together a handful of Healthy Glow and Fashion spells to recreate the experience at home.
Soon - too soon - Valentine emerges to rinse the conditioner out of her hair and remove her facial mask. Once she is back in her natural state, a series of drone porters glide in silently to present Ichante with a carefully curated selection of lingerie and lacy unmentionables. She hastily selects the least-frilly option while Valentine excuses himself so Ichante can dress herself. When she's ready Valentine returns with her new suit, which he folds over his arm and presents with a bow. Ichante tears up at the sight of the suit, knowing that her time in this oasis of corporate civility and class is drawing to a close. Valentine studies her closely after she dresses, looking for imperfections.
"I think the jacket needs to be darted," Ichante insists, hoping to extend the experience.
"It's perfect," Valentine retorts, plucking at the shoulders of the suit. Ichante knows he's right. It's perfect, frag it.
"Ah, but I can't send you back out in those!" Valentine protests, pointing at Ichante's boots with a bent wrist. He claps his hands again and a modified GM-Nissan Doberman rolls in with a selection of attractive but sensible high heels.
In her suit and heels, Valentine presents her with her old clothes in a Lordstrung's bag, which Ichante silently promises to frame as soon as she gets paid. Valentine escorts her to the door, where he summons a black cab with a single raised hand. Pale Horse is out there at the same time with her effeminate ork, who stares daggers at Ichante's effeminate ork. The women greet each other and agree to share a cab. "Where can it take you?" Valentine asks.
Ichante opens her mouth but realizes she can't say "Redmond", nor can she simply just walk home in the Underground looking like this, even if it is only eight or ten blocks. Instead she says "Gaeatronics Mountain," thinking that it sounds plausible given their ethnicity while reasoning that Bellevue is at least halfway to Redmond. She can call Eddie for a ride while taking a walking tour through the rooftop gardens (maybe the covered parts, given the weather) as well as see some of the facilities from the ground floor visitor’s center. Valentine helps her into the cab then presents her with a cup of peppermint tea and a small box of chocolate truffles made by someone with an expensive French name. Ichante cries a single tear as the heavy door closes and the taxi pulls out into traffic.
-
the trip to down town was uneventful except for the Ughs icks and ahs from her passenger as the rain hammered down. by the time they got to the store she was top of the hit list, but the short walk to the store mellowed Horse's temper, in fact by the time she'd stared the security down, on her way in, the comedy for their paring almost made her smile, one short expressive pamper poodle and the other tall passive utilitarian, could get a sitcom on the trid out of this. as they entered they were descended upon by to off the oddest Orcs she'd every meet, both trying to out effeminate (if that isn't a word it should be) each other
Sabastian (the lisp made it hard to tell) gathered her up and shooed her in to a room, towels and robes where brought (could get used to this) when he tried to hold the robe out for the novelty started to wear off (do these robes come without the Orc?) so what can we fit you for today miss..?
"pale horse"
"miss Horse"
"synergist trouser suit" she read of her com
the Orc exploded into a blither of extraneous information about collections materials cuts and detailing
Horse desperately cut in, as she tried to explain to Sabastian that this was work ware and she really did not need this that or the other (one because of budget) as it was very likely that it was going to get shot stabbed ripped or worse in her line of work, frustrated the little orc came back with a book and laboured hard to pull information not oft used from the back of his head. this was X denier , this has Y melt point yada yada yada. he explained about the fitting and raised an eye brow at her to enquire if she understood the direct stare and questioning tone actually raised a smile fro him when she muttered " isn't that your area of expertise? I'll listen to your advice in fit and.... was it Cut? if you'll listen to me on staying safe?"
things went much better from there on though she was sure he stretched it out some what he even adjusted the trousers to take boots rather than shoes (WTF are PUMPS, they're feet not tires) and the jacket to match the armoured coat. The look on his face when se pull out her pistol so he could fit the holster was priceless " but but miss horse its all oily!"
she had to admit it was not bad and it survived her most unladylike gyrations which really did scare the poor boy
"well looks like you can make a silk purse out of a sows ear, thank you Sabastian" he smiled back " if you ever need something unpleasant doing, or stopping, let me know and I will be back for that coat you spoke of"
he started in on the price list form the spar and hair salon protesting wildly about having hair to match the outfit but she cut him of with a stare "white mans clothes, Sabastian, fine but I'm still a tribeswoman, hair? that's a line I'll thank you not to cross" she added "lets not part on harsh words, show me what you have that I can wear on my bike"
he beamed and ran off to pull together sims for all kinds of things and wasted 30 minuets showing her jackets trousers boots of all shapes and sizes, horse duly noted them down in her com.
his face darkened when the other orc popped his head round the door on nodded.
Sabastian took her too the door, by now he had worked out that chit chat was not any use, pale horse thanked him for every thing, made reference to "the plan" and promised to be back
as Ichante and she disentangle themselves form the feuding orcs that jump in the taxi. Horse plugs her bike to follow. Ichante is crying, EH? is she allergic to the chocolates or some thing? she opened her bag to see Sabastian had put a bottle of smoothie and some dried buffalo.
she though she stick with Ichante while she waited for eddie if nothing else she could get used to the what she moved better for tomorrow and the recce look more bedded in and natural, she pulled a strip of meat out and slowly chewed on it as she ran over the plans in her head again working out how to move through the space and position her self so she could get the angles she wanted. As she reached for the drink she looked at Ichante still looking glum. "did you get what you needed?"
"I've got a milk moustache haven't I"?"
-
Eddie wakes with a groggy Frag off," in Chaim's general direction while the all-too-jovial social infiltrator wags a soykaf in his face.
"Come on, swamp rat," Chaim says. "Just got pinged by our ladies. Shopping's done, so we need a ride into Newhaven."
"Call a cab," Eddie groans, "and we can talk about this again at a much more civilized hour."
"I bought a couple of those curry breakfast burritos you like," Chaim offers.
Eddie pulls himself up to a sitting position and his eyes clear a bit. Chaim is freshly shaven and coiffed. He has his suit set to a rich plum with ochre windowpane stripes, and his quad-strap monks look freshly shined. He dangles the Stuffer Shack bag invitingly and has on his please-don't-shoot-me-in-the-face-for-waking-you-up smile.
"Gimme those," Eddie says, eventually.
Eddie makes the rounds to pick up Ichante, and later Pale Horse who's already doing her best to ruin the new look by tooling around on her motorcycle in the rain. The Amerindian doesn't quite look comfortable in her new threads yet, but Chaim has to admit that they look good on her. "You wear it well," he offers. "Sebastian, or whatever his name was, did a good job."
"He made me wear pumps," she sobs.
<<@Pixel [Brasa] Team's assembled. Uploading passes now. Keep an eye on us, would ya? Many thanks.>>
<<Invitation: MARKs>>
With everyone together and Pixel watching the trix, they make their way to southeast to Newhaven. The cityscape appears bleary through the rain, AROs and tridboards flashing bright against the gray sky, and the never ending lines of traffic carrying metas of all persuasions to and from work in all the monotony of the sixth world. What a time to be alive. The Newhaven campus has the same dull stamp on the horizon as the rest of the buildings in the area, its lighted windows shimmering slightly, and they make only a cursory stop at the guard station, where an elderly Caucasian man checks Chaim's commlink and waves them on to the parking garage.
Eddie finds a space, and says something about them finding their own way back home before heading to the safehouse himself for some much deserved rest. Chaim clasps him on the shoulder before he departs, and says, "We'll see you soon, chummer."
As Eddie exits the parking garage he adds to Ichante and PaleHorse, "Alright, we all know the drill, let's see if my investment here is a wise one," and he takes he lead inside and straight to the receptionist's desk.
"Good morning," Chaim says, flashing a winning smile. "I'm Mr. Casada. I understand that I am expected for a tour of the premises."
-
After an indeterminate time Pixel rolled off the small mat she was using to sleep stretching languidly before leaping nimbly to her feet. Taking a moment to brush out her hair her comlink chirps and she purses her lips taking a quick sip of a Soycaf before flipping on her deck and siding the jack in. Finding the path into the camera system was a simple thing now that ahe had seen their grid and wasnt doing anything intrusive. Through the matrix her slightly musical voice chimed into the comms.
"Im watching...dont worry about it."
-
The ride to the hospital was tense as each member went over their respective part. Pale Horse and Ichante read their persona AROs for the eighteenth time. Chaim seemed more at ease, being in his own element after all. Outside the van, the rain and wind threatened to push the vehicle off the road, puddles large enough to swallow a Dodge Scoot hid untold depth that made navigating the broken streets of the barrens even more treacherous than usual. Smoother pavement greeted the tires as the central districts opened ahead. The hospital loomed into view through the rain splashed windshield. The gate guard looks to be hating his life, and would probably require several pay grade raises before he'd leave his heated booth, he gives only a cursory glance at the mock credentials and waves you through.
Inside, the receptionist greets you with an overly practiced smile which leaves you wondering if you'd ever seen someone so cheerful and not under the influence of some mind altering substance.
Welcome to Newhaven, how can I help you today? she begins, but is quickly cut off by a much sterner looking matriarch in horn rimmed glasses. Mr. Casada, so pleasant to meet you. she begins before making shooing motions at the receptionist. If you would just for me this way, I'd be simply delighted to show you what we have to offer here. As you are undoubtedly aware, Newhaven is a registered non profit research hospital. While we do take part in general studies, our focus is on the bleeding edge of science and technology. It is with the help of generous donors and grants that we are able to employ our full compliment of researchers. she continues to last it on pretty thick and you find yourselves tuning out quite a bit, recognizing it for the stinks prattle of the corp world. Trek the donors what they want to hear, woo them as best you can, and then line your pockets with their money. Not a bad business practice to be honest.
I'd like to take you up to one of our research floors to show you how everything really works here. she gracefully slides down a hallway to a back of elevators and waits for the door to open. Once inside, she presses the button to the eighth floor. While the elevator climbed, their your guide explained that Newhaven was leading several exciting new projects, each one more promising than the last. She told how the researchers used not only medical, but also technological, and magical means to push the limits of modern medicine. The elevator dinged as they reached their floor, and the guide passed a data card over a proximity scanner to open the doors.
The eighth floor was a mixture of what looked like a clean room, a chemistry lab, and every scientists dream. The people here were speaking in hushed tones, working together in several small groups. One group was just breaking up, heading to various pieces of equipment, when the guide waved one over.
Dr. Nelson! If you have a spare moment, could you briefly explain what it is you're working on right now? This gentleman, Mr. Casada, is very interested in our work here.
A man of about average height with unkempt hair and a mustache that seemed to be growing slightly out of control hurried over and offered his hand to Chaim. Shaking it, he waved his free hand in a sweeping gesture of the lab, Good to meet you, sir. What you see here is a process of elimination. We're busy testing hypotheses of all kinds. Just now, we're about to try out latest techno-osmosis chirality separation technique. This large piece of equipment you see here, will directly impact the speed of our work, and, as they say, time is money. Speaking of time, if you could wait here a moment, I could get the data regarding this to show Mr. Bras- err Casada, was it?
We really must keep moving doctor, I'm sure Mr Casada is a very busy man. There's no need to make him wait around. the guide interjected, clearly wanting to move along on the tour.
-
When the doctor introduces himself, Chaim says, "Dr. Nelson, yes of course. Your work on the life expectancy of orks is absolutely fascinating, and long overdo. Of course, I had to have my wife sound out some of the bigger words for me," he turns to the tour guide with a smile, "but you've come to some very interesting approaches to an underserved population."
After Dr. Nelson offers some intel, the tour guide breaks in.
"We really must keep moving doctor, I'm sure Mr Casada is a very busy man. There's no need to make him wait around," she says, all smiles but clearly wanting to move them along.
Briefly ignoring her, Chaim says, "I would very much like to see that, yes. Turning to their guide he adds, "We have a moment or two to spare, don't we? I know that I have time, unless I'm keeping you from something Ms. . .?"
-
Oh... Well, no, I don't have anywhere special to go... the tour guide immediately back pedals, tripping over her words in a rush to placate the group of potential investors. She instead begins to fiddle with her comm unit, rearranging unseen icons in her ARO. After a few moments, she composes herself and looks back up at the trio and smiles through her fluster.
After a short while of busying themselves with observing the research in the lab, the runners see Dr Nelson return from the bay of elevators. He makes a quick bee line to where they are watching a group of nano machines performing micro surgery on a vat grown heart.
We get the most use out of these artificial organs, the Dr returns to the conversation, of course, the best results would be real, live, tissue. And recently we've had some success working with the UCAS' organ donor programs, but it's slow going. Here's that information, I hope it will be interesting. I believe it to be some of the best work I've ever done! he sends genuinely pleased with himself.
