-
The rain was pouring down as usual on this spring night. What a drag for a Sunday. Fuzzy thought the night would be full of football and tossin back a few cold ones. But his night, and perhaps his life was forever changed when the LED being to flash on his cell. He viewed the caller id and made a hard swallow as a bead of sweat begin to drip down his face.
Hoy Chum...
I understand. I'll take care of it.
He immediately jumped up and raced to his posh little office in what was suppose to be a spare bedroom. He unlocked his safe and pulled out his pocket secretary. He thumbed through the list of names making a few brief notes to himself. He picked up his cell and made a few arrangements at Matchstick's. Something about that place made him feel more comfortable when organizing business.
He took a moment and headed to the restroom washing his face off and composing himself. He looked into the mirror and wondered just how much longer he would have to answer to him. What had he done, how could he had gotten himself into such trouble. The anger grew a little but he dismissed it. He dressed himself in his "business" atire, his bagging jeans, plain white tee, armored vest, and of course his signature oversized hoodie. He reached back into his safe and loaded his Ares Predator and placed it in the small of his back. Hopefully he wouldn't need this, but you never know in this business.
He headed out the door while punching in Patch's number in his cell.
I hope he's not busy... He wondered as the phone begin to ring.
-
Patch wasn't busy. The rain was playing hell with his stolen cable, and so he was trying to judge by how heavy the rain was by watching newsfeeds and paying attention to fade patterns.
He had a soy beer in one hand, sitting on the only chair in the apartment, the rest of it having been stripped bare to keep wires, bugs, and other devices to a minimum. Patch's stuff stood in a pile in the corner of the main room. Aside from sealing up the windows in the other rooms, he had left them alone, after he had cleared them of bugs and set up the white noise generator.
He was thinking of switching to another station and seeing if anything was on when his cell phone lit up. It was Fuzzy- not the best fixer, but a low level mover and shaker. It was probably about work, and Patch was getting a little stir crazy stuck in this box.
"Hey Fuzz. What's up, omae?"
As he spoke, Patch stood and moved over to the window, checking the street outside for any traffic at all- any "phone companies " out doing repairs tonight were probably in the surveillance business. And only a moron would be out walking in this downpour.
-
Sunday - 15:37
Fuzzy bobs and weaves through traffic tryin to get all the preperations complete when Patch answers.
"Hoi chum. I'm in need of your services, feel up to a little get together down at Matchstick's? Say around 9 o'clock?" Fuzzy pulls into the busted down apartment complex and hastely makes his way to the top floor to retrieve the drop which fully explains what needs to be done.
-
Sunday 15:37
Patch glances up to the readout in his field of view. "About five hours? Sounds fine to me. What table are we meeting at, and who are we meeting? Do you know this chummer?"
Flipping open his PDA, Patch makes notes about where he's going and who he's meeting with, re-locks it with the encryption, and hides it in a hole in the wall under the sink. If he dissappears, people will need to know who was responsible.
-
Sunday 15:38
Fuzzy's just about to the top of the stairs.
"Meet in that same corner both as usual. I'm gonna call a couple other quality people as well. See you then." The phone is disconnected after that.
Fuzzy reaches the top floor of the apartment complex and walks down the decaying hallway to room 1103. He carefully pushes it open while grabbing for his Predator.
It's all clear. He moves in and quickly reaches the kitchen sink. He sticks his hand down the drain and produces a small script of paper. He scans the area and finds the turned over sofa. Pulling away the cushions he finds the briefcase. He enters the code from the paper and the case clicks open. He suffles through the paperwork quickly understanding just what needs to be done and to who. He pockets the credsticks and sticks the papers back in the briefcase and heads back to his car as he punches in Ark's phone number in his cell.
This outta be good for him... he thinks to himself as the phone begins to ring.
-
Patch
Patch punches another number into his phone after Fuzzy hangs up, dialing Matchsticks to confirm the reservation of the table, and to see who had made the reservation. If it was Fuzzy's deal, he would make the table. If it was the Johnson's deal, well... then it was time to be extra cautious.
"You'd think with the number of times I've called, they would start remembering me,[/color]" Patch said, mostly to himself. It seemed like every time he called, he was speaking to someone new. Matchsticks apparently had an incredibly high employee turnover, which meant that they were safe. People either were too new to know what was going on, or already out the door. While he was listening to the automated message and waiting for someone to pick up, he thumbed open his own briefcase, sorting through the items inside to prepare for the nights events.
His white noise generator was worthless- not only would it not be useable, but Matchsticks was a good meet place because it wasn't necessary. Ambient noise would take care of any laser microphones or long-range listening devices.
For short range devices, he had another toy. He pulled out the bug scanner, thumbing it on, and checking the power supply and settings. He needed time before the meet to scan the area, but be would have it on the entire meet, just in case someone throught to bug the waitress, which he had heard of happening before.
He brought out the certified credstick, the one Mr. Johnson could transfer funds to without too much problem. Unless he tried to trace the funds- then he would run into problems.
He brought out the small datapad, for storing his own copy of the information Mr. Johnson would pass off to them.
Last of all, he pulled the gun out of the hidden compartment at the bottom of the case, weighing it in his hands as he weighed it's usefulness tonight in his mind.
-
Sunday - 15:38
"Thank you for calling Matchstick's Erica speaking..." a young but professional voiced answered.
"Yes sir, a Mr. Fuzzy has reserved table 23 at 8:30 this evening. Anything else I can help you with?"
-
Sunday 15:38
"Ark", as he was known to a few select individuals, was sitting on his wheeled office chair, alternately thumbing through a tattered second-hand book, and glancing at the readout from vidscreen plugged discreetly into a cyberdeck resting on his desk. Most of the pages in the book were faded and yellowed, and the old script filled all of them, seemingly without margins. The text was broken only by an illustration; an asymetrical psuedo-geometric array adorned with strange symbols. The same illustration was on the computer readout. Nodding to himself before looking down again, Ark failed to notice the blue flashes to his right.
His desk itself sat in the lower area of a bunkbad, the bed on top unmade, but the room was otherwise tidy. Just inside the door stood Jack, the Saguaro cactus houseplant, currently employed as a coatrack. Outside his bedroom door, the rest of his apartment was cozily furnished, a few chairs along the wall, near the entertainment center leaving space for the two-person table in the kitchenette.
