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IC 2071
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Becky looked complexed “Did that dog just send a matrix message? No, that could not be. My fellow runners are pulling my leg for sure. Playing on the dumb blonde joke. ”
Becky dismissed the option of a talking dog. She knew very little on para critters and the possibility of a changeling seemed incomprehensible for her. “There must be a decker close by.” She thought, but then there was a more troubled thought “But the dog also barked almost as if it meant to introduce itself… Deckers can’t do that can they?”
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Blondie, or Becky as she called herself, chattered away at At. As usual when conversing with women, he filtered out all but the critical words. Just whatever might actually be useful.
As such, what he heard was “blah blah blah blah katana blah blah blah blah mojo blah blah drive fight sneak blah blah blah blah and back to mojo” again. Dammit, he’d thought the ork had been looking for day-laborers. But this had all the signs of those two gigs he’d gotten mixed up with the year before – bunch of merc-wannabes who’d been watching enough trid they thought shadowrunners were a real thing, and figured they’d try their hand. And, as one would expect when such amateurs had gotten themselves mixed up with Tir dandelion eaters, South American drug cartels, and government law enforcement agencies, nearly everyone from both “jobs” had gotten themselves killed.
Al marveled at the power of modern media, that its consumption could be so pervasive and persuasive that such a significant number of ne’er-do-wells could actually identify themselves with a fictional genre of characters. And – most amazingly – that employers with good cred would throw it away on such people in attempts to achieve ostensibly valuable real-world objectives.
Live and let live, he figured. Most folks had their idiosyncrasies. The only thing that really bothered him was all the talk of auras and mojo. if the tusker really was mostly hiring the so-called Awakened, well, Al did worry about the implications that might arise for his eternal soul from cavorting with a bunch of self-deluded Satanists.
Whatever. He was nearly broke and wasn’t doing much else at the moment….and hell, maybe he could save one or two of these suckers’ lives – or souls – along the way. He did, however, decide to set a minimum fee in the triple digits.
He leaned back in his chair and waited for the pitch to start. And wondered when the armored dog’s owner would turn up.
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Forty kept her face a scowling mask in the face of the other elf’s banter, desperately trying to hide her confusion. Werewolves came from eggs? Was the other woman mocking her? If so, she’d show her what’s what, one way or another! But there was also a mention of a gig in that jumble of words. That was a good thing.
Shoving her hand into a pocket of her cargo pants she grabbed the enpowered scrap of paper and softly ordered herself “Think smart Forty!”
Spoiler:Replaying the conversation it all made more sense now, and it had been a joke, not really an insult. The ARO from the dog maybe made less sense, but she could wait on that. Time was flying past.
To this ‘Becky’ woman she finally replied “Werewolves are frosty, but you go first and show me how its done.” Then to the dog “Hey, we should talk later, if you want. I’ll do a thing.”
Then she gave her attention to the orc, doing her best to show she wasn’t intimidated, but trying not to make too much of a power play. “Hey, we’re here. You good to tell us what’s what and how much something-something it’s worth to you — in like, the next two minutes? Or should I go use the facilities, get a drink, and give you like fifteen minutes to finish trolling through this place?”
Frag she wished that both preparations had taken, so she’d have more smart time before she had to go find something to write on, and spend some time putting new preparations together. Although it would be good to do a mind link one so she could talk to the dog more easily, and maybe a willpower one for the drunk man to help him to focus.
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Becky smiled at Forty, “He went to fetch a couple of more people, so it is safe to use the facilities. Text me and I’ll text back if you are needed… ehm –
didn’t quite get your name lady. ” -
“Name is Forty.” Pulling out her link she offers “sure, let’s swap numbers, codes, whatever they’re calling them today.”
She strides away, laying plans while her thinker was doing its job well. It was all so clear right now — no paper labels these days, no coasters, and a quick check of the washroom confirmed no paper towel. TP was a bugger to write on. But the bar had a bulletin board with a bunch of print outs of news stories pinned to it. That would give what she needed. The logic preparation faded then, and she gave her head a shake, trying to remember… right, bulletin board and then make preparations.
