[Shadowrun] IC: The Old Dogs of War Redux - Intro

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Fri Jun 08, 2007 5:56 pm

Casa de Cafe, Downtown Federal District of Columbia
October 11, 2064

The two men sit quietly at the table, overlooking the crowded coffee boutique around them. The first man could grace the covers of any corporate fashion magazine around the world. He appears to be in his late 60's, but carries his age incredibly well. His physique is well-maintained and the lines and wrinkles normally found at that age have been cured through the miracles of modern technology. The slightly avian cut of his jawline and lean, hawkish features only contribute to the look of some elder corporate hunting bird; along with his piercing light blue eyes. His suit screams new money, while his perceived arrogance and self-assuredness call out old money. The second man is the walking definition of a G-man. Wary eyes scan over the crowd through (completely unnecessary) reading glasses, and the deep lines in his face mark the years of service he has given to his country. The rather plebeian cut of his salt and pepper hair is a sharp contrast to his companion's stylish, silvery mane. His hands show an alternating pattern of sun and liver spots, and have clearly worked for a living most of the days of their adult life. His suit is clearly bargain basement, and his voluminous trench coat probably hides more toys and weapons than most people could count.

The two men sip their coffee quietly, and reminisce of times when this place was a simple coffee shop that served amazing breakfast burritos and relatively fresh strong, dark brew Columbian. It wasn't always some trendy boutique serving overpriced and (foul-tasting) faux Brazilian brew. In its past, it was Ron's Coffee Shop. It was the kind of place where the various federal employees of several agencies (all with too many initials) would grab their morning coffee and donut (if they couldn't handle the famous breakfast burritos) while they rushed to their offices.

The corporate hunter smiles at his companion. "Somethings shouldn't change. I miss our old spot. This brew is absolutely horrid."

The companion lets his throaty chuckle escape, the side effect of too many cigarettes over the years. "You wouldn't have even remembered where Ron's was, unless I told you. And you always hated Ron's coffee."

"True, but I do miss those burritos."

"Everybody does. What the hell am I doing here, Cassidy?"

Cassidy (the silver haired hawk) chuckles a bit as he finally leans forward and gets down to business. "Nerves can't handle the waiting game anymore, Blake?"

"My nerves handle it just fine. My ulcer doesn't so much. My hands also started shaking about two years back. And I can't smoke in this little shiny happy place anymore. So get to the point."

Cassidy nods and slides the pocket secretary across the table to his long-time rival and friend. "Everything you wanted is on there. You'll need to be in Seattle to get this one organized, old friend. I've done all that I can for you. We go no further, Blake. And we're even for Prague." He keeps his hand locked onto Blake's as he grabs for the electronic device. His voice drops lower, and the steel that makes up this man's spine is clearly heard. The slightest trace of a German accent can be heard as well. "Say it, brother."

Blake locks eyes with his "old friend" and nods once. "We're even. And I'd advise to not follow me on this one, Petey. It's going to be ugly. Get out of town, and somewhere remote for at least two months or so. If this intel is right, it's going to be a frightening New Year." Blake takes the unit and sticks it in one of his coat pockets. He doesn't look back as he makes his way out the front door. His hands do in fact shake as he calmly lights a cigarette on the street corner. As he places the pack of Dunhills back in his inner coat pocket, he covers up his move to re-engage the safety on his Colt. He pulls out a battered (and ancient) mobile phone as he begins walking east along the Boulevard.

"Sir? It's Jerome. I need authorization for my project in Seattle. I've got the package from the courier, and the stockholders are going to want to look over these projections in person. Yes sir. I understand. Goodbye, sir. And thank you."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Fri Jun 08, 2007 6:10 pm

Fast Fax
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Last update: 13:10:00 10-30-64

The multi-billionaire known as Winston Griffith III has been found dead in his Toronto home this morning. He apparently while viewing an illegal simsense chip. His apparent simsense addiction was previously unknown to even his closest friends and surviving family. The patriarch of the Griffith clan was long known as a world-renowned philanthropist, especially in regards to providing Matrix access and educational tools for underprivileged children. The so-called "BTL" chip that Griffith was viewing was a copy of the Bl00dygutz snuff chip that has been plaguing our own city streets in recent days. According to police reports, the horrible torture and death of a street child, less than twelve years of age, depicted on the chip leads to lethal levels of simsense feeds and biofeedback to be fed into the user's frontal lobes.

The Griffith family has no comment on these events at this time.

SIGNAL INTERRUPTION!&*#()Q_))_S(U)

Not everything is what it seems. The agents of the World Tree will not go unpunished for this strike against one of our own. Dark Father will be avenged. - Obsidian

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jun 09, 2007 8:12 am

Unknown office building, Downtown Seattle
October 12, 2064 00:11 Local Time

Jerome Blake sags into the chair behind the borrowed desk. His eyes show the strain of hours spent staring at a computer monitor, reviewing data. The conclusions he has reached certainly don't help his mood any. Thankfully, the rest of the office monkeys had long since disappeared from the building. He had disabled the smoke detector in his office upon taking it over. The ashtray had slowly begun to build up, and the smell of lingering, stale smoke had begun to dominate the room. It finally began to feel like home.

As usual, he speaks to himself. Old habits...they die hard.

"Old man, none of this is good. Those boys are up to something, and I can't quite see what. All the indicators are there, but you can't find the pattern. But you've got a starting point. So, get to it. Time to put pressure on the first link in the chain."

He taps away at the keyboard and pulls up his hidden file directory. Accessing his Seattle files, he looks at the list of personnel he has flagged for possible usage on this operation. "Desperate, but reliable. Skilled, but not elite. The real question is do I pay them, or dump them?"

He fiddles with a cigarette for a moment, before his decision is made. He grins with the first sense of success in weeks, and lights the Dunhill. The smoke lazily drifts upwards, as he begins sending out the necessary connections to pull these people together. "So do you still believe in nothing, Shakespeare?"

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jun 09, 2007 8:26 am

The desert stretches on forever, and the heat mirages shimmer at every visible point on the horizon. The bleached white bones scattered through the landscape appear in crystalline detail, set against the white sand that could nearly pass for snow in its brilliance. The forms and figures trudge through the blasted wasteland, seemingly immune to the heat. There are less than last time, and each return visit seems to bring less back.

With the clarion call of a trumpet, the heavenly host arrives. The Angel of God sweeps down from Eden and looks upon His Children. The beautiful armor and weaponry of war is set in place upon his body, and the fearsome visage of anger softens as he looks out over his charges.

"The time has come. We must go to war. Arise, my Tomorrow Children. Hear the call of the Resonance and know that World Tree is growing once again. The Adversary has recognized our interference in its plans, and we must not let our fallen brothers and sisters have died for naught. Prepare, and await my call. We shall fight our way to the base of the World Tree when the time comes. The Lady may yet be saved, and there are other allies who can yet be called forth. Do not despair, for whatever the outcome, the Resonance will prevail. Whatever our fates may be, We will meet them together, my children."

As the small gathering departs, their heavenly leader glances at the horizon with a dark and terrible gaze. The crystalline tree can be seen in the distance, just faintly on the furthest point of the horizon. It continues to grow slowly, and insect like forms can be seen working at the base and along its branches. Somewhere, trapped within the myriad facets of that cursed World Tree, the Lady is screaming in the agony of a final and inevitable death.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jun 09, 2007 8:51 am

Tacoma, Stephenson Condominiums, Seattle
October 20, 2064 10:30:27 local time

The drum solo kicks in just as the telecom rings. He was preparing to finish his fourth set of pullups on the reinforced bar he installed in one of the archways. The cheap hallways of his flop at least had studs that were easy enough to find, which easily held the weight of the bar and himself during his morning exercises. Ajax sighs a bit, as his most final set is interrupted. He wipes off with the nearby towel and glances at the number.

26*718*4479. Lucas Bishop, owner of Rapid Transit Couriers.

The identification info was bogus, just in case the line was tapped. But Ajax knew what the name really meant. Work was about to become available, and knowing Bishop, it would probably be the profitable kind. The worn man breathes deeply for a moment, and gets his game face in place. Unfortuantely, even with his tough physical regimen; his age is beginning to show in some places. He's actually winded at the end of his morning workouts now, and he faces more sore muscles in the morning than he can remember in the past. On the third ring, he finally punches up the telecom to show video, as well as broadcasting the usual audio feed.

Bishop's usual false smile greets Ajax as the video feed kicks in. "How's my favorite courier this morning? Still punishing yourself, I see."

