[SSU] [IC] California Dreamin'

[3278]

The tiny human doctor led Grudge down an anaseptic hallway. The smell of cleanser, only just masking the smell of illness. The blazing light, glaring white off every gleaming surface. Nurses and patients and students, walking very quickly or very slowly, all wrapped in their shells of hospital privacy: don't look, don't respond, don't think about it. Grudge was used to sensory overload; unlike most people, he used all his senses all the time: where most people only saw a tiny portion of the electromagnetic spectrum - and then had the audacity to call this "visible light" - he could see a much wider range of frequencies, from the thermal radiation or objects to near-UV, all wrapped with the wireframe his ultrasonic sensors projected over his vision, itself tagged with active vector projections fed by his mathematics subprocessor and his smartlink. Polarized spread-spectrum lighting emitted from his eyes cast headlamps only he could see, casting everything he looked directly at in a detailed spotlight without anyone else perceiving it. Clocks, alarms, timers; he was used to a barrage of information. But this gleaming hospital threatened to make him go mad from the sheer overwhelming actintic sterility of it.

The tiny human doctor was speaking, politely raising his voice enough that Grudge could hear without changing his ears' dynamic range, though the doctor's mouth was some distance from Grudge's twisted ears. The university hallways were required by code to be 3 meters tall, which meant Grudge could walk while only hunching a little from his own 4.5 meters. He was used to pressing himself agaist ceilings, too. "The procedure itself should take no more than a week, though we'll likely have to keep you immobile for another few days after that, given the...scope...of the procedure. I'd like to caution you again: this is some distance beyond what I would consider a risk-free--"

Grudge held up an enormous knotted hand. "I understand, Doctor."

"Nano-upgrades are new, and as a rule, we only perform one at a time. To do...all of this, at once? You understand why I'm cautioning you."

Grudge smiled, his lips pulling tight across a mouth full of crooked, tapering tusks. His face was like a horrible like a train wreck, all asymmetry and bony lumps, topped with long, curving horns and a well-kept but overwhelmingly spacious field of hair, but the smile made him look truly affectionate, sincere and jovial. It had taken many years of practice in front of the mirror to make it look that way. "Doc, really, I seriously understand. But I'd rather not spend the next couple years doing this. And I'm tougher than I look."

The doctor barked a slightly nervous laugh. "You look pretty tough."

"I'm tougher," Grudge said, almost distractedly. He wondered, suddenly, where they'd managed to find a gown and surgical loincloth for him. He was 14 bloody feet tall, and wide across to boot! Did they have some kind of machine that made them custom for each patient?

They pushed through a set of double doors, and then through another, marked cOR2a. Both read the doctor's retinas; neither read Grudge's. The advantages, he supposed, of being well-connected. They came to a darkened room, filled with dim trid screens blinking messages like SCAN BED INERT and SYSTEM CLEAR. It overlooked another room, this one bright again, with a giant transparent tank in the center, with cables and hoses leading from the bottom. This, then, would be his bed for the next couple of weeks, his home. "Don't tell me you just had this this lying around."

"We borrowed it, actually. A friend of mine in marine wildlife lent it to me." The doctor was a little more nervous than usual now, and Grudge wondered what marine biologists would want with a tank made for implanting cyberware.

A nurse entered behind them, and said, "Sir? We're ready, if you'll come with me."

Grudge nodded as much as he could with his shoulders hunched against the ceiling. He paused to shake hands: "Thank you, doctor, for bringing me down yourself."

Doctor Murphy sighed. "What are friends for?"

The nurse led Grudge into the chamber. They were filling the bed, now, transparent melon-colored liquid welling up from the hose fittings on the bottom. "You'll need to take off your gown, sir, but you can keep your loincloth."

Grudge laughed as he shrugged off the oddly well-fitting garment. "Well, thank god for small favors."

People were filing into the control room, now, taking their seats, powering up their scanners and monitors. One, a thirty-something elf with dark hair and a large datascreen on the inside of one forearm, passed into the operating room and approached Grudge. "Sir. Good to meet you. I know you've been through processes <i>like</i> this before, but...that doesn't save you the speeches, I'm afraid. But let's do it quick, yeah? This is an oxygenated fluorocarbon bath, it's what you'll float in during the procedure. Once you're under - you're..."

"Going to jack in."

"Excellent, excellent, good. There are a lot of advantages to that over doing things chemically, particularly for such an extended process. So you'll be patched in to the library system, with your own private line, I'm sure, and you can do...whatever it is you'll be doing for the week."

"Yeah. My tax returns."

"Right." The intern, impressively, kept a straight face; while no one here knew what Grudge did for a living, they all knew what kind of hardware he carried, and they all suspected something like the truth. They didn't mind: who else could they practice on? Few enough people outside the corps had this kind of equipment that private medical schools were always praying for someone who would let them do the kind of research that would allow them to publish the kind of papers that would get them the grants they needed to stay alive. It was a mutually benefitial arrangement.

