Call no man happy till he is dead.
- Aeschylus
Mood Music Ingomonk/Eric Dubois
Eric's search only takes a second to come up with the answer; the girl was speaking
'funakalo,' a slang used in South Africa. It contains a mixture of Afrikaans, English, Dutch, German, and African languages.
Using this, in conjunction with the other information that the girl had given him, Dubois set up a search while he got going. The Aurora Warrens weren't a nice place, and having an armored vehicle stood out here less than it did other places. One of the benefits of being a place that no one wanted to look.
Another benefit was that so many residents of the Warrens set commlinks to private or even 'closed' that it was a virtual dead space. A valuable thing, if a decker needed to disappear off the grid for a few hours to lay low.
| The search on McHugh's turns up the usual: the corporation has a proud history; founded in the then-USA, it went on to enjoy global dominance and success. Early corporate wars caught the behemoth off-guard, and its divisions were gobbled up by megacorps. Naming rights were heavily contested, and now a string of very similar franchises with almost identical names exist.
“McHughs” distinguishes itself by having perfectly prepared foods, a family-friendly environment, and heavy security. Friendly and professional security guards patrol the buildings at all times, carrying both lethal and less-than-lethal armaments to deal with threats. In event of a situation that the on-site guards unable to deal with, automated defenses deploy NeruoStun VIII gas, which painlessly renders guests and intruders unconscious while corporate security is deployed to the site. |
In addition to security know for their friendly demeanor and professional crisis-management skills, the restaurant also houses state-of the art security scanners.
A punch-code box like this blocks every locked door- not only does it require a RFID tag and ping on the commlink of the manager on duty, but the thumbprint scanner also reads heartbeat, rate, and even perspiration; meaning that if the employee is under any duress, security will be alerted, footage downloaded to multiple archives, and the usage flagged.
The atmosphere at McHughs is brightly colored and stifling- everything is perfectly antiseptically clean, either wiped down with toxic chemicals by a minimum-wage-slave or sprayed with a puff of aerosolized antibacterial by floor drones. Depending on the area and the views, the building was either plascrete or tinted bulletproof glass. |
| Food is prepared by automated drones that activate only when food is ordered, using a low-tech wired system to prevent hacking. The menu is simple, variations on a theme, with soy and krill burgers, a variety of fake toppings made with realistic flavors. The BIGASS fries actually contain enough potato to be considered a vegetable, and most people enjoy their personal preference in soykaf flavors. The pièce de résistance is the sundae ordering menu, which brags 13 flavors (not including the meat or egg from the main menu), and over a hundred and fifty combinations. | |
|
The first border crossing is a pain- there's always a line to cross into the CAS- because the CAS has the hub, and if you need to be anywhere important, it's the Hub.
Rolling for Ingo's border crossing(s):
5d6.hits(5) → [3,1,4,3,6] = (1)
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3535262/
5d6.hits(5) → [2,3,5,4,3] = (1)
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3535265/ After the guard gives the armored vehicle an odd look, he waves the car through. One down, one to go.
Cutting straight across the CAS sector is easy- although traffic slows again around University of Denver, since it's friday night and a million parties are all happening at the same time trying to cause the largest number of alcohol poisonings.
Before long, you’re at the PCC border, and a bored ZDF guard waves you through as soon as you stop at the inspection line. Easy enough. |
| Dubois looks through the results for Ms. Rastire; although she appears to be a talented hacker, she is reckless and inexperienced. |
 | Rastire isn't an alias; her name is Shayma Rastire.
Born, 14th Jan 2056; Tygerberg Hospital, Capetown.
Father, unknown; Mother, data-entry wageslave for Pretoria-Witwatersrand-Vaal.
Rastire is a social girl, friendly and excelled at matrix education that was offered to her; multiple offenses in school for digital malfeasance, which they call anything worth doing in the matrix.
Her handle, Springbok, tells you much more about her.
She's pro-anarchy, and anti-corporate, common enough for someone raised in the corporate protection racket. She had high marks in math and linguistics, meaning she'll be a decent codeslinger if she can live long enough to learn the trade.
|
She left Capetown after some sort of trouble- she never says directly, and the Corp doesn't have anything posted. She hopped a smuggler jet to Egypt, from there to Italy, where she did some datasteals to pay for her flight to London.
She’s been bragging that she
"lives off the grid like her da' now" and making her way toward the Emerald City. A search references Oz, but that's not a place you've ever heard of. She doesn't stay anyplace long- find a low-paying job, something easy, then moving on. London, Greenland; and then into the UCAS via Bridgeport, Conneticut. She got stuck there... hitch-hiked into New York, where she found a decent fixer and got a big job, something to pay for her flight to the Treaty City.
She's new to Denver- been here six days.
She was trolling the Nexus looking for work, and an altercation with an Admin got her banned for a couple days.
She eventually got a job from GoblinCUM, a data broker who was looking for someone to hit a specific target. That's the end of her datatrail- whatever this is, it must be related to that.