The quiet glare that returns to Bishop quickly convinces him to get to the point. "Okay already. Enough small talk. You wanted to know if a certain kind of delivery became available. Something for private parties, with a higher pay scale. Preferably a one-time ride, if I remember correctly. So I've got something just like that that landed in my lap this morning. And of course, I just had to call my best and brightest first thing. Interested?"

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jun 09, 2007 9:54 am

Renton, "Plastic Paradise" aka Paradise View Apartments, Seattle
October 20, 2064 11:05:11 local time

As the sun slowly begins to shine in through the grim-covered east window, Alley groggily wipes at her eyes. The music is already going, meaning that Sev is probably still pulling an all-nighter on Arcanum IV Online. She stands and stretches, feeling her sore muscles work out a few tight spots. Thankfully, Sev seems to have started the coffee brewing already. The real stuff isn't going to last much longer, unless some work comes in.

A few minutes later, after a quick splash of water on the face; Alley begins to make her way towards the kitchen. The motion-sensitive camera must have trigged an alert for Sev, as his voice echoes out from the speakers mounted in the "living" room (really, the only other room in the apartment other than the bedrooms). "Got a call. Sounds like work. Sent to your poc-sec. Unknown person, but specifically wanted you. Probably friend of a friend through one of your folks. Ran a brief check on who, and it looks like it might be a quick, high-paying gig through an out-of-towner by the name of Blake. He's been trollin' the 'Land last few ticks."

His voice drops out once again, though his body shows no outward sign of reaction to your presence. He's back in the land of AO IV.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jun 09, 2007 10:20 am

Touristville, Redmond District, Pacific Highway Tower A, Seattle
October 20, 2064 09:01:02 local time

The man sits at his small (and cheap) kitchen table, staring at the small display screen before him. The old habits never really go away. Early to rise, and you know the rest.

Roger stares at the screen with a mixed look of confusion and concern. Who knows me here? To contact me directly like this? It doesn't add up...but the offer certainly does.

The text before him is simple enough. Work awaits. Requesting you to respond ASAP at 28*779*4456. Substantial payment just to meet, after initial discussion. This will be worth your time.

"Looks like the work found you, Rog. I'd still like to know how, but I might be able to set that aside for now...even if it is suspicious as hell. Payment just for meeting is tough to pass up with my recent bank statement."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jun 09, 2007 10:39 am

Western edge of the Puyallup Barrens, Seattle
October 20, 2064 10:30:11 local time

Some days are good days. Some are living nightmares. Today is somewhere in between. The good news is that he hasn't had to deal with anyone bothering him in the last few day/night cycles. It also appears that the Warriors have reclaimed this block, which is good for him. The veteran gang seems to respect the "mad hermit" who lives in the cracks of the small amount of "civilization" left in Puyallup. The Orphans (the gang most recently chased out by the Warriors) seems to have a real hatred for the Demon, as they have taken to calling him.

The bad days...well, they are the ones when he worries if he can keep his beliefs intact. Will it be the day that he finally loses control? Will it be just one lone Orphan that decides to tempt fate? Or the whole gang? Or the whole neighborhood? The day is rapidly approaching that it could very well be the greater portion of the Seattle Metroplex.

But for today, Peter doesn't have to worry. The flow has ebbed some as the sun began to rise over the building he has called home for the last few days. His will has held strong against the torrent of the previous night.

Today seems to be even better, considering his phone seems to be working today. Imagine the man's surprise when it rings with the clear tone of an electronic bell.

Unknown number - 28*779*4456

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Sun Jun 10, 2007 12:27 am

Jeff Hauze wrote:Tacoma, Stephenson Condominiums, Seattle
October 20, 2064 10:30:27 local time

The drum solo kicks in just as the telecom rings. He was preparing to finish his fourth set of pullups on the reinforced bar he installed in one of the archways. The cheap hallways of his flop at least had studs that were easy enough to find, which easily held the weight of the bar and himself during his morning exercises. Ajax sighs a bit, as his most final set is interrupted. He wipes off with the nearby towel and glances at the number.

26*718*4479. Lucas Bishop, owner of Rapid Transit Couriers.

The identification info was bogus, just in case the line was tapped. But Ajax knew what the name really meant. Work was about to become available, and knowing Bishop, it would probably be the profitable kind. The worn man breathes deeply for a moment, and gets his game face in place. Unfortuantely, even with his tough physical regimen; his age is beginning to show in some places. He's actually winded at the end of his morning workouts now, and he faces more sore muscles in the morning than he can remember in the past. On the third ring, he finally punches up the telecom to show video, as well as broadcasting the usual audio feed.

Bishop's usual false smile greets Ajax as the video feed kicks in. "How's my favorite courier this morning? Still punishing yourself, I see."

The quiet glare that returns to Bishop quickly convinces him to get to the point. "Okay already. Enough small talk. You wanted to know if a certain kind of delivery became available. Something for private parties, with a higher pay scale. Preferably a one-time ride, if I remember correctly. So I've got something just like that that landed in my lap this morning. And of course, I just had to call my best and brightest first thing. Interested?"

Best and brightest, huh? Are you trying flattery nowadays, brother? All your other couriers must be out and about, huh? And the commission on this delivery must be pretty juicy if you'd resort to flattery before I have had a chance to turn you down.

The massive man spun his torso around until all the vertebrae popped back into place. He tossed the pocket secretary down on his bed as he moved to his refridgerator to retrieve his high-proteïne breakfast. The metal of the can in which the rich, thick shake sat was cold, and he wiped it across his forehead as he walked back. He let the condensation drip down his face as he popped the lid of the can and took a deep swig. He grinned as he looked over his meager belongings set up around his room, then settled his grin on the pocket secretary laying on his bed, looking at Bishop's false, almost ferral grin, realising the man was part friend, part wolf, but was all heart and had shown himself to be a reliable contact, and a trustworthy friend over the years.

He remembered well how Bishop showed up at Vasquez' funeral, and the solemn respect he had shown her. He also remembered how Bishop had loved her, all those years before, and how that love for her had started a friendship between himself and the bald, black man, which had lasted throughout long years, and had finally brought them here.

Alright, brother. Do you want to meet in public to talk over what needs to be delivered where, and for what price? Oh, and did you arrange for Daisy's birthday present yet? Real parrots are hard to come by nowadays, and when my boy Clavo said he wouldn't be able to come through, I kind of counted on you, brother. Daisy's birthday is in a couple of days, and I wouldn't want to show up empty-handed, so if you can't get it, leave me enough time to get a back-up gift, will ya?

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 5:45 am

Bishop's laugh rings out across the communications device, sounding a bit more like two boulders grinding against each other than any normal human sound.

"Yeah, I have Daisy's gift all ready to go. Delivered to your place or hers?"

As Ajax looks at screen, a burst of noise floods across the audio channel for a moment. The video feed flickers for a moment, before it finally resolves into clarity again. Bishop's face has taken on a serious look for a moment. "Sorry, 'Jax. I just went secure on this line. We need to talk without any possible ears listening in. Look, you asked me to keep an eye out for high pay jobs, so I did. But I'm asking you as an old friend, walk away on this one. Everything is wrong about it.

The guy shows up at my office, and is specifically looking for me. After he dicks around with the boys for a few minutes, I finally let the old geezer up. We talk, and he comes straight out and asks me to contact you. Not by name or anything, but he knew enough to make it clear he's talking about you.

But, I know you probably won't listen to me...so here's the rest of it. He's hiring a team for one day's work, with the possibility of follow up jobs. You get twenty large just for showing up to the meet and greet. Another thirty large at the completion of the job. It's a rush job apparently, so there isn't much time for recon. He says he's got all the information that will be needed, but that the job needs to go down fast and quiet. Meet and greet is tonight, with the job on the following evening. I'll send the file over with all the info...but listen to me. Let this one pass."

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 8:52 am

Jeff Hauze wrote:Bishop's laugh rings out across the communications device, sounding a bit more like two boulders grinding against each other than any normal human sound.

"Yeah, I have Daisy's gift all ready to go. Delivered to your place or hers?"

As Ajax looks at screen, a burst of noise floods across the audio channel for a moment. The video feed flickers for a moment, before it finally resolves into clarity again. Bishop's face has taken on a serious look for a moment. "Sorry, 'Jax. I just went secure on this line. We need to talk without any possible ears listening in. Look, you asked me to keep an eye out for high pay jobs, so I did. But I'm asking you as an old friend, walk away on this one. Everything is wrong about it.

The guy shows up at my office, and is specifically looking for me. After he dicks around with the boys for a few minutes, I finally let the old geezer up. We talk, and he comes straight out and asks me to contact you. Not by name or anything, but he knew enough to make it clear he's talking about you.

