Seattle 20 Jan 2051
Zero reminds us that respirators aint going to work against the Red Mask. We'll need either NBC suits or a full-face gas mask at a pinch as the stuff can get in through the soft tissue around your eyes. Finlay wakes up our Martha and she puts out the word for us.
I stock up with a jerrycan of unleaded just in case we need to set something on fire. Martha comes through, at least with the gas masks. She gives us the address of a restaurant in Chinatown, telling us to call ahead and then park around the back. The team make a point of telling me that these dudes are Chinese and more likely affiliated to the triads than the yakuza. I know the difference, well sort of.
We make the call on the way in the van. Zero asks if she can get some chicken noodles and I realise I'm hungry too, so add my order to the list. The guy on the phone seems unfazed by our request. We pull around the back and Finlay knocks on the door. A balding chinaman appears wearing a greasy cook's outfit and after a quick discussion, two scrawny chinese guys haul out a crate with six gas masks. Finlay hands over the cash and the cook hands him a bag with our carry out.
We eat on our way to the clinic. Dances is waiting for us. We have some pictures of the dead guy and his buddies from the clinic's cameras but no names. About all we have to go on is that the guys look more like bums than gangers. We ask about and splash a little nuyen. One of the locla gangers, hopped up on god knows what, points us towards an old parking garage to the west, where he says some squatters are living. We drive on over, taking care to put on the masks before exiting the van.
It's quiet. Too quiet. Not a light on in any of the surrounding buildings. Not that there is power in this part of town, but people usually find some way to keep the dark at bay, whether it's a solar charged battery, an illegal power tap or just a plain old fire. There's not even any rats skittering around.
We enter the underground garage unopposed and it soon becomes pretty clear why. There aint nobody living to oppose us. There's a bunch of dead squatters spread over the two levels of the garage. About fifteen all told, and all dead from the Red Mask. Some of them been dead quite a few days. Makes me glad of the mask as it keeps out the smell as well as the virus.
We pile up the bodies. It's nasty work and douse them with the petrol. Should get rid of any evidence of the Red Mask. While we're doing that, Zero picks up a wireless signal and traces it back to a camera stuck on the ceiling. It's burst transitting stills from the garage every couple of minutes. Not live footage but enough to follow what's going on. She loops the footage to show us wandering about like when we just came in and then follows the signal to see where it goes. Not far as it turns out. It still in the barrens, in a slightly better part and just far enough away to be out of the infection area.
Concerned that we might have been made and that we will lose them, we decide to drop by right away. At this time of night there aint too many vehicles on the road. Hell there ain't too many vehicles on the road in this part of town any time of the day. So we take a swing past the location and park a couple of blocks down the street.
There are at least a couple of cameras covering the building, an old warehouse on the corner of the block. They look similar to the one we found in the garage, some cheap wireless piece of Yamatetsu drek geckoed to the wall.
Zero jumps into the matrix and quickly gains access to their system, discovering several more cameras, a sentry gun and a couple of laser tripwires. She loops the cameras, shuts down the tripwires and takes control of the sentry gun. In the meantime, Leon takes a swing past the roof in the astral and spots some twisted spirit of man lurking about up there. While Zero stays with the van and monitors the security system the rest of us head out and up the fire escape.
Leon dismisses the spirit, or at least that's what he tells us and I go to work on the manual lock on the skylight. Only takes a minute or two but feels longer. I drop in behind Finlay and flatten myself against a rather flimsy internal wall. Finlay has already dealt with the two sleeping beauties in the room and we creep out into the hallway.
Then all hell breaks loose. A dude appears with an SMG. Dances picks him off through the skylight while Finlay moves to a covering position. I push into the next room. At first I don't see anyone but Finlay catches a glimpse of movement with his heightened senses and hoses a long burst through the wall at the guy trying to ambush me.
Checking that the room is clear, I move to the next one. I open the door to see two girls huddling behind an overturned bed. Well one is huddling. The other glares pure hatred, then throws a grenade at me. As it bounces out the door, I roll in shouting a warning to the others.
There is a loud bang and flechettes fill the hallway. The thin plasterboard walls take the sting out of them and my armor does the rest. Finlay's lead hose chews up the huddler while I double tap angry girl. Then there is a roar behind me. Another dude is now visible through the remains of the plasterboard on the other side of the building. He is staggering back as Finlay's gun cuts a swathe across his chest but he also has his finger on the trigger of an autoshotgun and Finlay rolls desperately to avoid the hail of flechettes spewing in his direction. I squeeze of a couple of rounds at the dude. The first barely clips his skull with what sounds like a metallic ding, but the second hits square between his eyes.
Then I feel a surge of magic, like someone trying to crush my skull. But it's deflected and weakened and I just give a soft groan as I fight it off. I mouth a silent 'Thank you' to Leon and Dances. I hear the soft crack of a silenced high velocity pistol as Dances targets the mage, then I spot him myself. Another double tap takes him down and silence returns.
Zero informs us that we seem to have woken half the neighborhood. She also detected but was unable to intercept all of the 911 calls. Lone Star take their own good time coming out to these parts but they will come eventually.
We quickly check the place. In the room where the mage was, we find a bunch of medical supplies and some text tube racks containing what looks like vials of Red Mask. We haul as much as we can down to the ground floor and load it into a van done up as an ambulance. They kindly left the keys in the ignition, so when Zero gives us the heads up that Lone Star are on their way, we hightail it out of there.
Seattle 21 Jan 2051
I make a quick call to Crow before hitting the sack. She wants a meet and suggests we go fishing. After checking with Seaside and hitting the sack for a few hours, we are back on the road. Well more like on the water. We follow Crow's instructions and soon spot a fishing boat, somewhat bigger than Seaside's. Pulling alonside, it's clear that they are not really fishing at all. Most of the crew seem unfamiliar with being on a boat and while fishermen tend to be a hardy lot, these guys are just a bit too buff. Crow appears on deck in her cheap suit and a haze of smoke.
We quickly transfer over the two teenagers Finlay clocked along with the vials of Red Mask which a couple of techs, in NBC suits, carefully take off our hands. We also hand over the desktop that was running their security system. It has all has the footage from the camera at the garage on it. There's a short standoff between Crow and Zero about handing over all copies. Zero finally agrees to delete her headware copy. Doesn't really matter though. While we don't have the original video file, her meat brain memory is like a vice, so she won't forget any useful information she saw.
To show her gratitude, Crow doesn't have us killed and even hands over a briefcase filled with corp scrip. Even after paying off Seaside, it still comes to about 10k each. Not bad for a night's work.
November 14, 2012
November 4, 2012
Billie's Journal - Zero
Seattle 16 Jan 2051
We've been keeping a low profile for a couple of weeks. We might not have made any money on that last run, but most of us are sitting pretty from the proceeds of our little trip to Amazonia. It won't last forever, but at least we ain't starving.
Bunking at Seaside's ain't exactly luxury accomodation. We've got a few cots and some space heaters set up between his collection of cars. Harlequin's or I should say my Mustang has pride of place amongst them. I think the old fella spends more time polishing it than working on getting his other cars fixed up. I've taken it out for a spin a couple of times, but it's not exactly inconspicuous and drinks gas like it's going out of fashion.
Zero suggested ripping out the engine and replacing it with a multifuel and I thought Seaside was either going to drop deap from a heart attack or shoot her on the spot. Talking of Zero, the girl's been acting mighty strange. She's always had the tendency to spend too much time on the matrix, but since we finished our last run, she's pretty much barricaded herself into one of the Hummer's and even spent a day blacking out the windows with a marker.
I know something bad went down with her while we were trekking across Amazonia and hoped she'd open up to me or Finlay about it. As she hasn't yet, I do the only thing I can think of and climb in the front of the Hummvee and plain out ask her.
Poor girl spills her guts. Seems that before we met, she had been hooked up with some Russki by the name of Maxim. Well, seems like this fella wasn't the most stable of sorts but they had something going. He was a big deal with some soviet corp. It's part of Yamatetsu now, but when Zero met Maxim he was number two son of the family business and head of security. He caught her trying to steal some of their data but rather than gank her, he took a shine to her and the pair of them absconded with some paydata and some prototype cyberware.
They were on the lam together for a while until a run against Aztechnology went bad and Maxim got himself ganked. And not in a nice way. Flayed alive and dropped in an acid vat according to Zero. She figured he was dead and moved to Seattle where she hitched up with the padre and Finlay. Well seems like he somehow came back from the dead. Zero reminds me of the time we had to drop her into a bath of ice to keep her from cooking alive. We thought it was black ice but seems like it was something more. She says it was more like the astral trip we took way back in Scotland and that she had a vision of Maxim alive and in a hospital.
She's been trying to find out more since then, but he found her first. He was the one that broke into our garage the night we hit the plantation down in Amazonia. He convinced her to go on a run for him when she should of been covering our asses. It didn't go as smoothly as planned and while she did manage to do what he asked, the mark was the fragger that left his handprints on her neck. That's not all he did to her.
I'm out of the car and halfway to the door before Finlay gets a grip on me. Even amped up, he's too strong for me and keeps me pinned down till I run out of juice and expletives. Turns out she already told him a week ago.
When I've cooled off we discuss options. We can't really go up against Maxim's family or his folk's corp. It's part of Yamatetsu and that means we'd be going up against them. But we need to take Maxim out of the picture plus any data they have on Zero. And the Yamatetsu fragger that put his hands on her. He dies. The trick is going to be how to make it look like it was Maxim and his folks that hit him. We're gonna need the rest of the guys for this.
Unfortunately, when we call Dances he tells us he's gonna be held up at the clinic for a few days. He had been looking to do some doctoring work and Finlay had put him in touch with one of his contacts. While she hadn't been impressed with his attitude, and frankly who is, she had been impressed by his skill with a scalpel and agreed to try him out on the graveyard shift.
Henry Leon is available and he drops round so we can fill him in. Zero thinks that one of her contacts, a hardware supplier by the name of Wallace, might have been the one that sold her out to Maxim. She says he's been acting funny lately and when she checked out his store recently, he had upped the security from 'nothing special' to 'pretty serious'. At least that's what I get from the description she gives.
Problem is that he knows what Zero looks like and none of the rest of us really have the skills to look at his security system. We also don't want Maxim to find out that we're looking for him, so Finlay is arranging a B-team to hit Wallace's place to copy the security logs. That means we need to sit on our hands for a couple of days till Martha sets up a team to hit the place. Fair enough, because I got a bit of unfinished business of my own to sort out.
Seattle 17 Jan 2051
When we tramping through the Amazonian jungle it finally hit me what the tissue sample in the padre's container of liquid nitrogen probably was. Martha, the toxic shaman, or one of her cronies. I remember him acting a bit strange at the abandoned camp we found up in Aglonkin territory and figured he must have found something there. I place a call to a number listed only as 'Crow'.
I swear I can smell cheap cigarettes when the person on the other end of the line answers. I tell her my name and then we have one of those strange conversations where we talk about the subject at hand without saying anything about it directly. She tells me she'll call back and sure enough I get a call in less than half an hour. She tells me to take the sample to Council Island and not to worry, they're expecting me. I tell her she'll need another container as I need to keep the one we have. I don't tell her that's because the other sample in there is the few drops of Ehran's blood that Dances recovered from the rapier. She just tells me to get there ASAP.
The Rapier is fast but it just don't have the class my Harley does. Unfortunately, the cowboy package aint that common and the yaks are still likely looking for it. So it's sitting next to the Mustang at Seaside's. The roads are wet and a little slippery, but as I'm sticking to the speed limit to avoid attention from KE it's nothing I can't handle.
The injuns guarding the main access to Council Island barely look at me. In fact, they look at me like I got the plague or something and hurry me through. I can guess who's behind that. The woman at the reception obviously either didn't get the memo or is working for 'smoking woman' as she nonchalantly hands me a tourist map and points me to the path towards the totem poles.
I wander along the path. It's cold and wet and no real tourists are out in this weather. As I approach this one totem pole with a big raven or more likely a crow on top, there is a young couple waiting for me. They are dressed like tourists but carry themselves like spooks. We quickly make the exchange and then I make my back to the main entrance.
On the way I come across an old injun wearing just a loin cloth. Frag, must be a medicine man, because I'm wearing thermals under my armor and I'm still cold. Worse, the last time I ran into one of these dudes in some backwoods bar up in Salish, I clocked him for calling me a bitch. Turned out he was actually calling me 'she-wolf', apparently it's the same word in Salish. Also turns out he was actually trying to give me some medicine man juju advice about my totem or latent adept abilities. Too bad, I only found that out when he posted bail to get me out of the local jail. And then only two days after the local law had locked me up for my own protection. So needless to say I give this one a wide berth. He doesn't pay any attention to me, just carries on singing and dancing around one of the totem poles. But the big ass, ghostly wolf he summons does watch me all the way back to the exit.
Seattle 18 Jan 2051
Today is quiet, the main highlight being Finlay trying to set up Henry with the daughter of one of his contacts. He knows some old lady in the archives at city hall. She has been more than happy to give him copies of old building plans on the off-chance that the big ork would take her daughter out on a date. When Henry discovered Finlay had a contact at the archives he was mighty interested and more or less volunteered to take the girl out on a date to get access to the archives for whatever little side project he is working on.
