Wednesday, June 17th, 2075, Oxford. Primary Extraction Team
Well, Al reflected as he scanned for hostiles from his makeshift hide, if that boy is gonna stay in computer-land, his meat's gon' to need some back-up.
He checked some local maps and then accessed the crap autopilot on Snow's Americar and entered some rudimentary commands: secure doors, tint windows, proceed to Radcliffe Observatory, go into park-search mode and hover until legal space located at west end of observatory, park and make payment. He gave the car some cred.
Double-checking to make sure his own commlink wasn't showing any IDs at all (wouldn't want some opfor wiseguy to grab is ID and then find his cars), he called the tower crew: <<Duke, Jack, sending a Ford Americar (img; veh reg) right over under yer noses. Got our matrix cover in it, so keep it safe.>>
Then he got Daddy's message and waved up at the mage. The spirit's canine form suited Al just fine, doing much to take the edge off his usual loathing of anything not of this earth, but dammit - was that jealous bitch sending him a message again? Well, she was going to have to learn to share.
<<Muchos gracias, amigo. Stay frosty up there.>> he sent by way of thanks.
Looking at the spirit, he thought of telling it to get safe out of sight, but worried that would cost one of his three wishes. Instead he just asked, "Okay pooch, what should ol' Al call ya?"