[BrickyardBabe]

Far away, in London Below...

Melissa Shirae, The Comtesse du Sange, stared out her window at Earl's Court, smiling slightly. The House of Flowers had been weakened by the efforts of those surface 'runners, and damaged further still in acquiring Goodnight and her sister. So much wasted by those frivolous fools. Now, like their namesake, they were ready to be picked, and Melissa's smile grew as she contemplated the harvest of all those poisonous blooms...

"Please..."

The slurred, breathy voice shook Melissa from her reverie, and she raised one long-fingered hand to idly stroke the sable tresses of the girl who knelt at her feet, eliciting a sigh. Melissa's smile grew again, becoming a cruel smirk as she asserted her power with the simple gesture.

"Soon, poppet, very soon." She said in her low, smoky voice. "The game is afoot, and it is time for you to put all those skills and talents to work. Play properly, and I will give you your chance to strike." A whine, soft and insisting from the kneeling girl. "Yes, poppet, I know." Melissa assured her. "You will have your retribution upon the flowers." The stroking hand fisted in black locks and she jerked the girl's head back, her jade eyes meeting the girl's pale ones. "But not yet. There are still preparations to be made and lessons to be learned."

Fear crossed the girl's face, and Melissa laugh was a low, horrid thing as she let the girl's head drop and turned her gaze back outside, enjoying the sight of Earl's Court far below as she contemplated the shape of things to come. For a long moment she stared and thought, seemingly oblivious to the girl at her feet, or the sumptuous apartments around her.

Then, with a rough blow that sent the girl sprawling, she reached for the slender sapphire flechette knife on the table and turned back toward her captive. There was so very much to do...

[obidancer]

The Frenchman made his way safely to Oxford. A quick check on his Comlink showed Solo's reservation at the Grand Hotel where they had extracted Rachel, the Doctor's wife, was still active for another day.
It couldn't be better. He stopped by got to the room and removed the 'Do not Disturb' ARO. He didn't need a nap, his sleep regulator managing extremely well his fatigue. However, the shower that followed was a blessing. He let the warm water wash off everything and pondered on those last few days. He had more questions than answers but that had been his lot since waking up in Dr. Henry's clinic.

What he had in his datalock could maybe answer a few, or make him a wanted man, seeing how eager 'They' were to kill the Doc and his family.

Refreshed and dressed, he bought some more casual clothing at the Hotel's boutique and checked out, as if nothing had ever happened.

His newfound teammates joined him at the pub they had chosen, and raised his glass to ISaint's toast.

ISaint, the reason I am so curious about our misadventures in Istanbul is because I recall none of them. I woke up five months ago in a clinic in London with no idea on how I got there nor who I was. You are the closest thing I've ever found to giving me more clues about my past. That said, I sometimes wonder whether I really want to know or not. You know, some demons are better left behind a tightly closed door.
It also means, no, I don't know anything about that Shaman from Istanbul. Glad to know someone was willing to work with me though. However I've met a runner a couple months ago who might have the skills you requires. He's a telekinesist if I'm not mistaken.  He seems like a trustworthy guy. The name's Deckard.
Are you seriously considering going back down there? sounds crazy to me. I'd love to know why we were sent there in the first place and more importantly who ended up getting the biggest piece of the pie after that attack at the motorway station.

[adamu]

Al sipped his third beer and listened to the ork and the human talk. He'd had no idea they shared some sort of mysterious history, and was content just to soak it all in. Damned small world this whole shadow thing had turned out to be. One of the many surprises he'd had since his earthshaking realization not a year earlier that this whole urban mercenary business was actually real, and not just an elaborate tridertainment construct, or else some sort of Eastasia for the corps to blame higher prices on.

Even as they talked about rustling up a new decker, his mind wandered back to someone he'd met nearly ten years back, and he wondered if she still lived in London, or if she was even still alive.

[Jack_Spade]

It took Isaint some moments to digest this information. He held his palm up and said: "Sorry, I have to digest that."
Another few seconds went by than he finally answered:
"Wow.
You know that for a time I had nightmares about you? No drek. I dreamed you came for my current client and I could do nothing. Of course that was before that business in Prague. After that I had much more reasonable nightmares.
Well, one could argue that in essence we are our memories - so in some way the assassin Perdition that I knew is dead. You are just a man inheriting his body and enemies.

Ok, let me back up a moment. You still want to know who you were of course. In your shoes I'd want to know too.

