Sunday, October 19th, 2070
13 November 05 - 07:06 am
I was woken up this morning by a buzz from my commlink, alerting me of an incoming message. It was Gabel, wanting to meet us at Dank’s Dive at 1300. “I’m buying,” he said. I groaned and shook Victor out of bed. I made some French toast for him and kicked him out of the house—nicely, of course.
Gabel met us in the back meeting room, surrounded by an array of fried food. Those onion rings looked far more delicious than they had a right to, so I made them my lunch. Yum.
Gabel regarded each of us as we sat down. “Good job with the run,” he said. “Your Johnson was happy with the product you produced. He asked me to be sure to point you in his direction in the future.”
That is excellent to hear. Though I wonder how much rep we are going to gain from the FBI? I have a hard time imagining governmental officials swapping the names of runner groups at the local Mr. Johnsons Club.
Gabel lets us eat and socialize with each other, but after the dishes are removed, he asked “Are any of you busy, say, now?”
After a moment’s silent conference, Delta admited we don’t have any immediate plans.
“I know of a certain gentleman in San Francisco who has some business for you. I would provide tickets and the appropriate paperwork to get most of your weapons through security. Would you be interested?”
We agreed. So now I’ve got maybe a couple hours before I have to get on a plane to CalFree State. I’d better move.
kathleen - -
Permalink
Saturday, October 18th, 2070
13 November 05 - 07:03 am
Victor’s back. I pounced on him the instant he disembarked and checked us into the airport hotel. There was no way I was going to wait sedately for us to drive all the way home. I told him if he ever left me to my own devices for a whole week again, I would be forced to find satisfaction somewhere else to tide me over. We laughed, but I was only half-kidding. He was exhausted afterward, so I let him nap a bit while I took a blisteringly hot shower. I’m beginning to feel a bit more like myself.
We spent the rest of the day together, both of us deliberately not mentioning or enquiring what we did all week. I wonder yet again what he does or doesn’t know about my work. After I left the academy, he asked with friendly interest a few times but stopped when he got only evasive answers. Bright boy.
We visited the Woodland Park Zoo in the early afternoon, then played an intense game of racket ball afterward. That evening, he took me out to dinner at a lovely, moodily lit French restaurant and I wore a slinky dress that nearly knocked him off his feet. Heh. I like this one. He reacts so well. I took him back to my place that evening.
kathleen - -
Permalink
Friday, October 17th, 2070
13 November 05 - 07:02 am
Leaving Jerk and Hitomi to sleep in a bit, Delta and I headed for the diner. Lou was awake when we left, so he did a quick sweep of the place for us: there were only a scattering of patrons, mostly elderly folks who apparently can’t sleep any later that that crazy fragger Lou. For all my overabundance of energy, at least I can get in a solid eight hours of sleep. I usually sleep pretty heavily too.
We grabbed a corner booth when we arrived and the dwarf showed up before the waitress even got to us, wearing a tall hat with a bright orange Yametetsu logo across it. He hopped up into the booth next to us and ordered pancakes for us.
After a few pleasantries, Delta handed over the data crystal and a manila folder crammed with notes. To my surprise, she said, “Just so you know, there appears to be a databomb on this. We felt it best to leave it be and let your people try to dismantle it. We’re not exactly equipped for that, after all.” I guess Jerk must have been running diagnostics on the file while I was out in the garage last night.
The dwarf nodded as he slipped the documents into his coat. “I expected as much. Glad you didn’t try anything stupid.” He gave us a certified cred stick in return. “Here is your pay, gals. It was lovely doing business with you. Got what we needed and not even a peep on the waves. Very professional.” And he bounced right back out of the booth just as our pancakes were arriving.
We went back to the pad to find the Jerk and Hitomi just waking up. It was decided we should split the pay evenly six ways, with the last part becoming the team fund. Joy, 700 nuyen apiece. I hope that future runs are slightly more profitable.
Even though we didn’t detect any followers after yesterday’s run, Delta insisted that we all lie low at her place for the day. I sighed, missing my hot water shower at home. The trid was on all day, but I couldn’t bear to sit still long enough to watch anything on it. I wheedled Hitomi into working out with me some more, jogged around the spectacular neighborhood—those concrete jungles are really just the thing—and gritted my teeth over the enforced confinement.