Satisfied that Mr Casada has gotten what he wanted, their guide hurries then along to the rest of the building, before depositing them into a dark conference room to view a promotional video of Newhaven's president lauding the benefits and importance of their continued work, made possible through generous donors, like you.
-
Pixel remained in her digital business form among the floating clusters of the video datastreams idly spinning an inactive cube with a ghostly finger watching the tiny motes of light dance along its surface. Something was off about this....maybe it was her paranoid nature, maybe it was the wording of the video...or maybe it was that the jittery tour guide just dumped high profile investor's in a room and left them. Like who did that?
Touching the musical note on her arm she opened her conciousness to Alice who was still on the public grid awaiting her input as usual. On the hospitals grid she looked into recent visitor logs, specifically tours and or donars if there were any including inspectors, other investors or anyone who may have visited here then fed any returns to Alice.
"Alice...check these names against any missing persons and tell me if there are matches. Hurry."
With another hand she initiated one of the camers datanodes to show her the feeds of every camera that guide passed until she reached her destination where she would then listen in on the audio. With the thought of those cages and body parts in mind she kind of hoped she was really just being paranoid right now.
-
Alice returns shortly with the list of names, they all check out, none have gone missing.
While the trio are in the conference room, the guide returns to the reception desk, speaks with the woman seated there for a few moments about nothing of consequence, then makes her way to a break room where she grabs various pastries, cheeses and hot soykaf.
Meanwhile, the video greeting of the Newhaven president comes to an end with the cheesy slogan, "At Newhaven, We Care!" complete with a chorus of underpaid workers yelling the slogan before fading to black. As the lights return to normal, your guide reenters the room and offers an assortment of refreshments and asks politely, but directly, if Chaim would be interested in making a donation today?
-
Chaim sits patiently through the trideo detailing the good works of Newhaven, and gives Ichante a little nudge when the guide re-enters, in case she's still off in astral space. It's hard to tell sometimes with that one. He graciously accepts a croissant and soykaf, and places his link on the table when the woman's talk turns to a donation.
"I'm very interested, yes. Please forward along the necessary 'paperwork,' I guess to use an atavistic colloquialism, and I'll have my tax attorney look it over. I was intending a personal gift, but I must say this tour has been most impressive and informative, and perhaps a sustaining bequest on the behalf of one of my foundations would be more appropriate, neh?"
The woman looks a bit disappointed that she isn't closing the sale today, but Chaim hopes that his hint at a higher payout will sustain her for now, at least until they quit the building. Surely, he'll be getting junk mail from Newhaven for months to come.
When it comes time to leave, Chaim stands to shake the woman's hand, and says, "You have been a most gracious host. Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me today. And forgive me for saying this, as I have no real desire to poach talent from such a worthy institution, but should you ever consider leaving he healthcare field, please do look me up.
"Or, maybe we could simply grab a cup of soykaf sometime," he adds.
-
Pixel watched the conversation play out and frowned to her digital self. She was glad in a way nothing sinister was going on but at the same time she found it a little dissapointing and boring. She did enjoy uncovering intrigue afterall. Still...the guide was still acting too jittery for her liking and for sure there was something up with this place and it would come up she was sure.
Keeping an eye on the security points she preps for removing herself from the grid seeinv that the initial meeting was coming to an end,
-
the trip in was easy but chaim was a night mare to keep in place since he did not stay still, jumping and pausing sitting standing or leaning in the prime spot each time made it hard to look around and not seam amateurish. as the mage and the face did their thing horse found her self actually being the body guard, by the time they left she was relived the place made
-
Ichante keeps her trap shut for the duration of the hospital tour. Security is tight and she does her best not to look disappointed. There are guards posted at the elevator and near the lab doors. She spots their non-lethal options (tasers, stun batons) as well as their more-lethal options. She supposes that their pistols might be loaded with stick-n-shock since a taser's extreme range was 20 meters and some of these hallways were pretty long, but she doubted it. At least they aren't automatic weapons, she thinks to herself while making a mental note to recommend that everyone wear their best armor with non-conductivity protection. The guards themselves seem to be wearing armor vests underneath the button-down shirts of their uniforms. They appear relatively stationary, guarding their posts like sentries rather than patrolling like the fat rent-a-cops outside.
Being a dwarf, Ichante's eyes naturally drift up, where she spies cameras scanning the hallways and general work areas. Doors to offices feature maglocks that either require proximity cards or numeric keypads. On the research floor a voice ID is used to enter the clean room. She suppresses a sigh when she sees (hears?) that and wonders if Chaim is up to the task. Or Physical Mask? she wonders. I can make him look like a woman - moreso, I mean - and sound like one too. Maybe if I get him halfway there then he can do the rest.
Ichante periodically slips into the astral, especially when the tour guide pauses to make some point that Ichante pays no attention to. The scientists seem to be guarded and a bit nervous. There's also some annoyance from the interruption of the tour, although Ichante can't imagine why anyone would be annoyed to be interrupted by such a pretty little thing such as herself, especially when she's dressed so finely. Dr. Nelson appears to be hiding something, but that could be due to whatever information he is passing us, she thinks. There's some relief in the doctor when the exchange is complete.
Finally the tour concludes with a short film. With the lights off, Ichante takes the opportunity to close her eyes and slip into the astral. She quickly flits about, although not too far because there seems to be something growing in the walls that keeps astral intruders like her at bay. The nerve, she thinks, restricted to the conference room and a few insignificant rooms nearby. She looks out for additional astral security but doesn't see any, which is a relief. No spirits or watchers or hellhounds or barghests or dragons or anything dual-natured. This Physical Mask plan might work.
She zips back to her body in time for Chaim to elbow her to wake up. She resents the nudge, given that she never would have felt it on the astral anyway.
<<@Chaim [Ichante] A social insertion might work. I can make you look like any one of these doctors and it doesn't seem like there are any patrolling spirits to call us out on it. If you have the opportunity, put those sticky fingers to work on pinching one of those proximity cards they use for the maglocks. Maybe this tour guide will slip a little something into your pocket if you slip a little something into her pocket, hmm? Emphasis on little, you twink.>>
-
Bidding the possible donors goodbye, the tour guide leaves the runners back with the secretary, but not before sending a private message to Chaim's commlink, If you promise somewhere nice... followed by an animated winking face. The secretary sees them out the door, and wishes them a fun farewell. Neither she not the guide make another mention of a donation.
On the way back to the safe house the team follows a circuitous route, making sure there are no tails following along, doubling back several times, using rain flooded back alleys and other unfavorable streets. Finally satisfied no one has followed, the team arrived back to the run down house. The smell of old sweat clings to the garage entrance, but seems like safety for now.
Inside, Chaim quickly hands off the data chip from Dr Nelson to Pixel, who slots it into her deck. At first glance, the readout shows standard research on orc life expectancy modeled against districts of Seattle, gross income, and access to health services. However, something seems off, the edges of the graphics glitch from time to time, and there's a dark spot that doesn't seem to fade with resolution. At first, thinking it might be a problem with her deck, Pixel reboots and still finds the same thing.
Diving fully into the matrix to deal with the VR version of the chip, she is immediately confronted by an image of Dr Nelson, but in statue form. The statue seems to cover to life, gradually becoming more mobile as Pixel's sophisticated subroutines break down the encryption bit by bit. Finally, the image resolves entirely to a stone skinned version of the doctor you met today.
I haven't found everything, but this is what I know. I haven't got much time, I've only been able to distract the monitoring system, I can't get rid of it, it would raise too many flags. The vaccine is in the sub basement. You've got to take the service elevator in the basement to get there. It's next to the emergency stairwell running through the lobby and offices. I don't know what's down there, but I've heard rumors. Experiments on people, nowhere near legal, I'm sure, cells like a prison. I'm not sure how they dump the bodies, but they never come back. You'll need the code: 2486 to get in. I had to drug a guard to get it, don't make me regret it.
Pixel returns from the VR excursion and relays the information. You've finally got some solid info about how to get in. Now it's just a matter of getting to that elevator.
-
By the time everyone returned from their excursion into Newhaven Eddie had managed to get enough sleep to feel rested, even with having to deal with chauffeur duties. The information Pixel relayed from Dr. Nelson's chip did not encourage him in any way, however.
"Drek" was all he could say as he sat down heavily, shoulders slumped and head hanging towards his chest. Several moments passed as the rest of the team members just stared at the usually jovial young man. "Drek!" he repeated loudly, smacking his open palm onto the table next to him.
"Of course it had to be bloody biomedical, and of course it had to be inhumane frakkin' experiments. Just my luck..." Eddie took a deep breath to calm his nerves, but the notion of having to go into a subterranean basement where people were more than likely being treated like rats in some messed up scientists pet research project visibly unsettled him. He looked up at the others with wide, angry eyes, and continued with fire in his voice.
"I think it's pretty frakkin' clear what happens to the bodies; those doors I found in the sewers, with the decaying, fleshy hand stuck just outside it? That's gotta be how they dump the frakkin' bodies. Would explain why the good Dr. doesn't know what happens to 'em."
He shook his head, subconsciously regaining confidence and clarity as his mind processed the new information and the logical, professional side of him took back control. Eddie might have a deep, rational fear of hospitals and doctors, but he was good at what he did for a living, and this was a chance to get back at people like those who had treated him the way they had.
"The basement might be a good secondary exit if our primary route out, namely the way we came in, is compromised. I still think we should investigate the roof as a possible means of entry; who knows what we'll face down there, and even going in as guards I think there are limits to what kind of hardware we'll be allowed to bring in. I'm relatively confident I can scale the exterior, make my way inside, and enter the elevator shafts with some of our heavier ordnance; we could even bring in a drone or two that way for additional firepower. The only question is if the service elevator connects to the personnel elevator, or if I'll have to sneak through the frakkin' air ducts again... Chaim, I could really use a favour; can you get your hands on 100m of microwire? I might be able to do a quick scouting mission and set up concealed climbing gear ahead of time. This would let me look for a route to the service elevator from the roof, too. Thoughts?"
Pixel brought up the floor plans she'd found, and together they began studying the AROs to find out if there was more than one way to crack this particular Newhaven nut when a thought suddenly occurred to Eddie.
"Wait... Could this finally be the clue... No, better not get my hopes up. If these fuckers had even a remote involvement into what happened at the Echo Lake facility, I'll end every last one of them after I make them talk."
-
As the crew of runners discusses their options, Pixel continues to browse through the information from Dr Nelson. A few minutes she shakes off the effects of hot sim, and taps Eddie on the shoulder. The steady drum of the overly familiar rain had lulled him to sleep following his late night scouting mission. Only thin tendrils of the sewer smell still cling to his clothing, having soaked in both the rain, and a shower. Eddie startles awake, blinking back to recognition of the safe house surroundings.
Yeah, what's up? he groggily asks the Decker.
You need to see this... she hands him a bare cable and he plugs it into his trode net, submerging himself into her care in the matrix.
Several minutes pass as the pair dive through massive amounts of data surging directly into their cerebrum. As they come back to the real world, the team looks on expectantly.
I knew they were connected! I... I have to go! Pixel, you saw what was going on! I can't let it continue! They have to pay for what they've done. To me. To them. They'll all pay.
Yeah, I saw plenty. You're going to need help, I'm coming with you. No, don't try to argue with me about this. I'm coming, and that's final. We'll frag the whole lot. I'm talkin' scorched earth full retribution.
The duo quickly explain the circumstance and their sudden urgency. The Newhaven information led them to direct tires to Eddie's past. They send a short message to Asher, and leave the confines of the house, driving through the rain as if it were the last thing on their minds.
--------------------------
Morning arrives far sooner than would be expected after a stressful night as plans would likely have to change without the two members. There is a light knock at the door about 7am. Asher has arrived with new talent. Hasty introductions are made and he leaves before any details of the upcoming run are discussed.
-
Ichante watches the proceedings flatly and shoots Chaim a 'what the frag?' look. She doesn't say anything; she can see the look of determination swirling in Eddie's aura as he gathers his things and leaves.
Eddie's reaction doesn't surprise me, she thinks. She had worked with him long enough to know what drove him. First, he'd do or say anything to hunt down the people responsible for his treatment. Second, he'd do or say anything to get out of a run on a medical facility. Third, let's face it, the chummer is bi-polar and prone to going off unexpectedly. But what the frag got into Pixel?
She lets honey-tongued Chaim break the news to Asher, who arranges for two new runners to be delivered to the safehouse.
The first one pulls up on Suzuki Mirage. Oo, Ares Globetrotter, very nice, Ichante thinks when she spies him. He looks all muscley and fit. Maybe this will be a nice upgrade over Eddie, no? I like my men like jungle gyms, all tall and well-built so that I can climb all over them.