"Once you're under, we'll flood the bath with nanites, tiny robots that'll enter your system. That's when our work begins. We'll monitor their activities; they'll follow the programming we've agreed on. It should take about a week, because we'd like to do this right, but when all is said and done, you'll have finished a couple of years of implant surgery in a couple of weeks. Since you'll be awake while we're doing this, I can give you the rest of the speeches as things progress. We'll ping you when we need to talk to you."

"Thank you," Grudge said, with sincere respect. "And fortune."

The intern nodded, once. "And to you."

The nurse helped Grudge to lie down in the bath - no matter how much they warmed it, it always felt cold - as the intern returned to the control room. He arranged his loincloth, settled back, and as the nurse connected the cable from the bed to the jack on his temple, let his senses fade to nothing.

<center>- - -</center>

The view was incredible. Every part of his body, marrow to knotted skin, mapped out, living, breathing, in three dimensions in front of him. He could view the process at any level of detail, from nothing more than a dim echo in the back of his mind to nanoscale representations of the work each tiny machine was doing to his cyberware and its connections to his body.

"How does it feel?" He directed his attention to the transparent video window of the doctor, and the image filled his vision and became more opaque.

"Kind of like being tickled, all over, on the inside. Except I know I can't really feel anything from my body, so it's all just in my head. Which doesn't stop it from tickling." Grudge was good-natured about it, at least; he'd been through enough surgery over the years to take this all in stride. Still, this was something new, for everyone.

Lynch stepped forward to stand next to the doctor. "I have to tell you, I don't understand anything they're doing, but it all looks impressive enough to make me feel better."

Grudge found it interesting that Lynch had come himself. When he'd met the man after their last job and asked for some medical advice, he'd never expected it would come to this. That Lynch might have access to some street doc and be willing to put a word in was believable; it was inconceivable that Lynch would have access to a university beta clinic, and be able to make these kinds of modifications to someone whose name they would never know, of whom all records would be destroyed - save those diagnostic and experimental datastreams that would allow the university to learn from and apply to their next generation of research - well, it was all a bit much to take in. And to come hmself; Lynch was making a strong statement about what he considered Grudge's potential worth to be. It was a tremendous vote of confidence.

Everyone gained from the arrangement. Lynch would earn hundreds of thousands of nuyen for making a few calls, and would gain a stronger resource to accomplish more challenging tasks. The university would get a chance to do something their competitors in the fierce world of corporate-sponsored academia would not get to do for months, perhaps years: perform and analyze the results of a nano-upgrade, the completely unintrusive replacement of one generation of combat cyberware with another, accomplished all at the molecular scale, the tiny machines' actions controlled by a detailed plan of what materials to remove, and which to add, and where. They purposefully trundled through his body, using the same molecules of silicon and silicate glasses, in combination with newly imported ceramics carried in as the nanites' own structure, to replace the logic gates and pathways of the old system with a new, more advanced one. And so many modifications, on perhaps the only patient who could survive so much physical trauma, and of such...well, /lethality.../ The doctors had a difficult time not salivating when he walked into the room. Those that weren't cringing in fear, that is.

Grudge benefitted perhaps most of all. For the price of his life savings - more money than most people earned in a lifetime - and the sale of a handful of magical items he'd preferred not to allow his team's borderline psychotic shaman to have access to, he would gain powerful new abilities, phyisical improvements he'd never dreamed of until a few weeks ago.

But one day, looking in the mirror, he'd thought, <i>This isn't even my body. I hate this body. Spent my whole life resenting it. But I have it, and there's no reason not to use what I have.[/i] When the money had come in, he dove into the latest research without looking back.

On the way, he'd learned enough about the sota in ceramics and other materials sciences to rethink the way he fought. Why use an axe designed for 10th century warfare in the cold forests of northern europe? Why use an assault cannon designed for someone nearly one-third his size and less than one-quarter his weight? Why use weapons with triggers, when the need for mechanical operation of firearms was obsolete a decade ago?

So he was going to spend the next couple of weeks in the matrix, away from its body while the tiny machines did their work, in close conference with the doctors and with the very eager dwarf Lynch had recommended for the custom weapons work. As it turned out, the engineer was an avid supporter of metahuman rights, and most of his legitamate clientele were metahumans looking for custom work to suit their unique physical needs. Much of what Grudge had proposed thus far could revolutionize metahuman useability. At least, the useability of really, really big guns by really, really big trolls.

Grudge pulled his thoughts back to Lynch. "They're doing fine. I just can't wait to see how it all works. I mean, you know, in real life. On the <i>computer,[/i] it all looks great, but these things lie to you all the time. I used to have this talking scale, and I swear it was embarrassed for me; always told me I was 250 kilos. Took me a year to figure out that was just as much weight as it could handle."