Then, late on in the day I get a call from Crow. She suggests I might be interested in the late news. I switch from a rerun of some old space cowboy show to the news. There is an item on a fire at a biotech firm. Several employees are reported dead and there is also at least one other body belonging to the 'eco-terrorists' that started or caused the fire. Did that sample let them track down Martha and the fire was the same spell used to toast the padre? Doubt that Crow will give me the satisfaction of confirming it, but for now I guess we can close that chapter of our lives.
Seattle 19 Jan 2051
Or maybe not. Today we get a call from Dances. He's been out of the loop for a few days. Apparently some dude came into the clinic where he was working with some sort of nasty virus. He was in bad shape when his buddies dropped him off and didn't last long. Dances didn't want to take any chance of it spreading so locked down the clinic.
When he mentions the symptoms, my stomach drops. Finlay asks him if he can send us a picture of the body. Frag me if it don't look like the Red Mask. I tell the team about the news item and we put two and two together and get five. The only good news is that we know the virus burns itself out in 48 hours, so Dances and the other people at the clinic are in the clear. However Dances says that the dead dude was brought in by a couple of guys, who may well have been infected. Great, so even if that fire killed Martha, we still could have a Red Mask plague on our hands. Now, where the frag did I leave that respirator?
We've been keeping a low profile for a couple of weeks. We might not have made any money on that last run, but most of us are sitting pretty from the proceeds of our little trip to Amazonia. It won't last forever, but at least we ain't starving.
Bunking at Seaside's ain't exactly luxury accomodation. We've got a few cots and some space heaters set up between his collection of cars. Harlequin's or I should say my Mustang has pride of place amongst them. I think the old fella spends more time polishing it than working on getting his other cars fixed up. I've taken it out for a spin a couple of times, but it's not exactly inconspicuous and drinks gas like it's going out of fashion.
Zero suggested ripping out the engine and replacing it with a multifuel and I thought Seaside was either going to drop deap from a heart attack or shoot her on the spot. Talking of Zero, the girl's been acting mighty strange. She's always had the tendency to spend too much time on the matrix, but since we finished our last run, she's pretty much barricaded herself into one of the Hummer's and even spent a day blacking out the windows with a marker.
I know something bad went down with her while we were trekking across Amazonia and hoped she'd open up to me or Finlay about it. As she hasn't yet, I do the only thing I can think of and climb in the front of the Hummvee and plain out ask her.
Poor girl spills her guts. Seems that before we met, she had been hooked up with some Russki by the name of Maxim. Well, seems like this fella wasn't the most stable of sorts but they had something going. He was a big deal with some soviet corp. It's part of Yamatetsu now, but when Zero met Maxim he was number two son of the family business and head of security. He caught her trying to steal some of their data but rather than gank her, he took a shine to her and the pair of them absconded with some paydata and some prototype cyberware.
They were on the lam together for a while until a run against Aztechnology went bad and Maxim got himself ganked. And not in a nice way. Flayed alive and dropped in an acid vat according to Zero. She figured he was dead and moved to Seattle where she hitched up with the padre and Finlay. Well seems like he somehow came back from the dead. Zero reminds me of the time we had to drop her into a bath of ice to keep her from cooking alive. We thought it was black ice but seems like it was something more. She says it was more like the astral trip we took way back in Scotland and that she had a vision of Maxim alive and in a hospital.
She's been trying to find out more since then, but he found her first. He was the one that broke into our garage the night we hit the plantation down in Amazonia. He convinced her to go on a run for him when she should of been covering our asses. It didn't go as smoothly as planned and while she did manage to do what he asked, the mark was the fragger that left his handprints on her neck. That's not all he did to her.
I'm out of the car and halfway to the door before Finlay gets a grip on me. Even amped up, he's too strong for me and keeps me pinned down till I run out of juice and expletives. Turns out she already told him a week ago.
When I've cooled off we discuss options. We can't really go up against Maxim's family or his folk's corp. It's part of Yamatetsu and that means we'd be going up against them. But we need to take Maxim out of the picture plus any data they have on Zero. And the Yamatetsu fragger that put his hands on her. He dies. The trick is going to be how to make it look like it was Maxim and his folks that hit him. We're gonna need the rest of the guys for this.
Unfortunately, when we call Dances he tells us he's gonna be held up at the clinic for a few days. He had been looking to do some doctoring work and Finlay had put him in touch with one of his contacts. While she hadn't been impressed with his attitude, and frankly who is, she had been impressed by his skill with a scalpel and agreed to try him out on the graveyard shift.
Henry Leon is available and he drops round so we can fill him in. Zero thinks that one of her contacts, a hardware supplier by the name of Wallace, might have been the one that sold her out to Maxim. She says he's been acting funny lately and when she checked out his store recently, he had upped the security from 'nothing special' to 'pretty serious'. At least that's what I get from the description she gives.
Problem is that he knows what Zero looks like and none of the rest of us really have the skills to look at his security system. We also don't want Maxim to find out that we're looking for him, so Finlay is arranging a B-team to hit Wallace's place to copy the security logs. That means we need to sit on our hands for a couple of days till Martha sets up a team to hit the place. Fair enough, because I got a bit of unfinished business of my own to sort out.
Seattle 17 Jan 2051
When we tramping through the Amazonian jungle it finally hit me what the tissue sample in the padre's container of liquid nitrogen probably was. Martha, the toxic shaman, or one of her cronies. I remember him acting a bit strange at the abandoned camp we found up in Aglonkin territory and figured he must have found something there. I place a call to a number listed only as 'Crow'.
I swear I can smell cheap cigarettes when the person on the other end of the line answers. I tell her my name and then we have one of those strange conversations where we talk about the subject at hand without saying anything about it directly. She tells me she'll call back and sure enough I get a call in less than half an hour. She tells me to take the sample to Council Island and not to worry, they're expecting me. I tell her she'll need another container as I need to keep the one we have. I don't tell her that's because the other sample in there is the few drops of Ehran's blood that Dances recovered from the rapier. She just tells me to get there ASAP.
The Rapier is fast but it just don't have the class my Harley does. Unfortunately, the cowboy package aint that common and the yaks are still likely looking for it. So it's sitting next to the Mustang at Seaside's. The roads are wet and a little slippery, but as I'm sticking to the speed limit to avoid attention from KE it's nothing I can't handle.
The injuns guarding the main access to Council Island barely look at me. In fact, they look at me like I got the plague or something and hurry me through. I can guess who's behind that. The woman at the reception obviously either didn't get the memo or is working for 'smoking woman' as she nonchalantly hands me a tourist map and points me to the path towards the totem poles.
I wander along the path. It's cold and wet and no real tourists are out in this weather. As I approach this one totem pole with a big raven or more likely a crow on top, there is a young couple waiting for me. They are dressed like tourists but carry themselves like spooks. We quickly make the exchange and then I make my back to the main entrance.
On the way I come across an old injun wearing just a loin cloth. Frag, must be a medicine man, because I'm wearing thermals under my armor and I'm still cold. Worse, the last time I ran into one of these dudes in some backwoods bar up in Salish, I clocked him for calling me a bitch. Turned out he was actually calling me 'she-wolf', apparently it's the same word in Salish. Also turns out he was actually trying to give me some medicine man juju advice about my totem or latent adept abilities. Too bad, I only found that out when he posted bail to get me out of the local jail. And then only two days after the local law had locked me up for my own protection. So needless to say I give this one a wide berth. He doesn't pay any attention to me, just carries on singing and dancing around one of the totem poles. But the big ass, ghostly wolf he summons does watch me all the way back to the exit.
Seattle 18 Jan 2051
Today is quiet, the main highlight being Finlay trying to set up Henry with the daughter of one of his contacts. He knows some old lady in the archives at city hall. She has been more than happy to give him copies of old building plans on the off-chance that the big ork would take her daughter out on a date. When Henry discovered Finlay had a contact at the archives he was mighty interested and more or less volunteered to take the girl out on a date to get access to the archives for whatever little side project he is working on.
Then, late on in the day I get a call from Crow. She suggests I might be interested in the late news. I switch from a rerun of some old space cowboy show to the news. There is an item on a fire at a biotech firm. Several employees are reported dead and there is also at least one other body belonging to the 'eco-terrorists' that started or caused the fire. Did that sample let them track down Martha and the fire was the same spell used to toast the padre? Doubt that Crow will give me the satisfaction of confirming it, but for now I guess we can close that chapter of our lives.
Seattle 19 Jan 2051
Or maybe not. Today we get a call from Dances. He's been out of the loop for a few days. Apparently some dude came into the clinic where he was working with some sort of nasty virus. He was in bad shape when his buddies dropped him off and didn't last long. Dances didn't want to take any chance of it spreading so locked down the clinic.
When he mentions the symptoms, my stomach drops. Finlay asks him if he can send us a picture of the body. Frag me if it don't look like the Red Mask. I tell the team about the news item and we put two and two together and get five. The only good news is that we know the virus burns itself out in 48 hours, so Dances and the other people at the clinic are in the clear. However Dances says that the dead dude was brought in by a couple of guys, who may well have been infected. Great, so even if that fire killed Martha, we still could have a Red Mask plague on our hands. Now, where the frag did I leave that respirator?
September 22, 2012
Billie's Journal - Never trust an elf
Seattle, 2 Jan 2051
Having had to abandon our safe house, we are bunking down in Seaside's warehouse amidst an eclectic collection of vehicles, ranging from an armoured personnel carriers to a couple of classic cars, all in various states of repair. Still, I could sure use a few hours sleep, even if it's on an army cot in a cold warehouse.
When I wake later, Finlay's looking grim. Seems Helm's bossy assistant has one more job for us before we get paid. We are to pick up Jane Foster tomorrow morning at some sarariman hotel on down by the airport and deliver her to our real employer.
For some reason he doesn't want to take our van. I think it might be something to do with it's inability to stop a round from anything heavier than a streeline special, but I'm just guessing. Seaside comes to the rescue, offering us the use of one of the three hum-vees he has in the garage. But only if we help him put the engine back in the one he's going to loan us. That should be easy, right?
Fortunately, between him and Zero it does actually only take a couple of hours. I get to help out by fetching tools and generally being kept out of harm's way. Truth be told, I don't really know much about cars beyond where to put the gas. We get the car running and that seems to cheer Finlay up somewhat. Seaside even digs out some documents for the car, including a real old-fashioned paper pink slip.
Seattle, 3 Jan 2051
It's still dark when arrive at the pick-up point. Finlay finds a quiet place to park, suitably far from the hotel's entrance. Around 8 AM, a non-descript town car pulls up next to us and Mrs Johnson steps out. She looks like she don't like mornings either, but I get the feeling there ain't much she does like.
I do a double-take at the asian goons that also get out with the girl. Dances reckons they are 'Samsungs', Koreans not Yaks. The girl seems resigned and Dances helps her into the back of the hum-vee between him and me. She sits slump-shouldered and follows orders silently. While we secure the 'package', Mrs Johnson is feeding Finlay one last piece of bad news. We have to baby-sit the girl until our employer calls with the drop-off point. She says we should hear from him later in the day.
Not wanting to sit around in a hotel car park all day, Finlay drives us down to Touristville to find somewhere to hole up. The motel we end up doesn't seem to have a name and looks like it's run by one of the local gangs. But at least no-one will sell us out to the cops down here. Dances stops of at a nearby stuffer shack to pick up some food and drinks and then we settle in to wait.
After a couple of hours, Jane asks if she can use the bathroom. I let her in but warn her not to try getting away. She tries anyway. Luckily Zero's got good ears and less manners than me, pushing the door open to catch Jane standing on the toilet trying to force the little window open.
Eventually, Finlay gets the call. Drop is tomorrow at dawn - what is it with all these early mornings - down in Tarislar, the elven ghetto in Puyallup. To give you an idea how bad it is, Puyallup is a toxic hellhole due to shit that went down in the Great Ghost Dance and Tarislar is the shitty part of Puyallup.
Seattle, 4 Jan 2051
The ash makes it look like it's been snowing, which strangely enough for the time of year it hasn't. Everything is grey, even the people. They watch us silently as we drive by, the only vehicle on the road in this part of town. It's kinda creepy and I have to keep adjusting my eyes to compensate for the lack of contrast. The locals seem to know somethings going down and have turned out along the roads to watch our one car parade as Finlay eases it along junk-covered roads of cracked tarmac.
Our destination is the old Southwind complex, abandoned when the volcanoes erupted. Three towers slowly emerge out of the gloom and there seems to be a waiting committee. In addition to a crowd of grubby locals, there is this one old guy, a cyberpunk gandalf with blind eyes much like Zero's. He talks some nonsense at us, but the gist of it is that we are gonna have to climb the central tower, the tallest one, to deliver the package.
Even in the car we could smell and taste the ash, but outside it catches in your lungs. Most of us have scarfs against the cold, except for Jane Foster. Dances uses his medkit to rig up a mask for her with some gauze and surgical tape and we head into the ruined tower.
It's a long climb, some forty stories and even with the makeshift masks we are coughing and wheezing by floor twenty. The place is quiet and gloomy, with just some grey light filtering down from above to light the cracked walls and stairs. As we get close to the top, there are phrases scrawled on the wall. Recent too. Most of them are philosophical mumbo-jumbo but one, a phrase from George Orwell's 1984, triggers a memory of when I was a girl at school.