Due to the rain, the man doesn't take off his bike racing helmet until he gets inside. A face covered in scars and a big, white, bushy beard pops out of the helmet. Ichante's face falls.
"You look like my dad," she says dispiritedly. She sighs and realizes that might not have been the most logical greeting. "I mean, you look like a dwarf. Just, you know, half a meter taller." That probably wasn't much better. Ah, frag it. She throws up her hands and walks off without ever actually introducing herself.
The second runner shows up on a Dodge Scoot and gets a warmer reception. "Hey, it's Spikes!" Ichante announces, standing to hug her. "Here, let me get you some hot soykaf. Did you bring Sonic or did you leave him at the brothel? He's probably happier at the brothel." She notes the less-than-ideal conditions of the safehouse, although concedes that Sonic might appreciate some of the more interesting stains and smells in ways that the rest of them couldn't.
Ichante goes over the situation at the hospital as they understand it. "We can go in through the roof or through the sewers. The roof is less gross, but there's no clear path to the basement. The sewers are less sanitary, but at least we can be reasonably confident that they'll lead us straight to the lab in the basement.
"What's your take on it?"
-
That night Danielle had nightmares, she dreamt about the worst day of her life. The day she was let go. Financially she was broken but what was really broken was her pride - how come she was fired over a 10% personal cut? She was a prodigy, the golden child with supreme matrix intellect how could she be the one they give up on? With the merger with Renraku computer systems it was every man for himself. It did not matter how good you were, this was survival, and Danielle did not have many friends at Borland computers. So, her dream career as a decker was over, and the young adult had to live outside the cooperate world, at the fringe of society. Where she suddenly needed a visitor badge to visit her own parents to stay in her own home.
It was quite a shock, the trip from downtown to the orc underground was not very long but it was worlds apart. From mainstream society to a bunch of metahumans and criminals. People that disliked, envied and distrust anything cooperate. That felt that the social order, the natural order where corporations manage the world for the greater good, was flawed and because they did not fit in that world, they wanted to burn it. It was a lot to adjust and in the coming months, Danielle has learned the hard way to keep her mouth shut and stop shoving her ‘faith’ down people’s throats.
Without many options to live, Danielle found herself living underground in the basement of a brothel named ‘Brothel’ - as if the owner knew that there is no need to get creative, hide or mask the nature of the place. Danielle was not a prostitute - or perhaps not yet was the better description of her desperate state. She was good with electronics and has managed to open a small electronics shop in the basement of Brothel. It paid the bills but was neither exciting nor rewarding and the young adult felt wasted in that place.
Her only comfort was Sonic, a small black dog that seemed as lost as herself, so she took him in. Sonic provided her comfort and knew how to listen without interrupting. He also pooped at odd places and therefore forced Danielle to take him out, and be seen in broad sunlight - but that is what friends do. Other than Sonic Danielle preferred to continue her life underground as much as she could. Space was smaller and she felt safer there than on the surface where someone might recognize her.
One of her few friends in this new life was Ichante, a good looking dwarf lady that was a powerful mage. Danielle was awakened aswell, but not nearly as powerful as Ichante. Most of Danielle’s magic simply allowed her to interface better with the matrix. She was not the martial artist one would expect an adept to be. In particular, the only physical manifestation of her gift was the ability to attach herself to surfaces. While it helped her climbing - even Danielle had to admit that it was not nearly as much as other awakened could do.
Still, Ichante was fun to be around and she made everything seem easy. She was also generous with drugs that she was always carrying and these helped coping with the new situation. It was her who convinced Danielle to take a loan and go after the dream - being a decker again. Yes, the control freak, calculated girl has made an uncharacteristically reckless move and boldly approached the local mafioso that operated Brothel for a loan - “I need a deck and a fake SIN, something like 60k will do.”
After the initial surprise the mafioso understood that the girl meant business and was convinced that she can pay him back because deck meant shadow work and shadow work paid a lot of money. Got to spend money to make money right? Well it worked for a while, but such a loan was also very dangerous.
The story begun when Danielle was sitting on a metal chair, her hands were tied up around her back, her eye was black from a powerful punch. Two knee cappers ‘gently’ reminded her that loans needed to be paid - every month. They also mentioned that “I still need to establish my reputation to keep me employed” was not an acceptable excuse to skip on the payment.
“We are taking the deck, you had your shot you screwed it" they said.
“Please, I am begging you there is no way I can pay you back without the deck.”
Like a true Decker, Danielle could handle their beating and even her bones were not as precious to her as the new deck. Then the deck blinked and Danielle dozed off a second: “I have a job” she exclaimed. Of course, the two orcs did not believe her, what was the chances of that happening right there... in that moment.
“I am not lying look at my Erika’s screen - contact says it is quite lucrative and that I need to be there right now.”
Moments passed and the orcs did nothing to justify releasing the young decker.
“Aren’t you going to release me? This is the only way I am ever going to pay you the 35k I owe you.”
The orcs changed quick looks and even contacted their boss. Finally, after a long silence they said. “it is 37.5k - you got to pay for this reminder notice.”
Danielle thought- so they get to punch me, threat of taking a finger as collateral and TOUCH my deck. and I need to pay them?!... but she was out of options so she said.
“Whatever 37.5k it is, now untie me and let me earn back your money.”
Just like that, she had some more oxygen, and she could go to her home and pack her things. “not Danielle, I am coming as Samantha, or as Spikes, though I am not sure this Erika can really do this whole cybercombat thing.” She reminded herself. Danielle packed her things and guided on her modest scooter to the meet, her black eye was carefully concealed with makeup.
She warmly huged Ichante and said “An hour ago I thought that you have finally killed me and now I think that you saved my life.” She did not explain more... Sonic answered for himself by jumping away Danielle’s lap and then he happily barked and run around the safehouse. The black dog was inseparable from Danielle these days, even if he shouldn't have been this friendly with strangers.
-
Casket was sitting at the bar watching himself through the crud that had accumulated over the years on the mirrors. He'd been nursing the same double scotch for the last hour as he waited. A small AR window was open in his peripheral vision that told him the time and the location of his target. The kid was just now coming around the corner of the block outside. Casket timed it to be less then a minute and the target be walking through the entrance into the bar.
The kid was a bit cocky. He was dressed in a flashy neon lined jacket. Cas just rolled his eyes as the kid came practically barging into the bar with a smug look on his face. A look that quickly changed as Cas turned to face the kid revealing himself. Casket simply nodded toward the barstool next to him and the kid, tail tucked between his legs, took the seat.
The kid looked at the mirror that showed the two of them together. "Listen man...." the kid stammered, "I wasn't trying to screw you over. I just got in over my head... It wasn't my fault the alarms went off last night."
Cas held up his hand stopping the kids excuses, "I don't give a shit about your excuses. I just care about getting the job done and getting paid. You cost me both. So what are you gonna do to fix it?"
Just then a message ringtone sounded in Casket's ear as his fixer sent him a message.
<<<@Casket , From Jax, Forget the kid. I'll deal with the braggart. I got a job for you. Now that you're free. You're a replacement for a flake. Time and location to follow. Gear up.>>>
Cas smiled and the kid nearly wet himself. "It's your lucky day kid. I got work to do. That means you get a few days to figure out how to get me my cut of the job."
Casket stands up from the bar and heads out. He uses his comm to pay for the drink and send the bartender a tip.
----------
Casket followed Asher up to the door of the safe house noticing the poor security of the place. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of anybody opening the front door. He was actually a little surprised when he was confronted by the diminutive dwarf when he slipped off his helmet. He took a look around the place as he set his bag of gear down and slipped the sledge hammer he had slung across his back.
He nodded to the dog sniffing it's way around the safehouse. "That dog pisses on my boots, then I am having an oriental delicacy."
-
Ichante, being the perceptive type who is overly concerned with outward appearances, quickly notes the makeup around Spikes' eye. The Underground could be a rough place, especially for a young woman, but Spikes' "I thought that you had finally killed me" jab clues Ichante in to what probably happened.
"Well... you'll thank me in the end," Ichante says with a comforting pat on the hand, reasoning that if Spikes doesn't survive then she won't be around to remind Ichante she was wrong. Ichante uses the pat as an excuse to channel a tiny bit of healing magic into Spikes, just enough to tidy up the bruising and make sure her orbital bone didn't chip.
The fact is that Ichante feels better with Spikes there. "Spikes, you know Chaim? Chaim, this is Spikes. She's a genius, scan. I don't mean no 'I got a chip in my head with all the answers' genius, no. She's an organic brainiac. Chip truth. Also, she's underage, so hands off."
The Santa Claus chummer sets his gear down and takes a tour of the place, then threatens Sonic. Ichante clicks her tongue. Given Ichante's totem, dogs aren't her natural friends, but Spikes is a friend, and Sonic is pretty affable for a dog. She decides to push back and let Grandpa know that Ichante's respect for her elders got left behind somewhere between Cheyenne and Butte.
"Posturing already, Dad?" she quips back. "Tell me that a 5 kilo puppy isn't all it takes to slip under your skin. Because if it is, you have a hard job ahead of you."
-
Horse watched them go with a raised eye brow, not very good allround ("you need to try humour sometimes horse , not everything need to be judged and dissected") she tried it, sniffed both armpits and checked the soles of her boots "was it something is said?) her monotone voice only added to the moment, Chaim smiled and reached for his comm and started looking for help. ichente tried to not spit soycafe on her top
when it arrived it was like a French film an grandad and his granddaughter. horse looked at the girl not much younger than her self, bruised and hiding it horse new that look in the girls eyes, this was last chance gas for her.
granddad was the opposite grizzled scared and drilled, checked things out, sized things up and tried to establish his place with some "harmless" aggression. Ichante piped up at him and the air froze.
Horse stepped in to the middle she didn't have time for posturing.
"ok so we a smash and grab to plan ....." she ran through the brief and then the what the recce and drop had given them
"so first impressions...sorry what your handles?" Her dead eyes looked at the old man and then the girl "they call me pale horse"
-
Ichante was wonderful, and Spikes smirked as she tingled her with healing magic. "Damn it, everything seems possible when she is around..." thought Spikes. Chaim was a real looker "Got to lookup from this one... he probably knows all my confidence tricks already." she thought when she first looked at him. Yes, Spikes was no stranger to the art of seduction and while she was not exceptionally pretty she used what nature has gifted her to the fullest she could. After all, a pretty girl can open many doors with a smile, without even taking out her deck. "If only I was a pretty girl" she thought sadly.
The spell took the physical pain away, but the emotional one remained and being tied to a chair and roughed out, with strangers touching her deck made Spikes just want to settle in and forget herself in drugs or in matrix games. She extended her hand to Chaim and sayid "Spikes, or Samantha but a handsome lad like you can get away with Sam." Then was that elder runner making a remark about Sonic and it ripped Spikes away from the conversation.
"If he touches a single hair of Sonic - I will make sure he will never get paid again. Every comlink he ever owns will be hacked and every time he will be in a secure place, I will notify the security as a concerned citizen..." She thought. No she was not violent, but she was perfectly capable of filling some sinless scum with full automatic fire. Just like cooperate 101 - self defense...
"Who needs Krav Maga when you have an automatic weapon" was the slogan of the course,,, Spikes loved her guns like a true american she fired them any chance she had.
Approaching Casket she is angry - but given the mans size she decides to take diplomacy before Ichante will feel the need to fix her other eye. "My name is Spikes and my dog Sonic is actually good for security... " Well she tried - the man was too creepy to be sharp witted. Having said that she spoke to Sonic like a toddler "Who is a good boy? You are... you are..." and then threw him his toy bone. The dog happily fetched it and begun to nimble it for his own pleasure. Sonic never really got the gist of the 'fetch' game and never actually returned the bone. At that point Spikes just wanted the dog off that creepy grandfather that seemed too close in profession to the goons that roughed her a couple of hours earlier.
Looking back at Ichante and Chaim and the elf that joined she grinned and introduced herself again. "Sorry about that, I am Spikes and I understand that I am your backup decker? and he is a backup muscle or something?" She gestured at Casket trying to get him off Sonic and into the conversation with Chaim.
" ... Who else is in this gig?" she asked.
Ichante understood Spikes enough to know that the girl could laugh on many things, including her own appearance but she is simply was incapable of laughing about her decking skills - these simply defined her and the thought that the first choice was some other decker was very painful to Spikes.
-
Chaim had protested, briefly, when Eddie chose to go. A line about the team, their collective reputation, how what Pixel had found -- and more importantly had inexplicably decided to share with him -- could at least wait a day or two, but halfway through his own speech he knew it was hopeless. No, Eddie leaving was a total surprise, and really Chaim couldn't blame him even if he didn't really understand it himself, as the chance to frag over Aztechnology held no real allure to Chaim. Of Course, even the Azzies didn't really do you like they did Eddie, though did they? He supposed not.