But, I know you probably won't listen to me...so here's the rest of it. He's hiring a team for one day's work, with the possibility of follow up jobs. You get twenty large just for showing up to the meet and greet. Another thirty large at the completion of the job. It's a rush job apparently, so there isn't much time for recon. He says he's got all the information that will be needed, but that the job needs to go down fast and quiet. Meet and greet is tonight, with the job on the following evening. I'll send the file over with all the info...but listen to me. Let this one pass."

Ajax throws the empty can into a garbage-bag standing near the front door to his tiny apartment, ready for the garbage dispossal down the hall. He starts to undress himself, comfortably, without shame, knowing that Bishop, too, has been a convict in the past.

"No, let one of your boys deliver the parrot to Daisy at the campus downtown. My new SIN is flimsy as it is, and I don't want to needlessly expose it before I do what I gotta do. As much as I would like to see her, she's gonna have to do with the gift for now."

Fully naked, he picks up a towel off a large stack of assorted clothing, towels and linnens at the foot of his bed, picks up the pocket secretary and moves towards the tiny cubicle-like bathroom in the corner of the room.

"So you got the feeling he was looking for me, specifically? Like he knew I was still alive? What did he look like? Corp? Law? Merc? Street? Syndicate?"

Placing the pocket secretary on a soap-dispenser next to the shower, he steps inside the cubicle and touches the activators. A strong jet of water comes blasting out from a large, highly calcified, brass hose attached to the wall. The big man winces as he quickly and thoroughly cleans himself. Years of time in the military and correctional facilities taught him the art of quick and defensive showering, and with his SIN being as shaky as it was, he didn't want to get caught unaware while taking a "leisurely shower"...whatever that meant.

"You know I can't let a score like this get away from me at this crucial time, Bish," he yelled over the roar of the water relentlessly pounding down on his skin. "Madsen told me the law started to ask some questions regarding my death, and he's not so sure that my new SIN is going to hold up for that long. If I want to retire, I have to make a coupla moves on the street, and I have to go out on a limb a bit. I understand that the fewer moves I want to make, the higher the risk involved."

Eagerly hitting the deactivator on the wall, the roar of the water stops and is replaced by an almost blissful silence, emphasized by the drips of water escaping the brass hose. Ajax steps out of the cubicle, a towel draped around his shoulders, pocket secretary in hand. He tosses it back on the bed and starts to dry himself off.

"Did he ask for anyone else? Simien? Riggs? Winters? Duke? Any of the others? Anyone I know? Tell me you've got a vid-shot of him? Did he give a name? Send over what you have, and I'll see what I can find out before tonight. I'm sorry, friend, but I'll take this job. If it goes sour, you'll get bragging rights. But for now, I need to secure my retirement."

He pauses a moment to grab some q-tips to clean his ears out...

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Bish. You've been good to me over the years. I value your advice, which is why I'll be extra careful going in, and if I get the feeling things aren't on the up-and-up, I'll walk. But I have to take a few risks if I want a warm piece of the sidewalk for this old mutt to sleep out his remaining days. I'm not looking for a secure enclave surrounded by two-inch thick, bomb-proof, proteine/polymer walls and sandy beaches, but at least a little better than the shithole I live in now." He smiled at the small display on his pocket secretary. "Not that I'm not grateful for your help in getting it, of course," he winked at his friend.

3278 · Post by **3278** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 10:35 am

Jeff Hauze wrote:Today seems to be even better, considering his phone seems to be working today. Imagine the man's surprise when it rings with the clear tone of an electronic bell.

Unknown number - 28*779*4456

He starts, overcome momentarily with surprise, and the old sodium-vapor lights, nearly extinguished by the rising sun, flicker. He'd forgotten his phone, it worked so seldom, and no one ever called him, besides. Not anymore.

He looked up, ignoring the chime for a moment. The brightening dawn pushed the rain away, remitting it to a soft drizzle. He lowered the barrier he'd kept up all night to stay dry, and the perfect circle of dry pavement began to dampen in the soft rain. His armoring spell he left on; he took no chances in this neighborhood.

Who could it be, calling him? Someone wishing to make peace? Someone with an answer, or more questions? Telemarketers? Wishing he knew wouldn't make it so. With a trembling hand, Peter reached to his ear and keyed the activator.

"Um. Hi?"

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 11:06 am

Bishop grunts in response to Ajax's expected answer. "Yeah, I know you need it. Just watch yourself. I'll send you all the information I have on this guy. File will be there shortly. Stay low, AJ."

The call disconnects, as the poc-sec beeps as it finishes downloading the incoming file.

The video footage shows a male human, probably in his fifties, sitting at a desk across from Bishop. Whoever this guy really is, he's definitely an operator. He keeps a keen eye on Bishop's security, and definitely knows his way around a meeting. He seems to have a regional East Coast accent, possibly New York or New Jersey. The man identifies himself as Jerome Blake, and he asks all the right questions to hint at the past Ajax thought was buried. He never asks directly for Ajax, but he makes it clear to Bishop who he is looking to hire. He also doesn't directly mention any former teammates for the large ex-con, but again, he certainly knows a significant amount of details.

The contact information follows, with a meeting scheduled for tonight, 8 pm. The meet is at a small private office in the Emerson Office Bulding (small building of offices for rent) in Tacoma.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 11:18 am

"Peter. My name is Jerome Blake. And I can help you."

The voice clears its throat, and continues. "I need someone with your talents for two projects. The first is simple, one night's work, with a meeting before the job. You'll be substantially rewarded, but I also know that money isn't your interest. If the first job goes well for all involved, there's a second one immediately afterwards. The risk is much higher on the second, but the rewards are much greater...and of more immediate interest to you."

"I know some people, some acquaintances of mine. They are the kind of people who may have a reliable solution for your current problem. So...are you interested enough to meet me tonight to discuss this?"

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 11:43 am

Jeff Hauze wrote:The video footage shows a male human, probably in his fifties, sitting at a desk across from Bishop. Whoever this guy really is, he's definitely an operator. He keeps a keen eye on Bishop's security, and definitely knows his way around a meeting. He seems to have a regional East Coast accent, possibly New York or New Jersey. The man identifies himself as Jerome Blake, and he asks all the right questions to hint at the past Ajax thought was buried. He never asks directly for Ajax, but he makes it clear to Bishop who he is looking to hire. He also doesn't directly mention any former teammates for the large ex-con, but again, he certainly knows a significant amount of details.

The contact information follows, with a meeting scheduled for tonight, 8 pm. The meet is at a small private office in the Emerson Office Bulding (small building of offices for rent) in Tacoma.

Ajax sits down on his bed, going over the information Bishop sent. He composes a short, encrypted, message to Solomon, a decker he's known for as long as he can remember, attaching small parts of the vid-feed to the message. The message reads:

Ajax wrote:Solomon,

How's your rash?

I've got some work coming up, and I need some information on the man in the vid. His name is Jerome Blake (supposedly) and I need a little more on him. I know it's a bit short-notice, but if you could get some information on him before 1800 tonight, there'll be an icecream waiting for ya. Don't over-extend yourself and stay frosty.

Ajax

PS: Oh, and if you could do a little diving while you're at it, get me the schematics for Emerson Office Bulding in Tacoma. The buildings, from what I know, are relatively new, so their plans shouldn't have perished in the crash.

Once he hit "send" on that message, he disables the vid-feed and dials Blake's number...

3278 · Post by **3278** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 1:37 pm

Jeff Hauze wrote:"Peter. My name is Jerome Blake. And I can help you."

The voice clears its throat, and continues. "I need someone with your talents for two projects. The first is simple, one night's work, with a meeting before the job. You'll be substantially rewarded, but I also know that money isn't your interest. If the first job goes well for all involved, there's a second one immediately afterwards. The risk is much higher on the second, but the rewards are much greater...and of more immediate interest to you."

"I know some people, some acquaintances of mine. They are the kind of people who may have a reliable solution for your current problem. So...are you interested enough to meet me tonight to discuss this?"

Peter's face twisted in confusion. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry. Did you say 'risk?' What kind of 'project' are you talking about?"

With a sinking feeling, Peter realized it didn't matter. Not anymore. What was the worst that could happen? It certainly wouldn't be any more dangerous than living in the barrens until he sneezed and blew up the city. The man could only be talking about one "problem," and if he might have a solution to that...

With desperation underlying his voice, Peter said into the brief silence, "Nevermind. Suffice to say I'm interested. Where, uh, and when, you know, do you want to meet with me?"