It kind of freaked me out then, but the things I've seen and done since would freak out Mr Orwell. Shortly after things get even more freaky. Dances starts whistling a tune and when I shush him he looks at me kind of confused. But a couple of floors later we can all hear it. Someone up there is playing a guitar and playing it well. Not my kind of music, something complex and latin.
Finally we reach the top. We are all on edge wondering what to expect, but none of us are ready for what we see. Most of the partition walls are gone, as are the windows. There is a den, like you'd find in some trendy loft appartment. A beat up old sofa and a coffee table with some glasses and a decanter on it. However, that's not what gets us going. No, it's the dude, our employer I presume. A tall, lean elf standing with his back to us. He seems to sense our presence, bringing his tune to a crescendo then with a deft flick twisting the guitar around and placing it in a rack. He turns and bows, light glinting off one pointed ear that seems to be made of silver. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Eyes that are framed by makeup in an extravagant diamond pattern. He welcomes us with an open arm gesture and introduces himself as Harlequin. No, not just Harlequin but THE Harlequin.
He ignores the four guns pointed at him, striding up to me and addressing me with my real name, then deftly plucking my real hand from the Colt's barrel grip and planting a chaste kiss on the back of it. I am still staring at my hand as he moves on to Zero, addressing her as Nimue Something-or-other and repeating the hand kissing thing. Finlay is next, just a firm handshake and then he looks at Dances with a sort of despairing look and a shrug. The injun has backed away from the elf and is still holding his shotgun aimed centre mass on him with a wild look in his eyes.
Seeming to lose interest in convincing Dances to shake hands, the elf spins back to the rest of and offers us drinks. He gives Zero a genuine Coca Cola, something that aint been on the market for maybe 20 years and then offers a glass of 50 year old single malt to both Finlay and me. I start to decline, but he simply nods and pours just a tiny taste into a cracked crystal glass and then two more substantial measures into two other glasses. He hands one to Finlay and the tiny measure to me, saying that I should at least savour the flavour.
It's a strange tableau, three of us standing there with a glass in one hand and a gun in the other. Dances' shotgun never leaves the elf, who is seemingly non-plussed by the weirdness of the whole situation. He starts talking then, something about Jane Foster being the daughter of Ehran, one the big chiefs of the elves. Something about a competition or feud between him and Ehran that he is going to win. And something about one last thing he needs us to do. He needs us to sing.
Well I aint to keen on singing but its a long way from the worst I've done for a few nuyen. He coaxes a note out of me, higher than I thought I could hold, then an even higher tone from Zero and a deep bass note from Finlay. Dances is still being stubborn, so the elf adds one more himself and then somehow manages to harmonise with himself. He takes Jane's hands in his own and leads her to the centre of the room.
Finlay stops singing to say he'll shoot if Harlequin harms her, saving me the trouble of doing the same. The elf makes a dismissive gesture and tells us to keep singing. Then there is a pulse, not something visible but something we all can feel going out from Harley and the girl. And then something comes back. There is a flash as a magic circle becomes visible for a second and then Jane collapse as light bursts from her leg. The return pulse tosses Harley across the room. Finlay's gun follows him spitting lead, while Dances moves towards the girl.
Harley twists in the air, Finlay's bullets seeming to twist around from him, gathering into a swirling ball in the elf's hand as he lands on his feet, his eyes blazing. Finlay's gun clicks empty and he draws his spear and charges the elf who is now also moving back towards the girl. As Finlay strikes, Harley seems to take a half step back, catches the haft of the spear and smacks the ork squarely between the eyes with his own weapon. Finlay staggers back stunned and I put my hand across his chest and shake my head. He gets it and relaxes.
Dances is working on the girl and after a few minutes, seems to have stopped the worst of the bleeding. Harley explains angrily that whatever Ehran had done may also have cost him and that if he is hurt, then Harley loses at whatever willy-waving game they are playing.
He pretty much orders us to go check on his adversary, pointing to a plume of smoke coming fromMount St Helens and saying that that is where Ehran will be. Great! Now we get to go find another crazy elf in his secret lair in a fragging active volcano. There better be a fragging big bonus for this job!
He then scoops Jane Foster into his arms and steps off the side of the building. By the time we get to where he was and look over, he is nowhere to be seen. Fragger could at least have given us a lift back to the ground floor.
As we head back down the stairs, Finlay contacts Seaside to see if Osprey is available for a hotdrop on an active volcano. He is. We swing past a REI store on our way back to Seaside's and pick up some respirators. Finlay was hoping for gas masks, but we don't really want to keep the crazy elf waiting too long. It's a short trip from Seaside's by boat to Osprey's landing pad and an even quicker trip to the mountain. Fortunately, there is plenty of air traffic trying to get close, mainly media helicopters, so the Salish security are run off their feet and Osprey slips us through easily.
Dances has downloaded some GPS data on the mountain and reckons the visitor centre will be the best route into the lava tunnels under the mountain. We climb carefully up the scree, avoiding ground patrols. The visitor centre has been abandoned in a hurry, the doors to the main entrance standing open. We slip inside and Dances leads us to the tunnels.
In contrast to the cold weather outside, it's warm in the tunnels, stifling even in some places. It's also dark and the lava throws off thermo, so we have to rely on torches and low-light. After some wandering around lava tubes for a while we pretty much stumble on a worked tunnel leading in the right direction.
It comes out into a larger opening, with a stone span across a deep drop. Finlay edges out over the natural bridge, testing the ground with his spear, when something drops on him from above. It's an embracer, a gorilla-like creature that is sheathed in fire. I've heard stories of them from the injuns but never seen one till now.
Finlay struggles to escape its grasp. I try to get a shot in but in trying not to hit the orc also miss the beast. Dances aim is better and his SPAS barks in the gloom. The thing roars but at least it lets go of Finlay who tumbles off the bridge and rolls to put out his burning armour. Dances second shot kills the thing and it tumbles off the bridge.
We carefully cross the bridge. The tunnel on the far side flickers like a broken holo, one minute there, the next not. Dances thinks its some sort of broken illusion. Finlay edges through it until his spear hits an invisible barrier and is ripped from his hand and flung back down the corridor, it's powers apparently disrupted. The same happens to Dances, although in his case his spell focus is on a leather thong and nearly chokes him as it is repelled by the invisible field. The barrier doesn't seems to prevent people passing through and with their magic items inert, both Finlay and Dances make it through on their second attempts.
The walls beyond the barrier are beautiful white marble inlaid with streaks of what looks like real gold. Opulent and classical are the best description of the furnishings. As we come round a corner there is a set of double doors with a four short creatures waiting, each in a distinctly coloured outfit. They look like munchkins, a sort of monkey-like creature that walks on its hind legs. There is some dispute about whether they are fully sentient or not, but then the green clad one talks and I guess that confirms that. Not that anyone will ever believe us.
It offers us food (real strawberries) and drinks (champagne). I decline the booze but the strawberries are delicous. It then leads us through the doors. The complex here is large. I wonder how the hell Ehran managed to build it here and keep it concealed. In the main lounge, we find the elf's body.
Dances checks him out but shakes his head saying he's been dead for hours. He reckons that either the pulse Harlequin sent or the one that Ehran sent back killed him. Frag, guess that means that Harley loses too. Just hope he doesn't kill the messenger even through he did say that as his agents in this stupid game, we were not supposed to be harmed. Yeah, right.
We move the body from the floor and lay it out on one of the antique loungers in the room. Then we wait. I ask one of the munchkins if there's anything to eat or drink and after asking what we would like, he escorts us to a dining room and pretty soon we're tucking into real beefburgers, steaks and fries. Finlay doesn't want to leave the body alone while we eat, so he takes his plate back to the lounge and sure enough, just as we're finishing up, Harlequin arrives. We hurry back to the main room in time to catch the end of his rant. I can't follow half of what he's saying but he don't seem too happy. He then questions us about how we found him and Dances give him the low down.
I'm starting to think we're screwed when another Ehran turns up carrying a pair of rapiers, one resting on each shoulder. Yep, another one. Turns out the first body was a fake, some sort of simulacrum good enough to fool both Dances and Harley. Just then, one of the munchkins turns up and announces that some new guests have arrived. Both Harley and Ehran seem keen to finish of their little contest so Ehran tells us to delay them but warns us that while they are on his property they are technically under his protection and although we are supposedly protected by the rules of the game, if anything were to happen to them, bad things would happen to us.
We hustle off to delay the dudes who might have no qualms about killing us but who we can't harm. In terms of non-lethal, I've got a tazer with four rounds and Dances has a handful of gel rounds for his shotgun. Finaly will just have to beat them senseless. We arrive at the main entrance just in time to hear one of the munchkins say 'This way!'
Looking around I spot a big ass antique dresser agianst the wall and a plan forms in my mind. I subvocalise to Dances to hold the door for a moment and turning to Finlay, nod towards the dresser. He smiles. Frag is it heavy. Desperation helps me trigger my enhanced strength, the first time I have consciously managed to do it, and we haul it across in front of the door just as the munchkin announces 'door stuck' to the mystery guests. All three of us get behind it and push it hard against the doors.
There is some discussion on the other side of the door in a singsong language. Dances says it's Sperethiel, the elf language and that he can make out some of what they are saying. Something about having to deliver something personally or the prince will be pissed. They ask the munchkin why the doors won't open, but it sure doesn't know why. They try to push it open but between the three of us and the heavy dresser, we keep it firmly closed. Eventually a letter is slipped under the door and a few moments later we can hear footsteps retreating.
Finlay scoops up the letter and we return to the main room in time to see the main event. Jesus, but do these boys know how to wield a blade. They are blindingly fast and as I watch I realise that they are not just fighting with the blades, but that magic, misdirection and plain old insults are flowing back and forth between them. I don't quite catch the turn, but suddenly there is a roar of pain from Ehran and he clutches at his head. Blood flows from where his ear was but a moment before. Harlequin howls in victory, his moment dampened only slighty by Ehran screeching that he hadn't won, just evened the score. Then Ehran sort of folds in on himself and disappears.
Harlequin bows and winks at us, then casually lobs his blade towards Zero before pulling the same stunt. There is silence for a moment, then from behind us comes a slow hand clap. I spin, bringing my pistol to bear on the sound. It's the fragging elf woman I spotted as we fled from the house where we were tortured when we were captured a couple of months ago.
I lower the pistol as I have the feeling she can pull the same sort of magic tricks as Harlequin and Ehran. She actually compliments us for getting so far, but warns that the magic that normally protects this place will soon be back online and it would be best if we were not here when that happened. We take her at her word and scram.
Seattle, 15 Jan 2051
I guess the rapier was our payment. It's a genuine antique and worth a bundle. Zero got it appraised by some guy from New York. Cost several grand just to get him to look at it. Of course, without any papers, finding a buyer for it might be a problem.
Today, I got a package from Harlequin. There was a picture of him in some desert bowing towards the camera. A woman that looked like Jane Foster was there too, off to one side talking to someone out of the picture. On the back he had written, 'It's hot as hell where we are. Wish you were here' and signed it 'H'. The package also included a set of keys and the address of a lock-up garage. I got Jamal to give me a ride over in his cab. The garage contained a green car with black stripes on the hood. I recognised it immediately. It is the car that rammed the yaks that were tailing me a while back. It's a classic, no electronics, no grid guide and a growling engine that won't run on anything but real gas. When I drove it back to Seaside's the old man nearly had a heart attack. He tells me it's an 1964 Ford Mustang from before they got fat and slow and when car designers still knew how to build a car with looks. It certainly has that, and a V8 engine that scares the crap out of pedestrians and passengers when you floor the gas.
Having had to abandon our safe house, we are bunking down in Seaside's warehouse amidst an eclectic collection of vehicles, ranging from an armoured personnel carriers to a couple of classic cars, all in various states of repair. Still, I could sure use a few hours sleep, even if it's on an army cot in a cold warehouse.
When I wake later, Finlay's looking grim. Seems Helm's bossy assistant has one more job for us before we get paid. We are to pick up Jane Foster tomorrow morning at some sarariman hotel on down by the airport and deliver her to our real employer.
For some reason he doesn't want to take our van. I think it might be something to do with it's inability to stop a round from anything heavier than a streeline special, but I'm just guessing. Seaside comes to the rescue, offering us the use of one of the three hum-vees he has in the garage. But only if we help him put the engine back in the one he's going to loan us. That should be easy, right?
Fortunately, between him and Zero it does actually only take a couple of hours. I get to help out by fetching tools and generally being kept out of harm's way. Truth be told, I don't really know much about cars beyond where to put the gas. We get the car running and that seems to cheer Finlay up somewhat. Seaside even digs out some documents for the car, including a real old-fashioned paper pink slip.
Seattle, 3 Jan 2051
It's still dark when arrive at the pick-up point. Finlay finds a quiet place to park, suitably far from the hotel's entrance. Around 8 AM, a non-descript town car pulls up next to us and Mrs Johnson steps out. She looks like she don't like mornings either, but I get the feeling there ain't much she does like.
I do a double-take at the asian goons that also get out with the girl. Dances reckons they are 'Samsungs', Koreans not Yaks. The girl seems resigned and Dances helps her into the back of the hum-vee between him and me. She sits slump-shouldered and follows orders silently. While we secure the 'package', Mrs Johnson is feeding Finlay one last piece of bad news. We have to baby-sit the girl until our employer calls with the drop-off point. She says we should hear from him later in the day.