The strobing blinking wash of a blue LED flashed again, and this time it caught Ark's attention from the corner of his eye. Staring at the muted cellphone for a moment with the slightly dazed look of the truly absorbed, he quickly pulled a bookmark from his desk and kept his page while grabbing the phone. He thumbed the connect key and put the phone to his head. "Yeah, hello?" Ark says as he straightens up in his seat.
-
Sunday - 15:38
"Thank you, Erica. I was wondering if that table could be clear for guests to start arriving around 8pm. And I was hoping that it would be acceptable for Mr. Fuzzy's security detail to check out the arrangments about ten minutes before that.[/b]"
With a silent sigh that Erica wouldn't hear, Patch sets the gun on the table, out of his eyeline as he makes other preparations for tonight. he would decide before he left if he would need a gun tonight.
-
Sunday - 15:39
"Hoi Ark, I'm curious if you'd be interested in a little business? Perhaps you can meet me at Matchstick's say around 9 o'clock tonight?" Fuzzy sits in the car for a second watching the rain run down his windshield only for it to be wiped away by the wiper blades. He then backs out and heads to his next destination, his second apartment. That way he could study the information better in a surrounding he doesn't have to constantly look over his shoulder.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I don't see why that would be a problem sir. Mr. Fuzzy is a regular here and always insists on the same table. If you'd like to come early that's fine too. Sir you do realize we at Matchstick's pride ourselves on providing a moderate level of security to all our distinguished guests." Erica shrugs to herself. She was just a waitress who made decent money waiting on people such as Fuzzy. She probably has a good idea why so many different people come and visit him, and knows to keep her mouth shut.
-
Sunday - 15:39
"Thank you, Erica, but it never hurts to be a little extra cautious. I'll be there around 7:45, so I can prep the table."
That done, Patch thumbs off the call and moves to change clothes- layers and layers of armor. There wouldn't be any dancing tonight, but he would need to look like he was to blend in.
-
Sunday 15:39
"Interested in a little business, eh?" Ark repeated, his English clear but still thickly accented. Ark cycles the phone to speaker mode and sets it on the desk as he stands and runs a hand through his hair. Ark lets his eyes roam over the desk until they rest on the small corner drawer. Inside, the small stack of bills was accumulating. Next to the envelopes was the rejection letter from the corp he applied to. And Hao hadn't called lately either. . . "Yeah, some business could be good. I'll be there. Same place as before, yes?"
With a short whistle he starts packing up, replacing his book back on his shelf, shutting down the vidwindow and unplugging the deck. This he places in a small nylon backpack, before he pulls a coat on, feeling the jingle of his keys in the pocket. "Why you only call on rainy nights, Fuzzy?" Ark jokes.
-
Sunday - 15:39
"Cuz it always rains in Seattle!" chuckling to himself at the much needed humor. "Yes same place as before, see you around 9." Fuzzy drives over to his second apartment. After his usual routine of ensuring safety he enters. It smells like mold and theres a layer of dust on everything. But at least it wasn't in the Barrens. He sits down and studies the information for awhile. Once he has a good grasp on what exactly needs to be done and how, he thinks to himself for a moment. "Business" from this guy is something that will be done or Fuzzy can count on floatin face down in Pugent Sound. After careful consideration he decides who he'll need next. He makes a quick drink to help relax his nerves and glazes at his cell phone. He begins to punch the number in for a usual chum he uses, but decides against it. This guy's lips can be a bit loose, and this he could not allow. I need a woman's touch, someone who can help get inside the mind of this fraggin slitch!
Sunday - 16:27
He dials up Starhiker's number...
-
I'm backstage, helping my sister haul her drumset out of the trucks. Her band's been touring past couple months and I'm looking forward to catching up with her.
My cell goes off and I move away from the truck to answer it.
"Hello?"
-
Sunday - 16:27
"Hoi Starhiker, I'm in need of your services. Think you can meet me at 9 o'clock at Matchstick's?" Fuzzy takes another sip of his drink and leans back in his chair some watching the rain outside his window.
-
"Tonight?" I think for a moment. The band is planning on a rehearsal at seven, so that'll still give me some time with Sharon, even if most of it'll be spent helping her set up. Nothing I haven't done a hundred times when I was still working security for them.
"Yeah, sure. Got a couple things to do before then, but I'll be there."
I sigh and wander over to my sister to tell her I'll probably be busy after she's done with her rehearsal.
-
Fuzzy sits back after disconnecting the phone. The rain seemed to be easing up some, then it would come down harder. He stirred the drink in his hand for a moment while thinking to himself. He was thinking back to how he got mixed up with this guy, what he must've done wrong in a past life, and just how much longer was he gonna have to keep answering to him. He finished up his drink and made another; pacing around the living room of his apartment.
Alright let's see I got Patch, he knows how security outfits operate, and can handle himself well. Then I got Ark, he'll handle some legwork on the target, as well as any magic they might come across. Next is Starhiker, she'll get inside that slitch's head and provide backup. Now all I need is someone to finish it off, somebody who specializes in death, somebody ruthless...
Sunday - 16:49
Fuzzy rushes to the phone as if he's some kind of contest winner. I know just the girl! A wicked smile crosses his face as he dials Trinity's number.
-
Sunday - 16:49
Trinity is sittting back watching a Football game when she happens to look down and see that her Pocket Secratary was flashing a techno color rainbow indicating that the phone was ringing. She picks it up and checks the caller id. She thinks oh my god, I wonder what he could possibly want in a middle of a damn football game.
Trinity pushes the talk botton "Que paso amigo?"
-
Sunday - 16:50
"Que pasa mamasita? I was hoping you weren't to busy, I need a girl with your talents for a little something. Definately lucrative, why don't you come down to Matchsticks say around 9 and we'll talk about it." Fuzzy smiles to himself, something about Trinity excited him. Maybe it was the fact she could shoot the dick off a gnat at 1500 meters, or maybe it was the way her features looked when she stepped in from out of the rain and the contours of her body as the water dripped down it.
"Sound good?"