Finally after we’d eaten our third Nutrisoy meal in a row, I couldn’t take it anymore. “It’s Friday night!” I said, jumping up. “I’m going dancing!” The other girls perked up too and expressed interest. Even Lou said he’d come. I had intended to go to my tango club, but one of Delta’s many contacts had tipped her off there might be something going on in a district of Auburn. “Something” turned out to be an instaclub started up when someone smashed the window of a coffeehouse and began broadcasting music over a specific comm channel. Most of the participants, including Delta, were gothed-out to the max, so my red top really stood out. I certainly didn’t mind the extra attention. Gothic instaclubs are not my usual scene, but it was just right for tonight: fun and quite energetic and went on for several hours before LoneStar showed up to break it up.
kathleen - -
Permalink
Thursday, October 16th, 2070
13 November 05 - 06:59 am
Ugh. Another night alone. I don’t think I’d care to make this a habit. Two days until Victor gets back.
I joined the rest of my team for breakfast at McHugh’s. Wretched junk to eat first thing in the morning, so I grabbed a fruit smoothie en route. Jerk was busy last night; he has determined that there are 65 employees and gained us full administrative access to the front door. We can slip in undetected using the IDs he snagged yesterday.
Delta shot a message to Mr. Johnson accepting the run at the agreed-upon rate. Our plan—thin as it is—is to go in around 1800 tonight as the majority of employees are leaving, and to have Lou magically disguise himself and Jerk as humans and Delta disguise the rest of us mundanely so we can’t be recognized by cameras. It’s a pity we don’t have a schematic of the interior, but there’s no helping that. We’ll just have to play this job by ear.
We spent the rest of the day preparing. Really there wasn’t much for anyone but Del to do, so anyone who wasn’t under her ministrations either watched the trid or worked out some. Hitomi and I spotted each other with the weights and I started teaching her some basics of bare-handed fighting. If this group is going to stick together, I have to find someone to spar with or I will go out of my mind.
Finally it was my turn to get a disguise. Delta had already done herself, but she has such a bland, unnoticeable face that she didn’t have to do much. Her nose and eyebrows were a different shape and she had a cleft chin now. I sighed as she started on me; I quite dislike looking like anyone other than myself, especially when it required—as it did today—carrying around cotton balls in my cheeks to alter the shape of my face. Yuck. By the time she was finished, I was a flabby, middle-aged woman who looked like she had pushed out at least four children and they all kept her awake at night.
“Wiz work as usual, Del,” I said resignedly. “Thanks.”
Her work was so good, in fact, that when I went to get Hitomi for her new face, Lou actually did a double-take and started coughing and laughing at the same time. I smiled coldly at him and said, “Wait until you see what she does to your wife, wizkid.” Hah. And I was right. Hitomi came back to us as a young Japanese man, her fine features chiseled into more masculine versions of themselves, with a conservatively cut black wig, an Adam’s apple, and a realistically sparse mustache to complete the look. Lou looked sheepish and I just grinned.
His Physical Mask spell on himself and Jerk made them look like a couple of Argonet’s wageslaves so if our images were caught on camera it would stir up an internal search before getting broadcast to the outside world. Should buy us plenty of time.
Delta and Lou got in Hitomi’s van and Jerk and I doubled up on my bike. “Frag it, Jerk, this bike performs a lot better when there isn’t an ork flattening the back tire!” It took us about 45 minutes to battle through the rush-hour traffic, so we arrived at 1815 hours. Chill as can be, we passed an exiting car and entered the garage, Jerk’s handiwork letting us in without a hitch. No wireless access yet, but we spotted an elevator on the far wall of the garage and a stairwell access next to it. Definitely the stairs; too likely to run into some lazy corp-zombies on their way to their cars in the elevator.