Lynch smiled. "Patience is a virtue. I can't believe this is all... No physical therapy? Nothing?"

"I'll have to take it easy for a couple of weeks, but it's all still the same stuff in almost the same places. Most of this is just upgrades."

The doctor looked like someone had danced, stomping across his grave. "Most of it."

The real trick was doing it all at once. While one batch of nanites upgraded his cyberware, another set about building the connections for a few additions. At the same time - and this was the <i>piece de la resistance</i> - a tailored retrovirus was infecting his system while his immune system was being completely suppressed, passing on new instructions, new pieces of DNA, stimulating cells to begin changing the organic structure of his body, causing new organs to be grown, incubated in his own body. His muscles would undergo a subtle transformation, as well; his genetic stock was european, and his muscles were what the doctors had called "slow-twitch." By making a few minor changes, the genetic recipe for producing fast-twitch muscles would be activated. He'd be faster, nearly 20 percent faster, and every bit as strong.

His old synaptic accelerator would be reabsorbed into the body; it had been effectively bypassed when he'd gotten his first set of wired reflexes, and the upgrades to them - impressive though they were - wouldn't change that. His suprathyroid would be absorbed, as well, while another grew in its place, better, a clonal match, less intrusive and much less obvious to scanners.

His platlet production would increase, and as they were replaced, the new generations would be produced according to the recipe spelled in RNA inside the virus. He'd heal more quickly, suffer less trauma when he was injured, and help prevent catastrophic bleeding. Combined with his new ability to defeat all the pain sensors in his body, and the microscopic web of lunacy that was his new nervous system, he was definitely on his way to making the most out of his body.

He'd long ago abandoned the idea of being able to walk through scanners without having the national guard called out. He'd found ways around it; after all, in a world where the breeders couldn't even build a damn /urinal/ high enough to piss in properly, fences were seldom a real barrier. But his research had convinced him that enough developments had occured in materials science to make a major lifestyle change possible. Optics were better every year, and capable of using far less material to transmit their signals. Metal no longer had any claim over ceramics, and in fact, they boasted several benefits over his older systems.

If he were scanned now, even fairly sophisticated cyberscanners and metal detectors would show only a state-of-the-art sensory and headware package, with no hint of the extreme reaction enhancements or advanced bioware in his system. An MRI would do him in, but once things got down to the MRI stage, you were in dire straits anyhow.

Combined with his new personal weapons - themselves made entirely of nonmetallic ceramic and silicates - he could theoretically even board a plane in a regional airport, provided his false identification held up. Which it always, always did: documentation had not been a problem for him.

"You'll have some reading material when you get back to...wherever it is you go to read messages people send you. I'm looking for a decent tailor; I think this is a pretty good excuse to look into a new wardrobe." Grudge laughed, and Lynch and the doctor joined him.

"I'll call you later tonight, to check in and exchange ideas. I'm curious to see your progress on your summer vacation project." Lynch knew, in general, what he was planning to do: design a suite of weapons, built specifically for a single individual troll, tailored for his size, strength, and the tactical needs of the combat enivironments he found himself in, without any of the preconceptions of the last centuries of firearms design, fabricated from the most advanced nonmettalic materials available. When all was said and done, it wasn't at all impossible that he could get all his personal arms on board that regional flight.

"I look forward to it. And doctor..."

The doctor nodded eagerly. "You'll be updated live as the process continues. Feel free to contact me personally at any time; you have my ltg. And I don't think I'll be far from this room for a couple of days, at least."

He let his attention wander from the video window, and it returned to transparency and slid to the nascent strip to the left of his vision, waiting for his attention to return to his communications system. He opened his private matrix access point, and began to scan through his notes; he had nothing to do but lie here in a pool of hyperoxygeneted water with molecular machines tearing his body apart while a genetic virus made a few million cells cancerous for three weeks. He might at well get started on his new assault rifle.

<center>- - -</center>

"So you remember what your accelerator felt like."

"Yeah. More fluid; natural, just faster."

"Well, this is going to be nothing like that."

Grudge laughed. "Okay."

The young doctor brought an overlay up; it was the standard system overview, a map of Grudge's body and the work being done to it. Highlighted was the newly forming nervous system, a nanoscale mesh of optical fiber that detected nervous impulses at one end, then raced them as fast as possible to the brainstem. The system being installed was the fastest available short of a high-grade move-by-wire system [which would end up leaving him a vegetable after a few years]. There were no faster reaction enhancers nor wired reflexes available; some systems were less intrusive, but none were faster. Combined with the fast-twitch genetic treatment, Grudge would be able to act and react faster than almost anyone on the street.

"This is going to be way more like your old wired-plus-enhancers setup. But it's also going to be light-years ahead; you're going to have to get used to the new timeframe, get used to anticipating the reaction."