Not wanting to sit around in a hotel car park all day, Finlay drives us down to Touristville to find somewhere to hole up. The motel we end up doesn't seem to have a name and looks like it's run by one of the local gangs. But at least no-one will sell us out to the cops down here. Dances stops of at a nearby stuffer shack to pick up some food and drinks and then we settle in to wait.
After a couple of hours, Jane asks if she can use the bathroom. I let her in but warn her not to try getting away. She tries anyway. Luckily Zero's got good ears and less manners than me, pushing the door open to catch Jane standing on the toilet trying to force the little window open.
Eventually, Finlay gets the call. Drop is tomorrow at dawn - what is it with all these early mornings - down in Tarislar, the elven ghetto in Puyallup. To give you an idea how bad it is, Puyallup is a toxic hellhole due to shit that went down in the Great Ghost Dance and Tarislar is the shitty part of Puyallup.
Seattle, 4 Jan 2051
The ash makes it look like it's been snowing, which strangely enough for the time of year it hasn't. Everything is grey, even the people. They watch us silently as we drive by, the only vehicle on the road in this part of town. It's kinda creepy and I have to keep adjusting my eyes to compensate for the lack of contrast. The locals seem to know somethings going down and have turned out along the roads to watch our one car parade as Finlay eases it along junk-covered roads of cracked tarmac.
Our destination is the old Southwind complex, abandoned when the volcanoes erupted. Three towers slowly emerge out of the gloom and there seems to be a waiting committee. In addition to a crowd of grubby locals, there is this one old guy, a cyberpunk gandalf with blind eyes much like Zero's. He talks some nonsense at us, but the gist of it is that we are gonna have to climb the central tower, the tallest one, to deliver the package.
Even in the car we could smell and taste the ash, but outside it catches in your lungs. Most of us have scarfs against the cold, except for Jane Foster. Dances uses his medkit to rig up a mask for her with some gauze and surgical tape and we head into the ruined tower.
It's a long climb, some forty stories and even with the makeshift masks we are coughing and wheezing by floor twenty. The place is quiet and gloomy, with just some grey light filtering down from above to light the cracked walls and stairs. As we get close to the top, there are phrases scrawled on the wall. Recent too. Most of them are philosophical mumbo-jumbo but one, a phrase from George Orwell's 1984, triggers a memory of when I was a girl at school.
It kind of freaked me out then, but the things I've seen and done since would freak out Mr Orwell. Shortly after things get even more freaky. Dances starts whistling a tune and when I shush him he looks at me kind of confused. But a couple of floors later we can all hear it. Someone up there is playing a guitar and playing it well. Not my kind of music, something complex and latin.
Finally we reach the top. We are all on edge wondering what to expect, but none of us are ready for what we see. Most of the partition walls are gone, as are the windows. There is a den, like you'd find in some trendy loft appartment. A beat up old sofa and a coffee table with some glasses and a decanter on it. However, that's not what gets us going. No, it's the dude, our employer I presume. A tall, lean elf standing with his back to us. He seems to sense our presence, bringing his tune to a crescendo then with a deft flick twisting the guitar around and placing it in a rack. He turns and bows, light glinting off one pointed ear that seems to be made of silver. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Eyes that are framed by makeup in an extravagant diamond pattern. He welcomes us with an open arm gesture and introduces himself as Harlequin. No, not just Harlequin but THE Harlequin.
He ignores the four guns pointed at him, striding up to me and addressing me with my real name, then deftly plucking my real hand from the Colt's barrel grip and planting a chaste kiss on the back of it. I am still staring at my hand as he moves on to Zero, addressing her as Nimue Something-or-other and repeating the hand kissing thing. Finlay is next, just a firm handshake and then he looks at Dances with a sort of despairing look and a shrug. The injun has backed away from the elf and is still holding his shotgun aimed centre mass on him with a wild look in his eyes.
Seeming to lose interest in convincing Dances to shake hands, the elf spins back to the rest of and offers us drinks. He gives Zero a genuine Coca Cola, something that aint been on the market for maybe 20 years and then offers a glass of 50 year old single malt to both Finlay and me. I start to decline, but he simply nods and pours just a tiny taste into a cracked crystal glass and then two more substantial measures into two other glasses. He hands one to Finlay and the tiny measure to me, saying that I should at least savour the flavour.
It's a strange tableau, three of us standing there with a glass in one hand and a gun in the other. Dances' shotgun never leaves the elf, who is seemingly non-plussed by the weirdness of the whole situation. He starts talking then, something about Jane Foster being the daughter of Ehran, one the big chiefs of the elves. Something about a competition or feud between him and Ehran that he is going to win. And something about one last thing he needs us to do. He needs us to sing.
Well I aint to keen on singing but its a long way from the worst I've done for a few nuyen. He coaxes a note out of me, higher than I thought I could hold, then an even higher tone from Zero and a deep bass note from Finlay. Dances is still being stubborn, so the elf adds one more himself and then somehow manages to harmonise with himself. He takes Jane's hands in his own and leads her to the centre of the room.
Finlay stops singing to say he'll shoot if Harlequin harms her, saving me the trouble of doing the same. The elf makes a dismissive gesture and tells us to keep singing. Then there is a pulse, not something visible but something we all can feel going out from Harley and the girl. And then something comes back. There is a flash as a magic circle becomes visible for a second and then Jane collapse as light bursts from her leg. The return pulse tosses Harley across the room. Finlay's gun follows him spitting lead, while Dances moves towards the girl.
Harley twists in the air, Finlay's bullets seeming to twist around from him, gathering into a swirling ball in the elf's hand as he lands on his feet, his eyes blazing. Finlay's gun clicks empty and he draws his spear and charges the elf who is now also moving back towards the girl. As Finlay strikes, Harley seems to take a half step back, catches the haft of the spear and smacks the ork squarely between the eyes with his own weapon. Finlay staggers back stunned and I put my hand across his chest and shake my head. He gets it and relaxes.
Dances is working on the girl and after a few minutes, seems to have stopped the worst of the bleeding. Harley explains angrily that whatever Ehran had done may also have cost him and that if he is hurt, then Harley loses at whatever willy-waving game they are playing.
He pretty much orders us to go check on his adversary, pointing to a plume of smoke coming from
He then scoops Jane Foster into his arms and steps off the side of the building. By the time we get to where he was and look over, he is nowhere to be seen. Fragger could at least have given us a lift back to the ground floor.
As we head back down the stairs, Finlay contacts Seaside to see if Osprey is available for a hotdrop on an active volcano. He is. We swing past a REI store on our way back to Seaside's and pick up some respirators. Finlay was hoping for gas masks, but we don't really want to keep the crazy elf waiting too long. It's a short trip from Seaside's by boat to Osprey's landing pad and an even quicker trip to the mountain. Fortunately, there is plenty of air traffic trying to get close, mainly media helicopters, so the Salish security are run off their feet and Osprey slips us through easily.
Dances has downloaded some GPS data on the mountain and reckons the visitor centre will be the best route into the lava tunnels under the mountain. We climb carefully up the scree, avoiding ground patrols. The visitor centre has been abandoned in a hurry, the doors to the main entrance standing open. We slip inside and Dances leads us to the tunnels.
In contrast to the cold weather outside, it's warm in the tunnels, stifling even in some places. It's also dark and the lava throws off thermo, so we have to rely on torches and low-light. After some wandering around lava tubes for a while we pretty much stumble on a worked tunnel leading in the right direction.
It comes out into a larger opening, with a stone span across a deep drop. Finlay edges out over the natural bridge, testing the ground with his spear, when something drops on him from above. It's an embracer, a gorilla-like creature that is sheathed in fire. I've heard stories of them from the injuns but never seen one till now.
Finlay struggles to escape its grasp. I try to get a shot in but in trying not to hit the orc also miss the beast. Dances aim is better and his SPAS barks in the gloom. The thing roars but at least it lets go of Finlay who tumbles off the bridge and rolls to put out his burning armour. Dances second shot kills the thing and it tumbles off the bridge.
We carefully cross the bridge. The tunnel on the far side flickers like a broken holo, one minute there, the next not. Dances thinks its some sort of broken illusion. Finlay edges through it until his spear hits an invisible barrier and is ripped from his hand and flung back down the corridor, it's powers apparently disrupted. The same happens to Dances, although in his case his spell focus is on a leather thong and nearly chokes him as it is repelled by the invisible field. The barrier doesn't seems to prevent people passing through and with their magic items inert, both Finlay and Dances make it through on their second attempts.
The walls beyond the barrier are beautiful white marble inlaid with streaks of what looks like real gold. Opulent and classical are the best description of the furnishings. As we come round a corner there is a set of double doors with a four short creatures waiting, each in a distinctly coloured outfit. They look like munchkins, a sort of monkey-like creature that walks on its hind legs. There is some dispute about whether they are fully sentient or not, but then the green clad one talks and I guess that confirms that. Not that anyone will ever believe us.
It offers us food (real strawberries) and drinks (champagne). I decline the booze but the strawberries are delicous. It then leads us through the doors. The complex here is large. I wonder how the hell Ehran managed to build it here and keep it concealed. In the main lounge, we find the elf's body.
Dances checks him out but shakes his head saying he's been dead for hours. He reckons that either the pulse Harlequin sent or the one that Ehran sent back killed him. Frag, guess that means that Harley loses too. Just hope he doesn't kill the messenger even through he did say that as his agents in this stupid game, we were not supposed to be harmed. Yeah, right.
We move the body from the floor and lay it out on one of the antique loungers in the room. Then we wait. I ask one of the munchkins if there's anything to eat or drink and after asking what we would like, he escorts us to a dining room and pretty soon we're tucking into real beefburgers, steaks and fries. Finlay doesn't want to leave the body alone while we eat, so he takes his plate back to the lounge and sure enough, just as we're finishing up, Harlequin arrives. We hurry back to the main room in time to catch the end of his rant. I can't follow half of what he's saying but he don't seem too happy. He then questions us about how we found him and Dances give him the low down.
I'm starting to think we're screwed when another Ehran turns up carrying a pair of rapiers, one resting on each shoulder. Yep, another one. Turns out the first body was a fake, some sort of simulacrum good enough to fool both Dances and Harley. Just then, one of the munchkins turns up and announces that some new guests have arrived. Both Harley and Ehran seem keen to finish of their little contest so Ehran tells us to delay them but warns us that while they are on his property they are technically under his protection and although we are supposedly protected by the rules of the game, if anything were to happen to them, bad things would happen to us.
We hustle off to delay the dudes who might have no qualms about killing us but who we can't harm. In terms of non-lethal, I've got a tazer with four rounds and Dances has a handful of gel rounds for his shotgun. Finaly will just have to beat them senseless. We arrive at the main entrance just in time to hear one of the munchkins say 'This way!'
Looking around I spot a big ass antique dresser agianst the wall and a plan forms in my mind. I subvocalise to Dances to hold the door for a moment and turning to Finlay, nod towards the dresser. He smiles. Frag is it heavy. Desperation helps me trigger my enhanced strength, the first time I have consciously managed to do it, and we haul it across in front of the door just as the munchkin announces 'door stuck' to the mystery guests. All three of us get behind it and push it hard against the doors.
There is some discussion on the other side of the door in a singsong language. Dances says it's Sperethiel, the elf language and that he can make out some of what they are saying. Something about having to deliver something personally or the prince will be pissed. They ask the munchkin why the doors won't open, but it sure doesn't know why. They try to push it open but between the three of us and the heavy dresser, we keep it firmly closed. Eventually a letter is slipped under the door and a few moments later we can hear footsteps retreating.
Finlay scoops up the letter and we return to the main room in time to see the main event. Jesus, but do these boys know how to wield a blade. They are blindingly fast and as I watch I realise that they are not just fighting with the blades, but that magic, misdirection and plain old insults are flowing back and forth between them. I don't quite catch the turn, but suddenly there is a roar of pain from Ehran and he clutches at his head. Blood flows from where his ear was but a moment before. Harlequin howls in victory, his moment dampened only slighty by Ehran screeching that he hadn't won, just evened the score. Then Ehran sort of folds in on himself and disappears.
Harlequin bows and winks at us, then casually lobs his blade towards Zero before pulling the same stunt. There is silence for a moment, then from behind us comes a slow hand clap. I spin, bringing my pistol to bear on the sound. It's the fragging elf woman I spotted as we fled from the house where we were tortured when we were captured a couple of months ago.
I lower the pistol as I have the feeling she can pull the same sort of magic tricks as Harlequin and Ehran. She actually compliments us for getting so far, but warns that the magic that normally protects this place will soon be back online and it would be best if we were not here when that happened. We take her at her word and scram.
Seattle, 15 Jan 2051
I guess the rapier was our payment. It's a genuine antique and worth a bundle. Zero got it appraised by some guy from New York. Cost several grand just to get him to look at it. Of course, without any papers, finding a buyer for it might be a problem.
Today, I got a package from Harlequin. There was a picture of him in some desert bowing towards the camera. A woman that looked like Jane Foster was there too, off to one side talking to someone out of the picture. On the back he had written, 'It's hot as hell where we are. Wish you were here' and signed it 'H'. The package also included a set of keys and the address of a lock-up garage. I got Jamal to give me a ride over in his cab. The garage contained a green car with black stripes on the hood. I recognised it immediately. It is the car that rammed the yaks that were tailing me a while back. It's a classic, no electronics, no grid guide and a growling engine that won't run on anything but real gas. When I drove it back to Seaside's the old man nearly had a heart attack. He tells me it's an 1964 Ford Mustang from before they got fat and slow and when car designers still knew how to build a car with looks. It certainly has that, and a V8 engine that scares the crap out of pedestrians and passengers when you floor the gas.