Forty strode to the board, took one of the pins and transferred the flimsy it had been holding to another pin. That covered up something about a war somewhere , but it wasn’t here so who really cared.
She finally cornered Roxxie and got a beer, tossed half of it back, then broke up the top of the cup into pieces. Which just left her time to scratch symbols and seek the favour of the kami for three moderately strong preparations: logic, willpower, and mindlink.
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You listen. The humans are so confused, using code and doublemeaning and even doublethinking to express themselves instead of just taking a sniff of each other. But at least they don’t seem to want to fight for dominance. Surprisingly smart of them.
The ghost bird woman wants to use magic on you, that you understand, but she seems to first have to learn how to do it like you learned how to speak to the electric ghosts. You decide to help her. You have seen the trail of her electric ghost and find it again.
<<I can help you learn how to speak through your electric ghost. First you need to look through it at me. Mine is showing you its numbers. Make your ghost remember them so they can talk to each other and in turn tell each of us what the other said.>> -
Becky looked at Al, and as she was nervous she hoped to initiate conversation. “A penny for your thoughts? You seem to be an old man in a profession where people die young, if it is okay for me to say”.
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“Shee-it, girl, say ’bout anythin’ ya like ta ol’ Al, long as ya do it with a smile on yer face.”
Al held up one hand to pause the conversation – the limb was hideously scarred at least as far as the sleeve of the man’s brown leather jacket, as if it had once been melted down to the bone and then left to set in its mangled state – and turned away as his body was racked with a violent fit of wet coughing. Once the spasms subsided, he hawked and spit on the floor and returned to the conversation as if nothing had happened.
“An’ it’s true I ain’t gittin’ any younger, but fellers like me, reckon we jist ripen with age. As fer my perfession, while I’ll allow I been stayin’ busy with a variety o’ vocations over the past year or twenny, some more hazardous than others, I am in fact a Thespian by trade, particular inna field o’ feature simsense production. So I do look forward ta many years o’ peace an’ prosperity ta come.”
He lit a filterless Lucky Strike and placed the pack in the middle of the table by way of courtesy. “An’ you, precious Becky, you look youthful enough ta git outta such a perfession afore ya git ta the dyin’ young part.”
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Torrent returned to the table after a brief tour of the bar, pausing to chat to one or two but apparently not interested enough to bring them over to the party. He graced the group with his megawatt smile and launched in to his pitch
“Thank you for taking the time to listen, I trust it will be worth your while. As you may have realised I am gathering a group of Talented individuals for an out of town job. Without going in to too many specifics at this stage I want a team to head down to San Fran, pick up a young lady from an exclusive boarding school and return her safely here to Seattle. I may be able to assist with transport arrangements or you can make your own call on that. So, does that sound like it might interest you enough for me to go in to more detail?”
#04
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Al raised his hand and belched loudly. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it enough to speak coherently, he blinked a few times and said, “Boy, I think I done saw this movie. How young? Will she want ta come with us? If not, what’s gon’ happen to her after we deliver her?….An’ how many people gon’ be tryin’ ta kill her or put her in a gunny sack onna way back?” He blew a smoke ring at the ceiling and mentally ordered the voodoo gods to turn it red and send it in circles around the ork’s head. Sadly, they did not heed his command. “Oh, an’ is she hot?”
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He lit a filterless Lucky Strike and placed the pack in the middle of the table by way of courtesy. “An’ you, precious Becky, you look youthful enough ta git outta such a perfession afore ya git ta the dyin’ young part.”
Becky took a cigarette and said “I am just in it for the money, once my debt is paid I am out of this world. Plenty of legal things I can do, but none of them pays enough to free me.”
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later, she remained silent – she had nothing more to ask, and even if she tried she would not know how to ask the right questions. Instead, Becky took out a pen and summarized Al’s questions.