"How fast is the cycle speed? I read it somewhere, but there's so many numbers on these whitesheets..."

"Yeah. Your new system is...let me check. Yeah, one hundred cycles per second at maximum engagement."

"What's 'maximum engagement?'"

"You know, I actually, I have no idea. But nevermind: this reminds me that your senses will also have to recalibrate."

"By which you actually mean I'll have to get used to it."

"Yes. You now sample data from your senses 100 times every second. You're going to notice some cheaper trids and flatscreens aren't going to track right. Those cereal box things are <i>right out.[/i] Ditto a lot of cheap kids toys. But - you run full senses, right?"

"Yeah. Including ultrasound. I have some questions about this 'disclaimer' on the whitesheet for my ultrasound emitter, but they can wait."

"I'll note it so we don't forget. Anyway, you're going to have a lot higher fidelity in both audio and video inputs, but you <i>won't</i> see much of a difference in tactile or taste/smell responses. Those systems are meat, and there's not much we can do about the engagement speed of electrochemical gates."

"I'm absolutely certain I wouldn't want you to do whatever you just said, anyway."

"Like what we're doing now is so much better."

"Fair enough. Let's move on; there's no working around the adjustment times, and I have some idea of what to expect. I wanted to ask about the learned reflex for the pain editor..."

[Serious Paul]

Wyman watched Lynch fume. He was plenty pissed allright. Too god damned bad Wyman thought. Its about time he realized who was in charge of this damn operation. Justice not CIA.

"You're not serious are you Mr. Wyman?"

Wyman simply stared straight forward as if Lynch hadn't spoken. A man like Lynch was useful, in the same ways a loyal dog was useful. But like any pet he had to be reminded who was master, and who was mastered. Wyman ran Justice. Thats the way it was. even the old man couldn't make decisions with out Wyman's approval anymore. It was just a matter of time. Soon there'd be another president and when that happened Wyman would run Justice, and get the recognition he deserved for doing it.

"Damn it Wyman these people aren't Agency, they aren't ready for this."

Wyman sat up slightly in his chair, folding his hands together so that his fingers formed a triangular shaped pyramid. "Colonel are you saying that you know more than the Agency planners? This came from DDO John."

Lynch sighed, and Wyman knew he'd won. The dog would fetch.Lynch stood, squaring his shoulders his eyes blazed as he shot Wyman a withering glare that made the other man wonder if jsut for a second he'd pushed him to far. As suddenly as it had appeared Lynches eyes went dull. His face a mask he spoke quietly but firmly.

"If you get my people killed, and blow my operation I will take it very personally." Lynch left Wyman wondering what sort of threat that really was.

[Serious Paul]

Vigillus flipped the burgers on the grill. Seattle wasn't the warmest part of the west coast by any measure, but today was definitely a scorcher. he grinned, baring his tusks slightlt. They were on the roof of the "Fortress of Gratitude', and Gyro had rolled out exspensive artificial grass across the gravel and tar. It was odd to see venting ducts, wireless antenas and heat sinks jutting up from the grass in spots. They were grilling burgers, chicken, ribs and hot dogs (The kids insisted on them.) on a large brick grill Grudge and Gyro had built a few years back. Several large lawn chairs were spread out behind him, and a boom box style radio belted out oldies from its two small speakers.

Baby C was wearing an apron over his shorts and shirt, with a pair of sandals rounding out his attire. Well nearly-he patted the familiar bulge of his sidearm that he jammed in the concealed holster in the small of his back.

Gyro and Grudge were showing the kids how to play horse shoes, and the girls were giggling as they watched their two towering "uncles" fling the shoes, trying hard not to whip them off the roof.

Ella, his wifes' sister, was setting a huge bowl of potato salad on the table-the boys could eat-next to the rest of their spread.

Baby C smiled wider. Today was definitely a fine day. he tuurned his attnetion back to the grill-poking some chicken, sliding a few burgers onto a plate, and making sure Gyro's ribs got a thick coat of barbeque sauce slathered on.

"Hell of a psread you boys got goin' here C." Vigillus turned to see Lynch holding a case of cold beer, a brown oilcloth dublin style cap on hsi head, a beige knit style polo shirt with a pair of khaki slacks with exspensive loafer style shoes.

"Lynch." Vigillus scooped the beer out of the other mans arms, and shook his hands vigorously. "What brings you to the neighborhood? Smell the meat cooking? By the way thanks for the burger, kids love that stuff!"

Lynch grinned. Even here, even these people had their dreams, their families. "Not a problem, in fact the least I could do for y'all. I have some packages in the car for the kids, just some clothes for school."

"You shouldn't have." Ella was standing behind Vigillus, and she wasn't smiling. "I thought this was a family dinner Vigillus." Her flat intonation made it clear what she thought of Lynches presence.