Poking our head through the first floor door, we saw a small anteroom and a hallway that ran the length of the building. There was a lobby at the end with a desk manned by a young woman. There were some employees walking toward the lobby exit. Jerk let us know that he detected a wireless; there were four nodes on the first floor, all simple office systems being used for mundane office drek: filing, personnel reports, etc. The signal was weak and pretty useless. Our target was not on this level.
We headed up to the second floor. It was almost identical to the first floor, but the lobby end had instead several tables and chairs and a small kitchen area. The wireless network was the same as before. Nothing for us here either.
On to the third floor: the layout here was different. The hallway was much shorter and we couldn't see all the way to end of the floor. There didn't appear to be a wireless network on this floor, but there was a security camera to our left. Jerk approached it and physically hacked into the it. In almost no time, he’d gained control of the little bugger and told it that we had never been here. All three of the doors we could see had swipe-card access, nothing wireless here. Jerk cracked the case of the first door and started digging around until we heard a buzz and it opened.
We found ourselves in a good size room, taking up about half of the floor. There were a series of terminals ringing the room and in the center was a group of desks huddled together with whiteboards overhead. Honestly, it looked like a study room for overenthusiastic math nerds at a local college. Hitomi started taking pictures of the formulae on the whiteboards, while Delta and I started digging through the copious piles of notes lying around the room. They were fortunately heavy annotated and organized, so it was easy to find a group of notes stamped “encryption program.” Lou informed us there were no watchers in the room. In fact, there wasn’t even a single living thing in the room, which from the decayed state of the ficus tree in the corner did not surprise me in the least. Unless perhaps there had been a mold culture growing on that slice of pizza on the counter. We erased the whiteboards and Lou drew a picture of a pretty doggie to cover up the ghost shapes the markers left. Jerk didn’t find the program we need, though, so we headed to the next room.
Jerk cracked the case on the second door and let us in. The room was shaped oddly, almost triangularly, and was dominated on far wall by a large window looking down onto the office complex. No watchers or human beings here either. A few couches in the corner, another kitchenette, some cots, a few tables with nerd paraphernalia. I’m guessing some of the employees spend the night here fairly often. We lucked out that no one was crashing here tonight. Still, nothing useful for us in here.
We headed out and watched Jerk crack into the third door. This one was pitch dark, no lights or windows, so Delta turned on her flashlight and we could see that the room was shoe-shaped. There was a terminal with its LCD off and a camera panning around the room. In the corner was a cot and a funky-smelling wardrobe. “Nerds,” I muttered to myself. I noticed that Lou and Jerk look like themselves now and Lou seemed to be looking at something in midair, his face screwed up with concentration. A moment later he relaxed and said, “A watcher. But I took care of it.” We got a brief image of a tiny glowy octopus being blown apart by a mana bolt and Hitomi made sad noises—it was awfully cute.
Also cute was the teeny chibi ork Rastaman made of light that suddenly appeared toward the back of the room pointing toward a machine. That could only be Jerk’s AR icon. He must have found what we were looking for there. A moment later, Jerk resurfaced and jacked right back into the cameras to erase all traces of our presence.
Mission accomplished, we moved back down the stairs, but before we reached the second floor, we heard a door open below us. We quickly backpedaled to the third floor and stood ready to ambush if the person came to the third floor. Fortunately, the footsteps seemed to enter the second floor, so we headed to basement and exit without incident.
There didn't appear to be any followers, magical or otherwise, so we headed out to dinner. That was a fantastically smooth run, but it left me feeling dissatisfied. For one, it seemed that Jerk could have pulled it off all by his lonesome. And while I am mentally very glad everything went according to plan (it’s good for the rep and keeps me intact), physically I wished for more action. I needed to burn off some energy before hitting the sack, so when Delta offered her place as a safehouse for the night, I had to spent a couple hours in the garage practicing my martial arts forms.
Del’s set up a meet with Mr. Johnson for 0600 tomorrow morning at a 24-hour diner downtown. I’d be irked at the early hour, but he’s offered us breakfast.
kathleen - -
Permalink
Wednesday, October 15th, 2070 (Later)
07 November 05 - 10:33 am
It was decided that Delta and I would meet Mr. Johnson at the Big Rhino, with Jerk and Lou providing electronic and astral overwatch respectively. Hitomi would be guarding their meat bodies in the car a block away.