1. How Young?
2. Is she willing to come.
3. Who wants to kill her?
4. Is she hot?
Beckie was almost sure that it was a sexist comment – but perhaps he meant with regard to law enforcement. -
Checking her link, Forty muttered “What the frag?” If it had been a cat giving her instruction on using her phone she’d have been sure there was a buried insult, but she didn’t think dogs did that. Of course she totally knew how to do this, and the sense of relief she felt at getting instructions was just because she hadn’t been sure if the dog had a normal phone or not.
<<Dog [Forty] Hey, what name should we use for you besides ‘hey Dog’? And do you mind a bit of magic to link up our minds?>> She was proud to have kept the message pretty neutral; dogs could get all huffy if you pushed them too much.
Then the drunk — Al — started shooting questions, and it was time to get smart for a bit. She gripped the right cup fragment and softly ordered herself “Think smart Forty.” The resulting sharpness was good, not the overwhelming rush of ideas and insights that happened occasionally, but she felt more aware of the possibilities of the situation.
She found herself glancing over the list Becky had written from Al’s questions, and added “You got any sort of fake ID for the girl, or do we have to sneak past cops and the border?”
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You parse the message and reply: <<My given name is Khili Nagi-Sunka, but you can call me Khili.
I have not linked minds before – but I don’t mind 😀
Also, I can turn the girl into a dog if necessary – dog’s don’t need IDs>> -
[Early Evening, Saturday August 1st, 2071; Basil’s Faulty Bar, Westgate Boulevard & Pearl St, Tacoma, Seattle Metroplex]
Torrent ticked the items off on his link as he compiled an ARO with additional details for the team.
“The young lady in question, Jenny Worth, is twelve years old or thereabouts. She has expressed an interest in being free of her current confinement at the hands of the Renraku Special Education programme and reached out to us. Her parents died in the Renraku arcology here in Seattle during that unfortunate incident and she has no other familial ties. She is one of the nascent technomancers and given the height of anti-techno sentiment at the moment that should be kept under wraps. Other than the security at the school any unusual threats on the road will likely be because of that status. I will provide you with an appropriate false SIN if you choose to return to Seattle by a legal route. This ARO will provide you with the additional information I have at my disposal including the dossier that was liberated from Renraku before we began planning this expedition…”
#05
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“Frosty. The dog has ideas too. One sec.”. Forty pushes her chair back a bit so that she can see Khili better, then pulls out a wad of toilet paper and quickly pulls it open.
She messages <<Khilli [Forty] touch that piece of plastic while touching someone else, and you’ll get a link. Doesn’t have to be me.>>. Clearly the dog was smart, she figured it might have a better meeting of the minds with one of the others.
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Beckie said “So you want us to get involved with a triple A cooperation, steal what they consider their own property. Successfully hide said property during the long drive back and cross international borders undetected . ” Our risks include facing corporate security, a possibility of a lynching mob and a likely counterattack which is sponsored by the most powerful organization on the planet.
She paused and then added in her own imitation of Monika Schäfer “The professional term is ‘Extraction’ and these are never cheap.
In this case you need to pay extra for triple A, extra for meddling in the affairs of Dragons, and also include the distance modifiers, as you expect a very hot package to be delivered safely in Seattle. Highlighting these potential challenges, I think that it is only fair that your employer allocates a certain sum for ‘expenses’ which are clearly required to perform this work. In addition, our personal compensation must reflect the said risks.”Spoiler:She found it odd that they were to seek the advice of a dog, but Forty did come out as a powerful awakened and these were often crazy. So Becky just smiled and nodded in response to Forty’s suggestion.