"Don't worry Ella," Lynch held his hands out as if to show her was unarmed, "I promise nothing too serious, and nothing that needs anyone's immediate attnetion. Peace okay?"

[Gyro]

The horseshoe went extremely off course as Gyro in mid-throw caught a glimpse of Lynch. The surprise had almost made Gyro trip which accelerated his throw considerably. Gyro didn’t even notice as it sailed clear off the building. Without breaking his forward motion from almost tripping, Gyro headed straight for Lynch. Even the sound of breaking glass that was followed up by a car alarm couldn’t stop this locomotive. Gyro’s fists clenched, and as he passed the kids, without looking down he said, “You all stay here and practice your throws.”
Gyro was prone to loose his temper quit often, (most of the time it was because he thought he understood the situation, but didn’t), but this was totally justified. He was very protective of his nesses and nephew. Baby-C and he worked very hard to keep the children out of harms way. The kids knew nothing of what they really did for a living. They didn’t even know what this building was like in the back quarters. They both played it off as a building that Gyro had bought a long time ago and had converted into this cool hang out that they went to every so often for some fun. Gyro and Baby-C had just started to let Grudge join them on Thursday’s, which was the source of many heated arguments between Gyro and Baby-C. They liked to do public outings with the kids as secrete as possible. Both of them knew that their line of work could make C’s kids a target!
Here stood the man that could blow it all; their cover, this building, the kid’s safety, THE KIDS SAFETY!!! Gyro was getting more worked up with each stride. In the short time it took him to reach Lynch he had devised, “in his genius”, that Lynch might have unknowingly lead someone that wanted them ALL dead to their location and that life held in the balance on this one notion! His body tensed, making every muscle bulge, as he towered over Lynch. “HOW DARE YOU COME HERE!” He shouted as spit pored from his mouth, and his eyes turned slightly red. “IF YOU THOUGHT THAT HORSESHOE FLEW FAR WAIT AND SEE HOW FAR YOU SAIL!” “EXPLAIN YOURSELF!”

[3278]

Grudge distracted the kids from Gyro. He'd learned, when it came to C's kids, it was better to let Gyro sort things out with whomever, because interfering would just be another good way to start a fight with him. Of course, if worst came to worst, Grudge could just tackle him off the top of the 3-story warehouse shell; it wouldn't hurt either of them /too/ badly, and it'd get the other troll's attention.

For now, Grudge just started telling a joke that required the horseshoe as a prop, and kept the girls laughing. The boy, though, kept glancing at Lynch, almost sizing him up. Grudge trusted the work Gyro's buddies had done in disguising the real nature of what lay beneath the garage's thick cement floor, but he also knew if anyone - Lynch included - was going to be the person to figure out the secret entrance, it'd be C's young son. His eyes were like his father's, only resting on one thing long enough to study it, and then moving on.

[Serious Paul]

Lynch quietly spoke to the enraged troll, "Gyro, don't you think that if they weren't curious before, they are now?"

[Gyro]

Gyro stopped in mid gasp to think about this new revelation. He lowered his arms and his complexion returned to normal. He thought for what seemed to be forever. Finally, after he worked it all out in his head he shrugged and answered Lynch’s rhetorical question. With true sincerity in his eyes, and wonder on his face he said, “ya know Lynch I don’t know if the kids are curious or not?” Gyro grabbed two of the beers from Lynch, and with both fist’s he exploded them into his mouth; belched loudly. Then Gyro sat down right were he was standing and started to ponder the question like it actually needed to be answered.

No one noticed during all this Baby-C’s concern for Gyro. These extremely violent out bursts were becoming more frequent and uncontrollable. C was concerned there was something happing to his long time friend. These changes were becoming a problem that no one else truly new about. No else spent as much time with Gyro as Baby-C did, they had no cause for alarm. C wondered if it was an internal (cyberware) or an external force colliding with Gyro’s physiological self. He also didn’t know if he should say something to his teammates, or to Gyro. He decided to wait a little longer, and to keep and eye on his friend for now.

Gyro abruptly stud up just as everyone was turning there backs to do something more stimulating than watching a troll ponder a question. “Ahhh frag it you whanna play horseshoes Lynch?” Gyro got a rye smile on his face. Before Lynch could react he was hoisted in the air to the trolls full arm extent (about 15’). “Hay Grudge, Lynch here wants to play horseshoes…he he he ho ho ho.” Gyro roared as he toasted Lynch the 40’ distance to Grudge. Gyro thought Lynch could use a little pick me up…literally!

[Serious Paul]

Grudge gingerly sat Lynch down, trying not to smirk, as the fixer sputtered for a few seconds, not quite being able to say what he so obviously wanted to in front of Viggillus's children.

After a few seconds to collect himself Lynch spoke with Grudge. "Look I don't really have time to hang out for long, but I need you, C, and...Gyro to get some work done for me."