Alleycat · Post by **Alleycat** » Tue Jun 12, 2007 11:45 pm

Out of towner? Alison scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Thanks Sev..." Pouring a cup of coffee, she decided to splurge and dig out some of the real cane sugar. An out of towner knowing her name meant one of two things, either he knew her by rep or worse he knew who she was. Given he called, it was likely the former, and if it was the latter...well she'd be dead already if that was his aim.

With a sigh she sat down in the far corner, artfully arranged to show only neat beige walls, and moved to listen to the message.

"Ah-ah! White noise! If you have to call him back I don't want any of this background noise audiable, you never know, he could be recording and trying to triangulate!" Alley glared at the speaker about her. "If he's from out of town, asked for me specifically, and is Matrix saavy, don't you think he could get my address from wherever he got my name if he wanted it that badly?"

The momentary pause let her know she had him. "...Oh yeah. Well...its the principle of the matter! What if-" Alley waved her hands, this was no time to let Sev tirade about the things someone could do knowing where you lived. "Sev! Fine! Look!" She switched on the small white noise generator. "Happy now?" Getting no answer after a few minutes, she took it for a yes, and plugged the earphones into her poc-sec, queing up the message and hitting 'Listen'.

TheScamp · Post by **TheScamp** » Wed Jun 13, 2007 3:52 pm

It wasn't exactly an issue that someone had found him. He hadn't taken any precautions to hide himself. Hell, he was still using is own legitimage SIN, for the most part. In fact, he had kind of been hoping that someone might take notice of him. The last few months in Seattle had been wicked slow. There was still no regret for making the move out here. He wasn't going to get any more work back east, anyway. Not since Foxoboro.

No, it was the was the language of the offer more than anything else that gave him pause. Worth his time? His rep, such as it was, out here didn't qualify for work that was "Worth his time," or at least not in any sense that a Johnson would advertise. That left the very real possibility that this was a hose job.

Still, a money offer just to meet was really hard to pass up. He grabbed the pocket secretary and unspooled the retractable cord from its housing. Brushing a hand through his salt and pepper hair, he cleared the jack at his temple and plugged in. A mental command had the pocket secretary dial the number, and he waited for an answer.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Wed Jun 13, 2007 6:58 pm

3278 wrote:Peter's face twisted in confusion. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry. Did you say 'risk?' What kind of 'project' are you talking about?"

With a sinking feeling, Peter realized it didn't matter. Not anymore. What was the worst that could happen? It certainly wouldn't be any more dangerous than living in the barrens until he sneezed and blew up the city. The man could only be talking about one "problem," and if he might have a solution to that...

With desperation underlying his voice, Peter said into the brief silence, "Nevermind. Suffice to say I'm interested. Where, uh, and when, you know, do you want to meet with me?"

Blake's voice travels back across the phone with surprising clarity. "I'll be glad to meet you in person then. Tonight, 8 pm, in Tacoma. The Emerson Office Building, suite 1207, sixth floor. It's in eastern Tacoma, past Roderick Boulevard. The exact address is 1400 Emerson Place."

The line goes dead, and Peter is left alone once more. This time, it appears that there may actually be someone out there who can help him. The sun slowly creeps its way up through the soot-choked sky, and begins to shine down on the mage.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Wed Jun 13, 2007 7:01 pm

The line rings through at least two relays, before Ajax hears a connection made. "Blake here."

The voice fits the image that Ajax was given. It's cool and complacent, belonging to someone who is clearly comfortable in their position in life. The faint accent is there, but less pronounced over the data connection.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Wed Jun 13, 2007 7:07 pm

The message begins playback. There's no audible background noise, and it sounds like a unencrypted line. That's a bit surprising by itself, but the voice surprises you even more. It's older than expected, and not a known voice at all.

"My name is Jerome Blake, and I've been pointed in your direction from some mutual acquaintances. I have two jobs that need immediate support. The first is of an immediate nature and potentially a trial to see if I have found the right contractors. It takes place within the next 3 days, with a meeting tonight. If things go well on the first job, then I'll retain the contractors for the second job with the potential of a third job. The contract payment is solid to stare, and exemplary at the end. Meeting is tonight, in Tacoma. Emerson Office Buildings, suite 1207, sixth floor. Twenty thousand, just for attending. No strings."

The message cuts off as abruptly as it began, leaving Alleycat in more confusion than when she started it.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Wed Jun 13, 2007 7:14 pm

To Roger's practiced ear, this call is going local. But the number is using at least two switching relays and possibly two dead-end transfers. The line picks up after the fifth ring.

"This is Blake. Go ahead."

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Thu Jun 14, 2007 8:08 am

Jeff Hauze wrote:The line rings through at least two relays, before Ajax hears a connection made. "Blake here."

Ajax had never been physically intimidated in his entire life. He'd always managed to get along with most people, but sometimes his physique drew some unwanted attention from turnbulls wanting to prove themselves by taking on the biggest guy around. In those situations he knew that there was little people could dish out that would put a dent in him so he didn't worry. However, Blake's nonchalant authority did intimidate Ajax a little bit, so he steadied himself before he spoke in a warm and even tone, hoping that his honest and open personality would prevail like it had so many times in the past. "Mr. Blake, this is Ajax speaking. As I'm sure you know, I'm not in the habit of doing business with people I don't know, so I thought I'd call and say hello. I was also wondering if I could expect some familiar faces at the meeting tonight."

Alleycat · Post by **Alleycat** » Thu Jun 14, 2007 2:39 pm

Alison sat at the small table long after the message finished, one slender finger tapping thoughtfully on it. Twenty thousand to show up and listen, by a man confident enough to leave details on a message. He knew what he was looking for, and perhaps was a little desperate. Alley glanced around the tiny apartment, down to the cup of real coffee and sugar that was in short supply, and back to her poc-sec. Maybe he wasn't the only one.

"Sev? I'm going out tonight. Pop me any news that hits the 'trix involving the Emerson offices in Tacoma, would you? I'll pick up the tab for coffee on the way home, the real stuff."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sun Jun 17, 2007 3:41 am

Blake's voice comes back to Ajax with a cool and detached tone. "I won't mince words here, Mr. Ajax. If you're looking for any former co-workers, you won't find any tonight. Most of the other possible contractors are relatively new to the city. I'm glad to see that my message was received though. I wasn't exactly sure if our mutual friend would pass along the request. Is there anything else you need to know that I can assist with?"

This is clearly a shark in the water here. Whoever Blake really is, he is not a newcomer to this business. If you had to hazard a guess, he also isn't hands-off management. He has the sound of someone who's more than familiar with field work, though that it is an unfounded assumption on your part. However, the old wisdom is often true. Trust your gut, it is often looking to save your ass.

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Sun Jun 17, 2007 10:51 am

Jeff Hauze wrote:Blake's voice comes back to Ajax with a cool and detached tone. "I won't mince words here, Mr. Ajax. If you're looking for any former co-workers, you won't find any tonight. Most of the other possible contractors are relatively new to the city. I'm glad to see that my message was received though. I wasn't exactly sure if our mutual friend would pass along the request. Is there anything else you need to know that I can assist with?"

Ajax smiled to himself and knew there was nothing more to be learned from this man before the meeting tonight. Anything Solomon would come up with was a bonus, but the definitive, resolution and steady sound of Blake's voice told him that this man was a professional, and had done his homework. He wished he could've been that professional in the past, perhaps he would've not had to go through all the funerals and say goodbye to almost everyone he'd loved. He promised himself to keep Bishop's warning in mind; he'd be the professional tonight.

"Sir, no, sir," and again Ajax smiled at that old, but oh so familiar response, "I know all I need to. Thank you for your time, sir. I will see you tonight." Ajax keyed the disconnect button, tossed his pocket secretary on the bed and continued to get dressed.

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Sun Jun 17, 2007 12:16 pm

After getting dressed Ajax checked his pocket secretary for any messages, he keyed another message, this time to one-time friend James;

Ajax wrote:James,

Not sure if you're in town, but if you are, and you have some spare ticks tonight, I could use you on stand-by. I possibly have to get moved quickly from the Tacoma to somewhere quiet. If you don't have anything better to do, and wouldn't mind making some extra dosh sitting on your ass, get back to me before 1800 hrs and we can work out the details.