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Willis is actually feeling pretty good about himself right now. He has just completed a successful run AND been paid for it. Jax had recommended him to some beaner of a corpkid who wanted some protection for a stroll through the Redmond Barrens and was willing to pay for the opportunity. Five hundred fragging Nuyen for a walk. The small mountain of a troll laughs out loud at the thought. In the end, the kid had practically wet his pants when three gangers had jumped them. The fight had been great fun and the gangers had been left in a heap on the street, but they had got in a few licks and Willis is sporting a few marks on his plating. The kid had been so excited that he had been involved in a real fight in the Barrens that he had practically forced a two hundred nuyen bonus on Willis at the end of the walk. Even after giving the guys their thirty each for staging the fight and another twenty each of the bonus, Will is now up five hundred and fifty. He stashes four hundred and fifty in his safe place at the clinic and goes out to celebrate with the remainder. He knows a place where a hundred will keep him in cheap beer and a warm woman for a couple of days and he is ready to celebrate.
He walks into the bar and looks around, noting the normal bunch of locals and losers. Two days ago, he would have been one of the losers here, but not tonight. He rumbles over to the bar and orders a beer, smacking his lips at the thought of how he would be spending his money. Hmmmm, that old guy in the booth with the dog looks familiar. Oh yeah, he had been the guy that turned him on to Jax in the first place. Now he is with two hot elven chicks and some suited up trog who obviously does not belong in this part of town. Willis shakes his head as he considers the babes, wondering how the old guy does it. Willis orders another beer and walks over to what seems like a party in progress. He waits until all the others stop talking and stare up at him. “Sorry, don’t really want to interrupt, but I have to thank my pal, Al, here for putting me in touch with a guy.” He lifts his glass and puts the other on the table in front of Al. “Old Jax remembers you, but not quite as favorably as you had told. But he did get me job and I want to buy you a drink or two to say thanks.”
Willis stops talking and looks at the girls then nods at the Ork before turning back to Al. “Hey, this a private party or are you sharing, Al?”
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The meeting happening almost fast enough to keep Al from getting bored. First, as the ork enumerated the parameters of the job, Al marveled at how such a complex, hazardous, high-stakes job was about to be entrusted to a bunch of total strangers whose only commonality was the delusion that shadowrunners existed and that they were them.
But just as he started to focus on this Torrent tusker as either crazy or stupid or the most intuitive talent scout that had ever lived, Al’s attention was completely stolen by the butch girl. The dog had ideas too? Precious Becky was already talking, so he pitched his voice low and leaned over to the dykey keeb – “The hell yer dog’s got idears? So he’s your’n?”
And before she could answer or the ork could counteroffer Becky, there was Willis. With beer, so okay.
The seasoned professionals at the table fell silent (as if they weren’t discussing their super secret shadowrun against Renraku in the middle of a crappy bar full of people and it made a damned bit of difference is Willis was right beside them or two meters away at the next table). “Ya wanna say thanks, make ‘er three ya cheapskate. As fer the girls, come on kid, you’d break ’em. Anyhoo, ain’t my party. Tusker here’s the host. Calls hisself Torrent.”
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Willis looks around at the others then back to Al, winking at him. “Hey Al, you want three? Hell, I’ll make it four. I am in a good mood tonight. Just got paid for escorting a corpkid through the Barrens and got a small bit of ching on me.” He turns to the bar patrons nearest him that might have overheard that he had just got paid. “Not enough for any of you lot to risk your lives to try to take, mind you.”
He turns to the Tusker and nods. “Sorry if I disturbed your party. Let me make it up to you by buying a round for all of you when you’re done.” He also nods to the two women, “Sorry for the troubles, ladies. If either of you are looking for an escort back out of this hole, just let me know. I will be right over there.”
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Al grimaced inwardly. Willis was a good trog. And this lot around the table had one, maybe two days to live. Maybe he could save a life right now. He looked conspiratorially at Torrent, and pitched his voice low: “Reliable kid. Good in a fight. Too bad he ain’t got two ounces o’ brain between them horns. An’ o’ course his kind’re pure liabilities at border crossin’s. Next time yer hirin’ for local jobs, reckon he’s yer man.”
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