"I'll be back after the party. Give me a call."

[3278]

As Lynch climbed back down to the street - giving Gyro a wide berth - Grudge looked at his fellow troll. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Gyro appeared to consider it deeply for about 30 seconds. Finally, the girls nudged him and he said, "No. What?"

Grudge smiled a horrifyingly jovial spread of giant teeth. "Time to try out the new hardware."

[Gyro]

Gyro matched his friends smile as he gave him a high-five! “You know it brother.” Grudge didn’t notice Gyro’s concern…Gyro was a little lost. There was a laps in his memory; Gyro didn’t know how they got to this exact moment. The last thing he remembered was seeing Lynch and feeling very warm, everything after that was blank. He was used to this…it had been happening for quit a while. Gyro quickly turned from Grudge to cover it up. “C, toss me another round or three.” After slamming the beers (while in the process giving himself a beer shower) he turned to the kids, “now where were we?”

Truth-be-told, Gyro hadn’t gotten his upgrades yet. In his mind he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know the cause. He did know that it didn’t start until he had gotten all this fraggin metal in his body. These memory lapses were starting to happen more and more. They usually didn’t seem to bring any good either. This time was no different; judging by the way Lynch had just left. At first he just dealt with it, but that was getting harder and harder. Gyro was no doctor but he was a “genius” so he put 2 and 2 together. In his “genius” if it was happening to him then it was happening to all people with cyberware. He would see how Grudges up grades affected him before getting his own. Gyro hated using Grudge as an unsuspecting Ginny pig… “GOD KNOWS WHAT COULD HAPPEN!” he screamed out loud! At that moment Gyro looked over at Grudge expecting him to spontaneously combust or something. Gyro was having a hard time dealing with this whole thing. Cyberware made him everything he wanted to be and more. It also made him a very rich troll. Gyro was torn. In order to keep doing this job he needed to get up grades; but this memory thing could get someone hurt or killed. He looked at the kids with fear.

[Monster 01]

Vigillus just sighed as he gulped down the rest of his beer.
"All I wanted was a quiet day off, I gotta get some quieter friends.

[Serious Paul]

Gyro grinned, a discomforting sight at times, and boomed,"Yeah, but sometimes you have to keep the sharp edge pointy and stuff!" His grin was eclipsed by a can offrosty beer that he pounded in a single gulp-twelve ounce cans weren't much of a challenge for a guy with hands the size of bowling balls.

"What I believe our earst while companion is attempting to convey is that sometimes work is the best sort of ditraction." Grudge spoke quietly. Gyro just sort of stared at grudge blankly for a second then nodded, knowing that Grudge had a pretty good understanding of a lot of things. Vigillus eyed Grudge oddly for a second but in the end decided to simply grab another beer and pass the time until the meet.

As the sun set the view from the roof was spectacular, the pollution adding just enough color to break up the golden red glow of the sun. They all heard Lynch clambering up the rusted metal ladder, but none of them moved. A gentle breeze carried the smells of sprawl with it- a combination of machines, oil, sweat, and exhaust fumes.

"Well fella's I suppose", Lynch said as he grabbed a lawn chair, and a cold one, "you're wondering why I interrupted one hell of a day. Well..."

[3278]

"There's that sumbitch," Grudge said gruffly over Lynch's explanation. The troll raised a slim and featureless black cylinder, a meter and a half long, and pointed it in Lynch's general direction. Their Johnson hit the deck, one hand in his coat, as the object in Grudge's hands coughed once. On the street below, a devil rat splattered itself across the crater the assault cannon round make in the cracked Barrens pavement. "Sorry, bud. Been trying to keep him away from the barbecue all day."

Lynch stood up with as much grace as one could expect, keeping his eyes locked on Grudge's. He knew the story was a mask for the truth - that Grudge had wanted to test his mettle, and rough him up a little for interrupting their picnic - just as he knew Grudge's rough-and-tumble redneck pose was a mask for something else. But Lynch was used to games in his line of work.

[Serious Paul]

"I found a buyer for the Pride Mobile. Now normally I don't burden the seller with any of the annoying nuances of a sale, I just take care of it. Thats what I do, I take care of things." Lynch paused then continued, "However this will be an exception to that rule, but only because it will help you complete the tasks at hand."

"The buyer wanted the panzer delivered, which normally I don't do-for any number of reasons. This time it serves the greater good to deliver this particular piece of merchandise, if only because it allows me to take advantage of a target of opportunity. The buyer is a Cooperative of Farmers in the Cal Free State who are fighting water jackers, and of course the MegaAgri Corps. Now before you happen to think I am sending you three hooligans on a really dangerous shopping trip for fresh veggies, think again. Your target will be in the drop area for the vechile."

"I want you to kidnap Rowena O'Malley."