So Chaim rolled his eyes, and held the door open for the pair as they left, and then it was just Ichante and him staring across the "coffee table," if you could call it that, in the silence of the safe house. "So now what?" They discussed putting out some feelers with Chaim's contacts, but given the job, its pay, and the fact that they'd each pledged their silence -- their word was still worth something -- they had to take the least attractive approach: go back to the Johnson's intermediary, Asher.
That conversation was interesting, and not without its heated moments, but in the end Asher said that they would prefer to select the talent themselves, and the job was still a go. "Looks like we're still on their good side," Chaim said as he ended the comm call.
"We'd better be careful come payday," Ichante shot back.
"Agreed, but let's not get too far ahead of ourselves."
#
When Asher knocks at the door, and introduces them to the new team, Chaim sizes them up as Ichante invites them inside. He gives Asher a brief handshake, and then the man in white descends back into the unceasing rain, and the dwarf makes introductions.
"Spikes, you know Chaim? Chaim, this is Spikes. She's a genius, scan. I don't mean no 'I got a chip in my head with all the answers' genius, no. She's an organic brainiac. Chip truth."
Chaim wonders where Ichante has been hiding this little gem, and extends his hand with a smile. "Pleased to meet you. Brasa."
"Also, she's underage, so hands off."
And the smile, as well as the handshake, fades quickly. At least she warned him before he offered her a smoke. . . or worse. Wouldn't want to contribute to the delinquency and all.
There's something familiar about the way Spikes carries herself, and the way she talks. Sure, she looks a little roughed up, but she doesn't even wear that like most in the shadows. When she produces a small dog from seemingly nowhere, it hits Chaim in a flash: she was a corper, like him.
The big man with the beard is harder to read, or at least he was the first time Chaim met him. "Cas, it's good to see you again. Been awhile. I'd ask where you've been holing yourself up, but I no better. Get you a drink?"
Chaim busies himself with some synthahol while Ichante and PaleHorse walk the newcomers through the plan. "I'm leaning toward the basement myself. We'll need you to take point on those locks, Cas. Also, I got some Neurostun gas grenades in case whatever's down there is walking the halls. If either of you don't have a gas mask let me know before I put the order in. Other than that, I think we're about through the legwork. You two have shown up for the main event."
Chaim brings some drinks around to the team, and waits for their impression.
-
"My name is Spikes and my dog Sonic is actually good for security... "
Cas chuckles, "I can appreciate security. Though I tend to prefer it to have more meet on it's bones." The smile in his eyes tells that is more of a joke than anything insulting.
"Cas, it's good to see you again. Been awhile. I'd ask where you've been holing yourself up, but I no better. Get you a drink?"
"Glad to see we have some class on the team." He waves off the drink, "Just water, you know I don't drink on the job."
Cas waits patiently as Ichante and Pale Horse describe what's happened on the job so far before he pipes in. He look's to the others when he starts to speak.
"I go by Casket, or Cas.... And I guess that 'muscle' would be one way you could see my position on the team. I'm just here to make sure your hoops get back home and I get paid." He nods toward Chaim then his bag, "Gears kinda tight for me at the moment. A Ballistic Mask with gas mask should do it if you can squeeze it into the order. The locks won't be a problem and you know I have no issue with being the point man on an opperation."
-
Cas chuckles, "I can appreciate security. Though I tend to prefer it to have more meet on it's bones." The smile in his eyes tells that is more of a joke than anything insulting.
Spike grinned "We do not need his muscles, we need his keen senses." Besides, he was cute and she loved him, and the two slept together most of the time. The little dog made her feel safe, made her feel like nobody can sneak up on her when she slept.
She took a drink and nursed it with no passion, clearly she was used to better. "Well, I would rather go underground as well, fewer innocent bay standers if things go badly and I get to bring my big gun." she said. She tried to sound bad-ass, but the real reason she wanted to go underground was shame - she was afraid someone was going to recognize her and point at her and laugh. She was poor and it was evident by her second hand black leather jacket she was wearing and her cheap clothes.
"Oh and I will need a gas mask.
The good news is that collateral damage are unlikely in case you use
NeuroStun VIII. The same ventilation system that prevent disease from spreading should also prevent the gas from reaching the top floors of the hospital. I am not certain if ghouls actually breath or not, but the test subjects would breath and perhaps it is even for their own good. Take into account that the gas takes 10 minutes to become inert and it might be more in a poorly ventilated room so careful when you are taking the gas masks.
-
Morning is heralded by a clock tower somehow still active, but the light of dawn is unable to pierce the overhanging cloud cover. A knock at the door startles you awake, but checking the intercom system, you see it is only a short man in an oversized coat. As the door is opened, he quickly and silently unloads a set of boxes from his courier van. Once all are deposited, he nods at you before turning briskly, pulling up his collar and wading back through the ever growing puddles, glistening with oil slicks.
Inside the boxes are the group's shopping list, bundled neatly. The ammo and grenades are doubly encased in hard plastic. A small note is taped to the plastic container, This is all I could find on short order, good luck. -A.T. Inside, there are only three neuro stun grenades. Looks like you'll need to be careful how they're used.
Each hour seems to tick by slower than the last, the calm before the run setting in. As the time finally approaches, you strap on your gear, check ammo, and double check each other. It's time.
-
That night instead of settling in, Spikes joined Chaim or Barsa as he called himself in a shopping, or shadow shopping. She watched him as he activated his networks and connections and admired his skills. The young lady had little understanding about how the shadow world worked and she used it as an opportunity to learn. Ichante protested a bit, with her protective instincts but Spikes just wanted something to keep her busy from thinking on how desperate her situation was. She even sort of helpped... well just a little bit.
Night came and the two returned to the safehouse, Spikes crushed in one of the room hugging her little dog. The puppy made her feel safe due to his keen senses and she was sure that he would wake her up should something terrible happen. At the morrning she packed her things wore her gas mask on her head, and placed her new glasses. She was ready to brave the terrible sewers and the only sadness in Spikes eyes was her new black boots. "I'll have to throw them away after this is over, and I just bought them." she said sadly. She was wearing her leather jacket and a helmet and her face were covered with a scarf. An AK-97 was ready stance and the young lady held it like she would know what to do with it. On her heap she had a concealed machine pistol just in case, and on her second heap was her deck. All her devices were offline, and Anna would use subvocal microphone to communicate with the rest.
"I am as ready as I will ever be" She declared
-
Casket takes off for a couple of hours and comes back with some gear for the run. Once he was back he actually took some time to sleep, which was surprising to even him.
He spends the day going over gear and equipment. He field strips and cleans all of his weapons. Checks the charges on all powered electronics. He then spends time going over what route Eddie used through the sewers and asks for Spikes to look up any and all alternative routes. Once he's tripled checked everything he set's back out of the way and spends his the evening listening to different podcasts. He has a interesting range of topics he listens to.
Once its time to suit up, he's all business. He gears up and gives a critical eye to each of the team in turn.
He gives a second look to Spikes, and says. "You hold back on firing any of the weapons while we need to keep quiet."
-
Ichante has a troubled night of sleep as her mind is gripped by disturbing scenarios wherein her mani-pedi from Lordstrung's is irreparably ruined in the sewers of Redmond. Her mind fills with if/then calculations of what to do in any given situation to maintain the integrity of her finger nails and toenails, and her teammates too if possible. Her worst nightmare is a flash flood of rainwater blasting down the sewer pipe like a concentrated river of foulness, simultaneously triggering her hydrophobia and her cacophobia. She wakes up in a sweat, her hair sticky and wet, the unfortunately nightmare already halfway to reality.
In the morning, moody about her hair and sour about the bags under her eyes, she sits and crosses her legs while swearing to the Great Spirit that she will learn Healthy Glow just as soon as this is all over, plus Detox to help alleviate her Jazz benders, and maybe Fast so that she can start to curb those late-night sugar cravings. Maybe then she can get a job casting spells on rich women, conveniently forgetting that she has the humility of a high school cheerleader and lacks the requisite obsequiousness for casting spells on Mrs. Johnsons.
Ichante lifts her hands up, staring out the window and studying the patterns in the rainfall for clues about the Earth's magic. Wakan Tanka, if it suits you, send me an ally, she asks. One faster than thunder, and steadier than the ocean wind. One strong as the rain that erodes the mountain, and clever as the raven in flight. And not too ugly, please.
The pattern of rainfall outside begins to sway and shift. A figure begins to form, as if an invisible person were stepping into the sheets of falling water. The raindrops curl and swirl around the figure until it emerges as a bare-chested Native male with lightning in his pectorals and lats like wings. Ichante claps with delight.
Her mood lifted, Ichante pulls on her armor jacket, wondering if she should just have Thunder Eyes over here just carry her through the sewers. She bids him to wait on the astral until she needs him.
"I'm ready," she says, slapping a mag of flechette rounds into her Colt Cobra TZ-120. "Betel and Cram are on me today," she announces magnanimously, still pleased with her summoning.
-
Chaim lets his face drop a bit when he finds three measly grenades in the ammunition box, and flicks Asher's note aside. It's a pointless performance, given that Asher isn't there to witness it, but Chaim finds these little touches useful for further price gouging later, should the opportunity present itself. It's best when he can muster a semblance of belief in the bulldrek he's spinning when he's spinning it.
As Casket sets about the business of lining up, inspecting, and then cleaning his weaponry, Chaim takes stock of his own gear. The chameleon suit was new, an expensive purchase after his last run when he'd needed to ditch it in the middle of a job, but it had given him an opportunity to invest in some upgrades, one of which was a low-light flashlight he hadn't found contacts to match with yet.
"I think I'm going to head into Touristville," Chaim says to the group. "I need to grab a spare mag, some other sundries, and some contacts from a guy I know down the way. The eye kind I mean," he adds as an afterthought.
Spikes volunteers to accompany him, and he gladly accepts. He sees a whiff of concern cross Ichante's face, so he fires off a comm as finishes buttoning his overcoat.
<<@Ichante [Brasa] I'll be on my best behavior.>>
On the way over, Chaim runs through the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out which corp spawned Spikes, but the young decker is playing her cards pretty close to her chest, and the ex-Azzie doesn't push things. He makes a couple calls and sends a few comm messages on the way down, and within thirty minutes the pair is sitting in a Stuffer Shack just off Avondale nursing burritos and cola when Amber makes her way over, still wearing her dorky Stuffer Shack hat, which she takes off quickly upon spying Spikes.
"Hey, Am," Chaim says, inviting her to sit. He runs through the shopping list, adding, "I'm sure some of that's been returned, or is defective, neh? No need to put it on the scanner, scan?"
"That's you, Brasa, always looking for a deal," she deadpans, but meets them out back a few minutes later with the gear carefully tucked into a black shopping bag, which Chaim ditches at the first opportunity.
One last stop at the all-night Weapons World, and they're back at the safe house, Chaim whispering the Shema to himself out of habit as he tries to quiet his mind. The next day they'd be going in. He hoped they were prepared.
#
When he wakes, Casket has already been up for hours, it seems, poring over Eddie's maps. He makes recommendations on the route, and encourages Spikes to keep her assault rifle on a short leash. Ichante hangs back a little, but is clearly pleased with herself, and she loads up her machine pistol. That's a good sign.
"I'm ready," she says, slapping a mag of flechette rounds into her Colt Cobra TZ-120. "Betel and Cram are on me today," she announces magnanimously, still pleased with her summoning.
"Me too," Chaim adds. The new chameleon suit feels good on him, his arm slide is working perfectly, and the filters have just been changed on his gas mask. Now or never time, chummer. Don't frag this up.
"Let's get paid, shall we?"
-
Spikes answers Casket " Main weapon is the deck, currently wifi dark for me. I suggest you do the same. Trust me, I am not the one to shoot first - not in this crowd by the time I pull the trigger it is already loud."
She giggles at Ichante when she declares about the betel and cram and answers "You always carry the fun stuff..."
-
Casket shrugs, "Just meant you need to get suppressors on you gear. Staying down and bricking the other sides drek is fine with me."
He laughs at the others eagerness to get to work and chimes in in agreement, "Time to earn some cred!"
-
horse laid her kit out in silence, two mags subsonic, two mags apds, piston thremags apds, checked her armour and made sure the pins where properly splayed on the grenades.
then she sat back on the bed and stared at the walls only needed a few hours sleep so she sat by the window watch the new guy go and come back.
then she took her fall back SIN and the new suit and put it in the pannier on the bike.
looking at the sky feeling the rain on her face "great spirt guide me?"
time to go to work
back up stairs it was hard to tell if Casket was advising spikes or telling her off
she sat down on the bed and messaged Drinking elk "father, i'm working tonight, remember me to the ancestors"
-
Ichante can't stand to send her new crush into combat without proper armaments.