August 4, 2012
Billie's Journal - Missouri
Missouri, 1 Jan 2051
The flight to Missouri is quiet and I sleep most of the way. I'm still hurting from where them injuns shot me. While I can shut out the pain, it takes an effort and without any Jack to help numb the world, I can't maintain my concentration. Guess at least I'm not a mean drunk anymore, just plain mean.
We switch planes at the airport, climbing into a small twin engined propellor plane for the next leg of our journey. Guess I missed that part of the mission brief, I thought the mark was in Jefferson City. Seems we get to see the more scenic parts of the state. Yee haw!
Landing at our destination, I trail after Zero to pick up the rental. It's some unidentifiable people carrier, Shiawase maybe or more likely Ford down here in hicksville. The overly friendly clerk directs us to a Fedex box in the trunk then hangs around until Zero tips her a few yen to be on her way. I snap out my wrist blade and after a quick check for any suspicious wires or ticking, open it up. There's a sealed container, containing the fragging flower we just spent three weeks in the fragging Amazon stealing.
The note with it, which is in real flowery handwriting, instructs us to leave the flower at the mark's appartment. I am starting to take a dislike to our current employer. I feel like he has us running around on pointless errands that make not a jot of sense. I could be back in Seattle hunting down yaks to rescue the missing women, rather than running around kidnapping them. This whole deal is starting to leave a sour taste in my mouth and it ain't from drinking too much whiskey.
We pile into the car and head to one of the town's two motels. It's a dump and don't look to have too many guests although the fella running the place still fakes checking the register to see if he has any rooms available. We take a couple of rooms next to each other, me an Zero in one, Finlay and Henry Leon in the other. While Zero checks the matrix link via the trid player, I unpack and put on some more clothes. I had picked up some winter gear in the duty free at the airport, but the car kept pointing out in friendly if slighty chinese accented english that it was minus 15 outside. It sure felt like it and I ain't exactly carrying a lot of extra padding to keep out the cold.
I've just about warmed up when the boys come by and suggest we go get some food and make plans. I guess I am hungry too. The place we end up at is as simple as the food, and it's all soy or krill. I don't particularly care and the soysteak tastes close enough to beef that I ain't complaining. After eating, we decide to take a swing by the mark's appartment to scope it out.
The building is nothing special and Finlay fakes his way in using the tried and tested method of hitting all the buzzers until some fool lets him in. I stay in the car with Henry, who is supposed to be scouting in the astral although he sounds more like he's sleeping on the job.
Zero goes in with Finlay. A few minutes later Finlay's on the comm telling us that it looks like someone beat us to the mark. They found the maglock on the door fried, blood on the carpet and a hidden message scrawled on the bathroom mirror saying to contact some group called the Pretenders for help. I scan around the building but don't see anyone lurking around so we head back to the motel to do some checking.
Zero decks in and Henry tries to track our target on the astral using a silver lighter Finlay found at her house. A few hours later Henry has struck out but Zero strikes gold. Seems the Pretenders are some local wizzer biker gang that hangs out at some place called the BK Lounge. But before we head out there we are going to need some ordnance. Helm's bossy underling gave us the details of some local dealer and Zero sets up a meet.
His place is about twenty minutes out of town, but it takes us a good thirty in the snow even though the roads have been partly cleared. Some old dude answers the door at the farmstead and when he hears Zero's accents immediately starts babbling at her in French. Seems our gunrunner is a fragging schoolteacher.
He does have a pretty sweet little setup concealed under his barn though, with a fair selection of armaments that you wont find at the local hunting store. I pick up an old Manhunter with an external smartlink and silencer, a light .38 special in a concealed holster, a Defiance taser and a Colt Cobra SMG just in case things get out of hand. We then swing back into town past the local outdoors store where I pick up a nice tan duster that even has frills on the back. I am tempted to try on a stetson, seen a few people around town wearing them, but Zero gives me the look and I put it back down. Sorry Billie, you have to stay dead girl. Instead Zero picks up some makeup, hair dye and a light grey shirt, saying I need to look good to go dancing. Right, me dance. I dont think so.
We go back to the motel, picking up some food on the way and then start getting ready. Zero helps me dye my hair black again covering up the blonde roots that were coming through, then dyes her own hair white. She looks pretty hot, but then she always does. I wear my skinny black jeans with the new grey shirt and Zero surprises me with a similar outfit. Usually she has a lot more flesh on display than me, so whatever happened to her has left more marks than those on her neck.
We can see the twin searchlight on the roof of the BK Lounge long before we arrive at the parking lot. It's busy even for a week night. Guess folks round here are still celebrating the New Year. There's even a line waiting to get in and by the time we do, my teeth are chattering and I swear there's frost on my cyberarm.
Gun control at the door is non-existant and plenty of the patrons seem to be packing. The music is a mix or rock, blues and country and everyone seems to be having a good time. I nurse a non-alcoholic beer while the others try to blend in by joining the locals in line dancing. It's strangely disturbing to see a skinny black fella and a big Scottish ork dancing with underdressed cowgirls, but Henry and Finlay seem to be having a good time. Zero drags me up for one dance but even though I know the moves, I just can't get into it. I retire to our booth and brush off some local who tries to get me back on the dance floor with a girl's best defence: bad time of the month.
At the back of the saloon, people are keeping a respectable distance from a group of Pretenders. Finlay and Henry approach them and I can see plenty of people keeping an eye on developments, but can't tell if they're just interested locals or other 'interested parties'. Whatever line Finlay and Henry try doesn't seem to go down well with the Pretenders. They return to our booth and tell us that the Pretenders told them they have the girl but weren't willing to say any more than that she was safe.
While they were chatting, Zero had hacked into the local phone tower and she manages to intercept and trace a message from one of the Pretenders to an address in town. As we move to leave, Finlay notices a couple paying us just a bit too much attention and snaps a photo of them with his phone. Back in the car he shows us the picture, and as he reverses out of the parking bay I spot them coming out and heading round the side of the building.
Finlay does a slow pass as I screw the silencer onto the old Manhunter. If I can take out their tires, they won't be able to follow us. However, just as I am taking aim, I catch a glint of steel from the driver's window. We've been made. I take a shot at the driver but he's fast and draws his hand back inside.
I yell at Finlay to go, go, go and he floors it. But the ground is still slippy so he can't go too fast without losing control. Plus, there's plenty of yahoos in the car park that he trying to avoid hitting. Mr Fast doesn't seem to care and reverses out of his bay wheels spinning. He's driving and trying to shoot us at the same time. A couple of bursts of SMG fire force me to duck for cover and take out the rear window of our hire car. I return fire, but with the two cars sliding about on the snow and Mr Fast's clearly enhanced reflexes, my shots miss their mark. Zero places a couple of better aimed shots at his headlights, then Finlay fakes him out with the old fog lamp trick while Henry hits him with a spell that leaves them at a dead stop and lets us get away clean.
But plenty of people seen and heard the shooting. It's only a matter of time before it gets back to the Pretenders. Finlay pushes it as fast as he can back into town, only slowing to let a couple of police cruisers pass on their way to the bar.
The location Zero traced down turns out to be a woman's refuge, which just about makes me want to pack in this whole clusterfrag and go home. But a job is a job. I tuck away the Manhunter and draw the taser. I have no desire to shoot any 'wayward women' or even any of the Pretenders. Sure, they blew off Finlay and Henry, but they were just protecting a friend.
Zero and Henry head round back while I jimmy the lock on the front. The fingers on my left hand are going numb by the time it clicks open. Fortunately, my right hand don't suffer from the cold. We creep down the corridor. There's a trid playing in the sitting room and a couple of women sitting in there. As we get to the door, we hear footsteps coming our way and a woman's voice saying something about feeling a draft. As she rounds the corner, Finlay grabs her and I move in past him. There's a couple of ladies looking at me wide-eyed from the settee, but my main target is the Pretender half asleep in a chair across the room from me.
The heavy darts from the taser hit him square in the chest and he twitches and stops trying to wake up. A second Pretender in the back of the room shakes a woman awake and tells her to run then grunts as Henry hits him with his mojo. The woman runs out the back, where Zero and Henry are hiding, so I put another dart into the staggering Pretender and back out after Finlay.
We circle the block and find Henry and Zero with a dejected looking mark. She didn't put up a fight when she realised they had grabbed her and she don't look like she's gonna try now. We get her into the car and drive off into the night.
We swing past her apartment and drop off the flower, then spend a couple of hours circling the town while waiting for our extraction to arrive. Back at the airport, Helm's bossy assistant is there and takes us to a waiting Learjet. And we're off. Not exactly the smoothest of runs but we did make it in and out in less than twenty four hours and none of us got shot. Hell we even made it out with the gear we bought. So why do I feel so bad?
When we land in Seattle, there's a couple of suits waiting for the girl. I ask one of them if she's going to be okay. He shrugs with that none of my business attitude and tells me he's just a delivery boy. It's times like this I regret giving up the booze.
The flight to Missouri is quiet and I sleep most of the way. I'm still hurting from where them injuns shot me. While I can shut out the pain, it takes an effort and without any Jack to help numb the world, I can't maintain my concentration. Guess at least I'm not a mean drunk anymore, just plain mean.
We switch planes at the airport, climbing into a small twin engined propellor plane for the next leg of our journey. Guess I missed that part of the mission brief, I thought the mark was in Jefferson City. Seems we get to see the more scenic parts of the state. Yee haw!
Landing at our destination, I trail after Zero to pick up the rental. It's some unidentifiable people carrier, Shiawase maybe or more likely Ford down here in hicksville. The overly friendly clerk directs us to a Fedex box in the trunk then hangs around until Zero tips her a few yen to be on her way. I snap out my wrist blade and after a quick check for any suspicious wires or ticking, open it up. There's a sealed container, containing the fragging flower we just spent three weeks in the fragging Amazon stealing.
The note with it, which is in real flowery handwriting, instructs us to leave the flower at the mark's appartment. I am starting to take a dislike to our current employer. I feel like he has us running around on pointless errands that make not a jot of sense. I could be back in Seattle hunting down yaks to rescue the missing women, rather than running around kidnapping them. This whole deal is starting to leave a sour taste in my mouth and it ain't from drinking too much whiskey.
We pile into the car and head to one of the town's two motels. It's a dump and don't look to have too many guests although the fella running the place still fakes checking the register to see if he has any rooms available. We take a couple of rooms next to each other, me an Zero in one, Finlay and Henry Leon in the other. While Zero checks the matrix link via the trid player, I unpack and put on some more clothes. I had picked up some winter gear in the duty free at the airport, but the car kept pointing out in friendly if slighty chinese accented english that it was minus 15 outside. It sure felt like it and I ain't exactly carrying a lot of extra padding to keep out the cold.
I've just about warmed up when the boys come by and suggest we go get some food and make plans. I guess I am hungry too. The place we end up at is as simple as the food, and it's all soy or krill. I don't particularly care and the soysteak tastes close enough to beef that I ain't complaining. After eating, we decide to take a swing by the mark's appartment to scope it out.
The building is nothing special and Finlay fakes his way in using the tried and tested method of hitting all the buzzers until some fool lets him in. I stay in the car with Henry, who is supposed to be scouting in the astral although he sounds more like he's sleeping on the job.
Zero goes in with Finlay. A few minutes later Finlay's on the comm telling us that it looks like someone beat us to the mark. They found the maglock on the door fried, blood on the carpet and a hidden message scrawled on the bathroom mirror saying to contact some group called the Pretenders for help. I scan around the building but don't see anyone lurking around so we head back to the motel to do some checking.
Zero decks in and Henry tries to track our target on the astral using a silver lighter Finlay found at her house. A few hours later Henry has struck out but Zero strikes gold. Seems the Pretenders are some local wizzer biker gang that hangs out at some place called the BK Lounge. But before we head out there we are going to need some ordnance. Helm's bossy underling gave us the details of some local dealer and Zero sets up a meet.
His place is about twenty minutes out of town, but it takes us a good thirty in the snow even though the roads have been partly cleared. Some old dude answers the door at the farmstead and when he hears Zero's accents immediately starts babbling at her in French. Seems our gunrunner is a fragging schoolteacher.
He does have a pretty sweet little setup concealed under his barn though, with a fair selection of armaments that you wont find at the local hunting store. I pick up an old Manhunter with an external smartlink and silencer, a light .38 special in a concealed holster, a Defiance taser and a Colt Cobra SMG just in case things get out of hand. We then swing back into town past the local outdoors store where I pick up a nice tan duster that even has frills on the back. I am tempted to try on a stetson, seen a few people around town wearing them, but Zero gives me the look and I put it back down. Sorry Billie, you have to stay dead girl. Instead Zero picks up some makeup, hair dye and a light grey shirt, saying I need to look good to go dancing. Right, me dance. I dont think so.
We go back to the motel, picking up some food on the way and then start getting ready. Zero helps me dye my hair black again covering up the blonde roots that were coming through, then dyes her own hair white. She looks pretty hot, but then she always does. I wear my skinny black jeans with the new grey shirt and Zero surprises me with a similar outfit. Usually she has a lot more flesh on display than me, so whatever happened to her has left more marks than those on her neck.