Ajax

When Ajax had done time he had been bunked up with a pusher. Eventually their cell got tossed and when they found three grams of novacoke-D and traces of it on one of the spoons in his cell-mates locker, Ajax was pulled into the disciplinary hearing because his cell-mate had made the case that he hadn't locked his locker nor had a corrections officer checked the locker for contraband before he was put in the cell. His claim was that the contraband was there before he moved in with Ajax. That defense got them both two weeks in segregation. There, in the cell across from him, he had met James, a troll who was as wide as he was tall, and all muscle. He was a good looking guy (for a troll), mid-thirties, and seemed completely out of place there. While Ajax never managed to find out why he had been in the hole, he understood that James had been taken in for a hit and run. James was a cab-driver, and owner of his own, one-troll business; "Combat Cabs - We go anywhere!" He was the proud owner of a massive, black and yellow truck that was all internal combustion engine and tires. "A monster-truck for a monster-driver" is what James used to say. The archaic engine was hardly efficient, but it allowed him to go off the grid, not be tracked, and rough it through places like Deep Redmond and the Puyallup. He was a fantastic guy - real guy's guy - with a great sense of humor, who liked cigars, Urban Brawling and monster trucks.

If he could have James drop him off, wait there, and pick him up afterwards if needed, that would be a big load off his mind. His "cab" - if you could call it that - was armored, had a plascrete re-inforced bull-bar on the front, and could take a punch. James was good in a scuffle, too, and always carried a burst-fire capable shotgun on him. Thinking about that made him shudder involuntarily in excitement. "You have to make it fun for yourself," he said to himself.

3278 · Post by **3278** » Sun Jun 17, 2007 4:20 pm

Peter used his magic sight to look at himself from behind, telekinetically lifted the Frommer's Guide from his back pocket, and levitated it in front of him. The guide, levitated from the table of a tourist downtown - his third such, as the first had actually melted in his hand, the second simply ceased to function - was simple: a featureless flat panel in gloss black, the size of his palm. An invisible touch brought the display to life, showing an overview map of the city. He quickly selected his current location in Puyallup - Pyoo-AL-up he had to keep thinking to himself - and that of the meeting, just south of a broad swath of green golf course.

The Guide had a built-in flight routing function, for people traveling by personal aircraft; there were specialist Guides which could also receive flight plans wirelessly throughout the city, but this was the basic tourist Guide, with no update functionality beyond restaurant reviews and hotel availability. He did the math in his head and figured he could likely get there within the hour. The meeting wasn't until tonight, but that didn't mean he couldn't look.

Levitation was the first spell he'd learned. He was 11 when he realized he could lift himself with it. Bystanders had called the police, who had ordered him down with a helicopter and called his mother and father.

The next spell he'd learned had been invisibility.

He cast both now, forming a pattern in his mind like a circuit, and connecting that pattern through his aura to the astral plane as its power source, then "hanging" the spells from his sustaining foci, allowing them to keep the circuit open so he did not have to.

He faded from sight and lifted from from the ground.

Alleycat · Post by **Alleycat** » Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:01 pm

A lot of runners preferred privacy, solitude, and the convience of a getaway vehicle on hand, but Alison had learned long ago that information came from the most mundane of places, and no one knew what happened in an area like bus and cab drivers. Of course they wouldn't talk to a professional, so there had to be some misdirection.

A pair of neutral blue tailored pants and a cream colored halter went on first, covered by a pair of black and red snap track pants long enough to hide the cream strappy sandals, and a short sleeve red shirt blazoned 'Princess' in rhinestones. A wooden bead pendant necklace on a leather thong was pressed into service as a rubberband, the pendant being tucked up under a plain black baseball hat, ponytail pulled through the back.

Grabbing the armored jacket whose faded gray color hid its newness, Alley pondered her small arsenal, and decided light was the order of the day. Grabbing her Puzzler from its slim holster and checking it had a full clip, she slipped it into the pocket in the lining of the jacket. Checking herself with a critical eye in the mirror, she added a pair of overly large thin gold hoop earrings and called it good.

Not unexpectedly the bus routes and connections had already been loaded onto her poc-sec, with a myraid of little yellow flags that contained whatever info Sev thought might be useful. Slipping it and a transit credstick into an outer pocket, Alley popped a piece of gum in her mouth and headed for the bus stop.

TheScamp · Post by **TheScamp** » Wed Jun 20, 2007 1:58 am

The way Blake answered the phone gave Roger a few pieces of information. First, he stated just the one name, which meant that he was not interested in excessive formalities or pleasantries. It was possible that the man was using his first name, but the simple “Go ahead,” order made him think otherwise.

So, Roger put on his best “Meet the Prospective Superior” interview voice, matching the speaker’s no-nonsense tone, but with an edge of deferential respect. If there was one thing he knew, it was finessing superiors.

“Mr. Blake, this is Roger Arneault. I’ve received your message.”

He looked around his spare studio apartment, glad that the call was voice only. Anyone who knew enough to contact him here had a good idea of his situation, but the visual would cement it for them. He was getting desperate for work, and it showed in his accommodations. If money didn’t come in soon, he would need to start selling the very gear that he would need should any jobs offers arise.

“What do you have for me?”

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Thu Jun 21, 2007 4:26 pm

"Mr. Arneault, it's good to hear from you. I have work that fits your skills, and I was hoping you were interested. There's a meeting tonight, for the first job. If all goes well with the first job, there's a definite second job in the near future, with a possible third project as well. The first job is of an immediate nature, so compensation is obviously higher. Twenty thousand up front at the meeting, simply for spending your hard-earned time at the meeting. Further payment will be discussed there."

Blake clears his throat for a moment and then continues. "The meeting is tonight in Tacoma, at the Emerson Office Buildings, suite 1207 on the sixth floor. The other contractors will be arriving around 7 pm, so be there as close that time as possible. That is, if you're still interested, of course."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Thu Jun 21, 2007 4:29 pm

As Ajax waits, the poc-sec rings again around 1600. The bass-register voice that greets him as he picks up is barely heard over the roar of an overly large engine with a heavily modified exhaust and intake system. "Hey, mano. It's James. You said you needed a lift? What time, when, and where? You make it worth my while, and I'll clear the night for ya, humie."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Thu Jun 21, 2007 4:37 pm

The flight time to Tacoma is longer than expected. Peter spends a great deal of it dodging more than the usual flight traffic, and an increasing amount of advertising and traffic-monitoring blimps and UAVs. Roughly 90 minutes later, he quietly crosses into Tacoma, not far north of the meeting spot. His attention is drawn away from his low-altitude flight path for a moment. He is checking the astral and keeping an eye out of any random Lone Star astral patrols, lest they start questioning him too closely. His astral senses are quickly drawn to the sky above him. The Seattle sky is unexpectedly clear for this time of year, and normally wouldn't even register as a concern on Peter's radar. The issues isn't anything that would be registered as a problem, but is in fact that lack of problems. Peter's flight has caused little in the way of odd circumstances and unusual conditions that his astral presence normally does. No unexpected windstorms, no drastic drop in temperature, nothing at all. That in and of itself is a concern. Something else is at work, and directly working with the sky itself (and potentially the weather patterns). And that something is invasive enough that it is overriding Peter's normal effect on the environment around him.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Thu Jun 21, 2007 4:42 pm

The guard at the bus depot barely gives Alley a second glance. It's just another corp girl out tramping it up to his eyes. The first bus requires a transfer halfway along its route, and surprisingly seems to be running on time. It looks like Alley's arrival should be right about 5 pm, which gives her enough time to check around the area of the meeting. The bus ride is fairly quiet, save for the two young children (likely no older than 10) riding in the back seats. From the look of them, they appear to be street kids who are just trying to stay warm through the night. The only fact that stands out about them is the jacks hidden cleverly behind their ears and the fact that they seem to be speaking in Latin. That fact wouldn't seem so odd on the streets of Seattle on its own. It could just as easily be something related to a new Matrix based gang or youth crew. What's odd is that it is the third time in a month that Alley has seen the very same circumstances for a small group of children in the same general area.

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Fri Jun 22, 2007 12:50 pm

Jeff Hauze wrote:As Ajax waits, the poc-sec rings again around 1600. The bass-register voice that greets him as he picks up is barely heard over the roar of an overly large engine with a heavily modified exhaust and intake system. "Hey, mano. It's James. You said you needed a lift? What time, when, and where? You make it worth my while, and I'll clear the night for ya, humie."