-
Sunday - 16:50
" Sure, that sounds good." As she hangs up the phone she realizes her cheeks are blushed. It just made her feel so damn good to have somebody wanting her due to her skills and talents. She goes and sits back down , figures she has time to get the rest of the game in before she needs to go and get ready to meet Fuzzy.
-
Sunday - 16:50
Fuzzy smiles to himself with a sense of proudness. He feels confident he has a great team lined up. He opens the briefcase and once more begins going over the information with a fine tooth comb, he wants to be sure he has every aspect, every angle, every possible what-if scenerio covered.
-
Sunday 15:41
Maybe I should have supper here, Ark considers for a moment, before dismissing the idea. Home-cooked food was the best, but with Fuzzy, it was better to be early than on time, and besides, big meals hurt if you had to do heavy work. I’ve got enough cred to eat on the way, or at Matchsticks if I feel like it. . . Ark assures himself. Ready to go, Ark pulls his cellphone out, dials a number and tells the automated message system "Four days". In a host somewhere out in the Matrix, the computer set a timer for a data dump. If Ark didn't check in again in four days, the system would send his electronic journal, will, and explanation to his mother. Although he tried to keep himself out of dangerous jobs, this last backup plan he had setup a few years ago; just so he would never miss the opportunity to have the last word.
15:43
Ark exits his apartment and pulls the door shut behind him. The muted cream colored walls of the hallway matched the utilitarian grey carpet; clean but mild. Ark touches the red lock button on the security pad next to the door, which beeped, signaling the active alarm. Satisfied, Ark moves down the hall past dozens of other apartments (cozy, but never as big as the brochure promised, it seemed), rounding the corner to the little atrium which held the elevators nestled between some faux-tropical ferns and some vending machines. The skylight which normally brightened up this small speck of architectural aesthetic drummed thickly with the rain and left the room in gloomy murk, broken by the shaded incandescent bulbs. It was enough to see by, sure, but depressing instead of uplifting.
With the measured stride of routine, Ark keys the elevator to the garage level, and steps into the external elevator. Once, perhaps, the plastisteel cab must have shown a great view, but there wasn’t much to see tonight, besides the three neighboring apartment towers.
15:48
In the underground garage, Ark moves to his Ford Americar, forest green, with only two major scratches. It had been frelling hard to get that car, but of course that was before he got his SIN authenticated. Ark unlocks the door, gets behind the wheel and warms the car up. Then, he waits for a while for the other garage traffic to become sparse for a few moments. Once he’s relatively in the clear, he gets out of his car and goes to his garage locker, every resident’s personal toolbox out of the apartment. Casually, he opens the combination and pushes aside a few quarts of oil, a mini-fire extinguisher and assorted rags and car-parts. He pulls out a four foot cloth-wrapped bundle, which he puts in his trunk followed by a small red lunchbox. With his two guns (plus shells) in the car, and the locker closed he gets back in his car and drives through the lot to the exit gate. Swiping his credstick at the booth he gets onto the road, beginning the easy but traffic ridden drive out of Renton north into deeper Seattle.
Ark was once again reminded of his soft-spoken but persistent wish to get a datajack autopilot setup in his car, so that the car can handle the traffic leaving him to work on other projects, but the thought does pass the time on the drive. . .
-
Patch
After the call to Matchsticks, Patch layers on the armor, topping the whole thing off with tres chic duds and his London Fog Professional coat. After quite a bit of consideration, Patch slides the dissassembled pistol into the hidden compartment at the bottom of the briefcase, and goes to work.
Glancing up into the corner of his field of vision, he notices the time. 16:07. He still had plenty of time to run errands before he needed to get to the building and start finding the eyes everyone had on the place.
16:47 He leaves a copy of the information on the PDA in a drop box that Milo checks, just in case someone gets the original first.
17:15 Patch does a drivethrough of the area around Matchsticks, looking for people who belong and people who look out of place. This should be early enough that no one is lining up yet, so the homeless and the professionals should stand out.
18:15 During the second drivethrough, Patch looks for people he saw earlier that shouldn't still be around. With the evening crowd lining up trying to get into the novahot nightclub, there shouldn't be many homeless or professionals around. He keeps an eye out for any new "Plumbing," "Flower Shop," or "Electrician" vans sitting around suspisciously. Of course, anything looks suspiscious to him at this point.
18:25 Parking a couple blocks away on the top floor of a secure parking garage, Patch grabs his scope and starts checking buildings around club. It's raining, so rooftop watchers should be a minimum. He's mostly looking for windows with the curtains pulled but a camera shoved between them, or someone with binoculars.
18:47 Satisfied by his search, Patch pulls his ford americar back down to the bottom level of the parking structure, in case he needs to clear it quickly, and puts it into park. He steps out of the car, briefcase in tow, and pulls the collar of his coat up. A few blocks in the Seattle rain, even keeping to cover, means that he'll be mostly soaked by the time he gets to the club.
19:00 Soaked to the bone, Patch steps up to the service entrance of the club, a fat stack of paper nuyen ready to get him in the door. This isn't the first time he's come this route, so he doesn't expect trouble, but it's always better to have a bribe ready. He rings the bell twice, and then waits for someone to answer.
-
Sunday - 17:00
Fuzzy finishes his drink and looks out the window of his apartment once more. The rain coming down in sheets with a slight angle to it. Squatters running around on the sidewalk below looking for salvation from the downpour. Corp suits crusing around in the corp cars talking corp business on their corp cellphones, on their way to their corp offices under the blind safety of their corp security.
Fuzzy wonders for a moment about the corp he's working for. A deniable asset they call him. I've been one hell of fraggin asset for that son of a slitch he thinks to himself. Never giving him any credit for anything, treating him like a piece of drek.
He has thought, on more then one occasion, what would happen if he quit working for him. That slimey lizard, a fraggin wyrm! Fuzzy looked around the room, he always had a constant feeling he was being watched. He gathered his things and dialed a number on his alternate cellphone, and walked out the door after activating his overly paranoid security system.
Sunday - 18:47
Fuzzy watches Patch hustle down the street towards the rear entrance of Matchsticks as he continues down the road. This one chum he knows has special needs. A guy that expects to be paid in cash. Like anyone uses cash, this costs me three points to the nuyen to exchange with this guy. I gotta have a talk with him one day about accepting a certified, he turns down another side street and meets with his guy. They make the trade quickly and exchange a quick conversation, after all Tiger's been out of Seattle for some time now and Fuzzy knows that if he's back something big is about to go down soon.