"Pale Horse, can I borrow your club?" she asks.
Pale Horse agrees and tosses the club to Ichante, who awkwardly catches it after bobbling it for a moment. Should have used magic fingers. That would have looked smoother, she chides herself, using her hands to pat down any strands of hair that might have flipped up during the catch.
Ichante looks at the club, which has been carved out of the stock of a shotgun or rifle. She knows these gunstock clubs are popular with her countrymen and women, especially the Lakota. They are often used in conjunction with Okichitaw, often as an alternative to tomahawks.
She holds the club out to her spirit's astral form. I will carry this for you until you materialize and need it, she tells him. What should I call you?
That would please me greatly, the spirit says in response to the club. You may call me Achak.
Achak? she wonders, mildly confused. She scratches her head. What language is that?
Algonquin.
"Huh," Ichante says to herself, scratching her head some more, wondering why an Algonquin spirit would show up to a Sioux shaman. She wonders if she needs to ask her mother about that; Ichante never did look very much like her father.
-
Casket shrugs, "Just meant you need to get suppressors on you gear. Staying down and bricking the other sides drek is fine with me."
Spikes rolls her eyes up and then say annoyed "...And R3 gas vent system, a smartlink, shock pads and chameleon coating so that I can carry it invisible while wearing my second skin... If only I could afford all these wonderful things" She shrugged. A second skin was Spikes ultimate fashion desire, as a single set of clothes that could look like anything.
-
Once all the members are satisfied, their gear is prepped, they have checked one another, and have reached the determined time, they leave the safe house, taking various routes through the city eventually meeting at the back alley Eddie had originally used just a few nights earlier. Lacking a vehicle with more cover than a motorcycle, they all arrive rather wet, but none show any signs of being bothered by the rain. Perhaps they are simply too amped up for the mission, perhaps it's just their nature. It could also be that they have lived in the Seattle area long enough that an umbrella has become a foreign concept.
Arriving at close to the same time, all members are quickly accounted for at the manhole cover, and bikes are hidden away behind whatever cover can be found. Casket pulls aside the cover, and shines a short burst of his light into the sewers. The ladder built into the wall makes for an easy descent, and Spikes confirms the RFID tag placement.
The water level has risen since Eddie's scouting mission, and moves quickly through the central trough. Every few feet, the runoff from the rain splashes over the thin walkways along each wall. Luckily, the smell has also been largely carried away by the constant shower.
Ichante, Pale Horse, and Spikes each briefly lose their footing, but recover with nothing worse than a dunked knee.
[spoiler=rolls]
Each roll is Chaim, Ichante, Pale Horse, Casket, and Spikes, in that order.
Keep footing: Success keeps footing (http://"http://orokos.com/roll/447583")
Recover: Ichante, Pale Horse and Spikes all succeed (http://"http://orokos.com/roll/447584)
[/spoiler]
The RFID tags are easy to follow otherwise, and the group arrives at the port hole doors.
-
The underground travel is unkind to Spikes and she loses her footing and then ends up with her leg submerged in water. Luckily Cas caught her on time for it to be just the leg. "Thanks Cas" she mumbles. Shortly after was Ichante's turn to get wet and then Pale horse decided to the same. "I wonder why it keeps happening just to the girls... What's your secret guys?"
Spike's deck run silent and she carefully monitored the RFID tags that served as a trail of breadcrumbs to their paycheck.
-
on the trip in horse stashes her spare sin/new suit and cred stick on the bike the programmed it to return to the reservation in 24 horse. get away and avenger all in one.
on the way she speaks quietly to spikes." keep your head down don't gawp, keep your eye on your job, if you don't understand or didn't hear say "say again" no "what?" or "eh?" "you say "say again" just listen out for Chaims' voice and messages, there'll be other chat but he's coordinating it he'll tie you in if he says move- then move if he says hack then hack. your going to panic, no helping it, control it! just embrace the suck and function. you'll be frosty you copy my paste little sis?"
-
Spikes listens to pale horse but remains silent, her brainiac brain calculates several witty remarks on the fly. Yet she decides to remain silent, so in response she just grins at the stoic elf and then nods her head. The little fly teaching the mighty spider... I am definitely not in Kansas anymore. She thinks, yet the idea of a criminal shadowrunner looking out for her is still difficult to accept these people are all sINless scum, people that contribute nothing to the economy of the world, create or invent nothing of their own...
"Perhaps she is just afraid that I will mess it up for her... but I do not need a remainder I am never giving up my deck. Life are miserable without it." she thinks.
-
The RFID tags are easy to follow otherwise, and the group arrives at the port hole doors.
Cas keeps an eye on the others and directs them the best he can to keep everyone hidden and safe. Once he reaches the doors that Eddie found he begins to study them.
"Which door do we use?"
-
Ichante descends into the sewer, less annoyed than she otherwise might be since she's already wet from the unrelenting rain. If anything, the sewer might actually be drier than the surface. That optimistic thought lasts for a few steps, until she hits a slimy patch and almost belly flops into the fast-moving center channel.
The dwarf gets up off her hands and needs, hyperventilating a little at her close encounter with the water. She has never liked water deeper or bigger than a bathtub, not since she was a little kid. The phobia tugs at her insides, but recedes as she stands up and straightens out her jacket and her gloves. Summoning as much dignity as she can muster, she resumes her lead on point. She soon feels better when the much more nimble Pale Horse also takes a fall.
On the astral, Ichante can see squat. Sure, there's algae and other microbial life, but evidently the rising waters have motivated the rats and devil rats to seek higher ground. Thermographically, there's just as little to see so she flicks on her infrared flashlight, carrying it in one hand and her borrowed club in the other. Pale Horse follows behind her, peering over her head with her adept senses.
They follow the crumb trail of RFID tags left by Eddie until they reach the door in question.
"Hey, muscles," Ichante says to Casket. "Do me a solid and keep me out of the drink while I poke my head in."
Once the larger man has a firm grip on Ichante, she goes limp as he astral form slips away. She gets her bearing for a moment - lest she get lost underground - and then pushes through the door to the other side.
The room is disgustingly thick and cloying, like swimming through gelatin. She can only make out half the room but doesn't see anyone around. What is there is a palatable sense of dread, fear, and anguish, intermixed with a persistent feeling of curiosity. As a cat shaman, Ichante knows curiosity, but she would hope to find it in a more welcoming space.
Rejoining her body, she pats herself down to make sure no one mussed up her hair while she was away. Then she covertly burps a few times to help settle the nausea welling up in her stomach.
"The coast is clear," she announces to Casket. "We can pop the lock. And by 'we' I mean 'you'." She steps aside to let the big man work.
She turns to Pale Horse. "You and I are going to feel like drek in there. Imagine all the miserable emotions you feel when coming off a hit of Jazz. This is a dark corner for doing dark deeds." She grips the gunstock club tightly, as if it might help ward away the evil within.
-
Upon descending in the sewers, which really is a step up from the constant downpour, Chaim turns to supervisor mode, whispering into his subvocal mic. "PaleHorse, Casket, take point. Ichante take the middle, and have your spirit on the lookout, Spikes, hang back with me. All, keep your eyes out for Casket's advance orders."
It's nothing that needs to be said, really, their advance was already planned out, as was the marching orders. Casket had shown them back at the safehouse how to move in a diamond formation, so that they could keep the best lookout and be prepared for any angle of attack. Still, Chaim has noticed both with his time at Aztechnology and especially in his present role as shadowrunner, that running according to plan made everything work out more smoothly. Hell, sometimes just being reminded of a bad plan could salvage it.
In turn, each of the three females take a knee, or worse, in the muck and algae, and for a moment the team stops, the splashing echoing down the walls of the sewer, soon to be lost among the sounds of running water. Thankfully, no one is worse for the wear, though Ichante seems thoroughly displeased. "Hang in there," he whispers to her, turning his subvocal mic off for a few seconds. "We'll be topside soon enough. Just focus on keeping us on track, wiz?"
They advance slowly, carefully, with Chaim periodically calling attention to a chest-high drainage pipe, or blind corner as they make their way to the door Eddie found. When they get there Ichante swoons into Eddie's arms, Any excuse, eh, ya old bird? and Chaim pulls back the gloves on his chameleon suit and washes off his hands with some of his bottled water. By the time he's changed out his contacts, Ichante is back to herself and warning PaleHorse of some nasty drek going on in the astral.
With the new contacts in Chaim can't see nearly as far, though he'll be thankful for them should it come to any shooting. He considers going ahead and popping some jazz, but without any real idea of how far hey have to go, much less the pace they'll be able to keep, it'd be bad news if the drugs gave out before he could. The drug quality varied so widely, there was never any telling of what you were going to get for a ride.
-
Cas took out his lockpicking tools and set to work on the door Ichante pointed out. It wasn't all that hard. Cas always did have a knack with the old tumbler style locks. He put pressure on the mechanism and raked the tumblers. one smooth movement and the lock was undone.
He turned to the others before he started to open the door.
"So I'm guessing either me or Pale Horse takes point." he subvocalises across the team channel.
-
"Pale Horse and I might be compromised by the environment," Ichante whispers into her micro-transceiver. "Cas should take point with Pale Horse sweeping behind."
-
The lock slides smoothly open, and with a not-so-gentle push the section detaches from the rest of the wall, Casket manages to keep a hand on the bottom, keeping it from crashing into the floor inside the room. He moves in first, setting the panel to the side so no one trips on it, and begins checking the room.
Inside is something from Eddie's nightmares. The center of the room is dominated by a bare metal surgical style table, complete with shackles, a bolted on IV branch, and runnels for various bodily fluids. Directly above the table is a large bank of spot lights, interwoven with cameras and haphazard cords tying it all together. Every surface, from the table to the floor, to the walls and even the lights are covered in various amounts of dried blood and bits of human tissue.
This must be what was meant by a "popper."
Across the room is a single doorway, but no discernable knob is on this side of the door.
-
Spikes looks at that atrocity and it makes her sick, "awww... that is awful" she thinks and then heads on to the spotlight and cameras, "Should I get a mark on these cameras?" she suggests sub vocally.
-
Casket sweeps the room with his silenced Pred V at the ready. He nods toward the other door.
"Do you think they are on the same network as the door so we can get out of this shithole?"
-
Spikes subvocally say "Yes they are connected and I already have a single mark on the camera and host. I'll need someone to protect me if you want more because I really need hot sim in order to continue poking around in that host.
-
Ichante brings up the rear to keep the team in front of her and provide counter-spelling if necessary. She tiptoes into the room bracing for a wave of nausea that never arrives.
Huh, this isn't so bad, she thinks, sidestepping the remains of a popper as she swings her infrared flashlight around. A little lax on the housekeeping. Too bad Eddie's missing out.
She gives Achak orders to hang bang, as she doesn't want to expose him unnecessarily to the room's miserable aura. She rotates through her contingency plans.
If anything walks through that door, Petrify it. If it pushes through that, stab it with Chill. If we conduct a fighting retreat, Ice Sheet. If I'm surrounded, Flame Burst. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.
She hunkers down, keeping an eye on the door without a doorknob while Spikes does her thing. "Let's make sure those cameras aren't running right now, while we're at it," she subvocalizes. "Footsteps and flashlights might tip them off, even if they can't see us."
-
"I have access to the cameras, I am forwarding camera feeds." Declared Spikes and added "The way I see it we have two options, stealth and slow or quick and dirty. If we favor stealth I can loop cameras in our movement path to keep us invisible to the main security. If we go dirty, I can hack smart gun systems on our movement path reducing our chance of being shot at. " Spikes took a deep breath and examined her equipment to make sure that they are still stealthy as she waited for response. She made sure to loop the cameras in their room in case anyone would make a mistake while planning.
-
The team discusses how to deal with the two guards in hushed tones, their soft words muffled in the air beyond by Achak's mojo. Once everyone has made their contribution Spikes dips under again, her back against the wall, as she moves into the matrix for some old-fashioned signal jamming, while Casket, Ichante, and Pale Horse pile up by the door.
"Rememer," Casket whispers into his subvocal mic, "I peel left, Ichante, you're right, Pale Horse you follow her to clean up."
Chaim positions himself by the door, ready to open. "Center mass," he says to Cas. "This guy's not even going to know what hit him. You ready to put those reflexes to the test, old man."
Casket crouches low with the shotgun looking natural in his hands, a practical extension of his body. His eyes peer forward like a predator, his lips pursed as he breathes in deeply through his nose. "Go."