We can see the twin searchlight on the roof of the BK Lounge long before we arrive at the parking lot. It's busy even for a week night. Guess folks round here are still celebrating the New Year. There's even a line waiting to get in and by the time we do, my teeth are chattering and I swear there's frost on my cyberarm.
Gun control at the door is non-existant and plenty of the patrons seem to be packing. The music is a mix or rock, blues and country and everyone seems to be having a good time. I nurse a non-alcoholic beer while the others try to blend in by joining the locals in line dancing. It's strangely disturbing to see a skinny black fella and a big Scottish ork dancing with underdressed cowgirls, but Henry and Finlay seem to be having a good time. Zero drags me up for one dance but even though I know the moves, I just can't get into it. I retire to our booth and brush off some local who tries to get me back on the dance floor with a girl's best defence: bad time of the month.
At the back of the saloon, people are keeping a respectable distance from a group of Pretenders. Finlay and Henry approach them and I can see plenty of people keeping an eye on developments, but can't tell if they're just interested locals or other 'interested parties'. Whatever line Finlay and Henry try doesn't seem to go down well with the Pretenders. They return to our booth and tell us that the Pretenders told them they have the girl but weren't willing to say any more than that she was safe.
While they were chatting, Zero had hacked into the local phone tower and she manages to intercept and trace a message from one of the Pretenders to an address in town. As we move to leave, Finlay notices a couple paying us just a bit too much attention and snaps a photo of them with his phone. Back in the car he shows us the picture, and as he reverses out of the parking bay I spot them coming out and heading round the side of the building.
Finlay does a slow pass as I screw the silencer onto the old Manhunter. If I can take out their tires, they won't be able to follow us. However, just as I am taking aim, I catch a glint of steel from the driver's window. We've been made. I take a shot at the driver but he's fast and draws his hand back inside.
I yell at Finlay to go, go, go and he floors it. But the ground is still slippy so he can't go too fast without losing control. Plus, there's plenty of yahoos in the car park that he trying to avoid hitting. Mr Fast doesn't seem to care and reverses out of his bay wheels spinning. He's driving and trying to shoot us at the same time. A couple of bursts of SMG fire force me to duck for cover and take out the rear window of our hire car. I return fire, but with the two cars sliding about on the snow and Mr Fast's clearly enhanced reflexes, my shots miss their mark. Zero places a couple of better aimed shots at his headlights, then Finlay fakes him out with the old fog lamp trick while Henry hits him with a spell that leaves them at a dead stop and lets us get away clean.
But plenty of people seen and heard the shooting. It's only a matter of time before it gets back to the Pretenders. Finlay pushes it as fast as he can back into town, only slowing to let a couple of police cruisers pass on their way to the bar.
The location Zero traced down turns out to be a woman's refuge, which just about makes me want to pack in this whole clusterfrag and go home. But a job is a job. I tuck away the Manhunter and draw the taser. I have no desire to shoot any 'wayward women' or even any of the Pretenders. Sure, they blew off Finlay and Henry, but they were just protecting a friend.
Zero and Henry head round back while I jimmy the lock on the front. The fingers on my left hand are going numb by the time it clicks open. Fortunately, my right hand don't suffer from the cold. We creep down the corridor. There's a trid playing in the sitting room and a couple of women sitting in there. As we get to the door, we hear footsteps coming our way and a woman's voice saying something about feeling a draft. As she rounds the corner, Finlay grabs her and I move in past him. There's a couple of ladies looking at me wide-eyed from the settee, but my main target is the Pretender half asleep in a chair across the room from me.
The heavy darts from the taser hit him square in the chest and he twitches and stops trying to wake up. A second Pretender in the back of the room shakes a woman awake and tells her to run then grunts as Henry hits him with his mojo. The woman runs out the back, where Zero and Henry are hiding, so I put another dart into the staggering Pretender and back out after Finlay.
We circle the block and find Henry and Zero with a dejected looking mark. She didn't put up a fight when she realised they had grabbed her and she don't look like she's gonna try now. We get her into the car and drive off into the night.
We swing past her apartment and drop off the flower, then spend a couple of hours circling the town while waiting for our extraction to arrive. Back at the airport, Helm's bossy assistant is there and takes us to a waiting Learjet. And we're off. Not exactly the smoothest of runs but we did make it in and out in less than twenty four hours and none of us got shot. Hell we even made it out with the gear we bought. So why do I feel so bad?
When we land in Seattle, there's a couple of suits waiting for the girl. I ask one of them if she's going to be okay. He shrugs with that none of my business attitude and tells me he's just a delivery boy. It's times like this I regret giving up the booze.
June 15, 2012
Billie's Journal - Orchid
Amazon river, 29 December 2050
I wake up feeling a little queasy, whether from the tree worms or the local hooch I can't really say. Some water and a few pills from the medkit sort me out and we wave goodbye to the locals. Before they head off downstream, they warn us about 'demons' upstream. Dances says we should be there by nightfall, assuming the map in his orientation system is correct. He says it's been getting further off the further we go.
He's also got a clock in his head and lets us know when it's noon, when Zero is due to call. She doesn't. By the time she does, Finlay is pretty twitchy and the conversation doesn't go down well. And it's no lover's tiff either. Seems Zero has taken another job and for the Russian fixer Maxim, no less. Not a man to cross according to Finlay. Zero claims the other run will be done before midnight and she'll be online to cover us in the matrix. She better be!
We row pretty much all day. I think I'm finally getting the hang of canoeing. As evening falls, Dances announces we're as close as we can get by river. We pull the canoes ashore, deflate them and stash them just in case. It's always good to have a plan B.
We trek for about an hour through the jungle. Dances is leading the way, his orientation system keeping us on track. Suddenly, another bunch of natives appear out of the bushes around us. I didn't hear or see them coming and the rest of the team seems equally surprised. These dudes ain't too friendly and the shrunken heads on their belts make that clear. Their chief makes it pretty clear they don't want us on their land, gesturing back the way we came. They got us cold, so we back off slowly until they are out of sight, then take another path that will hopefully bring us around them and back to the target.
Let's just say it was a good plan. About a half hour later Finlay warns us that he can smell them and then they are all over us again. For whatever reason, they seem to pick on me. Maybe because I'm the only elf, only woman or only white person on the team. Whatever it is, two of them try to pig-stick me with their spears. I feel one of them penetrate the armor, but it's not deep. Then a third one shoots me with a fragging arrow. Praise the Lord for plastic bone lacing, cause that's all that stops it puncturing a lung. I take a wild swing at the nearest spear-chucker but he dodges out of the way.
The others ain't exactly getting off light either. Dances has another spearman stabbing at him and Finlay's fighting off a spider the size of a fragging horse. Fortunately, Henry Leon or Ju-Ju as Dances has taken to calling him gets off a spell that frags up the two injuns trying to stab me. They don't seem to like that and hightail it back into the jungle. Arrow boy takes another pot shot at me but I'm ready for him now and it bounces harmlessly off my armor jacket. I return the favour, putting a couple of gel rounds into him and he drops.
Finlay takes down the spider and Dances puts a shotgun round into the injun trying to gut him. And just like that the fraggers are gone. Dances patches me up as best he can and we move on. Lucky for me, my 'special talents' include the ability to ignore a fair amount of pain, so I ain't hurting too bad.
With the help of a spirit smmoned by Ju-Ju, we shake the injuns and head on to the compound. It's pretty much as Zero's surveillance showed it, with the exception of the ex-military chopper sitting next to the hangar. According to Finlay, it can transport up to a dozen fully equipped soldiers. I sure hope we don't end up having to take them on. We're early, so me and Ju-Ju rest up while the others scout the perimeter. Seems that casting them spells and summoning them spirits took its toll on him. Getting stabbed and shot has the same effect on me.
Around an hour or so later, it hits midnight and we're just waiting for Zero to call in do her matrix voodoo on their comms. We're still waiting an hour later, when Finlay gives the go. I take down one of the barghest hounds with the tranq gun when its hidden from the rest of the compound by the hangar. Finlay cuts the fence, without tripping the alarm, and the three gents move in while I cover them. When they reach the hangar, I follow them in. Ju-Ju's takes a little astral walk to check the hangar. According to him there are four people sleeping and one woman up and around. We sneak in to find her resting her eyes in a hammock. Couple of tranq darts later and she is out cold. We tranq the others too just as a precaution and tape them up for good measure. Can't be too careful when you need to be quiet.
Unfortunately one of the guards patrolling the house calls in to check on our sleeping beauties. Too bad none of us speak Spanish. Radio boy is getting pretty agitated. Ju-Ju thinks he's telling the other guard to come over and check on them. So, I slip outside to take a bead on radio boy, while Finlay and Dances wait to ambush the other one. The plan goes smooth as silk. As soon as the guard enters the hangar, Finlay takes him down while I drop the one on the roof. Finlay then runs a quick pre-flight check on the plane, while Ju-Ju disables the helicopter.
Then we sneak across to the greenhouse. Barghest number two is asleep just inside the door and a couple more tranq darts makes sure he stays that way. Dances locates the plant and transfers it to the special container we have for it. And then we fly out, without anyone trying to shoot at us. Only thing we forgot was to disable the radio, so we do hear them calling for help a bit sooner than we would of liked. We cross the border, dump the gear and the plane and pick up our connecting flights back to Seattle. Almost too smooth.
Seattle, 30 December 2050
Back in town, we place the call and arrange a meet to transfer the goods. Some prim corp bitch turns up to pick it up, not Helms. She basically drops it on us that there is a follow-up mission that will require us to leave the following morning for St. Louis to snatch some corp bint. I point out I still got a couple of holes in me but she seems to think what we are being paid should cover that. I guess 350k split five ways with Ju-Ju only taking a 20k cut kinda does. Especially if there is more like that coming our way.
We head back to the garage to clear out our stuff. The place is way beyond compromised. We take the gear to a contact of Seaside's first to get it scrubbed and I accompany Zero to a streetdoc to get her headware checked. The doc finds some dodgy code in her glasses and headware and after rebooting her head or whatever, gives a copy of the code to Zero on a chip. I notice that Zero is covering up marks on her neck that look like someone tried to strangle her but she's not willing to talk about it. Unfortunately Billie sees them too and it's only the fact that we are too busy shifting gear to Seaside's place that stops her doing something about it right then and there. It still takes me the rest of the day to get myself back under control.
Even then , I don't sleep too good which means I'm in a bitch of a mood when we leave for the airport the next morning. While the rest of the team are wondering why we need to extract this Jane Foster, I'm just hoping some fool man tries to stop us.
I wake up feeling a little queasy, whether from the tree worms or the local hooch I can't really say. Some water and a few pills from the medkit sort me out and we wave goodbye to the locals. Before they head off downstream, they warn us about 'demons' upstream. Dances says we should be there by nightfall, assuming the map in his orientation system is correct. He says it's been getting further off the further we go.
He's also got a clock in his head and lets us know when it's noon, when Zero is due to call. She doesn't. By the time she does, Finlay is pretty twitchy and the conversation doesn't go down well. And it's no lover's tiff either. Seems Zero has taken another job and for the Russian fixer Maxim, no less. Not a man to cross according to Finlay. Zero claims the other run will be done before midnight and she'll be online to cover us in the matrix. She better be!
We row pretty much all day. I think I'm finally getting the hang of canoeing. As evening falls, Dances announces we're as close as we can get by river. We pull the canoes ashore, deflate them and stash them just in case. It's always good to have a plan B.
We trek for about an hour through the jungle. Dances is leading the way, his orientation system keeping us on track. Suddenly, another bunch of natives appear out of the bushes around us. I didn't hear or see them coming and the rest of the team seems equally surprised. These dudes ain't too friendly and the shrunken heads on their belts make that clear. Their chief makes it pretty clear they don't want us on their land, gesturing back the way we came. They got us cold, so we back off slowly until they are out of sight, then take another path that will hopefully bring us around them and back to the target.
Let's just say it was a good plan. About a half hour later Finlay warns us that he can smell them and then they are all over us again. For whatever reason, they seem to pick on me. Maybe because I'm the only elf, only woman or only white person on the team. Whatever it is, two of them try to pig-stick me with their spears. I feel one of them penetrate the armor, but it's not deep. Then a third one shoots me with a fragging arrow. Praise the Lord for plastic bone lacing, cause that's all that stops it puncturing a lung. I take a wild swing at the nearest spear-chucker but he dodges out of the way.
The others ain't exactly getting off light either. Dances has another spearman stabbing at him and Finlay's fighting off a spider the size of a fragging horse. Fortunately, Henry Leon or Ju-Ju as Dances has taken to calling him gets off a spell that frags up the two injuns trying to stab me. They don't seem to like that and hightail it back into the jungle. Arrow boy takes another pot shot at me but I'm ready for him now and it bounces harmlessly off my armor jacket. I return the favour, putting a couple of gel rounds into him and he drops.
Finlay takes down the spider and Dances puts a shotgun round into the injun trying to gut him. And just like that the fraggers are gone. Dances patches me up as best he can and we move on. Lucky for me, my 'special talents' include the ability to ignore a fair amount of pain, so I ain't hurting too bad.
