Shadowrun PBP Invitational – California, Rest in Peace

[Teros]

3:30am

 

The satyr stared at the faint neon-blue glowing digital clock against his wall.  He was wide awake.  This tended to happen to Teros once a week.  Tossing and turning wouldn't help.  His brain had switched 'on' and there wasn't any going back until he sorted it out.  His left hand under the pillow, he snaked his fingers through the brass knuckles he kept underneath from instinct.  He wouldn't need the pistol that was under his bed.  Throwing off the covers, his hooves clacked against the wooden floor.  A loud creak splintered through the room as he put all his weight on his hooves.  Adjusting his shirt with his right hand, he let out a deep sigh.  Why did the people he was ever in bed with in the past always find it weird that he wore regular clothes to bed?  He never wanted to have his guard down. Never wanted to be vulnerable.  "Maybe that's a problem" he thought aloud, his throat rumbling as it was being cleared.  He was supposed to meet Reese and Vintage in a little over 12 hours. 

 

Knucks wrapped around on his left hand still, the satyr counted to 10 with his eyes closed, listening for other sounds through the apartment.  Nothing.  After heading to the bathroom, the satyr went to the kitchen, moved some of the smaller paintbrushes in a tiny cup on the counter, grabbed some juice cut with filtered water.  Opening the freezer, he saw the two huge bottles of booze.  'Virgil's Bavarian', the cheaper brand that he liked; and 'Veradeaux', the extremely expensive brand which only had 3-4 shots emptied from it.  Eyeing the Veradeaux closely, he saw the green film separating from the drink.  "Fuck" he muttered.  Grabbing the fancy glass bottle, he shook vigorously until the green had dispersed back into the rest of the mixture.  Frothy bubbles pooled at the top.  There, now the whole bottle didn't show any sign of the green.  Grabbing a few ice cubes, Teros put them in his glass of juice+water.  Not paying attention, he grabbed the glass with his left hand and the brass knuckles clanged loudly against the glass as he chugged.  "I need some air" the satyr decided.

 

Throwing on his jacket, pocketing the knucks, grabbing the other knucks, and omitting the wallet and horn-balm; the satyr went out of his apartment and locked the three locks.  The hallway of the apartment complex was dimly lit.  Some energy-saving faint pink hue from the bulbs lined the numbered rooms.  The color was also probably to hide all the imperfections of the beat up gray matted rug in the hall - pockmarked with accidental cigarette burns and tinged hues from a lush not getting to their apartment in time. He reached the bottom floor and noticed it was drizzling out and the air was cold enough to sting his nostrils.

 

3:30 was a special time.  All the strait-laced were asleep or working their night shift.  The criminal scum already dealt their payload and were busted in a cell or reveling at homebase.  The bars were closed.  The homeless were all pooled together against manufacturing buildings to have the residual heat seep under the doorways.  It was a bizarre twilight time when good and evil put aside their differences and decided to call it quits for a short time before dawn.  The satyr would do his usual 12-block perimeter and head back to sleep.  Teros never bothered with his earphones at this tranquility.  Music would just muddy his mind.  It was still dark enough to be bathed in the large neon signs overhead and the periodic streetlamp that wasn't busted from neglect or a rogue rock from some punks.  A nearby roadkill was pancaked- heavy tire tracks.  The stench was fresh.  The satyr thought that maybe this weekly witching-hour wake up was his subconscious telling him something.  His brain refusing to look at the world like it is: what it's become. 

 

He rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand. He thought to himself, "It's this case.  I just need it to move forward.  I don't know how people can tell if they're doing the right thing or if we're all criminals - thinking we're the good guys but really just darker shades of gray.  In a lawless world, a fair world, the strongest survive.  But what if the strongest are just the head honchos; the fat cat bureaucrats, scummy lobbyists, and degenerate drug kingpins.  If that's law and order, I want to be helion. Chaos incarnate."  The satyr turned the corner, a damp crinkly foil wrapper blowing by and sticking to his hoof.  He shook it off and started thinking about Runt and that weird spraypainted symbol.  Why did Runt want to see him?  Not that Teros was opposed: he was fond of the tyke more than he cared to admit.  In a way, he became a big brother or father figure for 'em.  "But the kid's not a kid anymore" the satyr said aloud, "at his age, he would want to be left the hell alone.  At least I know I did..."  A car flew by, running straight through a red light and breaking the satyr's concentration.  He heard the distinct sirens not far off.  Picking up the pace, Teros didn't want any law enforcement around him while he was in this mood: he hated them enough already.

 

He clacked against the sidewalk, head tilted down a hair, and both hands in his leather jacket pockets with the knucks inside.  Neon red and in a god-awful balloon-shaped lettering, Teros passed the [Circus of Values] mart on his usual perimeter walk.  The clear windows that had the metal lattice across it along with the paper ads taped up for -Now carrying Blue's Cigarettes!- was plastered off-center.  Teros went back to the details of this job, both jobs really; the monkeyweed and the cat abduction.  He hadn't noticed any more addicts than usual.  Or had he?  The satyr tried to wrack his brain: were there any extra tweakers on the bus routes? Any more aggressive panhandlers on the streets?  The sidewalk reflected the neon colors in the small puddles of slick rainwater that pooled on the uneven pavement.  The midnight-only theater [The Big Oyster] had it's sign blaring.  A large digital billboard that had an oyster opening and closing.  Each time it opened, the movies that were playing this week scrolled by.  "When was the last time I even saw a movie in a theater?" Teros contemplated as he turned the next corner.  The dim dotted lights of the electronic repair shop that was closed was up ahead, and then the 24-hour gym that Teros used to go to.  It started to get saturated with too many gang members that were shooting up.  It was basically their turf now and the satyr didn't want to bother, which is why he made the punching bag in his apartment instead.