-
At Spikes' command the door opens quietly on hidden hinges. Casket and Ichante simultaneously lean into the hall and perform exactly as planned. The guard nearest to the door had begun to take a step forward, but found himself unable to continue to move at all. Casket leans the opposite direction, his shotgun at the ready. The silencer muffles the bang to little more than a whisper, and an electrically charged round hits the second guard square in the chest. Reflexively, he moves to aim his rifle at the runners, but his muscles fail to obey, locking up as his world goes dark from the immense shock overloading his senses.
The runners pause for a moment to see if anything changes, but no alarms go off, Spikes registers nothing on the matrix side. The coast is clear for now.
The hallway is barren, cement walls stained from seeping water, the doors line the two sides, and at the far end stands the ominous looking vault door.
-
Casket is moving forward on the stunned guard before the guard can even drop. He looks left and right at every door down the hall just to make sure none of them are open with any surprises to jump out at the team.
-
Spikes whispers in sub-vocal "See if they have some id, key cards anything that may allow us to get passed security. Their uniform may also be useful."
-
Less than a second, and it's all over. Chaim follows behind, and starts rolling the bodies. "Be on the lookout for any bio-monitors or Doc Wagon bands. If we're clear on that front, we should have a few minutes. If not, we need to press in now.
Finding no immediate signs that their presence has been detected, they move the guards to the horror room, and relieve them of their weapons and gear.
"I figure there's two ways we can play this. One, we rush in, drop everybody that needs dropping, and do what we came here to do. Two, I put on one of these uniforms, Ichante makes me look like, say this one here, and I rush in telling them that our comm systems have been compromised, and have them all reboot their links. When they comply, the rest of the team follows, and we drop them, then do what we came here to do.
"Personally, I'm leaning toward the second option, but I have no problem going hot if we need to play it that way."
-
"when we say hot are we kill or knock?" the sotto deadpan voice gave it that little extra edge
"and are we using silencer or all out thunder and lightning?" she asked with a raised eyebrow "I only ask because it effect choice of ammo, my vote is for straight through the door with quite weapons and sleeping spells, so we don't wke kraken"
-
Spikes replied subvocally to Pale horse "Let's not kill people if we do not have to, I am good with gel rounds. No silencer for me so I do not shoot unless I have to."
-
Ichante feels the tug at the back of her head, the little craving that says that she should pop some Cram, or better yet, some Jazz.
If there's a drek sandwich, it'll be better to eat it fast, the craving tells her.
No, no, the stubborn part of her responds. We're cooking this slow and low. Drugs will just make us jumpy. We need to be smoother than soy, and that doesn't happen when we're all loaded up.
She creeps into position, read to spin around the corner and lock down (rock down) the guard at the end of the hall. She takes a deep breath as Casket stacks up next to her. She can go low while he goes high.
Ichante draws her inspiration from the environment. She studies the cold, concrete walls, feeling the impassivity to the surrounding screams and horrors. On cue, she flips around the corner. Spying the guard, she imagines the floor leeching up through his boots. The coldness wrinkles and crackles its way up through his knees and hips, then spreads across his chest and down his arms. His teeth freeze in place as his skull goes still. Behind her, there's a thump and a zap and the sound of guard collapsing. She turns around to see if they need to finish him off, but the guard is tweaking and freaking on the concrete floor.
Ichante gives a thumbs-up to the rest of the team in the cell. She trots down the hallway to disarm and disrobe the petrified guard. It's awkward, given that his limbs don't bend and his armored clothing doesn't really flex that well either, but eventually she has him stripped.
I like it, she says subvocally in regard to Chaim's plan. But first we have to figure out our way into the vault, without tripping any alarms for getting it wrong. And before we do that, let me get a peek at what's behind door #3. She nods to the vault door and its nine levers arranged around it like an odd clock.
-
Spikes pockets the guards comlinks, perhaps she can send fake status reports or something with them, or atleast know if somebody is calling them. She looks at the vault door and attempts to figure out how to open it.
-
Once Casket is sure the hallway is clear he uses all of his concentration on the vault door. "Let's get ready with the plan, but we got to get through this vault door first."
-
Ichante does her "Casket-catch-me" routine again but quickly pops out of it.
"No go, can't get in. But, for what it's worth, I got a good look at the wall as I was bouncing off it."
Casket deposits her back on her feet and then steps forward to study the levers like a safecracker of old. Ichante keeps watch while Casket and Spikes do their things.
-
While Casket takes up position at the vault door, Chaim directs Pale Horse to keep her eyes on the elevator door. "Quiet and nonlethal if we can. Somebody comes down that shaft, I want to see 'em out before the door dings, wiz?"
As fast as he can, Chaim steps into and straps on the security uniform. It's not a perfect fit, but to be honest it wasn't a perfect fit on that sec guard either. So few metas anymore appreciate the feeling of a quality pair of trousers. Buying off the rack is for chumps. As he straps into the ballistic vest, Chaim takes a closer look at the arrangement of the levers. "The contact gave us the code here, but I don't seem to have written it down. Spikes, will you check the data pack?"
"It's 4-2-6-8," Pale Horse says.
"No, it's 2-4-8-6," Ichante corrects. After a quick look through the data file, Spikes confirms.
To everyone Chaim continues, "I'm in first. You chummers stay out of line-of-sight. When they go to reboot their links, or it looks like they're about to open fire, our code word is thunder.
"We ready?"
-
Spikes smiles a silly smile "As ready as I'll ever be!" she said readying her weapon and waiting for the door to open.
-
Casket stacks up on the door. "On thunder we breach.. got it."
-
horse stands on the opposite side of Cas tucks her smg under her chin and nods
-
While Casket studies the levers on the wall, Ichante remembers the code and flashes it to Chaim, who relays it to Casket. The old man finds raised dots on the end of the levers and counts off to find the correct starting position.
"Crazy idea, should we dress in their uniforms?" Chaim subvocalizes.
"You can wear another man's underwear if you want," Ichante quips. "If that's your thing. Or I can just cast a spell and make you look like chummer here." She nudges the downed guard with her foot.
Chaim nods as Ichante steps forward.
"I won't be good for much after this," she reminds the team. "My concentration will be divided, so don't look to me for help with your homework."
Ichante lays her hands on Chaim and concentrates on reshaping his image to match the man on the ground. Chaim notices her frowning and her eyebrows furrowing.
"You got this, little lady," he coaches her. "You can paint with all the colors of the wind."
Ichante redoubles her efforts, if only to make Chaim shut the frag up. There's no denying the he draws a better result out of her than she would have produced on her own. She wipes a bead of sweat off her brow, taking a deep breath as she maintains concentration on two different spells. Her head throbs as she nods to Chaim, then hunkers down with Spikes while Horse and Casket stack up on the vault door behind Chaim, who will lead the way in.
-
Chaim quickly pulls what he needs from one of the downed guards, he takes the ear buds from both and distributes them to the group as he sees fit, the stand for Ichante to weave her spell around him. He expects a tingle, but nothing comes, he coaches her along and in a few seconds, he looks like the recently electrified guard. Ichante smiles wearily, nodding at her work.
Without a mirror to check himself, Chaim accepts that the disguise is in place and miss to Casket. The large man begins pulling levers around the massive door. As he pulls the last, he backpedals to the side, out of sight.
Hollow metallic banging reverberates through the door for a moment as the mechanisms come to life. The door slowly rolls to the side, disappearing into the thick walls. Before it is entirely open, Chaim takes a few rushed breaths, and jogs into the room.
"We're under attack. Communications are compromised. Everybody, reboot your links, and hold tight. Turn wireless functionality off. The cavalry will be along shortly. Don't panic now, just leave this to the professionals, and everybody will get out safely."
Two guards stationed inside the entrance look at each other, while four working men in lab coats look up stunned from their work.
The lead scientist steps out from behind his desk, Lopez, what are talking about? How did you get in here?
No time to explain, doc, just stay put! Chaim reiterates, scanning the room with a practiced gaze before turning back to the hallway.
Inside are the total of six men, low desks sprawl across the center of the room, covered with various lab equipment. The walls are lined with over sized test tubes with all manner of decay. In one, a severed limb twitches, suspended in some viscous fluid, another has internal organs, dripping ichor into a vat, blackened with decay. Chaim shudders internally, trying not to let it show on his face. Beyond the desks, several more doors are centered on the far four walls.
As Chaim steps back into the hall to complete his quick recon, the team can hear the men inside, Alright, we've practiced for this, Jones, start the data dump, Trevor, fire up the incinerator, you two, post, Manfred and I have got the fields. Let's go!
-
Casket sub-vocalizes into the "We need some paydata but if they are going to wipe it all part of our job will be done."
-
Horse pulls a flash bang out of her pocket and raises her eyebrow. "flash bang anyone while we remember to grab a sample of the cure"
-
Chaim steps further into the room as the pair of guards take up defensive positions around the doorway. Well frag, that's not exactly the plan I had in mind. Even worse, Chaim doesn't see anyone taking out their link to do a reboot, and -- and this is a big "and" -- two scientists on the opposite side of the room near some comm terminals rush immediately to start dumping data.
Frag.
Mother frag.
Rolling with the new situation, Chaim palms one of the Neuro-Stun grenades, and switches its setting to motion sensor. Taking two quick strides toward the desks with science projects worse than any Aztechnology lab he's ever been in -- and that's saying something -- he lets the grenade drop at his feet as he begins screaming, "Thunder and lightning, mother fuckers! I'm taking you all down with me!"
Somewhere in his quick expletive-ridden foray into the psyche of a disgruntled sec guard, the gas grenade pops, filling the room with its invisible and odorless payload. He waves the Ares Alpha threateningly, and lets off a few rounds for effect before ducking behind the desk, seeking cover from the guards who will surely be firing on him momentarily.
-
Hearing the pop of grenade Spikes quickly places her gas mask on, figuring out it is her only way to stay awake.
-
The tiny detonation of Chaim's grenade is barely audible over his yelling and completely lost behind the quick bursts of rifle fire. The two guards at the door are barely able to turn around before the gas hits them. One chokes out a meager attempt to call for help, but isn't conscious enough to actually get anything over radio comms. The scientists are even closer to the center of the blast, dropping almost instantaneously.
Chaim holds his breath and darts through the cloud pulling his mask on as he runs, the rest of the crew don their own masks and move quickly into the room, Spikes goes directly to the data terminal and plugs in, while the others check the stunned workers and set up defenses.
Manfred and the lead scientist have made it to a separate room, and are not among the men inside, the others are all down.
Spikes takes a moment to update the team, the data dump has already been initialized, she's going to have to push hard to get what she can. She's going to need time.
Once satisfied with the room, Pale Horse checks the doors on the far side. She can see movement through frosted glass on all four, but little else. All four doors are tightly secured with magnetic and piston locks.
-
horse nodded to the old man and they swung through the door as one. at a smooth steady pace they move round the out side of the room scanning the room over the top of their weapon sites. as they reach their first corner they stop and exchange glances (as best you can through respirator masks) to confirm everyone in the room is down and out. "ok! boss i'll check out these doors! where do have the stuff we need?"
-
With the gas popped and the guards gagging on the floor, Ichante springs into action. She lifts her helmet and pulls on her own gas mask, then drops her helmet back into place as she surveys the scene.
"I'm dropping the disguise," she tells Chaim, wondering if he should have a codename like Dirk, or Diggler. As the spell fades, Chaim returns to his usual blue-eyed self.
She juts her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the petrified guard. "I'm going to drag Michelangelo in here and gas him so I can keep my concentration free," she says, confusing the name of the artist with the name of the statue.
Despite the heaviness of the calcified guard, she succeeds in levitating him into the gas cloud. Once the statue is positioned over the sputtering gas grenade, she drops the spell and stands back. The guard - surprised to find himself without his weapons or clothes - flails about for a few moments before his eyes roll back and he tips over. After securing his wrists and ankles, Ichante levitates the guards down the hall to use them as door stops so that their escape route doesn't slam shut behind them. Or, if the doors do slam, then maybe the men's cyberware will jam things up and prevent a clean lock.
Task complete, Ichante skips back down the hall and gets her orders from Chaim, which she then passes on to her guardian spirit.
Achak, she says to the spirit. Please join me. Accept this gunstock war club as a sign of my worthy respect and admiration. Watch these elevator and cell doors and stop anything that tries to come out.
The shirtless spirit emerges from the astral and accepts the wooden club. With a confident nod, he strides down the hallway and stands with arms akimbo in front of the elevator doors. With a guard on their rear flank, Ichante turns back to help watch Casket's back.