Having spent most of the morning working out, the afternoon was booked solid with food and news. Ajax wasn't entirely sure how the rest of the day would work out, so he decided to dress and pack appropriately for the meeting tonight, in case he wouldn't have a chance to swing by his apartment. He was wearing well-maintained army surplus combat boots that he had bought before he came back from laying low in the CAS. They had been broken in by now, and fit him quite comfortably. Recently, with the coming colder weather, he had purchased a navy-blue woolen sweater that fit his body so well he felt giddy like a girl when he bought it. It made his solid body look lean, which it was, but just didn't look, especially when he stood next to most other people. He topped things off with a pair of blue, denim jeans and a new, spiffy-looking Securetech long-coat. The latest model claimed to be fashioned from a compound akin in structure to spider-silk, resulting in a smooth, flexible, elegant coat with a frightening level of ballistic protection. Now, all of his clothes were clean, which, in his apartment superstructure, made him stick out like a sore thumb, and could make riding the elevator from the 217th floor down into the cracks of Seattle interesting. He tucked a concealable holster in the pit of his arm, and stuck his predator inside. He hid a few extra clips of ammunition in the lining of his coat, and headed out the door.

Ajax found a guy in the elevator whom he had seen there the previous day, in exactly the same state, dried up vomit all down the front of his shirt, staining his pants and shoes. He cradled an old simsense player with a tangled fiber-optic wire running to a datajack at his temple. The port looked infected, with scabs of crusty skin surrounding the plastic jack. A cheap implant for those who can't afford anything but back-alley ripper-docs. He'd probably die from the infection soon. Lucky for him he was diving so deep into his virtual hell that he wouldn't even notice. Ajax stepped over him and keyed the 32nd floor, which would lead him to the first pedestrian bridge into the biggest shopping area of Tacoma. When he walked out, he took a final look at the guy, whose wide eyes were staring at some electrochemical induced halucination. Better Than Life.

He moved among the throng of people on the bridge into the shopping mall, looking over the tops of the heads of people in this dazzling crowd, he saw the occassional Orc or Troll stick stand out. His years in the military, incarceration, and abroad had often left Ajax disconnected with trends and fashion, but he had found it easier to deal with as years went by. Trolls carving intricate decorations into their horns, women walking around barely dressed with hypnotic, nano-tattoos on their exposed flesh, and extensive body surgical modifications had shocked him at first, but he found himself caring less and less about his disconnection and simply marvelled at the diversity of the Seattle populace. One thing he always made sure he kept up to date with was Cityspeak; anyone who didn't speak, or at least understand it, would find it hard to negotiate the streets. Even buying a soyburger was practically impossible in certain parts of the city if you didn't speak Cityspeak. It was like the glue between the hundreds of different languages that made up the amalgamate populace of Seattle. And it was no different anywhere else in the world.

Ajax managed to find a stool at an open-air squid and noodle stall run by an elderly middle-eastern man with bad scarring all around dirt-cheap cybereyes. The lenses were burried into his sockets and his skin held tight by hooks curled around scar-tissue. He spent his lunch pouring over his pocket secretary, reading and listening to the news. He decided to take his time, getting a second serving and making sure he was up to date on matters of business, technological development, politics and social matters in the sprawl. Undoubtedly some of it would come in handy during the upcoming job, and most of the time connections between one thing and the other were subtle, so it was best to be well-informed. Once he was full, he spent some time talking to the stall-owner, whose name was Garro, and wasn't middle-eastern at all, but came from Greece. He had lost his eyesight in a bombing attack on Athens, many years ago, but Ajax found him jovial and full of energy. Ajax decided to tip him handsomely for the squid, noodles and tea, and made his way down the bridge just in time to watch the Star break up the sermons of a doomsday cult. Ajax decided to move along quickly before the tear-gas and riot-gear was brought to bear.

Once inside the shopping mall complex, Ajax quickly moved down to the lower levels. The lower levels were generally less attractive to businesses because of a lack of light, and so a more interesting business culture could thrive down there. Mall security goons hardly ever travelled that far down and only really cared if what happened down there started to spill onto the upper levels, and then they came in force. This was bad for business on the lower levels, and so a really efficient, self-regulating body of shops had managed to open and set up shop abiding by the rule that anything would go, as long as it didn't cause any trouble up top.

Down there Ajax found Shango Smokes, a small shop - well, stall, really, with massive bags set out in front - selling tobacco and coffee from all parts of the world, but mostly from the Caribbean League. He bought two boxes of the fullest cigars available in the shop; Hoyo de Monterrey. Shango assured that the Awakening had given these cigars an almost Ambrosian quality and heightened senses, intellect and awareness. Whatever.

***

Tacoma; 1623

He tossed the two boxes into the Troll's lap after he ascended into the passenger seat of the yellow, monstrous "cab." "A little extra," he said as he winked at the handsome troll. He noticed the synth-wooden handle of James' shotgun sticking out over his left shoulder from behind his "seat" - "throne" would be a better word - and he was happy to see James had come prepared. The driver removed two cigars from the first box, and placed both boxes in a storage compartement underneath his throne. He slid the cigar along his upper lip, taking in the rich fragrance of the tobacco, closing his eyes for a moment to savour it. A low rumbling moan shuddered through the truck-compartiment, its epicenter hidden deep within James' barrel-chest. He handed one to Ajax and bit the tip off his, a move that Ajax mimicked, spitting it into an overful ashtray set center-dash. With both cigars lit, the two men sat next to one another, enjoying the cigars for several minutes. They didn't even notice a troop of Ancients shooting through the street they were parked on like bolts of lightning.

"I have a meeting at this address," and Ajax put his pocket secretary down on the dash, it's vidscreen facing the large Troll, "and I don't know how long it can take for it to be done, but regardless of the outcome, I want you to be there." He took another drag off his cigar before continuing, "I don't know any of these people, but they knew Bishop, and they knew he knew me." James nodded. "It's an office complex, and I have to be there at 1900. We don't we go and have some chow before hand - on me, of course - and we can discuss your fee and hazard pay?" Ajax grinned and saw the Troll reach for a jack on his dash, pulled out the retractable fiberoptic and stuck it in the datajack behind his ear. Another jack came from his headrest and went into a jack at his temple - one was probably to take care of the handling of the truck, the other to operate its arsenal if need be - and the truck suddenly came to life while James' eyes rolled into the back of his head. Interestingly enough, while most of his body went limp, his lips clutched the Cuban furiously all the way to the restaurant.

Alleycat · Post by **Alleycat** » Fri Jun 22, 2007 8:10 pm

Once is an oddity, Twice is coincidence, Three times is a conspiracy Alley's instincts screamed for her to stay on the bus for another circuit, drop back, ingrate herself and see what she could score out of it. Any other meet and she would have done it, no question, the route was only an hour long. But she was jackless and looked better than street, it'd be a dicey conversation and up against it was 20k to do nothing but listen, provided the area checked out. Reluctantly she got off the bus at her stop, and made a note of the time. She would have to come back with more intel and find those kids.

Alley forced herself to relax and focus, letting years of finely honed senses and instincts take in her surroundings as she walked the block, removing her coat and folding it over her arm. From the way people acted and felt, to the texture of the magic in play, to the little details that could mean life or death, or simply the difference between a warm reception or a cold one, all of it was important.

Moving herself into the post work crowd, she deftly slipped into an unwatched alley between two stores, stripping the shirt and hat off in one fluid motion. The jacket reversed to a soft brown as she slipped it back on, the leather thong necklace dropping over her head as she shook her hair free, and pulled the snap pants off. Reluctantlly she rolled the hat and shirt into the pants and tucked the black bundle behind some water pipes before stepping out into the crowd on the opposite street. In another life, she wouldn't have cared, the outfit would have been tossed into the dumpster for some homeless bum, but as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't really afford to do that, she'd have to come back and get that bundle tomorrow if she could.

Checking her poc sec, Alley found she had a little time yet, and paged through Sev's notes on the area, locating someplace with something almost passable as coffee to sit at and sip while she waited, finally heading over at about quarter til.