Sunday - 18:58
Fuzzy pulls into the parking garage and dials up his head of security for the evening and notifies him his "associates" are due to arrive any second now. He then dials up one last number...
-
Sunday - 19:00
After a moment or two past, Patch hears the locks on the door clicking and it opens revealing a massive Troll. Dressed head to toe in a 1930's looking pinstripe suit complete with hat. He's not as ugly as most trolls, but the giant wart protruding from the side of his nose is as big as a rock. He looks Patch up and down and snorts. In a deep baratone voice he asks "Whatcha want?"
-
19:01
Patch steps up to the crack in the door, putting his good eye toward it so he can look at and talk to the troll. The other eye under the eyepatch works too, but people usually assume that he's blind on that side, and he uses that to his advantage. "Hey, I'm working security detail for a guy- we have a table reserved for 8pm, and I wanted to check it out beforehand."[/b]
-
Sunday - 19:01
The troll smiles to himself "Your friend got a name pal?" He rubs his fingers together in a universal gesture.
-
19:01
I park my bike in the back of the club. I can see someone talking to the bouncer, so I take my time shutting down and pull my helmet off.
-
19:02
"My friend has a name, but I think you're more interested in this,"[/b] Patch says as he pulls a few bills out of the roll. He continues to hide the bills behind his hand- no reason to pay big when someone will be bought for cheap.
"I'm looking to check out Fuzzy's table before he gets here."[/b]
Patch glances slightly over his shoulder with his 'good' eye as a motorcycle pulls up in the alleyway. This meeting is about to get a whole lot less discrete and private.
-
Sunday - 19:02
The troll smiles again and pockets the few bills and opens the door. You faintly notice his adam's apple move slightly, probably notifing others of your arrival. "Right this way sir," he steps out of the way to allow you to pass.
He closes the door behind himself as he stands in the back alley looking towards the bike that just rolled up. He pulls out a cigar and lights it up, rolling the tobacco around his mouth for a moment before exhaling a few smoke rings.
-
19:05
With no other obstacles, Patch moves through the kitchen and back area of the club toward the front, where people will be partying, dancing, and eating. Sliding into the crowd from the back, he uses the hidden cybereye behind his eyepatch to take pictures of possible watchers inside the bar- anyone trying to look a little too casual. Tapping the briefcase against his leg, Patch finds the hostess, and asks for a place to wait until the table is ready.
-
Sunday - 19:05
The hostess leads Patch to a corner spot at the bar, which actually overlooks the booth in which the meeting is to take place. A taller the average male human sits on the opposite end of the bar looking a bit nervous. He eyes the place over from time to time as if he's looking for someone, or something. He's decked out in a fine Armante suit and has a briefcase you notice, that seems to be aimed at the empty booth you're waiting on.
-
19:05
With a smile, I'll tip the waitress who showed me to the seat, and slide a hundred newyen bill into her hand, "Would it be possible," I ask, a half smile on my face in what I call my most charming look, "for you to spill a drink on that man at the end of the bar? The one with the suitcase? He's an old friend, and I'd love to play a prank on him."[/b]
-
Sunday - 19:05
The hostess clutches the money and thinks for only half a tick before smiling back at him. "Sure thing sweetie," she walks over with a glass of synthvodka in hand and pretends to slip, pouring the fluid all over the guy's shirt and lap. He jumps up and and yells at the hostess who simply reply's with a "I'm sorry sir, let me help you clean that up." The man looks over towards the door before grabbing his briefcase and storms off into the bathroom.
-
19:05
I'll laugh to myself, "Okay, that might not have been that effective, but it was funny. Maybe later I'll give him a roofie."
With the eyes away, I'll look for his replacement, or anyone else at the bar or nearby paying undue attention to myself or the table.
-
16:39
Having made the drive to matchsticks safely, although grumbling under his breath at the traffic, Ark moves out to find a parking garage. He wasn't as familiar with this area as he was with Renton, and the local area seemed clean and peaceful enough, but he didn't want to just leave his car on the street.
16:56
About ten blocks away, Ark finds a garage. Not one of the newer steel and plasteel ones with the wiz car-elevators and occasional datajack and comm-connection hookups, but the ancient concrete ramped ones. But the automated gate's ticket price is decent, all things considered, so Ark registers a parking slot for the next 3 hours. Concentrating for a moment, he calls his headclock as he parks his car. "I still have two hours. . . Although it would be easy to get in now, before the place crowds up. . "
Ark debates on this for a while before settling on staying in his car. He checks around his parking space for a jackpoint, but unfortunately, he was correct with his original estimation. The only item breaking the monotony of the concrete was a security panel, to report fires or thefts, but Ark didn't want to break into that. It probably wasn't connected to anything external anyway, and would be too much trouble even if it was. He thinks to himself.
17:01With a need to burn some time, Ark closes his eyes and reclines his chair. Letting his body go, piece by piece, he slips into the astral to peak at the restaurant. Taking a moment to reorient himself, he recalls which direction Matchsticks is relative to himself. Floating gently out of the car, he zips the several blocks to the restaurant. I wonder if Fuzzy is here yet? Ark wonders.
-
Sunday - 19:07
The troll bouncer continues puffing on his cigar when he answers his phone...a moment later he tosses what's left of the stoogie and rushes back inside...
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The man who had the drink spilt on him returns from the restroom and takes his seat back at the bar, only this time the briefcase is sitting on the floor next to him. He looks at the door once more then his watch. He mumbles something to himself before ordering another drink.
-
19:07
With the guy back, and the suitcase still there, Patch's paranoia starts to go into overdrive. He doesn't like people watching him, or even watching people near him. He does not like it at all. He briefly toys with the idea of doing something more drastic, but it seems a little too early to give someone a roofie- it would work better later into the night, when it would just be one of many people who got drugged.
The man with the case seems to be waiting for something- and a little itch at the back of his mind told Patch it wasn't something good. Wary of being set up, or attacked from behind as he watched this guy, Patch turns and lets his eyes wander, both in infrared and human sights, trying to gauge the people around him.