We met nearly 8 years ago. I'd left the KSK and taken the offer of a private security firm - better salary and more freedom, you know the deal. Anyway it was my third mission body guarding. Lady Tiky - you probably remember her number one hit "Burning down the firmament" - was on vacation with her five year old boy. Officially she kept the name of the father a secret, unofficially everyone knew that Tommy O' Finnegan, son of the infamous Mickey "the Butcher" O'Finnigan was the boy's progenitor. The Irish mob takes that whole family thing really serious.
My team - consisting of a drone rigger called Overwatch, a mage whose name doesn't matter seeing as he no longer lives and me were assigned to guard them in addition to whatever other security could be hired locally.
And of course the Lady Tiky wants to go on vacation to one of the most complicated places in Europe.
Istanbul.
We knew the Mob had a standing contract - get the boy and punish the mother for trying to keep him from his family. Just when we arrived we learned that a runner team led by someone called Perdition was probably waiting for us. I was a lot less experienced and a lot more confident in my abilities back then, so I didn't worry to much. Our team had after all repelled a stalker, two would be assassins from the dumps and a team of robbers trying to steal Tiky's jewels. Boy was I an idiot.
So she takes up residence in the Ciragan Palace Kempinski Istanbul with a view to the south into the strait. Overwatch was running surveillance with his small army of fly spies and a few blimps for good measure. The mage was busy establishing a magical perimeter with his spirits and I was on duty staying close to her. I'm not ashamed to admit that I totally fell in love with her. Despite what you might think about a hot shot pop-starlet, she was genuinely funny and intelligent. It didn't hurt that she was also one hot mama, having gotten her son when she was only 20.
So that was my first mistake - getting close to her. Emotions muddy the waters and made me careless. All it took was a pleading look from her and I'd ignore six years of training.
When the attack came, I was in bed with her, leaving my trode net lying on the side table with my gun.
That's when I first met you. Cool as anything you'd strolled up to the secure floor, laid out five of the hired help and took the boy from his bed.
All the while Overwatch had frantically tried to reach me. Finally he hacked the Trid and called out the warning that the assassin was in the room next door. I shoved Liz - Lady Tiki for you - under the bed. One of the only things I got right that evening, grabbed my gun and stormed into the kids room.
You had the boy sedated and in a carry bag.
In retrospect it was really dumb to shoot at you. I could as easily have hit the boy. Instead I winged you on the upper left arm while you dodged.
Dodged out of the window, mind you. You already had a safety harness on and a microwire placed. You grinned at me as I raised my gun but hesitated to shoot. I finally had realized that I could do nothing while he had the boy.
I remember it as if it was yesterday. You made a little motion with your left hand and suddenly I saw a smoke trail rapidly closing in on my position.
Your team had a freaking rocket launcher readied to blow up Liz in her bed. Now it flew for my position.
That's when I did one of the stupidest and luckiest things in my life. I jumped out of the window grabbing the IS flag. Somehow I managed to get it into a makeshift parachute sail to carry me as far as the swimming pool.
The landing cracked a few bones and compressed my spine, but I lived while an explosion rocked the building. Amazingly Liz survived without a scratch. Turned out the hotels beds had an amazingly sturdy frame and premium mattresses so the next room explosion merely shredded the room and the five other guards storming in.

Our mage was able to fix me up and I personally went to pursue you. Took us two days to find you. And we would have failed if your team hadn't been betrayed by your Johnson. Turns out Tommy O'Finnegans wife was not interested in having a bastard child anywhere around her husband. She sabotaged the payment and banked on your team to just kill the hostage. Then she told her husband that you killed the boy and he sent a killer squad after you.
I met up with you just as the squad rolled in. Chaos is too mild a word for what happened next. You took out half the team yourself while your mage was busy to keep me at bay. To be fair, you never laid hands on the kid and you made no effort to stop me getting him out.
In the end the Irish were dead, you and your team vanished and got the boy back to his mother. Only her intervention prevented my employer to sack me on the spot. Tommy's wife found a bad end as I recall - might even have been you who did it. They stopped trying to abduct the boy - seeing how close a thing it had been to kill him the last time.
Especially since he went to his father anyway after some guy with a heavy pistol and APDS ammo shot me and Liz with one bullet not a week later after her last concert for the summer.