Ruskiface/Sylvester Dante
Sly's life is much less glamorous. Despite the fact that he had the furthest distance to travel, he didn't have to slow down or stop for any border crossings, and so he's able to make good time to the McHugh's. Luckily, the layout was the same for all of them, and his in-depth knowledge of rats this place attracts makes him a welcome addition.
McHughs uses low-profile rat traps, the kind that weren't really visible from far away, and had odor-blockers and white noise generators, assuming that no devil-rat clawed its way through the plasteel. Several of the traps are worse for wear, but enough are occupied that you have hands full as you enter. Unfortunately, this is one of the poor-neighborhood models, no bulletproof acrylic. It's also a smaller, older, building, built with a single entrance and exit. There's not even an addition entrance for the manager's office, which makes life difficult when it comes to escape or covert entrance.
Walking up to the door with filled traps- that's a guarantee that no one wants to keep you standing around. The manager doesn't even check the paperwork, merely notes the rat cages and then signs. He gives a half-hearted
"Kwakwhay," before heading toward the bathroom.
The guards ignore you- not only are the rat traps empty, but you're broadcasting an Employee SIN, and they have no reason to question that. The layout of the place is well-known, with this location built out of cheery plastcrete painted oranges and yellows. The main entrance has a built-in MAD and ARO scanner that pings the PAN of anyone approaching and forwards that information to the gate guard.
The bathrooms are standard fare, and the only other rooms are the storage room, where employees stock the per-processed 'food' that gets nuked on its conveyor belt to the waiting tastebuds of grateful customers. Why wouldn't they be grateful, with a greasy and salty BIGASS fries to keep them happy?
There's a girl with her feet against the wall, playing World of Shadowcraft. Her runner, 'Damien Daisyeater69,' is currently scaling a fictional building that resembles the real-life the Renracu Arcology, although it's important to note that this fictional building is legally distinct, and therefore safe from lawsuit from Renracu. She’s not Rastire, though.
Rastire is sitting near the back corner, reading datafeeds and sipping a soykaf while ignoring the mound of wrappers sitting at her table. Drones keep approaching the table, only to be waved away by her. She looks nervous, jittery, and in need of help. As though a sixteen-year old girl 15,000km from home wouldn’t be jittery, scared, or need your help.
BulletSponge/Damien Galbraith
It's not always easy to infiltrate a gang bar- sometimes you have to bribe the right people, sometimes you just have to hate the same enemies. Usually, it costs you nuyen and teeth.
Sometimes, you get lucky. That's how Galbraith felt- lucky.
Gabriel Morrison, former sergeant and buddy, can't talk to you because you're no longer on the corporate payroll. He can't help out when you have bills due, not when rent is due, not when Vinny is asking when he's going to get his 4,500¥.
No, Morrison tells you that in order for you to be listed as a 'valuable asset,' the kind he can pass along important information to, like the stuff that will keep you alive, you have to come up with money, information, drugs, weapons, or criminal networks worth at least 5,000¥ to the corporation. How's that for a gas?
That's why you're in this dive- trying to feel out
Los Diablos, a gang that came with Aztech and didn't leave when Ghostwalker kicked the country and corporation out. Rumor is, they're running coyote under the newly minted CAS section, smuggling drugs, chips, guns, organs, flesh, and whatever else they can get their hands on, just to prove that they run the tunnels down there.
It's a mighty inconvenient time for your commlink to buzz, but is there ever a bad time for someone to call up and offer you a job? I think not.
Walking out of a place like that is as dangerous as walking in, so you have to wait a few minutes for something distracting to happen- in this case, one of the kids trying to prove himself takes a flaming shot of tequila that gets out of control; and you make a retreat to your Suzuki parked nearby.
The trip to your doss costs you precious minutes as well, but it's worth it- who knows what sort of situation you're walking into.
Loading up with weapons, armor, and a go-bag just seems like good sense. Hard to believe you were training for the Olympics at one point. The picture your grandmother took hangs on the wall, a grim reminder of the path that life has taken you.
|
Punching up 'Chet Manly' on your Commlink is second nature- no need to tarnish your sterling reputation with something like petty crime. You're so used to the name that you've started sometimes thinking of yourself as 'Chet.'
Rolling through the border crossing armed to the teeth isn't usually a good idea, but with your permits attached to your fake SIN, and your high-level cover identity, you should be able to breeze through the ZDF cronies without a worry. That doesn't stop a bead of sweat from running down your face, inside your helmet.
BulletSponge's border crossing:
Cha 2 + Ettiquette 3 + Fake SIN 4 = 9
9d6.hits(5) → [4,2,6,5,3,5,4,4,2] = (3)
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3535296/ After a few tense seconds, the ZDF guard waves you through, not even glancing at your weapons. |
Surfing the Matrix AROs while driving isn't always a good idea, but you set the pilot system on your bike to take you to the McHughs, and check out what data you can while you're riding.