With the help of a spirit smmoned by Ju-Ju, we shake the injuns and head on to the compound. It's pretty much as Zero's surveillance showed it, with the exception of the ex-military chopper sitting next to the hangar. According to Finlay, it can transport up to a dozen fully equipped soldiers. I sure hope we don't end up having to take them on. We're early, so me and Ju-Ju rest up while the others scout the perimeter. Seems that casting them spells and summoning them spirits took its toll on him. Getting stabbed and shot has the same effect on me.
Around an hour or so later, it hits midnight and we're just waiting for Zero to call in do her matrix voodoo on their comms. We're still waiting an hour later, when Finlay gives the go. I take down one of the barghest hounds with the tranq gun when its hidden from the rest of the compound by the hangar. Finlay cuts the fence, without tripping the alarm, and the three gents move in while I cover them. When they reach the hangar, I follow them in. Ju-Ju's takes a little astral walk to check the hangar. According to him there are four people sleeping and one woman up and around. We sneak in to find her resting her eyes in a hammock. Couple of tranq darts later and she is out cold. We tranq the others too just as a precaution and tape them up for good measure. Can't be too careful when you need to be quiet.
Unfortunately one of the guards patrolling the house calls in to check on our sleeping beauties. Too bad none of us speak Spanish. Radio boy is getting pretty agitated. Ju-Ju thinks he's telling the other guard to come over and check on them. So, I slip outside to take a bead on radio boy, while Finlay and Dances wait to ambush the other one. The plan goes smooth as silk. As soon as the guard enters the hangar, Finlay takes him down while I drop the one on the roof. Finlay then runs a quick pre-flight check on the plane, while Ju-Ju disables the helicopter.
Then we sneak across to the greenhouse. Barghest number two is asleep just inside the door and a couple more tranq darts makes sure he stays that way. Dances locates the plant and transfers it to the special container we have for it. And then we fly out, without anyone trying to shoot at us. Only thing we forgot was to disable the radio, so we do hear them calling for help a bit sooner than we would of liked. We cross the border, dump the gear and the plane and pick up our connecting flights back to Seattle. Almost too smooth.
Seattle, 30 December 2050
Back in town, we place the call and arrange a meet to transfer the goods. Some prim corp bitch turns up to pick it up, not Helms. She basically drops it on us that there is a follow-up mission that will require us to leave the following morning for St. Louis to snatch some corp bint. I point out I still got a couple of holes in me but she seems to think what we are being paid should cover that. I guess 350k split five ways with Ju-Ju only taking a 20k cut kinda does. Especially if there is more like that coming our way.
We head back to the garage to clear out our stuff. The place is way beyond compromised. We take the gear to a contact of Seaside's first to get it scrubbed and I accompany Zero to a streetdoc to get her headware checked. The doc finds some dodgy code in her glasses and headware and after rebooting her head or whatever, gives a copy of the code to Zero on a chip. I notice that Zero is covering up marks on her neck that look like someone tried to strangle her but she's not willing to talk about it. Unfortunately Billie sees them too and it's only the fact that we are too busy shifting gear to Seaside's place that stops her doing something about it right then and there. It still takes me the rest of the day to get myself back under control.
Even then , I don't sleep too good which means I'm in a bitch of a mood when we leave for the airport the next morning. While the rest of the team are wondering why we need to extract this Jane Foster, I'm just hoping some fool man tries to stop us.
March 28, 2012
Billie's journal - row your boat
Fonte Boa, 25 December 2050
Looks like we aren't quite there yet. We have one more leg to go before we're on our own.
We are met at Fonte Boa's crumbling docks by a very English gent called Green. He's wearing one of those white suit and hat combos that you only see in ancient black and white flatvids. He is the perfect gentlemen, even helping me haul my bags to his van. Creeps me out so I sit in back with Dances while Finlay and Henry-Leon schmooze with him up front.
Green seems to think we are here for bird-watching or some bulldrek cover story. I've shot a few in my time but don't know much anything about different species, just what bits not to eat. He drops us at the crumbling town's only remaining accomodation to freshen up.
I take advantage of the shower and rinse out some of my clothes. I reckon this will be last chance to get clean before we get out of here with the flower. Green turns us up around 6 PM, just as it's getting dark and takes us out for a meal. The food is simple, but real. The jungle might be taking over but whatever magic is behind it makes the food taste great. Or maybe it's just that anything fresh is better than the pre-packaged soy and krill crap I normally eat.
It quickly becomes clear to me that Green knows we're no bird watchers and is fishing for information. Finlay and Leon try to keep up the facade, while Dances just makes their task more difficult. I just keep quiet and enjoy the food.
Towards the end of the evening, Finlay gets a call on the satellite phone. Only Zero has that number and we only just checked in with her so something is up. Finlay takes me aside and tells me that Zero thinks someone has broken into our garage. He makes a couple of calls and I use the sat-phone to drop a message to Sharif to see if maybe he can help out. But he's pretty much retired these days and it could be a day or so before he even checks the dropbox. Finlay finally gets ahold of one of his contacts through Martha and sends him over to babysit Zero. She wont like that and calls to tell him so a couple of hours later. From the way she's shouting at him over the phone, seems she's none the worse for wear.
Fonte Boa, 26 December 2050
We're up before dawn. The boys, all being ex-military, seem unfazed but this is way too early for me. Green takes us out of town to a hidden bay and a camouflaged seaplane. Seems he managed to keep if from being consficated by the locals and uses it for taking foreigners like us upriver. He keeps the plane low, skimming just over the treetops for most of the journey. It's like flying over a green carpet that stretches to the horizon in all directions.
He finally drops us off on a sandbank in the middle of the river. From now on it's all human power. Dances and Finlay take one canoe, me and Leon the other. We paddle for several hours upstream until the late afternoon then camp out on another sandbank, sleeping under the stars in the canoes just in case the water level rises.
Amazon river, 28 December 2050
I can feel the last two days of rowing in my meat arm, back and shoulders.
Earlier this morning I got caught with my pants down, literally. I had taken off a little from our camp and was hunkered down by a tree when I spotted this naked woman and kid lying in the branch of a big tree not fifty metres from where I was. The woman was staring straight at me. Then she shifts into a big cat, growls and picks up the baby before disappearing into the trees. I'd a wet my pants if they weren't already down round my ankles. Needless to say I finished up quick and hussled back to camp.
Now we're enjoying the company of some local natives. A bunch of them came canoeing downstream right at us this afternoon. Fortunately Dances has been studying up on the local lingo and was able to talk them out of killing or eating us or whatever. I had to eat some disgusting tree worm that made them all laugh and drink some of their local liquor. The stuff was so bad it actually made me glad I've mostly given up on the booze.
Looks like we aren't quite there yet. We have one more leg to go before we're on our own.
We are met at Fonte Boa's crumbling docks by a very English gent called Green. He's wearing one of those white suit and hat combos that you only see in ancient black and white flatvids. He is the perfect gentlemen, even helping me haul my bags to his van. Creeps me out so I sit in back with Dances while Finlay and Henry-Leon schmooze with him up front.
Green seems to think we are here for bird-watching or some bulldrek cover story. I've shot a few in my time but don't know much anything about different species, just what bits not to eat. He drops us at the crumbling town's only remaining accomodation to freshen up.
I take advantage of the shower and rinse out some of my clothes. I reckon this will be last chance to get clean before we get out of here with the flower. Green turns us up around 6 PM, just as it's getting dark and takes us out for a meal. The food is simple, but real. The jungle might be taking over but whatever magic is behind it makes the food taste great. Or maybe it's just that anything fresh is better than the pre-packaged soy and krill crap I normally eat.
It quickly becomes clear to me that Green knows we're no bird watchers and is fishing for information. Finlay and Leon try to keep up the facade, while Dances just makes their task more difficult. I just keep quiet and enjoy the food.
Towards the end of the evening, Finlay gets a call on the satellite phone. Only Zero has that number and we only just checked in with her so something is up. Finlay takes me aside and tells me that Zero thinks someone has broken into our garage. He makes a couple of calls and I use the sat-phone to drop a message to Sharif to see if maybe he can help out. But he's pretty much retired these days and it could be a day or so before he even checks the dropbox. Finlay finally gets ahold of one of his contacts through Martha and sends him over to babysit Zero. She wont like that and calls to tell him so a couple of hours later. From the way she's shouting at him over the phone, seems she's none the worse for wear.
Fonte Boa, 26 December 2050
We're up before dawn. The boys, all being ex-military, seem unfazed but this is way too early for me. Green takes us out of town to a hidden bay and a camouflaged seaplane. Seems he managed to keep if from being consficated by the locals and uses it for taking foreigners like us upriver. He keeps the plane low, skimming just over the treetops for most of the journey. It's like flying over a green carpet that stretches to the horizon in all directions.
He finally drops us off on a sandbank in the middle of the river. From now on it's all human power. Dances and Finlay take one canoe, me and Leon the other. We paddle for several hours upstream until the late afternoon then camp out on another sandbank, sleeping under the stars in the canoes just in case the water level rises.
Amazon river, 28 December 2050
I can feel the last two days of rowing in my meat arm, back and shoulders.
Earlier this morning I got caught with my pants down, literally. I had taken off a little from our camp and was hunkered down by a tree when I spotted this naked woman and kid lying in the branch of a big tree not fifty metres from where I was. The woman was staring straight at me. Then she shifts into a big cat, growls and picks up the baby before disappearing into the trees. I'd a wet my pants if they weren't already down round my ankles. Needless to say I finished up quick and hussled back to camp.
Now we're enjoying the company of some local natives. A bunch of them came canoeing downstream right at us this afternoon. Fortunately Dances has been studying up on the local lingo and was able to talk them out of killing or eating us or whatever. I had to eat some disgusting tree worm that made them all laugh and drink some of their local liquor. The stuff was so bad it actually made me glad I've mostly given up on the booze.
February 28, 2012
Billie's journal - Leaving on a jet plane
Seattle, 13 December 2050
Seaside's was a bust. The medbay needs an overhaul we don't have time for right now. Instead I set up a meet with Dances with Wolves, our new injun medic. Maybe he can mojo some information out of it. I also talk to Martha about a replacement for the padre. She says she might have someone suitable, so I set up a meet for that too.
Martha also warns me that the yaks have been sniffing around looking for me. They don't have my name but do have my description down pretty pat. Guess I need to stick with the goth girl disguise for a bit. I call Sharif and give him a heads-up and also drop a message to Aurora, the decker who dug up the dirt on them for me.
We spend the rest of the day reviewing the briefing files and drawing up lists of gear we might need, everything from camouflage outfits and weapons to camping gear and bug spray. Amazonia has gone back to nature in big way, with whole cities lost to jungle and more paracritters than you ever want to meet.
Seattle, 14 December 2050
The next morning, before heading to my meets with Dances and the potential new recruit, I drop by the coffee shop across from the office where Danny works. I join him in the queue and mutter a cryptic message about 'indians on the warpath' and 'circling the wagons'. He manages to keep a straight face, returning just the briefest of nods to indicate he got the message. I get a large black soykaf and add a little Jack to keep out the cold.
Then I head down into the Barrens to Cleo's. Cleo's used to be a decent place for a beer but it lost the 'decent' a long time ago. Now the rooms in back can be rented by the hour, mostly for shady meetings like mine or other nefarious / sleazy activities that I don't really want to think about. Their gun policy is also pretty lax, as in they don't really have one, which isn't always a good thing.
I buy a beer and a burger and pay for a room for a couple of hours. When Dances shows up, I explain about the container and what it contains. He tells me he would need a lab to analyze the specimen but he can have a look at it astrally to see if he can see anything obvious.
He stares at the container and his eyes begin to glow. I only seen magic like this close up a couple of times. The last time was in some backwoods bar up in Salish. I clocked the old injun who was staring at me like that. Turned out he was the local witch doctor and the resulting bar fight got me locked up overnight in the local jail.
My mind is pulled back to the present by a light knock at the door. Seems the new recruit has arrived early. He's tall for a breeder. A big black fella, with a broad nose. He's bald as a baby with a long goatee that looks like it's got a mind of it's own. He's wearing one of those dress robes you sometimes see African dignitaries wearing on the trid. Sort of thing that would get you robbed in this part of town if he wasn't wearing a well-worn military combat jacket over it and carrying an beaten up AK over his shoulder.
Dances looks up at that moment, his eyes still glowing and the two lock gazes for a second. Then I break the moment by introducing myself. The goth outfit seems to catch him momentarily off-guard but he hides his emotions well. From hanging with Finlay, he fairly reeks of military, which matches with what Martha told me of him.
He introduces himself as Henry, then says that most folks just call him Leon. Not used to running our Henry-Leon, but guess we all gotta start somewhere. I introduce Dances as our medic and magical fixer upper. Henry claims to be more the put them down type than patch them up, so sounds like a good match. I lay out the deal as general as I can and try to get some more details on him. He hints at some ops down in Africa and other places. Most don't mean much to me but Dances gives an appreciative nod here and there.
Having covered the basics I ask if he's interested. He says he is and keeps cool when I mention the amount on offer. I had agreed with Finlay and Zero that we would offer 30k, a little less than our shares but then we need to take Martha's ten percent into account. Doesn't faze him so he's either good at covering or used to this sort of pay. I give him a chip with the rest of the details and a number to contact me on, and tell him to be ready by the end of the week.