Edit: Chaim is not an elf
-
The team rushes into the lab, and Chaim goes into director mode. He doesn't even have a chance to speak to Ichante before the dwarf begins work on further incapacitating the petrified guard and then using his body to maintain access to their exit, something Chaim hadn't even considered. It's nice when a runner can find a semi-regular team; they cover each other's blind spots well. Plus, half the time Ichante seems to know what just what to do before Chaim can even open his trap.
Satisfied that Ichante and her spirit, a well-built Amerindian who's running around shirtless -- Of course he is, Chaim thinks feeling a bit under-developed himself -- he turns his attention to the inside of the lab, and puts his hand on Casket's shoulder. "Pop the door to those scientists. Pale Horse, stack up behind for a dynamic entry."
Within seconds, the elder runner is crouched in front of the door, his tools out, and fingers working frantically disassembling the maglock. "Time is of the essence, Cas. Our paycheck's on the other side of door."
"On it," Casket replies, just as the magnetic lock disengages.
"Lay 'em out fast, lay 'em out hard!" Chaim says to Pale Horse, as he turns his eyes and ears to the other rooms, and the shadows playing on the other side of the frosted glass.
Ah, frag this, he thinks, readying his borrowed Alpha.
-
Anna swaps her deck to attack configuration position, and lunches a vicious data spike toward the IC. She is still running silent so, her position is not immediately obvious.
[spoiler]
(she uses 4 Attack, 3 sleaze, 2 dp , 1 firewall)
programs (hammer + decription + smoke and mirrors L2)
overclocking attack:
after all 6 attack, 5 sleaze, 2 dp, 1 firewall - device is slaved to her comlink with 6 firewall.
before the IC attacks Spikes it needs to suceed in matrix perception against her, as Spikes is running silent.
data spike (http://orokos.com/roll/456666): 13d6t5 4
damage is 8 matrix + net hits.
Initiative (http://orokos.com/roll/456667): 7+4d6 17
[/spoiler]
-
horse watch the old man do his thing with the lock 2she leaned in "when it open just duck i'll go straight in"
-
Spikes blows a whole through the IC, but it is still coming. Another countermeasure also deploys and begins following the second toward her.
[spoiler=Matrix rolls]
Damage resistance: 4 hits (http://"http://orokos.com/roll/456774#") so 8 damage, it still has 3 open spots on its damage track.
Matrix Perception: 9 and 3 hits (http://"http://orokos.com/roll/456777#")
First one's attack: 5 hits (http://"http://orokos.com/roll/456779#")
Second one initiative: 26 (http://"http://orokos.com/roll/456780#")
The second IC rolled 2 hits on its matrix perception try for round 2, your move, 2 hasn't seen you yet
[/spoiler]
Ichante moves the incapacitated men into their door jam positions, while Chaim directs Casket to get to work on the door locks. Only a few moments pass as the big man deftly works his way past the security controls, but before he can move into the piston locks, the group hears a series of hissing sounds. Chaim realizes it first, and shortly after, the group understands where it is coming from. The air ventilation system is quickly scrubbing out the gas, but more concerning, is that one of the doors' pistons are retracting, and it's not the door Casket is working on.
[spoiler=OOC]
Initiatives please
[/spoiler]
-
Spikes narrowly dodges, the IC, but it takes all her attention, her deck is vulnerable and she cannot afford to get hit - the IC can probably nuke her with a single hit. She go into full defensive mode, and then beef up the sleaze of her deck to the maximum. Hoping that atleast the other IC will not spot her so quickly.
[spoiler]
Spikes goes full matrix defense - adding 5 more points of willpower to her pool.
She then swap attack for sleaze, bringing her sleaze 2 points higher to 7, she increase smoke and mirrors to 5. Sleaze is 10. (giving her 17 dice to resist perception. She is out of operations and the IC has another move this round.
[/spoiler]
-
Chaim calls out the opening door, the hissing release of the gas pistons slide into the walls, and the door springs open. Immediately six half changed, fully crazed ghouls charge through the doorway, pushing and climbing over one another, teeth bared in maniacal grins and fingers forming clawed grips on everything they touch, pulling and launching themselves toward the runners.
-
"ok we change plan you get them I get these"
-
The door springs open and the half changed ghouls rush into the hexagonal room. Pale Horse is the first to respond, tearing off a burst of machine gun fire, which shreds the first, Casket destroys more with deadly efficiency, Ichante freezes one, which shakes its head numbly before being pushed aside by those behind. Only a couple make it through, scratching and clawing at Casket and the limp form of Spikes. A single hit in, and a long burst of autofire ends the last of the creatures.
Tense moments pass as the team checks the bodies to be sure they're all down for good. Spikes awakes from her time in hotsim, her eyes flick quickly across the carnage, her hand on her weapon.
Your comms crackle to life, Guys, can you he... Me?...Nelso.., compromi..d. et him out! the voice of Asher comes across hurriedly. Every one looks to each other, seemingly deciding whether or not to leave the room.
Umm guys, how many doors did you say were open? Spikes asks, pointing at a second door standing only barely open.
DING the elevator bell echoes down the long hallway in the now silent room.
-
Chaim stands stunned, wisps of smoke rising from the barrel of the Alpha as he surveys the five ghoul corpses before him. What was it, three, maybe four seconds ago he was saying to Casket, "How we coming on that door?" and then he'd heard the hiss of the maglock giving way before they were swarmed. He'd stood dumbfounded for a second after calling it out, had seen Casket cut down two with a single blast from his sawed-off shotgun before another raked him hard across the face, nearly rang his bell from the look of it. But then the old runner was on top of him, it?, his left hand around the ghoul's throat as he pushed it against the wall and nearly cut the thing in half with his second shot.
It was that second shot that brought him back to his senses. One was clawing its way toward him, while another pawed at Spike's unconscious form.
I've never even shot a machine gun. . .
He pulled the trigger again and again, cutting a horizontal line across the room, the reticle in his contacts cutting waves from the recoil.
And then he stopped and exhaled.
"Holy drek."
Your comms crackle to life, Guys, can you he... Me?...Nelso.., compromi..d. et him out! the voice of Asher comes across hurriedly. Every one looks to each other, seemingly deciding whether or not to leave the room.
"Negative," Chaim answers. "Not in the contract. Double it, we'll get your boy."
Chaim tosses the Alpha to Casket, and draws his Savalette Guardian as their decker sits up.
Umm guys, how many doors did you say were open? Spikes asks, pointing at a second door standing only barely open.
Chaim crosses over to Casket and sticks a spare mag into a pouch on the samura's face as he surveys the door he was working on. "Casket, put whatever's coming out down. Spikes, brick the rest of these doors."
The elevator dings down the hall.
"Really?" Chaim says as he prepares to confront the scientists.
-
horse stops the cogs in her head almost audibly whurling "ah, I understand it" she heads for the door "chaim! I hold lift, get sample!"
-
Spikes wakes up and screams "Got it..." with her victory voice, then she screams "ahaaaa!" when she realizes that there is a dead, blood dripping ghoul laid on top of her. She pushes the ghoul away from her and says "NOT FUNNY guys... couldn't you just paint me with lipstick or something? This is way too much, I'll never get that blood off now." She does what she can to somewhat bring her appearance to presentable fashion and, looks around disoriented and a bit shaken, clearly Spikes is still trying to digest what happened while she was away.
-
Ichante points Achak toward the elevator and says, "You go over there and watch our backs." She then watches his glutes as he complies, wondering if it might not be even safer if she were to watch Achak's back while he was watching hers.
Then there's a hiss and a pop and all of a sudden there are slobbering hordes of Infected pouring out into the laboratory.
"Ew!" is the best Ichante can manage as Pale Horse pumps rounds into the first one and Casket stops picking the lock long enough to shotgun the second.
"Ew ew!" she says, casting a halfhearted spell against the third, slowing it down just long enough for Chaim (of all people) to leap forward with an assault rifle and open up on full auto while ululating. After a few seconds the lab air is filled with gunsmoke and red mist and itsy bitsy pieces of full-autoed ghouls. One lands on Spikes in a severed heap, just in time for Spikes to open her eyes and scream, "Ahaaaa!"
With a sour expression, Ichante goes over to help lift the bifurcated ghoul off Spikes. Even with gloves on, the dwarf has a hard time bringing herself to touch the half-transformed ghoul. She momentarily debates calling Achak over to help, but then the elevator bell echoes down the long hallway.
"Horse, let's you and me and Ace Holt here" - Ichante juts her chin at Chaim and his Ares Alpha, referring to the action hero that's always clad in Ares gear - "guard the rear while Casket and Spikes finish up."
Achak spins Pale Horse's club in his hands as he waits for whatever's in the elevator to emerge. He readies a swing for the first chummer through.
-
horse looks at the smeared Spike and raises an eye brown" you might want to count eyebrows" she turns and heads for the door "Every one mark target before shooting, I feel something else comes in elevator"
-
There is an audible crack followed by a long slow hiss as the gas is vented from the piston locks around the door Casket has been fiddling with. Once released, he cranks the knob and enters the room. Inside are the final two scientists looking scared to death. They have removed a panel from one wall and wires are visibly damaged, electric scorch marks surround the opening.
The room itself is full of more equipment, but definitely geared more towards the microscopic work. Several petri dishes are stacked inside coolers and an autoclave is buzzing in one corner.
In the hexagonal room, the second test room door slowly swings open, a large claw like appendage testing it's way into the main room. Long fur covers much of the hand and arm, looking much like a bear paw. The darkness in the room seems to shift, coming to life with the beast.
Down the hall, the elevator doors open and a group of security guards rush into the hallway. Achak immediately clubs the first one, knocking him coldly to the floor, but two more rent a cops and two armored response officers follow closely.
-
The team reacts quickly, not letting surprise force their hand. Achak continues to swing at the guards exiting the elevator, connecting with another rent-a-cop in minimal armor. The poor chummer slumps to the floor, out of the fight. A moment later, Pale Horse unloads a barrage of suppressive fire down the hall, forcing the remaining cop to the ground. However, the two armored response officers remain on their feet just inside the elevator.
Casket works quickly to grab the samples in the Petri dishes, they are a mix of auger gel covered in yellow green spots and several small tissue samples. The autoclave is clearly being use to dispose of the remaining samples. A few moments longer, and there wouldn't have been anything left for Casket to collect.
-
Pale Horse spins around the corner and sprays the hallway with suppressive fire. The standing rent-a-cop hits the ground as the light rounds flatten themselves across Achak's broad back. He casts a semi-annoyed look behind him before turning back and charging into the elevator with a violent upswing of his gunstock war club. It kisses one of the armored guards underneath the chin, shattering his unprotected jaw while sending him sprawling.
Spikes and Ichante have their routine honed from prior jobs: Spikes goes high while Ichante goes low. Luckily Spikes uses caseless ammunition so that Ichante doesn't have hot brass raining down onto the top of her head. While Ichante works up a spell, Spikes finishes off the rent-a-cop on the ground. Unable to dodge, the man can only look up and gape before half a dozen AK-97 rounds puncture his armor and his face.
Ichante ignores the bloodbath and tries to focus on the armored guard still standing in the elevator. While Achak is durable, and ultimately replaceable, Ichante would feel terrible if he got whacked on her watch. She thinks back to the Sioux Nation, trying to conjure memories of the winter winds there. She turns those memories into mana and sends them directly into the guard's soul.
Sadly, the winter wind is more of a breeze than a storm. The uninspired spell bypasses the man's armor but does little more than to give him a shudder from the inside out. Ichante sneers, disappointed in her effort.
-
Casket stores the samples in his pockets, and shoots the scientists a hard, warning look. "I'd stay the frag down if I were you," he says, backing out of the room, and closing the door as he passes. He turns and catches the Ares Alpha Chaim tosses him, just as a ghoul tears out of its holding cell. He's huge, easily the size of a troll, though to be honest he looks a lot bigger than that to Casket. The aging street samurai turns and tries to level the assault rifle at the ghoul, but he's already on top of him, and knocks the barrel away with one hand while trying to take a swipe at Casket with the other.
Casket jumps back, just out of reach, and the ghoul's paw takes a chunk out of the table behind him, sending a flurry of test tubes and lab equipment clattering to the floor. Chaim draws his pistols and extols the virtues of automatic fire to Casket, while a burst of automatic gunfire erupts behind him, staggering the ghoul. Nice shooting,
Spikes, Chaim thinks, glad the decker can handle her own in the meat as well. The ghoul takes a small step back, but looks even more enraged, its dead calcified eyes squinting as it lets out a howl.
Chaim levels his own pistol, and fires off one his capsule rounds, hoping it will put him the rest of the way down.
-
The massive ghoul crashes through several tables and what is probably several thousands of nuyen worth of medical research equipment. Unphased by the calamity in the main room, Achak dispatches one armored guard while Ichaim freezes another. The last of the response team out of the fight for now, the runners are suddenly left in silence, their hearts pounding in their ears, scanning the room for any other threat. No immediate threat presents itself, but following the commotion, there is little chance their activities will go unnoticed for long.