-
Sunday - 19:08
The man notices Patch staring at him and nods, he then looks over towards the door and smiles. In walks a beautiful human female. She struts her stuff over towards the bar and takes a seat next to him. The give each other a kiss and he orders her a drink, you over hear her say "Sorry I'm late honey, traffic was horrible." He whispers something in her ear and she smiles seductively and kisses him on the lips softly, he pays his bill and the two of them quickly exit hand in hand.
-
Sunday - 19:10
Fuzzy is still on his important phone call when another call comes through. "Hello?" The chill started at the base of his spine and started to creep up his back slowly like a spider crawling, searching for the perfect spot to attack. "OH FRAG ME!"
Fuzzy hangs up the phone and slides down in his seat. A bead of sweat trickles down his face and off the tip of his nose. He quickly finds a parking lot to pull over in. He frantically rapid dials a list of numbers quickly organizing a new location for the meet. I guess things never go according to plan... he thinks to himself as he quickly races towards Tacoma while dialing Patch's cell phone number.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The troll bodyguard in the pinstripe suit bursts through the back door of Matchsick's into the back alley. He moves so fast his giant body is nothing more then a blur. Out of nowhere two individuals dressed in sleek black suits fade in from the shadows with their silenced MP5's aimed directly at his chest. The only real audible noise heard is the handful of rounds that ricochet off the dumpster and the distinctive sound of a neck snap as one of the individuals is now slumped on the ground. The other quickly readjusts to take aim at the massive troll, but to no avail, before he gets a chance to pull the trigger his jaw is realigned and the opposite side of his head is now sporting a softball size dent in it. His lifeless body makes a soft thud as it falls to the ground. The troll dials a number on his cell as he dumps the bodies in the trash and enters his Ferrari then speeds away into the night.
-
19:08
Never one to trust in coincidence, Patch lifts up his eyepatch under the pretense of rubbing his hidden eye, and snaps a couple pictures of the guy and the lady, both in infrared and normal vision. When the guy notices him and smiles, Patch raises his glass with a smile of his own.
Dialing his comm, he speaks into the internal mike. "Hey, omae. I know you're probably busy on the matrix, but can I get you to run a couple of pictures for me? See if anything jumps out at you- thus chummer was staring at the table I'm supposed to be meeting at, and it's making me twitch."[/i]
Ending the voice message, he sends a text-only message to Fuzzy, attaching the pictures. "Recognize either of them?" It asks simply, with the pictures attached.
19:10
Patch answers the call without moving or putting down his drink, listening to the subdermal speakers and speaking with the use of his subvocal mic. "Hey Omae. What's up?"[/b]
-
Sunday - 19:10
"Hoi chum. To answer your first question, I've never seen them. But we do have a slight change of plan. The meet has been changed to Fenris Nacht in Tacoma, can you be there by 8?" Fuzzy changes lanes in the moderate traffic, tryin to see in the pooring down rain.
-
19:10
"Frag. Yeah, I can make that, but it doesn't leave me a lot of time to check things out. You know that I like to have all my bases covered, Fuzzy."
Patch glances up at the invisible chronometer display, checking the time. Frag. Ten minutes to get to the car, another fifteen to get across town and get to the other place. Five minutes to get in and find the table. It could be done, but this meant the Johnson was trying to keep everyone off balance.
And Patch didn't especially like Johnsons who tried to keep everyone off balance. That meant the Johnson was screwing with them.
Leaving his drink on the table, Patch moves toward the exit he entered through, briefcase in tow. Time to move, time to move fast.
-
Sunday - 19:11
"I know Patch, trust me when I say if it wasn't needed, I wouldn't have done it. I have to protect my interests, your interests, and most of all my employers interests. It will all make sense when I explain what needs to be done. See you then." Fuzzy disconnects without another word, he started thinking to himself the simplicity of this run is causing a lot more of a headache then it's worth. He quickly shrugs his feeling of guilt, tryin to recompose himself back on track. He dials up Ark's number while speeding down the highway.
-
19:11
Patch quickly moves out the back door that he entered through, and briskly walks to the garage where his car is stored, dropping to one knee to check under the car for incendiaries before getting in.
Satisfied that his car wasn't bombed before he gets in, he starts it and pulls out of the garage- on the upside, the first hour is free, so it doesn't cost him anything.
19:19
Patch drives out into the rain and races to the new meet.
-
17:06
Matchsticks looked ok. No barriers or Astral guards, but that wasn't uncommon for a hole-in-the-wall joint like Matchsticks. It was still pretty empty, although it had some business going. The place had a mild vibe, but the important thing was was that Fuzzy hadn't arrived yet. Returning to his body, Ark sets a timer until 18:45.
Reaching into the backseat, Ark grabs his nylon backpack and pulls out his book. He turns on his car's radio to one of his preferred stations, playing a continuous stream of lyric-less techno, as he opens up to his bookmark. He mumbles to himself as his eyes scan the page and he tries to incorporate the new theories into his current knowledge.
18:45
*Beep Beep* Ark flinches at the sound more felt than heard. The two tones were actually very mild, but when caught off-guard, it was kinda jarring. Again regaining his bearings, Ark replaces the bookmark, shoves the book in his backpack, and exits his car. He locks up, and leaves the garage, walking his way to Matchsticks. Unfortunately, the rain has gotten a little worse rather than better, so Ark tries to rush the trip, keeping under the shop awnings on the main streets when possible.
18:58
His attempt to avoid the rain is only minorly successful, and Ark is pretty soaked by the time he reaches Matchsticks. Looking at the short line to get in (It would be longer later, wether the weather was nice or not) Ark realizes that he won't be able to get past the crowd, and worse, he forgot his mad cash. . .
Ark walks down the street a short bit, ducking into an alleyway. He checks to make sure that he is unobserved, then puts up his invisibility and stealth spells. Walking back to the enterance, Ark waits for someone to be allowed in, and sneaks in with them, trying both to move quickly and carefully, worried if anyone is noticing the unusal rain hitting him. Once inside he goes into the restroom, where he can drop his spells without being too obvious. He enters a stall, drops his spells, and tries to dry off using some of the toilet paper. On the way out, he passes an angry man who is also trying to dry himself off, between grumbling various insults.