Seattle, 16 December 2050
Been busy rounding up supples for the last couple of days, mostly camping stuff from various hunting and outdoor stores. Now I'm on my way to pick up the guns with Finlay. We arrive at the warehouse in Tacoma docks late at night. There's a couple of asians waiting outside and Finlay notices me stiffen as I spot them. He tells me to be cool, that the dudes are Koreans not Yaks, but I mentally ease off the safety on the SMG just in case.
Fortunately, the Korean dudes are on the level and the gear is all there. We check it out as their boss checks the certified sticks Finlay used for payment. Some nice stuff too. A couple of combat rifles, a SPAS shotgun for Dances, a nice M42 for me, heavy pistols all round, some grenades and plenty of ammo. The bossman makes a joke about us starting a war. We laugh obligingly as his men load the gear into the van. Still, I only relax when we make it safely back to the garage.
Seattle, 20 December 2050
Jamal picks us up in a rental van and we load the gear and ourselves in the back. We pick up Dances and Leon on the way to the airport and clear security without any problems. The Johnson, Helms, isn't at the hangar. In his place, we are met by some severe nordic skirt with platinum hair. She introduces herself as Erika and shows us where to stow our gear while she runs her preflight checks. Within thirty minutes, we are on the runway and ready to roll. Amazonia here we come.
The first leg of the flight takes about four hours. People nap, check gear and I share a Jack with Leon, mixing mine with a soyacola. We land, refuel and take off again. This time I sleep for a bit, and then we are landing again. Some little scrap of land barely big enough for the Learjet to land on, although Erika brings it down smooth enough. While she refuels for the return journey, a beat up old flatbed comes to pick us up. The driver, Freemont, will be our pilot for the next leg. His bird is an equally beat up twin prop seaplane, a Catalina according to Finlay.
We form a line to load our gear from the dock into the hold and then we are off again. I drift off for a bit, losing track of time. When I wake we are touching down in the dark. At first it seems there is nothing around us but open sea, then the dark shadow of a ship appears before us. We move our gear again, this time into the hold or more likely the bomb bay of what looks to be a decommisioned Russian VTOL nuclear bomber. The steel haired pilot's accent only confirms that suspicion.
Then we are off again, lifting out of the ships hold in a roar of jet turbines. Ilyusin, the pilot, explains we will be coming in hot and need to clear the LZ, landing zone explains Finlay, quick. Seems the Amazonians don't like foreigners sneaking into their lands and have a habit of sending out feathered serpents to deal with trespassers.
We suit up and as soon as the plane touches down on the beach we move out. The heat and humidity hit like a wall as we leave the plane. Ilyusin is in the air with a roar of engines even before we reach the trees and as we do we hear another roar, this one not from a jet but a feathered serpent that screeches overhead and after the rapidly disappearing bomber.
We wait in cover until we are sure it ain't coming back then hightail it towards our next contact. A GPS beacon leads us through the forest to a small village on the banks of the river. A couple of local girls are being chatted up by a two unsavoury looking types on a low boat. Another man comes on deck and chases the girls away. I don't grok the lingo, which Leon says is Portuguese. The guy in charge is wearing a red bandana round his left arm and the GPS is pointing in his direction so he must be our guy.
He welcomes us on board in bad English, which is still way better than my non-existant Portuguese and directs us to the boat's only cabin. We crash as they cast off, having been on the road now for over twenty hours.
Manaus, 23 December 2050
It takes us three days to get to Manaus. Three days of heat and bugs. The captain complains that we look more like commandos than 'touristas'. The others change in their other gear, but I only packed one outfit for the return trip and it would stand out even more so I stick to the armor's camo pants and olive undershirt. The captain makes some comment about getting me into a bikini. Him and his crew have been leering at me for the last two days so I kinda lose it and show him the blade, snicking it out and back into my hand. One of the crew crosses himself but the captain looks angry and tells me to keep it out of sight. He suggests I get some new clothes in Manaus so that I blend in and even offers to show me around. Creep!
Still with this heat and humidity, I guess I can put up with him if it gets me a couple of changes of clothing. As it turns out, he doesn't try anything on and does know his way around. And he speaks the local lingo so that helps a lot. I pick us a couple of pairs of knee-length khaki shorts, a few white microfiber t-shirts and a couple of long-sleeved linen shirts to conceal my arm. With all the sun, I am starting to pick up a tan. I already have a light dusting of freckles on my face and real arm, but the realskin on the cyberarm doesn't tan and the difference is beginning to show.
Manaus is bustling and more modern that I thought, but seems to be fighting a losing battle against the jungle. There are few cars with most people on foot or bicycles and everyone seems poor. I also see a couple of shifters openly walking the streets. They'd be shot and skinned if they tried that in Seattle. And even though the captain told us to leave our weapons on the boat, many of the locals carry a handgun or knife.
Fonte Boa, 25 December 2050
We arrive at our final drop off point on Christmas day. At least I think it's Christmas this time even though we have been on the road long enough that the days are starting to blur together and I can't get a signal on my phone. From here on, we go by canoe and we'll be on our own.
Seaside's was a bust. The medbay needs an overhaul we don't have time for right now. Instead I set up a meet with Dances with Wolves, our new injun medic. Maybe he can mojo some information out of it. I also talk to Martha about a replacement for the padre. She says she might have someone suitable, so I set up a meet for that too.
Martha also warns me that the yaks have been sniffing around looking for me. They don't have my name but do have my description down pretty pat. Guess I need to stick with the goth girl disguise for a bit. I call Sharif and give him a heads-up and also drop a message to Aurora, the decker who dug up the dirt on them for me.
We spend the rest of the day reviewing the briefing files and drawing up lists of gear we might need, everything from camouflage outfits and weapons to camping gear and bug spray. Amazonia has gone back to nature in big way, with whole cities lost to jungle and more paracritters than you ever want to meet.
Seattle, 14 December 2050
The next morning, before heading to my meets with Dances and the potential new recruit, I drop by the coffee shop across from the office where Danny works. I join him in the queue and mutter a cryptic message about 'indians on the warpath' and 'circling the wagons'. He manages to keep a straight face, returning just the briefest of nods to indicate he got the message. I get a large black soykaf and add a little Jack to keep out the cold.
Then I head down into the Barrens to Cleo's. Cleo's used to be a decent place for a beer but it lost the 'decent' a long time ago. Now the rooms in back can be rented by the hour, mostly for shady meetings like mine or other nefarious / sleazy activities that I don't really want to think about. Their gun policy is also pretty lax, as in they don't really have one, which isn't always a good thing.
I buy a beer and a burger and pay for a room for a couple of hours. When Dances shows up, I explain about the container and what it contains. He tells me he would need a lab to analyze the specimen but he can have a look at it astrally to see if he can see anything obvious.
He stares at the container and his eyes begin to glow. I only seen magic like this close up a couple of times. The last time was in some backwoods bar up in Salish. I clocked the old injun who was staring at me like that. Turned out he was the local witch doctor and the resulting bar fight got me locked up overnight in the local jail.
My mind is pulled back to the present by a light knock at the door. Seems the new recruit has arrived early. He's tall for a breeder. A big black fella, with a broad nose. He's bald as a baby with a long goatee that looks like it's got a mind of it's own. He's wearing one of those dress robes you sometimes see African dignitaries wearing on the trid. Sort of thing that would get you robbed in this part of town if he wasn't wearing a well-worn military combat jacket over it and carrying an beaten up AK over his shoulder.
Dances looks up at that moment, his eyes still glowing and the two lock gazes for a second. Then I break the moment by introducing myself. The goth outfit seems to catch him momentarily off-guard but he hides his emotions well. From hanging with Finlay, he fairly reeks of military, which matches with what Martha told me of him.
He introduces himself as Henry, then says that most folks just call him Leon. Not used to running our Henry-Leon, but guess we all gotta start somewhere. I introduce Dances as our medic and magical fixer upper. Henry claims to be more the put them down type than patch them up, so sounds like a good match. I lay out the deal as general as I can and try to get some more details on him. He hints at some ops down in Africa and other places. Most don't mean much to me but Dances gives an appreciative nod here and there.
Having covered the basics I ask if he's interested. He says he is and keeps cool when I mention the amount on offer. I had agreed with Finlay and Zero that we would offer 30k, a little less than our shares but then we need to take Martha's ten percent into account. Doesn't faze him so he's either good at covering or used to this sort of pay. I give him a chip with the rest of the details and a number to contact me on, and tell him to be ready by the end of the week.
Seattle, 16 December 2050
Been busy rounding up supples for the last couple of days, mostly camping stuff from various hunting and outdoor stores. Now I'm on my way to pick up the guns with Finlay. We arrive at the warehouse in Tacoma docks late at night. There's a couple of asians waiting outside and Finlay notices me stiffen as I spot them. He tells me to be cool, that the dudes are Koreans not Yaks, but I mentally ease off the safety on the SMG just in case.
Fortunately, the Korean dudes are on the level and the gear is all there. We check it out as their boss checks the certified sticks Finlay used for payment. Some nice stuff too. A couple of combat rifles, a SPAS shotgun for Dances, a nice M42 for me, heavy pistols all round, some grenades and plenty of ammo. The bossman makes a joke about us starting a war. We laugh obligingly as his men load the gear into the van. Still, I only relax when we make it safely back to the garage.
Seattle, 20 December 2050
Jamal picks us up in a rental van and we load the gear and ourselves in the back. We pick up Dances and Leon on the way to the airport and clear security without any problems. The Johnson, Helms, isn't at the hangar. In his place, we are met by some severe nordic skirt with platinum hair. She introduces herself as Erika and shows us where to stow our gear while she runs her preflight checks. Within thirty minutes, we are on the runway and ready to roll. Amazonia here we come.
The first leg of the flight takes about four hours. People nap, check gear and I share a Jack with Leon, mixing mine with a soyacola. We land, refuel and take off again. This time I sleep for a bit, and then we are landing again. Some little scrap of land barely big enough for the Learjet to land on, although Erika brings it down smooth enough. While she refuels for the return journey, a beat up old flatbed comes to pick us up. The driver, Freemont, will be our pilot for the next leg. His bird is an equally beat up twin prop seaplane, a Catalina according to Finlay.
We form a line to load our gear from the dock into the hold and then we are off again. I drift off for a bit, losing track of time. When I wake we are touching down in the dark. At first it seems there is nothing around us but open sea, then the dark shadow of a ship appears before us. We move our gear again, this time into the hold or more likely the bomb bay of what looks to be a decommisioned Russian VTOL nuclear bomber. The steel haired pilot's accent only confirms that suspicion.
Then we are off again, lifting out of the ships hold in a roar of jet turbines. Ilyusin, the pilot, explains we will be coming in hot and need to clear the LZ, landing zone explains Finlay, quick. Seems the Amazonians don't like foreigners sneaking into their lands and have a habit of sending out feathered serpents to deal with trespassers.
We suit up and as soon as the plane touches down on the beach we move out. The heat and humidity hit like a wall as we leave the plane. Ilyusin is in the air with a roar of engines even before we reach the trees and as we do we hear another roar, this one not from a jet but a feathered serpent that screeches overhead and after the rapidly disappearing bomber.
We wait in cover until we are sure it ain't coming back then hightail it towards our next contact. A GPS beacon leads us through the forest to a small village on the banks of the river. A couple of local girls are being chatted up by a two unsavoury looking types on a low boat. Another man comes on deck and chases the girls away. I don't grok the lingo, which Leon says is Portuguese. The guy in charge is wearing a red bandana round his left arm and the GPS is pointing in his direction so he must be our guy.
He welcomes us on board in bad English, which is still way better than my non-existant Portuguese and directs us to the boat's only cabin. We crash as they cast off, having been on the road now for over twenty hours.
Manaus, 23 December 2050
It takes us three days to get to Manaus. Three days of heat and bugs. The captain complains that we look more like commandos than 'touristas'. The others change in their other gear, but I only packed one outfit for the return trip and it would stand out even more so I stick to the armor's camo pants and olive undershirt. The captain makes some comment about getting me into a bikini. Him and his crew have been leering at me for the last two days so I kinda lose it and show him the blade, snicking it out and back into my hand. One of the crew crosses himself but the captain looks angry and tells me to keep it out of sight. He suggests I get some new clothes in Manaus so that I blend in and even offers to show me around. Creep!
Still with this heat and humidity, I guess I can put up with him if it gets me a couple of changes of clothing. As it turns out, he doesn't try anything on and does know his way around. And he speaks the local lingo so that helps a lot. I pick us a couple of pairs of knee-length khaki shorts, a few white microfiber t-shirts and a couple of long-sleeved linen shirts to conceal my arm. With all the sun, I am starting to pick up a tan. I already have a light dusting of freckles on my face and real arm, but the realskin on the cyberarm doesn't tan and the difference is beginning to show.
Manaus is bustling and more modern that I thought, but seems to be fighting a losing battle against the jungle. There are few cars with most people on foot or bicycles and everyone seems poor. I also see a couple of shifters openly walking the streets. They'd be shot and skinned if they tried that in Seattle. And even though the captain told us to leave our weapons on the boat, many of the locals carry a handgun or knife.
Fonte Boa, 25 December 2050
We arrive at our final drop off point on Christmas day. At least I think it's Christmas this time even though we have been on the road long enough that the days are starting to blur together and I can't get a signal on my phone. From here on, we go by canoe and we'll be on our own.
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