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Thu Jun 28, 2007 12:39 pm

Tacoma, Emerson Office Buildings; 1758

"...and then he said; I'm just glad I fucked the one with the moustache!" James said, delivering the punchline with baritone bravado, and both men burst out laughing. As the laughter dissipated, Ajax looked at his friend through a haze of smoke. "Will you be okay standing here for a while? I wouldn't want to come back and find you riddled with bullets," he said in a strangled voice as he slowly exhaled the last drag off his cigar and left the last bit to die out by itself in the ashtray. "Lockheed laminate," James told Ajax proudly, tapping the shiny black surface of the windshield with his rough nails. "Fifteen layers of perspex shatterproof, five of polarized light-sensitive glass, five of laser-reactive synth/polymer and five of woven, vat-grown spider's web. Each screen costs a hundred times what I'm getting from you tonight," grinning proudly. Ajax tried his best to look impressed, but couldn't keep a straight face. He thumped the troll on his shoulder, and retrieved his pistol from its holster, checking the safety and the chamber. "I'm going to go and walk around the building a little bit, see if I can see something before going in. If anything's up, I've got you on speeddial," and he opened the passengerdoor to slide out, his feet landing firmly on the pavement several feet below him.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Thu Jul 05, 2007 6:07 am

The area doesn't reveal much about the nature of the contact or the work. It does reveal volumes about his likely connections. The office building is your standard non-mega affair, offering a contracted on-site security team of mostly low-grade rent-a-cops and plain but functional offices for rent and sale. It screams medium price range, from its haphazard and poorly designed security to its plebian landscaping and interior design. The vehicles in the lot clearly fit into the lower-middle income bracket, and range from the occasional ecletic foreign model to the incredibly common Americar. The main lobby is handled by two security guards at all hours, with a desk to check in at. Scanners are seen, but you notice several people that approach the desk are waved around the scanners. Judging by what is seen, Blake likely either finds his backing from one of three sources. He could exist within a megacorp structure, but he's definitely not a league MVP then. More likely, he works directly for or freelances with a non-mega affiliated independent who has enough money to work the streets but not enough to really make a difference. On an outside possibility, Blake could work for a government, since there is at least one Americar in the parking lot that fits the look. It has the usual assortment of second-rate electronics and security, with a slightly more advanced (than the open market models) protective measures and on-board communications gear. It also has clearly marked Seattle city government plates.

The neighborhood itself seems fairly straight forward. The office building is set in a small industrial park of similar outfits. A few do have megacorp markings, and those buildings feature noticeably upgraded security. The few blocks surrounding the industrial park seem to be taken up by the usual suspects; mostly service industry outlets that cater to the physical commuter crowd.

The only standout sites are both two blocks away from the park, and reside in the same block of Fulsom Blvd. The first is a small nightclub that seems to have an very high concentration of former Soviet bloc nationalities working the security. The nightclub (named Vodka) shows off a cheap neon decor that seems to hide a bit more sophisticated operation when looked at more closely. The bouncers outside seem to be doing their level best to appear uncaring and apathetic, but they have slight bulges in the wrong places and higher quality cybereyes than seen on most low-grade bouncers. The few cars seen in the parking lot all appear to be battered hand-me-downs, but all of them are also older model BMWs that have a surprising amount of power if well-maintained.

The second standout site is a post office center that has everything wrong with it. First, there are nowhere near enough vehicles present for a shipping center or routing substation. The vehicles that are present also seem to contain an inordinate amount of neutral colored sedans, which is definitely not standard UCAS Postal Service standard issue. Most importantly, this unusually quiet postal station is directly across the street from Vodka. The view from this building likely offers an amazing view of the whole nightclub...if someone were interested of watching the club, of course.

3278 · Post by **3278** » Mon Jul 09, 2007 11:08 pm

Peter looked around in dismay. What had made him think that looking at the building would teach him anything about the possibly illegal project Blake was asking he work on. All he could see was a standard office building, surrounded by what appeared to be completely normal people going about their days. And now he had several hours to wait before the meeting.

He briefly considered turning into a fly or a mouse and scouting the inside of the building, but he had no way of knowing what sort of magical defenses they might have. He certainly couldn't have pulled such a trick at MIT&T, and this office building might house anything at all.

Instead, he simply dropped to the ground in front of a coffee shop and took a seat in one of their cafe tables outside. Trying to pay enough attention that he'd notice if someone tried to sit down in the chair he was invisibly occupying, he settled in for a long wait.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Thu Jul 12, 2007 1:35 am

When you're waiting, time never passes quickly enough. By the time the clock hits the appointed time, anticipation has begun to settle itself into the mind. As the group's members slowly make their way in, they are greeted by the bored security officer behind the desk. Surprisingly, when they mention their appointment; they are quickly waved through security without being scanned.

The trip up to the office is short and sweet. Security seems to be non-existent, as you step out onto the sixth floor. The signs clearly mark the suite you are looking for, and again no security is in sight. As you step up to the door of the suite, you find it open. Inside, a man sits behind the desk, apparently waiting for you all to arrive.

Ajax · Post by **Ajax** » Thu Jul 12, 2007 9:24 am

"Am I the first?" Ajax asked as he stood in the doorway to the suite, smiling at the man behind the desk. He swallowed the last bit of his take-away food, wiped his hands with a napkin and tossed it, together with the wrapping and bag that once held his "food" in a bin standing near the door. His body burned energy like it was nothing, so he always needed a healthy supply of food to feed his muscles, otherwise he'd turn into a twig with his high metabolism. Retex always sustained him, and was relatively cost-effective. Of all the vat-grown proteins on the market, Retex was probably the most expensive, but retextured proteine just tasted better than plain protein or soy-replacements. Besides that, it had the taste of whatever it was supposed to be (sort of), and it had all the amino-acids and carboxylates a body needed. He ate so much of this stuff, besides the organic stuff, that he was considering buying stock in certain choice Aztech subsidiaries.

He calmly walked over and extended his hand toward the man. "Blake I assume?" he said with a smile, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, which, considering his posture, was difficult in high-stakes situations. And this was certainly a high-stakes situation.

3278 · Post by **3278** » Thu Jul 12, 2007 4:34 pm

Peter passed the hours before the meeting by placing tiny telekinetic barriers on the sidewalk to redirect the constant stream of ants clamoring for spilled coffee, watching their responses to stimuli and realizing, though he was no expert with computers, that it would be elementary to write a script to simulate their pathfinding behavior. He filed the notion away for later use, forgetting for the moment his certain future.

Eventually, boredom and hunger forced him to clamor for coffee of his own, so he sneaked invisibly into the bisex restroom and unhooked the thread of mana from his sustainer. He took a seat inside the coffee shop and bought a small lunch with a certified credstick he'd lifted from a passenger on a commuter train he'd seen using it. He had quickly learned that staying hidden from those who wished to find you meant leaving no electronic trail, and avoiding situations in which local police or businesses would share their surveillance footage with your seekers. Avoiding surveillance was simply impossible in any urban area - and he had not given up enough to fly to the Mojave and avoid contact altogether - but police and security companies were widely known to be reticent to share data with each other until both organizations sought you, at which point they would gleefully cooperate just enough to make certain they, and not the competition, were the ones to eventually locate you.

Eventually, the time came, and he strolled quietly down to the office building, invisible again, though this time through no magic: he was an average-looking man, ordinary in his light brown trousers and white business shirt. Only his eyes set him apart: originally a dark brown to match his hair, they were growing lighter all the time, until they'd gone nearly yellow, as if a strong light were shining from behind them. With his slight build and mild manner, he drew no attention on the street, a trend which continued as he passed into the office building. Security was almost non-existent, magical and physical, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that whatever this meeting was about, it wouldn't be illegal: he'd seen a few episodes of Shadowrun and knew professional criminals wouldn't ever meet in such a low-security environment. The notion that such common knowledge would make this the perfect setting for a high-security meeting never occurred to him.

He tried the elevator, but even the skies' lightening of his burden didn't seem to help: pressing the button for the sixth floor resulted only is a desultory beep, as if the machine were disinterested in his presence. He took the stairs and, quickly tiring of walking, simply floated up the center of the open stairwell, bringing himself back down to drift a centimeter from the floor as he reached the correct story. He wafted down the hallway to the door of the suite and entered to find an unassuming man behind a desk, and possibly the largest human he had ever personally seen. Students and faculty at MIT&T - from which his pool of friends and acquaintances were largely drawn - tended either toward asceticism or rotundness, and rarely toward the sort of physical fitness the other human displayed. He moved with a dancer's grace, but had a hunter's eye. Still, he didn't appear hostile, but rather approachable despite his mass, comfortable with himself and his body in a way Peter could only imagine.

Trying to seek equilibrium, he floated over to the man behind the desk and extended his hand. "Peter Stormson, late of MIT&T. I'm quite pleased to meet you."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Fri Jul 13, 2007 12:37 am

It's always a suprise when the Wizard pulls back the curtain and steps into the light for the first time. No one is ever sure of what they'll find when this happens. It's a common ritual in this line of work, and this particular job is no exception. This particular Wizard still holds a few suprises for the people coming to meet him.