-
"Is anyone hurt?" she asks quickly. Chaim and Casket are alright, Ichante is alright - and Pale horse - how can she not be alright - the woman seem to live for this kind of danger. Satisfied, Spikes lowers her weapon and reloads it with a fresh clip. "We do not have much time, let's be brief." she said.
-
"i'm fine but they not"
"how we wreck what we leave?"
-
Behind Ichante, the Narcojet takes hold against the ghoul, which plows forward through a table and several expensive experiments before faceplanting on the floor.
Her flank secure, Ichante once again summons forth a bitter Wyoming wind, which she channels into the armored security guard. Despite the lackluster casting, the effect is superb. The guard freezes in place, his eyes losing focus as his extremities fail to respond to his brain's commands.
Achak uses his club like an axe and gives the guard on the ground one last chop. The man's head snaps to the side and his eyes roll back. Ichante rushes forward to check on Achak, who is stoically enduring his wounds. She touches them tenderly, apologizing for what she's put him through.
"Spikes, you okay? Horse, good shooting." She toes the downed ghoul skeptically with her boot. "Let's exit stage left before we're chased by a bear."
She turns and runs to the cell doors and sewer entrance that she had propped open, her little legs shuffling along as fast as she can move them.
-
Pale Horse reminds the ground that part of the mission brief was to wreck the lab. Ichante stops in her tracks and spins around.
"Leave that to me," she says. "Everyone stand back. Keep the escape route clear."
Ichante stands in the middle of the lab and concentrates. She thinks of the Sioux summer sun, the punishing rays beating down on you with no shade or relief in any direction. Channeling the sensation, she lets it build up within her until she's sweating. Perspiration beads on her forehead until she releases the mana with a shout. It explodes out, a wave of flame building up and bursting forth every few seconds. Ichante slowly turns in a circle, sending sheets of magical fire throughout the lab. Once her back is to the lab door, she slowly backpedals out so that her casting position and the lab entry are also bathed in flames.
"Clear the way!" she shouts as she walks backward all the way to the sewer entrance, making sure that any forensic traces they inadvertently left behind are also scorched away.
Wary of accidentally igniting sewer gases, she releases the spell with a gasp. Despite the cold, damp basement, she feels sickly, as if she has a fever while sitting in the sun. Mopping her brow, she turns her senses to the astral so that she can scrub the signature of her final spell.
"Alright," she says, reuniting with the group and looking dehydrated. "Let's hit it." The thought of returning to the sewers - with their rising waters from all the rain - is little comfort to her, despite her temperature. She has Achak bend down so that she can jump on his back. The muscular spirit carries her away, sloshing through the sewers on the way back to the surface.
-
Things seemed to escalate quickly for Spikes as a quick check up everybody was okay - but then Ichante burned the entire lab out with fire that appeared out of thin air... "How does she do it?" She thought. While technically an adept, Spikes was simply awed by that display of force. "And the spirit too..." No matter how much Spikes encountered these things they always scared her, but fear was illogical and they needed to get away. She made her way to the sewer feeling a bit sad about the body count of the encounter.
"Let's hurry up before we need to swim. " She thought as she braved the raising see level. Meantime in AR she observed the matrix trying to figure out if someone was after them.
-
Horse silently mouths "wow" as the flames wreck the rooms. She motions to casket as sh pushes a long magazine into her smart gun. They swing in to sewer in unison sweeping the available cover with their reticules. Wordlessly they start down the sewer, horse takes the lead stopping often to listen and casket falls in as tail end Charlie after what seam forever (she counted) they reach their exit. Horse skips up the ladder despite the adrenaline shakes starting to kick in. She readies her machine pistol and braces her shoulders to the cover.....
-
The lab destroyed, the bodies burned, no hope of the elevators working for some time, and the group makes its way back the way it had come. The intense heat from Ichante's mystical fire pours out even into the sewers for a few moments. Singed flesh and melting plastic smells linger even as the heat dissipates and is gradually replaced by the cold damp feel of the dark tunnels. Rain has continued to drive the water levels even higher to the dismay of the shortest members of the team. Sticking to the path laid out days before, they make their way back uneventfully, even the slipperiest algae seem to have given way under the maelstrom.
Pale Horse is the first out of the sewers, scanning immediately for any sign of danger near their parked vehicle. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. People still pass by completely unknowing what had just occurred just a few hundred feet away and under ground. Just as they were blissfully unaware of what had been happening in that hellish room for so many months.
Drumming rain continues to slough off the windshield as everyone climbs into the vehicle and you pull easily into traffic, heading back to the safehouse hoping to attract as little attention as possible. It would be hard enough to explain the gear currently being carried, let alone the tissue samples, and nose-hair singing smell of toasted ghoul.
Asher is waiting for you at the safehouse, briefcase in hand, a look of dismay crossed with relief and underlined with tones of bitterness cross his face. As the team approaches, he sets the briefcase at Spikes' feet and accepts the tissue sample and data disc, placing them into a small black box, which he pockets into his high-collared white coat. No words for the team, he simply nods and turns to go.
Asher rounds the corner of the building, the team standing outside, rain pouring over them, obscuring the neon brightness of the streets nearby. Chaim runs after him a moment, checking to see where he is going, but as he reaches the corner, no one is visible, the cars on the street completely ordinary. He turns back to return to the team and sees something that catches his eye. A man stands directly across the street from the team, white tails of a labcoat flapping in the wind, partially covered by an oversized jacket. Chaim trots back toward the other teammembers, The strange man turns toward Chaim, away from the team, a smile parts his lips, he shakes his head and slowly draws a line across his throat with his thumb. Even through the heavy downpour, Chaim recognizes him - Dr. Nelson. He yells to the team, drawing his pistol, but the rain drowns out his words, and then the Doctor is gone.
-
Before arriving at the safe house, Spikes carefully scanned the safehouse and its various systems for any sign of intrusion. Unfortunately - there was such sign "Guys... Someone was poking around in the safehouse, some other decker. Some of the files have been accessed and one of the security logs records an intrusion. Someone was poking around and did not clean up well enough afterwards."
With a bit of dread she added "I hope that Sonic is alright... I have to fetch him out of there."
-
Asher pays the agreed sum, and doesn't mention Dr. Nelson, or the extra job he tried to squeeze out of the team gratis, but his face betrays a lingering bitterness. Personal? Chaim wonders, but as tense as these payoffs can often be, he doesn't want to bring any sore spots to the surface. Asher would most likely not seek them out again, and for those kinds of paydays, that was too bad, but still one couldn't start a business relationship as some kind of pushover overly beholden to one's employers, now could one?
Or maybe I made the wrong call? he wonders, thinking about the new additions, about the fact that he couldn't keep Eddie from straying, and the short list of runners he would take a drink to every March 18, January 4, and October 17.
As Asher leaves, a briefcase lighter, and a medical breakthrough richer, Chaim says, "I'm heading out for a smoke," and retrieves a corona from the pocket of his Ulysses coat. Outside, he huddles under the eave of the safehouse, and toasts the end of his cigar. Why was he in such a gloomy mood? He was a clean 10k richer, enough to pay up a few months rent, maybe even get out of the drekhole he was living in off Ashburne. Or, he could blow it on novacoke and gin -- the real stuff for a change. It was when Chaim took his first full draw off his triple-capped maduro that he caught sight of Dr. Nelson, standing across the street, his white coat flapping in the wind for all to see. Chaim turns to join the others back inside, but Dr. Nelson shakes his head with a pernicious grin and draws a clean line across his throat.
The corona falls from his hand as he activates the gun-slide on his 75, but the doctor takes a quick step back into the shadows as Chaim fires, the silenced pistol's report drowned out by the rain. He knocks on the door and yells for the team, crouching low, but he can't see anything through the rain. Pale Horse is the first one out, and Chaim points in the direction where he last saw Dr. Nelson, and motions for her to cover him. Using parked cars, and trash cans, he makes his way across the street, but once he reaches the spot where Dr. Nelson was standing, there's nothing.
<<You see any movement?>> Chaim comms.
<<Clear on my end>> Pale Horse replies.
Back inside, Chaim fills in the team. "Look, a call needed to be made, and I made it. But it looks like I'm at least on the good Dr.'s drek-list. Ya might wanna keep your hoops away from me for a bit."
Pale Horse declines his offer, and offers to watch his back. "'sides, we can't say for sure he's gonna stop with you, natch."
Smiling with relief, Chaim say, "Ok, well I should probably take off first. I'll catch a car down to Touristville, and we'll see who follows."
"No, no, no," Pale horse says. "Spikes and I will go first, get ourselves set up with some kind of a view. You head out after."
Chaim nods, and they lay out the rest of the plan. Within 20 minutes, he's out in a car, and in another half hour, he's been dropped off at one of the busier corners in Touristville, between The Nomad Club and Trixie's 8. About 20 meters behind him, Chaim sees two men exit, young anglos, looking like they're out for a night on the town. Right. . . Chaim pretends not to notice them, even as one pulls out a comm and starts talking. No DNI, eh? That one must be the adept. The other's probably as cybered up as Casket. Just look at the way he moves. Chaim pretends not notice them as he joins the line in front of Trixie's 8, and again pretends not to notice them as he comms the team.
<<@Team [Chaim] In position.>>
"We see you," Pale Horse's muffled voice comes in over comms.
<<You see the two at the corner, heading my way? They came in a cab just after me?>> Chaim comms, while keeping a close eye on his surroundings. And then he notices another man, decked out in Ares' best. He's trim, young to be wearing a 2,800¥ suit, and especially oblivious to be spending that kind of nuyen on such an anonymous piece of attire. Chaim notices the tell-tale bulge at the small of the man's back, while he pretends not to notice Chaim, not to be here for him.
<<6 o'clock. blond hair. blue suit. Got Ares written all over him>>
"So?"
<<Ares set this up. He's gotta be with Nelson>>
"Think about where we are, Chaim. Every fourth hoop here is employed by one of the ten."
The man turns to face him, begins walking toward Chaim -- or the line -- but Chaim is sure it's the former. There's a small flash of steel, mostly muted from the rain, but there's enough light coming down from all the projections and AROs that Chaim sees it, nestled in the man's right hand.
<<He's coming for me. Abort>>
Chaim abruptly leaves the line, and crosses the street, toward the coffee shop, disabling his wireless devices. He glances to his right, and sees that the pair from the taxi are already on the other side of the street, and he turns sharply to his left, and then ducks into an alley. He finds himself face-to-face with a burly human selling some party favors to a dwarf woman, and the pair eye him coldly. Nothing to see here, and I didn't see nothing, Chaim thinks, as he pushes his way further into the alley. Don't look back, don't look back. Can't have them think I give frag all about what they're doing with their life, or their nuyen, or their body. Shit.
Chaim reboots his comms, the light blinking as it powers on and searches for his network.
-
Horse and sparks leapfrogged down the road. Sparks puttering scooter taking an age to catch up serving as a perfect reason to keeping over her shoulder. Fuel stop and a doughnut break and they are there,
Sparks pipes up, as they sit down in the window seat, "why did we stop for dogs an' Joe month on the way when we were coming here?"
" so we can concentrate on the job at hand"
Horse messages chain and settles in, letting sparks chirrup away about this party and that dress while she slowly scans the plaza between sips of kawphee. Satisfied she has it fixed it her mind she looks straight it sparks "you wanna come to the drag races" sparks shrinks in her chair abit "seriously?" "yet,, why not? There's money to be made and heart to be stolen. To be honest there's these to two cute elf guys who just won't take crack off and die for an answer. If we could get Ichante to tag along it could be proper messy, and grinders likes it messy its easier to spot trouble."
Then Chain arrived, really wound up he was jumping at his own shadow. Horse started to wonder if he was going to shoot a bush and stab four lampposts to make his getaway. She tried to calm him down shoot down the basis of his fears. The he rebooted his coms and she had to wait..
"so what do you think? It could be fun? No?"
-
"Let's do it..." answered Spikes, "Anything to take my mind off my shit..." she said and powdered her black eye again. Classic Spikes, facing ghouls without a scratch only to get beaten up by some ugly trog who wanted to get paid NOW. She sighed and said "Besides, you do not seem like the giggling type, so I might not hate you after a couple of drinks. " She looked at Chaim that seemed like a shadow of himself and added. "You need a drink as well pretty boy. Show is over, we got paid and have nothing of value anymore. We are just ordinary shadowrunners, briefly involved in a story that started before us and will continue long after us. I have already forgotten anything except your pretty eyes.... Come and drink with us, will ya?"