Heading back to the bar, Ark has a drink, to celebrate his bypass of the cover charge, as he watches the rest of the room for signs of Fuzzy or his usual crowd. A quick astral peak shows that he is absent. I can wait for a few minutes, Ark thinks. Maybe the rain stopped him. . . However, after several minutes, amid increasing worry, Ark concludes that he isn't here, and he isn't coming.
Just as Ark is about to leave, his cellphone beeps lightly. Quickly checking the information panel, reading Fuzzy's number, Ark answers. "Hoi chummer, you're late. You said Matchsticks, right?"
-
Sunday - 19:11
"Hoi chum, indeed I said Matchstick's...unfortunately there as been a change of schedule, so I need to move the meet to Fenris Nacht in Tacoma...say 8 o'clock?" Fuzzy turns into Tacoma and proceeds to the meet location. He'll need to make a quick call to his security to ensure their privacy has been bought. It's typically a quiet private bar...prefered by shapshifters, so they are already silent as is, but you can never be too careful.
-
19:32
Patch drops his car into park, giving this place the once-over before opening the door. I don't like this- Mister J better have a really good reason for changing meet spots.
When Patch steps out of the car, it's still raining, so he doesn't bother looking for watchers. Anyone stuck in a hotel room watching a place when visibility was this low had to be bored out of thier skulls.
As Patch crosses the semi-cluttered street, he glances up at the name on the front of the place. Fenris Nacht, huh? What does that mean- feral night?[/i]
With a hundred newyen handshake for the bouncer at the front door, Patch slides inside and out of the rain. His briefcase by his side, Patch moves over to the check-in girl with a charming smile on his face.
"Hey there- I'm arriving before my party for security purposes. The reservation should have been last-minute, but they didn't tell me which table it was."[/b]
He waits half a second for the woman to process that information, and then asks "Can you show me to the table? It should be under the name Fuzzy or Mr. Johnson."[/b]
-
Sunday 19:11
"Fenris Nacht? Well, I can get to Tacoma well enough. I'll be there soon, but 8 o'clock is pretty steep, Fuzzy. See you there."
Quickly slotting his credstick for his drink, Ark leaves the bar and runs back to his car. Firing up, he races off towards Tacoma through the rain, trying to stick to the less crowded backroads, with more stop signs and less stop lights. Blowing through the intersections when it seems safe enough, Ark finally stops at a public access Matrix terminal. Thankfully, this one wasn't too badly vandalized, and the booth's door closed well enough to stop the wind and rain. Ark's clock read 19:33 and time was scarce, but Ark needed to find the place. Jacking in and running a few searches, Ark manages to grab an address for Fenris Nacht and jumps back into his car.
Feeling relieved, Ark slows down and patiently drives to the bar. Luckily, it's less crowded here than at Matchsticks, and Ark manages to find a parking space only a few block away.
Sunday 19:47
One quick astral peak reveals enough awakened people around to make his invisible entry fail horribly, so Ark tries the front door. Getting in line, but keeping his credstick ready and occasionally flashing it at the door guards with that certain smirk of "I have what you need. . ." written on his face, Ark waits for permission to enter.
-
Sunday - 19:12
Fuzzy is almost at the club when he dials up Trinity's number.
-
Sunday 19:12
As Trinity continues getting ready she happens to hear her phone ring. She looks at her caller I.d and notices that it is Fuzzy. She giggles as she blushes."hey fuzzy waht's up?"
-
Sunday - 19:12
"Hey Trinity...listen I had a slight change of plans. The meet is gonna be at Fenris Nacht in Tacoma. Say around 8?"
-
Sunday 19:13
"Sounds good to me Fuzzynuts!!!"Trinity pushes a button on her phone to end the call. She is looking around to make sure she has everything. As she exits out her door she chuckles and say"Let's get this party started"
-
Sunday - 19:39
Fuzzy creeps into the parking garage nearby the meet. He dials up his personal security advisor, once he gets the thumbs up he exists the vehicle with his briefcase. He turns the corner to the back alley and approaches the service entrance. A delicate combination of knocks and the door slides up and the 1930's Pinstripe suit wearing troll escorts him to the table. He gets things situated and designates security to the various points of entry then orders himself a drink. I guess it's time...
-
Sunday - 19:39
After Patch waited patiently for the hostess to finish what she was doing she promptly escorts you towards the table. The place is extremely dim and everyone seems uninterested in everyone else. She takes you down towards the back of the store to the last booth, which is engineered for meets. It has a slight angle away from everyone else as well as a beautiful red curtain that can be closed. Patch see's Fuzzy sitting in the booth, he smiles and stands up quickly to shake your hand before offering you a seat.
-
Sunday - 19:40
Patch smiles, shakes Fuzzy's hand, and waits for the waitress to leave. Once she's gone, he opens his briefcase and pulls out the bugscanner, running it along the walls and area surrounding the booth before being comfortable enough to sit down. He keeps the bugscanner open and on in his lap, but speaks freely to Fuzzy.
"Hey Fuzz. So, who is it we're meeting here, and why did they change the meet on us last second?[/b]
-
Sunday 19:40
"We are waiting for the rest of the team. Sorry I had to change the meet. My security team sensed some party crashes, and I wanted the meeting to be private if you know what I mean." Fuzzy leans back and takes a drink. "Can I get you a drink while we wait?"
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Sunday - 19:47
Ark finally is able to get himself in the club after a friendly tip to the doorman. The hostess leads him back to the rear of the club to the private booth where he see's Fuzzy and another man sitting with a couple drinks.
-
19:47
As Ark approaches the table, Patch will lift his glass in salutation.
"Hoi, chummer. You joining this party? I was just trying to get Fuzzy to part with details early."
After he's done, and while the new participant is sitting down, he'll glance down at the bug detector in his lap for a split second, just to make sure this new guy is on the level.
-
Sunday 19:47
Ark walks over to the table, moivng through the club's front end with a steady, if shy, determination. He arrives at the back booth, meeting both Fuzzy's and the other man's gaze, nodding at their greeting. Judging by the looks of the amiably talking pair, they weren't half as frazzled as the rush to get here had made himself. Reguardless, Ark had arrived on time, and he wasn't noticing anything out of place enough to make him nervous besides the switched location, but things happened.