The man behind the desk is older than expected, and he shows it with a sort of subdued pride. Considering the common usage of age-defying treatments, this sets him apart from the usual Johnson at the start. The Caucasian male is at least over 50 and could be as old as 60. His grey hair still contains the faintest trace of brown deep near the roots, but there isn't much of it left. The small amount that graces his largely bald head is brushed back to keep it in place. His eyes are the only noticeable feature that doesn't look worn. Their blue color still retains a suprising amount of power; time hasn't taken its pound of flesh from those eyes. The rest of the body? The crow's feet around the eyes, the hairline that fled long ago, the worn leathery skin, a few liver spots, and the yellowed teeth; it's all there. As the man stands up, the other telltale signs are there. The hands have the slightly off-color look of a long-term tobacco user, and the stomach shows a softness that wasn't there just ten years ago. Whatever he is, Blake has definitely seen better days.

But the story is never told just by a body, by sheer physicality. Those eyes draw your view back for a second glance. Those eyes have seen more than just an office chair. There's still a hint of hardened steel in that frame, hiding beneath the expanding midsection. The reactions are there as well. When the door first opens, the eyes appraise the threat and the hands drop open into a ready position. Whatever else he may be, Blake has definitely been an operator.

The dress is about what you would expect. His suit is off the rack, and slighly rumpled. He's showing that he knows how to dress, but he doesn't want to give away his details quite yet. The watch is hardened metal, and old-fashioned. It appears to be mechanical, rather than digital. This could very well be the Johnson that time forgot.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Fri Jul 13, 2007 12:45 am

Ajax wrote:He calmly walked over and extended his hand toward the man. "Blake I assume?" he said with a smile, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, which, considering his posture, was difficult in high-stakes situations. And this was certainly a high-stakes situation.

The man behind the desk stands as Ajax enters the room. His eyes check the entering man's posture and assess his intentions. As Ajax speaks, the man relaxes his hands just slightly. It's not something everyone would pick up on, but it is there to be seen by those who know how to really see. The message is clear. This one isn't a threat, yet. But he could be a big one.

Blake smiles as Ajax extends a hand. "I'm Blake. Jerome Blake...my mother's choice. Jerry or Blake will do just fine. Mr. Ajax? Is that what you prefer?"

The grip is firm, but neutral. Blake gestures at one of the four chairs located near his desk as the duo parts. His voice is deeper than expected (in person), but you can hear that some of the timbre is provided by years worth of smoking. The roughness and slight rasp is certainly not uncommon on the streets, but it's a bit surprising on a Johnson. As much as Blake may wish to hide, he's clearly leaving some things in plain sight.

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Fri Jul 13, 2007 1:11 am

3278 wrote:Trying to seek equilibrium, he floated over to the man behind the desk and extended his hand. "Peter Stormson, late of MIT&T. I'm quite pleased to meet you."

As Peter approaches the desk, his second sight is telling him volumes on the two men in the room. The man who is emulating a troll (to Peter's semi-sheltered perspective) downright gleams in the astral. His muscular and skeletal systems are interlaced with the faintest traces of permanent manalines. His impressive physique is entirely natural, though his somatic abilities can be glimpsed with some effort. His masking is unexpected for someone of his size, as Peter initially dismissed him as security for the man behind the desk. He holds no visible cyberware, but his style of movement reveals that he's certainly not lacking in the physical department. This is definitely a predator, not prey.

The man behind the desk is an interesting study. His body does possess some ware, but only a small amount. Most of it seems to be linked to his central nervous system, with a few pieces of smaller bodyware located in his right arm and hand. Peter is somewhat shocked to find that this man chose to install any cyberware, considering that he is Awakened. His talent is nowhere near the level of Peter's or the other man in the room, but he is definitely initiated. His masking is barely active at the moment, though it does produce enough of an astral haze to keep his exact abilities unknown. His age is apparent to both types of Peter's vision, and the wear and tear on his body is easily seen. There are a number of darker spots in his liver and lungs, a telltale sign of both long-term tobacco and alcohol usage. You can also see the clear silver thread linking to the astral plane of some hidden focus on this man's person.

The man behind the desk smiles as Peter introduces himself and extends a hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stormson. I'm Jerry Blake. We spoke on the phone earlier. There's a seat for you in the rear." Blake indicates a comfortable looking, high-backed office chair (set up in a two by two formation) in the second row. His glance seems to indicate that he is aware of Peter's possible effects on electronics and is keeping the mage slightly removed from the terminal and equipment in front of him.

Alleycat · Post by **Alleycat** » Fri Jul 13, 2007 7:13 am

Alley watched the building, hoping to be able to tell what sort of crowd if any was attending this meeting, but the traffic in and out was still too much to tell who was there for anything out of the ordinary. With a sigh, she approached the building right on schedule, affecting the look of a visitor well acquianted with the neccessities of security. When she was waved through without a check it piqued her curiousity and she let it show for the benefit of the desk attendant.

Time to shine The elevator deposited her on the sixth floor after a few tries of hitting the button, and she saw she was not the first on the scene if she correctly asessed that the man behind the desk was the one who called himself Blake. The bigger of the two others present certainly fit the profile of someone in her line of work, built, buff, and alert. The other, the other was floating a few inches off the ground and it didn't seem he either cared or realized it. Curious.... Moving with an easy, confident stride, she approached the room and its occupants. Flashing a friendly smile well practiced to seem easy and natural, she let her senses take in the unspoken information. She let a measure of respect enter her eyes as she introduced herself to the man behind the desk.

"Mr. Blake I assume," she offered a firm handshake and a professional smile. "A pleasure to make your aquiantence."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jul 14, 2007 2:35 am

Alley obviously assumes correctly. The man behind the desk smiles in recognition. "Jerry Blake, ma'am. Allie, is that your preference?" His handshake is firm, without being overbearing. "Please, make yourself comfortable while we wait for our fourth. He should be along shortly."

As he continues to talk, he moves away from the desk towards a small table off to the side of the office. He starts a fresh pot of soykaf brewing, at least it is believed to be soykaf until the aroma begins to permeate the room. That's real Columbian beans, freshly ground and brewed, if you know your coffees correctly. Blake smiles a bit, almost sheepishly. "Sorry to seem pretentious, but coffee is a not-so secret vice. Coffee, none of that soykaf garbage. There's some filtered water as well, if anyone needs a drink."

Blake stops for a moment and waves towards the doorway. "Please come in, sir. We've just been waiting for you to arrive."

Jeff Hauze · Post by **Jeff Hauze** » Sat Jul 14, 2007 2:54 am

The fourth has finally arrived. If Blake is the old-timer, this guy is the runner-up. He's at least a decade or more younger than Blake, but he still has more than a few years on some of the crowd gathered here. The human is roughly in his early forties. He is wearing a non-descript business casual outfit, which seems to cover a well-maintained frame (though nowhere near the level of care that Ajax has shown). His short brown hair is kept short and functional. Overall, he appears that he could easily fit into any crowd.

To those who look closely, there was a brief appraisal of everyone in the room as he walked up to the office door. Whoever he is, he's had some competent training in threat analysis and general tactics. He smiles faintly as most of the room turns to look at him. He locks his gaze on Blake for a moment. "Mr. Blake, I'm Roger. We spoke earlier."

3278 · Post by **3278** » Sun Jul 15, 2007 1:29 pm

Peter smiled at each of the newcomers in turn and floated from person to person, introducing himself - always, "Peter Stormson, late of MIT&T" - while lofting a coffee mug carefully toward a spot half a meter from his head from behind and to his right, a trick he pulled off with a sort of nonchalance that suggested his performance was completely innocent and subconscious, the actions of one who uses magic for all tasks, not someone pretentiously trying to impress.

All the while, his will was focussed on maintaining control, which was easier than usual, a great relief for him. Still, his coffee ended up chilled, and he drank it quickly, floating it in complex patterns from floating cup to mouth. He drifted into the semi-reclined position he preferred for possibly lengthy meetings and held his position fixed over one of the back row chairs in case something went wrong.

Alleycat · Post by **Alleycat** » Sun Jul 15, 2007 6:34 pm

Alison nodded politely at Peter, responding to his introduction in kind. "Allie. Alleycat if your feeling formal." With an easy smile to both him and Blake, she helped herself to the coffee gratefully, cream and sugar as well. "No so bad a vice, really, the trick is affording it and keeping your friends from drinking it all." She took a seat with grace, crossing one leg over the other and sipping slowly. As apparently the last of the expected guest arrived, she leaned back in the chair, waiting to hear what Blake had to say.

[Shadowrun] IC: The Old Dogs of War Redux - Intro

[Shadowrun] IC: The Old Dogs of War Redux - Intro

Ajax: Beginnings

Alley: Beginnings

Roger: Beginnings