Anyway, your team consisted of an elf shaman who's name I never learned but who probably followed Raven, if the beast spirits he sent after me are any indication. The other one was a Troll we nicknamed Bomber after all the hardware he had at his disposal. I think he died in the raid when one of his grenades blew up in his face. But you know, trolls, could very well be that he was just concussed and is still out there.

And yes, I do want to go back down there. At the very least I have to find out what became of our companions. And the House of Flowers has an open contract on us if I understood that right. Since I don't want to leave London just yet and I don't want to be disturbed in my work constantly by some drugged up freaks popping out of gullies, I want to settle this once and for all.
After all, London below is an important part of the shadows here. That much I learned from Goodnight. It would put a serious crimp in my style if I couldn't access it anymore just because some drug fiends are miffed that I laid them out with some more drugs.

But your point is equally valid. This level of opposition was crazy. If we don't want to flee we'll have to get to the bottom of this."

#228

[obidancer]

It took a second for the Frenchman to gather everything ISaint said.
Being linked to the Mafia was never a good news, but it seemed he was a skilled professional already a few years back.
In one hand I wish I could remember your stunt with the IS flag, on the other hand... it may be best not to.
That Liz girl, did she survived the APDS bullet? You think it was me, right?

The Frenchman wasn't really expecting an answer from ISaint, instead he looked at his glass with his eyes not really seeing anything. Then his focus went back on ISaint.
I've seen you how you fight, ISaint. The Saints must be on your side indeed. I'm just glad this time I got to be on that side too. As far as I know and can remember I'd like to keep it this way for a long time. Just one question: London, 5 months ago. That wasn't you who left me pretty much dead, right? Think the Irish could have done so?

All I can say about that Below place is that it is a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Never seen such a high concentration of paranormal and mojo slingers. I don't get why the government or the druid guild hasn't taken possession of those fanatics and closed minded.
What I'm more interested in is having a word with Art and, that's directed at you Al, that contact of your who sent us back toward Oxford to have the meet at the Service station.  Though I have the feeling Art got caught in the same lies and manipulation than we have. If he is still alive that is.   

[Jack_Spade]

"Honestly, I didn't even think of that. I actually got to re-experience the memory while we were below, walking through the crowd. Obviously I survived the shot, but Liz died looking into my eyes..."
Isaint stopped for a moment looking to the floor
"Anyway, I have no idea if it was you. I mainly saw the gun and had a split second to react. Turns out this ploy works a lot better if you send the client to the ground before the shot goes off. I was out for nearly a week. Incidentally that was the time the Saint found me.

And no, I met you only this three days ago. I'm not particularly interested in revenge. Revenge is a sucker's game where no-one wins.
The Irish on the other hand would indeed be a possibility. They don't usually wait this long with their strikes, but I imagine you were very good at covering your tracks so it could have been them.
Hmm 5 months ago you say? Not that it means anything, but not half a year ago the boy you kidnapped turned 13. If you indeed killed his mother - or the Irish made him believe that - your death might have been a birthday present.

Regarding Below: Yeah It's almost as if they keep it as a breeding pool to get easily manipulated talent.
And I haven't forgotten about Art. Tracking him down is still a priority.
As long as we don't get another high paying mission, I'm game to get some answers and maybe some of our missing members back."

[adamu]

Al groaned both inwardly and outwardly. "Purgatory an' perdition. Reckon I'd rather bed a rapid porcupine than go down into that ridiculous place again." He paused to ogle a passing coed. "But I will if'n ya ask. Cuz I owes ya both. Like Frenchie says, that clusterfuck at the service area was on my say so, an' fer that ol' Al takes responsibility." He paused, decided whether to say something, and then continued. "Or credit. See, the big white Akita, she keeps a'tellin' me it don't add up. Both Silk an' eTher been trustworthy an' smart all the time I worked for 'em. We din't git no good look at the bodies inna limo. An' that lizard lady had all those heavy hitters on tap, but din't have 'em on hand fer the initial hand-off. So yeah, I'm sure as hell gon' talk ta Silk, but I'll be fishin' before I'm accusin', at least ta start."

He shrugged. "Other hand, the gorilla-spider says the whole thing reeks of a set-up, an' the plain facts is on his side. So less'n I git some good answers from darlin' Silk, she gon' be dead ta me. Or jist dead, dependin' on how much energy I can work up."

[Jack_Spade]

"Hm. I never saw the bodies or the actual insides of the car. Shame that Jackhammer didn't join us for a beer. He might be able to tell us something about that.
In the meantime I'll take consolation in the chance that it could have happened.