Setting his backpack under the booth table so as not to be easily snatched, Ark settles into the booth next to the new face, while still giving him his space. "Hello again, Fuzzy. New faces today, eh? I take it, this will not be like last time then?" Ark mentions as he settles down, mostly as a method of breaking the ice.
As he sits, it dawns on Ark just how much more upscale this place is compared to Matchsticks. Granted, the three of them had their privacy back here, but judging by the clientel alone, this place was ritzy. . . Ark wonders just how much the doorman charged, having not had time to discreetly check the balance on the credstick. . .
-
Sunday - 19:48
The drinks make their way to the table and Fuzzy looks up at the two guys who seem a little edgy about one another. "Well my friend last time was a little 'interesting' to say the least. This should be null sheen, and easy money. Like I told Patch, I had to move the meet because my security team spotted a few party crashers, and I want this to be private. So now we simply wait on the sexiest member of the team, she should arrive shortly."
-
19:15
Trinity gets in her car and drives th the club. She parks in the back. She walks in the club through the back door and notices Fuzzynuts at the table. She also see's guys she don't know.. She walks in front of Fuzzywhat's up?
-
Ark nods in agreement as he takes his cola, remebering the good advice of "nothing strong before a job." "Yes, privacy is always good for business."
Ark looks up at the new arrival. Fuzzy's words certainly did her justice "This the one you're talking about Fuzzy?" He scoots over, giving room to sit, nudging his backpack further over under the table.
Leaning forward again, Ark addresses Fuzzy again. "Alright, now down to details. Easy work, Fuzzy? How easy? Not easy enough for just one of us. . ."
-
Sunday - 19:57
With everyone at the table Fuzzy makes the proper introductions before ordering another round of drinks. He takes a deep breath and composes himself before placing the briefcase on the table and opening it. He shuffles through a couple papers before tossing them down for the runners to see. "Like I mentioned before, this is a fairly easy run. But Ark had a good point, why couldn't I use just one of you? Well the answer is simple, each one of you provide a unique skill set to help make this run smoothly. But here's how it boils down."
Fuzzy flips over a paper displaying a young, incredibly attractive woman. Her brown hair curls in tight little spirals just above her jawline. Her eyes an incredible bright blue, but with a deep intensity. She's well figured with a complete set of assets. "This is Grace Hillard, also known as 'Onyx'. Apparently she has pissed off the wrong set of people, and her life is deemed "expendable". A well placed bullet to the head is along the lines of what they are expecting. She has a place in Magnolia Bluffs with her parents... did I forget to mention she is only 17? Security at the house would be to difficult to try and penetrate. Yet when she travels, it's only with a sparse number of bodyguards..."
Fuzzy flips over the picture displaying what appears to be some simple Matrix codes. "These are the last known access codes to her organizer, I suggest you take her out in public...perhaps in an area of town that would attract less heat for you." He then flips over that page revealing an address scribbled in red ink. "This is the address for her parents house in the Bluffs. Perhaps a well places stakeout will help fill you in with more details."
Fuzzy takes a drink and looks around at the faces in front of him and smiles slightly. "Now it's time for everyone's favorite part, so let's skip all the foreplay and get straight to the sweet part, how does five grand a piece sound?"
-
Patch
Patch sips his drink, and looks at the other runners. He doesn't know either of these chummers, and although the girl is fun to look at, that doesn't mean she'll be any good on the job.
"Sounds a little low, actually. As I hear it, going rate for wetwork is upwards of fourty grand."[/b]
Even as he's negotiating, Patch leans in and looks over the paperwork that Fuzzy was showing them. Pictures, addresses, access routes. This did seem like an easy job, assuming that everything was the way Fuzz said it was.
-
Sunday - 20:00
Fuzzy mulls over the forty grand offer in his head. Thirteen three each wasn't terribly more expensive, but he didn't wanna give in to easily. "Forty grand is a bit steep my friend, but if you can have her taken care of no later then Friday. I can do thirty with no problem, half now, half when it's done." He finishes up his drink and waits patiently for an answer.
-
Sunday - 20:05
"I was right Fuzzy, this is not like last time." Ark says with a reluctant sigh. "You know me well enough to know what kind of jobs I do, and this doesn't make that list. So that's a special consideration. But you also know that I need this job, and I doubt you've got other work in the meanwhile, right. So seeing as it's important enough to be done by this Friday, then it's important enough to be done well. And thirty-five should be fair, considering there's a lot we still don't know about the job."
The wheels turn inside Arks head. Five K upfront would cover next rent, but after that, even the next five K would be gone in a flash. Was any of that worth murder. . . Ark remembers how much of a bad influence Fuzzy could be, and shrugs. . . Derr'mo
"Call thirty-five, and I'll consider this job strictly numbers and access running. Then I'll help."
Ark glances down at the photo on the table when Patch seems finished with it. What could some brat kid do to piss someone off bad enough to get geeked for it? A warning to Mom and Pop? Ark pauses, then reaches under the table extracting a lead from his deck, and plugs it into his temple, recording the access codes, address, and other relevant information.
-
Sunday - 20:08
Fuzzy leans back analyzing the numbers in his head. It seems like it's been forever before he finally speaks again. "Thirty five is more then I'm willing to come off, but I can do thirty one five, which puts an extra five hundred in everyone's pocket. That's the best I can do. And yes Ark I know you don't typically perform such work, but I thought your talents would be well utilized with this. So have we all come to an agreement?"
Fuzzy leans back once again pulling out a hand rolled 'cigarette' and lighting it up. He inhales the smoke deeply and holds for a moment before exhaling in perfect little smoke rings.
-
Sunday 20:08
Patch listens as the decker talks, checking his bug scanner again before speaking. "If you cut us in for thirty-three, I'm in. I have bills that need to get paid, too."
Patch sips his drink while he waits for the decker to jack back out, the woman to say something, or Fuzzy to counter-offer.
-
After recording the info, Ark returns to the table, catching the end of the last conversation. "That's enough for me. I'm in. " He says, although it's unclear whether he is talking to Patch or Fuzzy.
He finally downs his cola, not liking how syrupy it is when chugged. Resolving himself, he looks up at the other two people, his new teammates. . . "It's gonna be a long week."