A little before 2100 we went in and found a seat with a good vantage. They really go all out with the jungle theme at this place; there was a pool of water, some islands, even a few crocodiles swimming around. There was tropical foliage everywhere and the atmosphere was even a bit steamy. We had just sat down when I spotted a dwarf enter the building wearing an oversized top hat with the most outrageous red feather in the band. I see why “the dwarf with the hat” was an appropriate identifier for our Johnson. But despite his unusual headwear, he was wearing rather nice looking club clothes and managed, though he was surrounded by people nearly three times his size, to fit in with the place.
He approached our table without hesitation and greeted us cheerfully. “Let me buy you ladies something to drink,” he offered. We assented politely and once the bartender acknowledged his electronic order from across the room, he got to business. “I have a little work for you,” he said. “I assume Mr. Gabel gave you the details. Here is the download of what I need, plus all the information we can give you. I hope we can arrange pickup within the next 72 hours. Here is your up-front pay: 500 nuyen. There will be an additional 3,000 upon completion of the run.”
Delta asked Jerk over the link to analyze the data the Johnson had sent us. As we knew, the job is a data extraction from ArgoNet, who is working on new variable encryption scheme, scheduled to roll out in a set of consumer electronics later this year. Our prospective employers want the research notes and the formula and to have all the back-ups deleted. All the information is stored in a mesh-network at the facility. We were provided no details on the facility itself other than that it's low security facility because it is merely a think-tank that only just made this discovery. They don't even know how valuable this info is yet.
After we’d absorbed this information, Delta sweet-talked the dwarf into giving us a pay raise. They bantered back and forth over it for a few minutes before he finally smiled and gave in. Ha. No one can resist the silver tongue of our dear Del. Then she asked for a few hours for the team to consider. “Of course,” Mr. Johnson said. “You have my LTG; please just let me know tomorrow whether accept. Enjoy your drinks, ladies.” And with that, he hopped off the chair and strutted out of the building.
We finished our drinks a few minutes later and as we were leaving, received the news that Hitomi had spotted a UCAS diplomatic seal on the license plate of our Johnson’s vehicle. Jerk had run the numbers and determined that the dwarf’s name is Arvin Galfston and he works for the local branch of the UCAS FBI. So. We’ll be taking the gov’s money for this one. Not sure what to think about that.
The rest of the team wanted to go to Delta’s pad to work on plans and do some research, but I was too excited to sit still and talk. So I volunteered to do a drive-by of the facility and get an eyeful of it. I messaged a goodbye to my van-load of teammates, kicked my bike into gear and pointed her toward Auburn. About 20 or 30 minutes later, ArgoNet’s industrial campus came into view: six buildings sharing common (and sadly unlandscaped) grounds and one big driveway. It looked as though each building has its own underground parking and the main building has a lobby entrance on the ground floor and emergency exit out the back. There is no fence around the perimeter of the park and a public street directly behind the complex, but the area is patrolled by Knight Errant (I don’t like them—leftover feelings of LoneStar rivalry, I guess). From my angle, I couldn’t see anything particularly intimidating about this run so far. Jerk asked if he could ride in my commlink for a while to see what he could see. After a few minutes, he had snagged a handful of pings from employees’ commlinks as they entered the building, so we can now easily slip in with their IDs. Lou reported three watchers guarding ArgoNet, nothing scarier than that.
I took a very circuitous route home, stopping to stare long and hard at a totally different industrial complex just in case someone was watching me. The team will get together tomorrow to hear what Jerk’s research unearths and to finalize a plan.
kathleen - -
Permalink
Wednesday, October 15th, 2070
05 November 05 - 12:06 pm
Since I was going downtown anyway, I thought I’d get in some shopping before the meet. You just have to love the over-the-top glitz of the whole area. I hit some of my favorite stores and ended up buying a whole new outfit, which I wore just for the occasion: an exceptionally well tailored red leather jacket, a pair of slim designer jeans, and yet another pair of dangerous-looking red stilettos. I even had my nails done in a matching shade and purchased a lipstick called Blood. A very me ensemble, I must say. Maybe I should try branching out. Hah.