I still don't know how they could fake that without knowing how the enemy would attack them...
But I guess, where ever magic is involved one can expect the unexpected.

Funny, I'd really love that I'd been lied to and deceived. In this case at least.

Ok, let's do it in this order: Get answers from our contacts, Art, Silk and/or eTher. Then find out if there is any sign that our erstwhile chummers made it out of London Below or that they need help. 
I am still itching to go Below, but I do understand if you two don't feel that way."

#230

[adamu]

Reminded of their lost companions, Al was just about ready to go back down himself. I tore him up to have left them - Smiley, Solo, Mel. At the time, the family's safety had trumped that concern. But no longer burdened by that higher responsibility, they needed to go back after them. However slim their chances were.

"Nah, yer right. Can't say I'm all that innerested in any sorta payback onna degenerates down there. Let 'em rot in they sunless hell. But the thought that Solo might be rottin' in some Flower dungeon, that ain't somethin' we can ignore.Tell ya one thing, though, we ain't goin' down there without tappin' some serious data on that place. Ever'thin's good an' ass-backwards down there. Rules is all skewampus. We find out all we can so's we's not all dependin' on some guide. An' if we do git a guide, we find one with they head on straight."

He put his empty beer glass down, pulled out his Fairlight Caliban, tossed it up in the air, and caught it. "But like ya say, first things first. Ol' Al's got direct lines ta Silk an' eTher, an' reckon I'm gon' go out ta my car an' call Silk right now. That leaves you two ta track down Art, maybe start with Torrent."

[pistolgrip]

Jackhammer sat in his hotel bed, idly drying off his top half after a long shower. He winced as he passed over bruised ribs and a recently stitched shoulder. The automatic medkit had done an acceptable job of fixing the wound, but everything seemed to hurt more than it should right now. He figured a shrink would have a lot to say about that, which is just another reason why shrinks are good for punching. He idly popped the cylinder of his new Ruger, much larger than his old on-duty Taurus. Of course "old" was a relative term, as he'd used it not a week ago to scare off some would-be cyber-hacker-punk trying to steal next year's prototypes from Madezyne. He tossed the Ruger on the towel next to him and stood up, going to the window.

These windows didn't open, for security reasons, so Jackhammer just stared through the ballistic plastiglass at the lights outside. He half-wondered if it was actually just a holo projection of outside. He stood there for a while until he realized he was staring at his own reflection--a large, jacked-up ork in a world made for humans by humans. He killed some humans and saved other humans, but suddenly it all started to feel blurry and distant. What was one from the other? Orks were family. Or at his his family were orks. He hadn't seen them in a few months. The people he owed money to, they were mostly humans. They had some ork enforcers, sure, but Jackhammer was pretty sure he knew how to handle them. If it came to that anyway.

Jackhammer had tossed his old commlink into the fire before taking off, but picked up a new one on his way back to the hotel. He'd already sent a message offering to pay double what he owed and informing them that, take it or leave it, his business with them was done either way. He hadn't heard back, which was probably a bad sign. So now he was going to have to deal with those guys. He didn't even know how big their group was or how many he'd have to kill before they gave up. They didn't put that kind of info in the brochure. But whatever the case, he didn't need to bring that kind of trouble down on Madezyne. He grabbed the 'link on the end table and sent a form resignation to Madezyne, adding his signature before it fizzled off into matrix space.

[Aria]

Silk’s persona, a silk clad damsel standing on a windswept Celtic moorland, appeared in miniature on Al’s ‘link

“Al, I’ve been anticipating this call since eTher told me something of the events outside Oxford… I know you want answers and I’m sorry that there is very little I can tell you here, but I will say this…dragons don’t think like we do, even the pretty ones, it just bears thinking about… 

Who fired the shots that killed the family?  And why did the boy survive if it was the father that was the valuable target?  If you want more you’ll have to come back to Seattle…or talk to eTher, there’s a small chance she’ll have more information for you.  Just don’t let her appearance or her magic lull you into a sense that she isn’t dangerous…if you become more of an annoyance than a useful tool she might just decide to discard you, and I have upcoming plans that include your help, and I’d hate to have find someone else with your unique talents!”