[Monster 01]

Vigillus pulled out a cigar and lit it up. "Ya always gives us the easy ones don'cha Lynch." He took a long drag "Whats the deal? Ya gots a thing for mafia princesses or somethin?"

[Gyro]

Gyro didn’t pay any attention to Lynch. He was concerned with the very pressing matter at hand…did Grudge get that rat or not? Gyro walked to the edge of the building and looked down. It took awhile for the smoke, ash, and falling concrete dust to clear. Finally, Gyro turned around and gave Grudge a huge teethe grin and two thumbs up! In a loud booming voice Gyro interrupting what ever Lynch was saying at that moment to congratulate his comrade. “How could I ever have question such a shot…from the master of the cannons, the diva of destruction, creator of carnage, the…!” Gyro had run out of words, so he finished with a triumphant, “YAHOOOYA!!” Which promptly turned in to his favorite troll victory banter. Grudge stud up and joined his friend for this truly momentous occasion. (Proving once and for all that trolls are easily amused…Or perhaps they find joy in most things because they CHOOSE to see the positive rather that the negative…hmmmm!) Just about the time Lynch was going to burst the song ended and both trolls plopped into their chairs took a swig from their beers, and without missing a beat, both looked at Lynch like, “what are you waiting for man continue for Christ sake!” They loved pushing his buttons.

[Serious Paul]

Lynch sat silent for a second. He never quite knew what to make of these three men-they were utterly reliable, but completely unpredictable. He could bring them any sort of job, and they'd do it in the most magnificently amazing ways-never the same thing twice. The methodical part of his mind kicked around the idea of actively recruiting this team for some real black bag work, but the realistic side knew they'd never say yes. tehy had lives, people they lived for, things they wanted, secrets that needed keeping, and were far too independent to use any more than he did.

"I happen to have a real need for Miss O'Malley-but nothing lethal. I just need her held incummincado for three days. It needs to be out of town-her family runs Seattle, especially Downtown."

"By doing this out of town, and more specifically in California, it will misdirect a lot of attention to the Clans. That's good for the three of you. It means you snatch her, hold her, relase her, and live to do business again. Not something easily done locally on this sort of job."

"She'll be traveling to Los Angelos for a Film Festival-the Indipendent Spirit Awards. It recognizes the best Independent Films of the year, and is a real draw for people who want to be seen with that particular crowd. Rowena is very intrested in the film industry as a whole, and has lent her support to a few films in the past. It doesn't hurt that her father could have half of Hollywood wearing concrete sneakers with a single word either." Lynch stood and walked to the edge of the roof, peering down at the Trolls handy work. He hadn't wanted to seem to anxious to see what the oddly shaped weapon could do. As he scanned the blast hole and scorched ferrocrete that had been a devil rat he nodded silently. "Boom boom baby."

He continued speaking with his back turned towards them. "She'll be leaving in two days. The festival starts in three. I want you to deliver the vechile to Collective and then set up to scoop Miss O'Malley up. I have some contacts with the Orkland people down there, they can set you up with a nice safe house."

[3278]

"Let me see if all this has penetrated my thick noggin: you want us to fly the Pride down to California, drop it off with the buyer, and then...what, <i>walk</i> to Ms O'Mally? Just kind of run past her, pick her up, and dash down the road with her over my shoulder? And I suppose we'll be walking home, too. Reckon I'll need some new boots." Grudge held up his foot: it was bare, and from the thick callous and the dark stripes of scars, it was obvious he seldom wore shoes except on the job.

[Serious Paul]

Lynch chuckled. "Well thats surely the over simplified version, if I may so myself. You got part of it right-you'll be transporting the pride down there, but it won't be flying anywhere. Its been disassembled and stowed aboard a boat I have piered her ein Seattle. Once in Los Angelos, or rather Orkland you'll have some transportation arranged for you, based off what we discuss now."

"The underground is a good source of a number of things, and you'll have solid credentials, and some goods to trade if necassary."

[Gyro]

Gyro leaned towards C as he spoke. “Well shit Lynch sounds easy enough!” Gyro smiled giving away that he was a little ignorant about the whole situation. (This was no big surprise to anyone in present company.) He leaned farther as he elbowed and winked at C “looks like all we’ll need is 3 sky masks, some duke tape, and a chair for the little lady…Oh, and don’t forget three days worth of snacks and beer!” The look that C gave him told Gyro he was a little off base. Gyro’s profound rebuttal was, “well hay, Lynch did say she liked movies and I’ve seen that in a ton of um. There’s no since in scaring the pore girl; we could make her feel right at home.” Gyro could feel the pressure building to actually produce something worth saying, he hated that feeling.

Then something came into his head that sounded like a logical question. “Um, this probably isn’t even important but, has anyone tried this before. If so, who, what, where, when did it happen, and what was their downfall?” Gyro expected more looks, but they didn’t come. He grinded at his, “social advisor”, like a kid in school that had just gotten the answer right!