I arrived at Dank’s Dive a little early, wanting to get a look at the place before the meet. It was a bit seedy and almost shockingly barren of all but the most minimal AR, being squeezed between the much more flashy AR of a raging nightclub and one of the more upscale tattoo parlors in Seattle. As I walked in I noticed two things at once: the first was an elf bartender who silently gestured me toward the back of the bar where a door led into a hallway. The second and much more interesting thing was a familiar pair of figures standing by the ancient foozball table: Hitomi and her husband! They’re a pretty distinctive couple, even in a dark room from several yards away. She’s pretty tiny, and he’s… well, he’s tiny for a troll, I suppose! I’ve only met Lou a few times, but I think I’d recognize him anyway as he’s the only troll I’ve ever seen who has spiral horns that go straight back without twisting back on themselves. I see his hair has grown out a bit since their hasty wedding a few months ago and he’s wearing it and his beard in ponytails. It quite suits him. And of course I’d recognize Hitomi anywhere on earth; we have been very close friends since boarding school, along with Delta, my old roommate. She’s a slight Japanese girl, nearly buried in all the layers of clothing she wears: a jacket over a shirt over a tank top, plus a skirt over her socks and tights. And the combat boots that won’t die. They’ve carried her to Quebec and back a dozen times over and you can tell. I like the way she’s got her hair done these days. Most of it’s shaved off to show off her swirly head tattoos, but there are two spiky little pigtails on either side of her head. Very cute.
I greeted Hitomi and Lou and we caught up a bit on their most recent smuggling trip to the UCAS and Quebec. Mid-story, Hitomi startled me by exclaiming, “Jerk!” over my shoulder, but as soon as I saw who was standing behind me—a dark black ork with beady eyes whose massive dreadlocks and tusks nearly obscured the cheerful expression underneath—I realized “Jerk” must be her infamous Rastafarian smuggling partner. I've heard stories about him.
“Hail, sistren,” he said in jovial Jamaican patois and began introducing himself to me before Hitomi had the chance. We had only just finished exchanging pleasantries when who else should walk into the bar but Delta. She was in her usual elf biker-girl guise today; very short black hair, all black clothes, black leather jacket. For the moment, her skin is dusky and her eyes hazel. This is the look I'm used to seeing on on her; it’s a good one, though a little one-note.
“Perhaps Gabel enjoys watching old high school reunion trids,” I commented drily. “I find it interesting we all know each other already for the most part.” We speculated on Gabel’s intentions as we made our way to the meeting room at the end of the hallway. The room was obviously set up for us: exactly the right number (and sizes) of chairs, plus one for Gabel, and all the amenities one needs for a very private, inconspicuous meeting. Jerk is a nosy creature, I noticed. He didn’t stop scanning the place or the people once the whole time we were there.
Gabel arrived a few minutes later; an older gentleman in his mid-forties with more salt than pepper in his hair. He wore a very nice gray suit with a lovely red handkerchief in the breast pocket. I approved of his wardrobe, at least.
“Ah, thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for agreeing to meet with me. My name is Gabel. I am, as you may have learned, in the business of putting together new groups of promising young shadowrunners. I believe you all have a great deal of potential to do quite well in this industry, and due to your previous relationships, am certain you will work exceptionally as a team. I offer myself as your contact; I will find jobs for you and provide whatever I can to aid your missions in exchange for a straight percentage off the top. I don’t believe any of you currently have an ongoing arrangement of this sort?”
I certainly don’t, and my blood is getting excited at the thought of finally getting into the shadowrunning business professionally. I’ve been dabbling the last few months, on and off between legit gigs, but my craving for excitement has not been appeased with the small-time stuff. I’m ready for this.
Delta worked out the details with Gabel a bit. A wise precaution, I’m sure, to get the facts straight before agreeing to do anything, but I was itching to accept his offer. There was a brief flurry of private chatter on our commlinks before we finally agreed to his proposal.