***
_#87

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint nodded and got on his own commlink to call the fixer:

<<Torrent from Isaint: Hi, I don't know if you are up to date on that little mission you sent us. But we need to talk with Art.>>
<<Isaint! What the frag. Do you have any idea what's going on? You lot have gone dark on me and suddenly there are all kinds of news about a terror attack at a service station close to Oxford.>>
<<Yeah, as I was about to say, that whole thing has become an even bigger cluster frag. After your psycho guide lead us into London Below we had to hike across the whole city and inadvertently started a turf war with one of the houses. You know we lost quite a few of our chummers on the way. Did you by any chance get message from them? >>
<<What? No, I didn't. Not from any of you. Why didn't you call me?>>
<<No offence, but with all that was going on, we rather wanted to play this close to our chest - so to speak. Not to mention the problems we had with the hired help...>>
<<Stop complaining. It was sheer magic on my part to get you anyone so highly skilled on short notice.>>
<<Yeah, yeah. But to get back to the point, we managed to find an other buyer ourselves.>>
<<So I heard.>>
<<By the way, keep an eye out for the Neo-Druids and the English government. We kind of skipped out on them in the midst of our negotiations. We did the hand over at the service station, but just after that our buyer was ambushed and the family presumably killed.>>
<<Damn. Well, at least you didn't fuck up then. It's always hard to flock your talents just after a run goes south.>>
<<Small consolation - especially since we engaged them.>>
<<You what? Why didn't you just leave - the family wasn't your problem anymore. Oh, wait a second, for a moment I forgot who I'm talking to. Of course you attacked.>>
<<Hey, we didn't know if they were dead. Those bastard shot a bunch of rockets at the car, but only one had hit the armored limousine. We couldn't just leave them hang. Not after all we did to keep the family alive.>>
<<And what did your efforts get you? Half a million in damages if the early estimates are to be believed.>>
<<Hindsight is 20/20. Also, those guys seemed really keen to bag us too. Either they wanted revenge or they believed that we had the good Doctor's research data.>>
<<And, do you?>>
<<Maybe>>
<<Well, I certainly can do some discreet inquiries if you want to cash in on that.>>
<<Hm. If they think it's sold they might call off the heat. Do that. But I still want to talk to Art about that setup at the safe house.>>
<<No can do. Art vanished. Dropped off the grid, might be dead for all I know. Pity, he was always a reliable Johnson - for different corporations, too. Personally I think he was also setup. It happens. Get over it. Next time call me directly when you have problems reaching the Johnson.>>
<<Very funny. At least the rest of us was paid. Please give me a call if you hear from our lost chummers.>>
<<I'll see what I can do. Try to lay low for a little - at least until I have a buyer for the data. Take care.>>
<<You too, Isaint out.>>

Isaint ended the call and gave his chummers a quick summary of its content.

[adamu]

Al could feel himself being gently deflected in that way he always was when dealing with these self-styled matrix mystics. But the stakes were too high this time.

"Hon, yer gon' have ta do a lot better this time than raisin' questions I already thought of, tossin' riddles around, an' makin' ominous threats about mini-dragons. Near as ol' Al can tell, I had a meet all planned that was too soon fer the opposition ta get organized an' stopped 'em usin' air assets. Then, based on nothin' but yer high-falootin' destiny's footprint talk, I convinced ever'one ta git outta London, where they promptly all got killed by organized opposition usin' air assets. Now, I'll concede I'm of too minds here, an' hope the Akita's right. But the facts is on gorilla spider's side, an' he's gon' take some convincin'. Now, if the family's really dead, then you's either a traitor or just completely crazy. On the other hand, if there's another possibility, now's the time to let us know."

[Aria]

“I'm not being deliberately obtuse, I just don't want to discuss things over an unsecured line.  If you want answers that quickly then you'll have to meet me in VR, and I know how much you love VR!  Come to the Citadel game host in Seattle, the Gatekeeper will expect you and direct you to a secure meeting location”

***
_#88

[adamu]

Dagnabbit.

She was a persnickety one, no two ways about it.

Well, he still had Isaint's spare trode net in his pocket, and his car could always be hosed out. Dammit, though, the Beamer still had that new car smell, and he'd had enough rides ruined on this gig already.

He got out, went over to the nearest tree (gotta love these university towns) and rammed two fingers down his throat, wasting all the beer he'd just consumed in the pub. Then, just to be sure, he popped a couple of anti-emetics from his medkit. Then he locked himself in the car next to Spike, maxed out the window tint, and slapped the silly-looking thing on.

Made him feel like a pimply-faced kid working the fryer at a McHughs.

Fumbled his way to the Citadel and followed the Gatekeeper's instructions.