Denver maps run from 50¥ to 300¥, depending on how much you want to spend, and how much information you really need. There are two hospitals nearby, one in the PCC and one on the CAS side. There's also a clinic on the CAS side that does cash; meaning they'll stitch you up if you can pay, no questions asked.
There's a police station right on the CAS side, local to keep the unruly University of Denver kids in line, but they can't cross into PCC territory. The closest PCC station is about ten minutes north, or twenty minutes south. Depending on where a patrol car is, they could be on scene in five to ten minutes. The McHughs is on the edge of Lakewood, where foreclosures and abandoned homes have led to a less than desirable element moving in. That might affect the response time, there's no way of knowing for sure until you're more familiar with cops in the area.
The big unknown is who is hiring you- you're not familiar with anyone named Rastire, or a hacker named Springbok, and it's your job to keep up on local stuff like this. Denver is a big place, and it has a lot of splintered factions and a lot of people, but it's a fair bet she's not from around here, or you would have heard of her.
As you pull up, you watch the building and traffic, looking for problems.
The place is one of the older buildings. One entrance, no additional exits. Plascrete- a mixture of plastic and concrete that would make a solid barrier; it also wasn't exposed like those glass buildings- where the enemies could watch you on display as you ran for the exit. There's a small parking lot, and no joined buildings, so while you'll be limited on exits, you can worry about the approach vector a little less.
The entrance faces south, with a parking lot wrapping around the building, and AROs demonstrating the healthy process of making McHughs food, and children laughing and playing in safety. There's even a hot sino girl dressed up as a mascot.
Watching the buildings around you, there's only one real sniper point- there's a ten-story apartment building to the east, but it doesn't have a good view on the entrance. It's possible an observer could watch from there, but they wouldn't be able to see who got into a vehicle, if you were careful.
The staff at McHughs is professional, well-paid, and well-trained; among the PCC, they're probably former military or maybe even your Lonestar brethren. They're armed with pistols, nothing impressive, but they have Defiance EX-Shockers to deal with customers that can't be talked down, stun batons to deal with those who don't go down easy, and at the first sign of trouble, the doors lock down and the entire place is flooded with Neurostun VIII. Neurostun-8 is an odorless, colorless, tasteless gas. It doesn't knock out instantly, but it's quick-acting enough that it'll put down even a riot quickly in a controlled environment. If you could get a hacker to stop the Neurostun, you'd still have to deal with the lockdown, and the guards with stunguns.
And, if you're lucky enough to survive dealing with that, the security system that flagged you when you walked in the door has already called for backup, corporate security who fly in on a HTR-equipped T-bird and shoot anything moving with rubber bullets until it stops.
McHughs the perfect meeting place- it's so completely over-safe that no one in their right mind would dream of taking it over.
Bull/Kinsey
The city is restless.
It's a friday night- Mark is going to be pissed that he didn't have his best bouncer on staff tonight. Joe tended bar at the Crazy Horse, and was a friend. Joe was the kind of guy who understood that he needed to watch your back, and when he came up with something good, you could make it worth his while. Not a friend, really, but a contact, someone you could trust to cover your back. If it wasn't Joe coming up with a juicy rumor, it was Jodi. Bunraku, escort, stripper, private entertainer, exotic dancer; however you called it, the elven girl was a beauty. Heard a lot of information, too, and all too often could figure out who would pay the most.
Friday nights were the busiest night of the week. Saturday, you would have your locals tearing the place up, but on Fridays, the sari-men from the local offices, the new Denver arrivals, and those getting ready to leave- they came in to blow off steam- and they got mile high drunk. Apparently, if you're not used to it, being at this elevation can get you drunk faster than anything. Most people think they're above it, or that they've built up a tolerance, but it hits everyone.
That's why a fancy place will pay good money for a bouncer with a little mojo, in case things get rough.
'Be prepared,' like Doc said. Not a bad place to pick up a little trim, either.
Parking the bike a block away, you watch the traffic and move toward the McHughs. There is heavy traffic- this close to a border crossing, right across from the University, plenty of students were sneaking over to buy higher proof drugs, CalHots; or just trying to get into the university party of the weekend.
There is a large amount of drone traffic overhead. None of the other pedestrians seem to be worried about it, so that's probably a normal amount, but it actually feels like the sky above the street is crowded. Most everything is moving, cars controlled by gridguide nodes instead of relying on the archaic 'lights' system.
If you want to map or walk out individual stuff, that's fine. A google map search for the following address: 3996 East Evans Avenue, Denver, CO will get you the approximate surroundings and general neighborhood layout. I'm not going to make up six blocks worth of buildings in every direction.
I would really expect Kinsey to do Astral surveillance, or maybe just get a peek around the area. He is the only mage in the group, after all.
EDIT - Tried to clean up the table structure a little in the post to remove the horizontal scroll bar. More difficult than I thought :O
-Ingo
EDIT #2 - For best results limit image width to 625 pixels. You can resize with [img width=625 ]<insert image url>[/img ]
-Ingo
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Topic: Scenario 2 - Foxtrot - Romeo - Alpha - Golf (Read 30298 times)