[Monster 01]

Vigillus sat in his lawn chair calm as always, never letting himself get worked up like Gyro. "Also, how do ya want us to treat miss O'Mally? I wouldn't feel to good about ruffin up a woman, especially one who's father is a mafia boss. I already got a nice set of shoes, I don't need any made of cement."

[3278]

Lynch stared at Gyro with an expression as empty as space. He snapped out of it as Grudge said, "Gyro makes a good point." He high-fived his social protege. "As does the Baby. If anyone's tried to do a snatch-and-grab on O'Malley's team, I'd like to hear what went down. And I assume we're supposed to, you know, not beat her to death?"

Vigilius muttered, "Like last time."

"Hey!" bellowed Gyro. "I fixed 'im!"

"<i>You</i> taped his head back on! The <i>shaman</i> fixed her."

"I said I was sorry! I thought she was..." Gyro stopped and looked confused for a moment. What had he thought she was? All he could remember was red. But he'd lived, so it was okay. Gyro was okay.

Grudge stepped into the growing silence. "I think I'd prefer we'd arrange for a location to hold her, unless you had something particular in mind."

Lynch focused on Grudge, hoping to bring back some semblance of sense to the conversation.

[Serious Paul]

"No thats fine, if you think its better to develop your own holding area, thats fine with me. My people are always available as a secondary." Lynch stopped for a second then continued. "Miss O'Malley is to be treated as an honored guest, albiet one who's been kidnapped, and has no say in whats happening, but I don't want her damaged in any substanial way. Its imperative that she isn't able to communicate with any one during her stay." Lynch left the obvious unsaid.

"As for the who and whens, well you'll have to give me some time to scrape that together. I can a preliminary report done in eight hours, a final in 24. Is that enough time?"

[Monster 01]

Vigillus sat way back in his lawn chair, looking just a little to comfortable.
"I don't think we'll be goin anywhere Lynch, we gots a full cooler and some burgers to finish. We'll be waiting for your call." With that he cracked open another beer and started to scratch himself. "Oh yea, just wondering, who'd you sucker into buying the Pink Beast?"

[Serious Paul]

"A farming cooperative. They've had some problems with water jackers."

[3278]

Grudge rolled his eyes; Lynch had just told them that, not five minutes ago. Showed how much Baby C paid attention. If it didn't have an engine, he just wasn't that interested in it.

"I'd also like to know - now, if you can tell us - the location, and what transport we'll have available on-site." Grudge always wanted details, and immediately. He was used to complete intelligence on-demand, and liked to be able to start planning as soon as he could. His brain never stopped churning, looking for angles.

[Serious Paul]

"The Underground moves around alot, but initially you'll make contact with them at a place known as the "Barn", a club that caters to larger than average metahumans. After that, well it depends on what they have and what you need. As for vechiles-a full selection of ground vechiles, any make and model with in reason can be obtained pretty quickly. Same goes fro basic watercraft, and drones. Air vechiles are at a premium down there, but in a pinch they'll come through."

[3278]

"Aww, that's sweet." Grudge elbowed his enormous social protege. "You hear that, Gyro? They made a bar for us." He turned back to Lynch. "But I meant, where in California are we gonna be at."

[Serious Paul]

Lynch stared quietly at Grudge and Gyro for a second then grinned. "No the Barn is in Orkland."

[Gyro]

Gyro is confused.

[Gyro]

After moments of thought Gyro answered, (He thought Lynch’s answer to be rood; they liked any place that sold BEER!), “well they can keep their ork'ish beer we’ll get what’s ever left on the tables…AND WE WON’T EVEN HAVE TO PAY FOR IT LYNCH!” He gave Lynch his best “so there!” look.

Satisfied that he had won, he asked, “Lynch do you have a file on this girl?” Gyro nudged his social icon, Grudge, as he grinned and said, “Bet’cha she’s hot!” A much harder nudge hit Gyro as C looked at him sternly. Gyro flushed as he cleared his throat,
“Well I’m sure she’s much older than your girls C…and besides Emma is the one with the crush on me…she started it. I don’t even like girls!”
Looking from one face to the next he finally realized what he had just said. “No, I mean I like girls but not little ones; I like only big ones. I especially don’t like your girls, that’s just gross! Well I mean I like them…Ummm.”
“I give up!” Gyro stood and through up his hands. “Lynch how about them answers and the nude photos damb it!” He gave Grudge a rye wink, “Just kidding”. He love bushing buttons.

[Serious Paul]

Lynch shook his head, but continued as if the Troll hadn't spoken. "I'll arrange for what we know about Miss O'Malley to make its way to you. I'd like you to be ready to roll by tommorrow. I'll have the files in,"Lynch paused, "Lets say eigth hours?"