-
Sunday - 20:09
Fuzzy chuckles softly to himself, then smiles. "You've always been a pushy son of a slitch Patch. Thirty three it is, any other questions? Anybody need another drink?"
Fuzzy flips an unseen button on the bottom of the open briefcase, with a soft click the bottom piece pops open. He pulls out two credsticks, and a wad of cash. "Five grand a piece is all I have to get you started, you'll get the reminder when you're done. Perhaps over a delicious steak dinner." He chuckles again, it's been a long time since he's had a good steak.
-
Sunday - 20:09
Patch takes the cash on the table and slides it over to him, thumbing through it quietly before sticking it in his pocket. He then nods. A hint of a smile appears, and Patch says quietly, almost as if joking "My mom taught me never to take four when I could get ten."[/i]
That being said, Patch's face goes back to being serious, and he looks over his two new teammates. The decker was right. This was going to be a long week.
Looking over the two, Patch speaks up, "Either of you got a place we could meet to discuss this? Or are we going to use my saftey place?"[/b]
-
Sunday - 20:09
"Well I look forward to this being accomplished. If you run into any problems, or if you need my help just give me a call. I'll do whatever I can."
OOC: Fuzzy is honestly a sincere fixer. He's been in your shoes, and is just a friendly guy in general, which is why you guys do business with him. So don't think the comment I made is something to scare you, it's just how he is.
-
Sunday - 20:09
Ark nods at Fuzzy, as he takes his credstick. "I have your number. We'll call if trouble comes up. Speaking of which, do you two want to swap numbers?" Ark says as stands up and collects his bag.
"No, I don't have a place, unless you wanted to talk in my car."
-
Sunday - 20:10
Fuzzy's eyebrow raises at the recent comments, "You know if you guys need a place, I know a pretty little thing that owns the Brier Hotel out in Snohomish. It's a Family-style hotel that's run down. But it's great for occasions like this, I can give her a heads up you guys are coming if you want."
OOC: Brier Hotel (New Seattle p. 128)
-
Sunday 20:10
Patch will listen and nod "Yeah, we might use that. I think I know of a place where we can talk and plan this thing, though. I just didn't want to offer if you had something else in mind."
Patch pulls a smaller newyen bill from his pocket and drops it on the table as he stands. Standing there, at the edge of the table, he writes his number on two scraps of paper, and passes it to the two other runners.
The paper has only the telecom number- no name on it.
-
Sunday - 20:11
"Certainly, simply let me know." With that Fuzzy closes the briefcase and locks it in place. He finishes his drink quickly, and slides out of the booth. He stands up and shakes everyone hand. And begins to leave, he pauses and looks back at the group, "Thank you for your help." He walks away closing the curtain behind him.
Fuzzy takes a deep breath once he's out of the sight of the group. I hope they can pull this off... he thinks to himself before settling up the tab. He exits the club through the front entrance. And disappears in the night...
-
Sunday 20:11
"Okay now that we've agreed to do this, who wants to check up and find out how in over our collective heads we are?"[/b]
-
Sunday 20:12
Patch will put his heavy coat back on, preparing to go back out into the rain tonight. Looking over his two teammates, Patch will inwardly hope that the both of them are incredibly good at thier jobs. But he didn't want to ask names, especially not in an area like this where it could be overheard or recorded. Slipping the bug scanner into the pocket of his coat, Patch picks up his briefcase, and makes a quick scan of the crowd before he speaks to his fellow runners.
"Okay, deckman, can you check you contacts, see if anyone you know has a feel on this girl? Princess, you can do the same? Let's figure out what's really going on here, before we make definite plans to take care of the problem."
Patch glanes to the chronometer in the corner of his field of vision. "So, what's the plan? Where are we meeting- my place, or Fuzzy's?"
-
Sunday 20:12
Ark gives Patch a quizzical look at the names deckman and Princess, but shrugs it off as conversational banter. Taking his cue from the man putting on his coat, Ark also preps to leave, leaving his own telecom number (one of them, anyway) for the other two, before picking up his bag.
"Yeah, sure, I can do some digging. I say we meet up later; these things take time. I'm good for anytime around one A.M., unless you folks need your sleep. . . And for that matter, I think it would be best if we used Fuzzy's place. I'd hate to intrude under unusual circumstances. . ." Ark says in his slow deliberate speech.
-
20:12
Patch looks over at the woman, whose name he hadn't caught yet. "Care to weigh in, Princess? Or are we all going to do our own legwork, and meet at Fuzzy's motel after one?"
Standing there made him uncomfortable, but he didn't want to re-sit, and he didn't want to hang there exposed.
-
Sunday 20:12
Ark gives the room another moment before heading for the door. "I'll call if I find anything, but I'll be at Fuzzy's spot at about one. Take care everybody." He makes his way back to the front of the club, out the door, nodding at the doorman as he goes.
Back in his car, Ark drives around until he finds a 24-hour Matrix Cafe which seem to be so plentiful here in Tacoma. Inside, about three other customers browsed the 'Trix via vidscreen-and-keyboard style cyberterminals while a staff member (Sysop? Waitress?) ran them the occasional soycaf. Nervously returning the greeting from the lady at the front desk as he shakes off the rain, Ark selects a terminal, slots his credstick and settles in. He pulls out his deck and jacks in. "Now it's time for some answers. . ." He says as the familiar digitalscape forms in his head.
-
20:13
Patch nods at the decker's words, nods to the 'Princess' and walks toward the back door. Sliding out is always easier than coming in, and having more than one way out of a room is important. Carrying a briefcase in one hand, Patch's other hand carries the gun inside his coat, just in case. Scanning rooftops and the alley for eyes before moving toward his car, Patch is completely soaked by the time he keys open the door and sits in his Americar.
"Well, fun."
Sitting there, he takes a second look at the information Fussy provided. Pulling his datapad out of his coat pocket, Patch smiles to himself. The idea that he was rabidly anti-tech always worked to his advantage, so he tried to play it up as much as possible. Thumbing the device on, he dials up his decker contact. Not getting an answer, he leaves a short video message, asking the kid to look up this chicka, see if he could find out who she was, and what she did that pissed someone off this bad. Hanging up, he finds himself with some time on his hands...
Time to go make sure this motel was really secure...