“I am glad of that," he responded. "I have a job for you already, should you care to accept it. I will upload the information to your commlinks and leave you to discuss it. This room is always available for your use; just let Daniel the bartender know.” He rose to leave, then asked Jerk to accompany him out of the room. I’m sure it is because he was snooping on Gabel. We’ll have to watch out for Jerk’s insatiable curiosity; we may get burned by it if he’s not more careful.
The data Gabel gave us is for a meet this evening at a placed called the Big Rhino. We are to meet a dwarf in a hat. I nearly laughed at the uselessness of that information until I looked up the Big Rhino’s aesthetic: a ork/troll club in a jungle theme. I doubt there will be many dwarves there at all, fewer still wearing hats. The run will be against Argonet, a subsidiary of NeoNet (oh god, that
jingle! “ArgoNet Subsidiaries, part of the NeoNet family!” Now it will never leave my head). An extraction from a think tank. Should be cake.
kathleen - -
Permalink
Monday, October 13th, 2070
04 November 05 - 11:28 am
Victor’s plane left SeaTac around 1400 today, so I’ve been keeping myself busy at the dojo. My katana forms are getting rusty, though that is less of a reflection on my lack of efforts than it is on my lack of partners. None of the other students will spar with me anymore, so I find myself endlessly running drills by myself until the sensei has time to partner with me. He says the same thing every time: “Rein in that energy,
kitsune. At that furious pace, you will only wear yourself out.” After all this time, he still doesn’t realize that’s the whole point. The writhing beast inside me was particularly restless today, so I was there for hours before I’d worked myself into a satisfactory lather. It felt fantastic to drop to the floor in utter exhaustion—about the closest to peace I’ve ever felt.
I took a long, cool bath once I got home, thoroughly enjoying the languid feeling in my limbs that comes from an almost complete inability to move them. While the beast was quiet, I was able to get some work done.
I sent off a message to my parents, giving them a humorous and somewhat fictionalized account of my last bodyguarding gig. They think I’m still working for a legit agency, so I have to leave out the more obviously illegal parts of my jobs. This one wasn’t too bad though, since all I had to omit was the body count. It was a perfect case for my skills: a certain well placed gentleman who didn’t want it known that he was nervous enough to hire protection arranged for me to be his date at the latest corporate gala. I like to think of myself as the bodyguard for the man in the exquisitely tailored armored suit: deceptive in our elegance and frivolity, but hard as steel underneath. The party was truly wiz with all the special effects the corp had employed to impressed us—a floating chandelier, of all things! but why?—but what I really loved was the dance floor. It was an enormous, gorgeous, old-fashioned parquet, and I lost no time in trying it out. I am so happy that dancing conveniently doubles as an unobtrusive way of keeping my charge close by and allowing me to keep an eye on all corners of the room. I wore out four dance partners before my employer answered nature’s call and left the ballroom. It turned out he was right to be nervous enough to hire me, because I noticed someone follow us down the hallway. I giggled drunkenly and pulled my charge into a doorway like a horny school girl. Luckily he played along after a startled moment, so our tail was fooled into following us out of sight. One magic-laced blow to chest later, he was incapacitated on the floor. It didn’t take long to get the name of who sent him, between my employer’s pointed questioning and my stiletto heels grinding threateningly close to his head. I’m happy to say the incident did not prevent us from returning to the party, so I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening.
Another email goes off to Victor to see if he reached his destination in one piece. I suspect he is in CalFree, but he can’t tell me for sure as it might endanger his case. Can’t let the suspects get word that LoneStar might be on their tail. I wonder how much he knows of my work?
This is unexpected: I just received a message from a gentleman by the name of Gabel who wishes to meet with me about a possible business arrangement. He’s not much more specific than that—no surprise there—but he is unusually up-front about his credentials. I was able to track down references with no problems at all and confirm that he is a very well respected agent who seems to specialize it putting together up-and-coming young shadowrunning teams. I wonder what kind of jobs and what kind of team he has in mind for me? I suppose the only way to find out is to join him for lunch at some place called Dank’s Dive downtown this Wednesday. Here’s hoping for a thrill!
kathleen - -
Permalink