 

A gush of bitter cold wind funneled through the narrow streetway as the satyr saw the last few businesses up ahead blink with their glitz and promise.  Every day, there's a war going on for your mind.  They try to carve it up with brand loyalty, stylish slogans, selling you on not just an item but an ideology.  Everything filtered down and distilled to be coldly calculated to the niche demographic.  He wanted to burn it all down.

 

A few minutes later, Teros got back to his complex and clacked up the cement stairs and went inside.  Trudging up the wooden steps inside, he walked down his familiar pink hallway.  Pausing, he heard a rustling 3 doors from his apartment.  He pressed his ear against the door and heard a 1-sided conversation and the sound of papers being shuffled.

 

"I know that Moira isn't allowed company because it's almost 4am. I just. Yes!  I wanted to get transferred and see how.... Uh-huh...well if there wasn't so much red tape bullshit with confidentiality, this wouldn't be a problem, would it!?  It's not my fucking fault that you have all these forms to fill out to go fucking check up on someone that had a breakdown.  I can't sleep.  I..... Look, I'm worried ok?   ...Uh-huh... At 7?  *sigh*  Yeah, fine."

 

Teros heard the loud groan of defeat and the sound of a middle-aged man starting to cry softly.  The satyr walked the last 3 doors to his apartment, unlocked the locks, and glared back at the apartment with the now-crying man. "Good luck" Teros whispered, as he closed and locked his door - going to sleep.

 

 

[Leigh]

Union Square Labs

 

”Firefox, don’t react, it’s me, Vintage! The cameras don’t pickup astral bodies but don’t talk. There’s some dragged dreck up there. Lots of dead non-humans, and the living metahumans are dying. I saw some living humans up there but I couldn’t stay for details. It’s like a blizzards of razors in the astral. You should be fine in meatspace, but don’t get separated.”

 

The slightly transparent elf whipped up a basic layout of the labs and then promptly faded from existence. Fox blinked a few times and then glanced up at Titus for a long moment, suddenly quite grateful that she had been in the right place at the right time to find him last night. He looked slightly paler than he had before they’d stepped into the elevator and she imagined that she did as well. She took an unconscious step closer to him and surpassed the urge to jump when the door pinged and slid open with a faint woosh as they arrived at the floor where Shelly worked.

 

Stepping out of the elevator, Fox lifted a hand to her hair, seeming to scratch at an itch behind her ear, disguising the quick press of a button on her ear that looked a great deal like a simple piercing. A full VR overlay slid over her eyes only visible for her as she swung her purse around and pretended to dig through it looking for something, her fingers flicking through a few simple actions that would allow her start a passkey sweep on the Terminal Shelly had logged the most hours at. She located it in a matter of seconds and pulled out a small data fob and headed towards the cluttered cubicle that Shelly did nearly all of her computer work on. She tossed the purse onto the side of the desk and sat down and logged in. 

 

The desktop image loaded, a generic picture of a pretty white sand beach somewhere with Shelly and her mother laying out in lounge chairs clinking wine glasses together. Fox rolled her eyes, the photo was obviously photoshopped, and not very well. She flipped up the access panel on the front of the terminal and slipped the data stick into a slot and started copying over the last few files worked on into a folder on the stick. She didn’t actually need any of the files, but it kept up the show and she did not want to draw attention to herself while she was doing her real job.

 

She reached up to her hair again and subtly flicked a tiny switch on an earring that was actually a surprisingly huge data storage device and turned on it’s wireless capabilities and swished her fingers over the keyboard, mocking the action of typing, which closing out her current program on VR and started a road range hack into the local database. Tagging all files of all types that contain keywords for cats and metahumans. The files started downloading quickly, and the huge amount of information made her suddenly dizzy as it quickly filled the available space in the tiny device and she  was forced to activate the one on her other ear.

 

Titus coughed twice and cleared his throat, tipping his head slightly down and to the left when Fox turned to look up at him.  ”Cover your mouth when you cough.” she said on reflex, and turned to look at the secondary monitor hooked up to the terminal. There were short messages flashing on the screen, for just a moment or two each, before vanishing to be replaced by another message. None of the windows appeared to be the same type as the operating system on the terminal and none stayed longer than five seconds.

 

Get out! GET OUT! GET OUT!

 

When they catch you, they’re going to kill you keep. Your meat doesn’t match your mind chicka. RUN!

 

They’re going to bring the world to its knees and make sure they’re the only ones left standing….

 

They killed me over and over again… Why won’t they just let me stay dead!??!

 

Where is my baby!? What the hell did you do to my baby?

 

A paperclip with eyes popped up in VR just to the far right of her visual range and cheerily declared that several of the files she had requested to copy were only available through a direct wired connection as they were located on a secure terminal in the lab proper. 

 

With a frown, Fox looked away and popped the pointless data fob out from the front panel and tossed it casually into her purse and logged out of the terminal. She stood up, straightened her top and turned to look up at Titus ”Just need to check on something in the lab space, stick close and do try not to scare too many of my co-workers. The last thing I need to do is explain to anyone else why there’s a walking mountain lose in this human lab without a leash on.” she said in a slightly haughty voice and turned on her heel and made her way over to a set of double doors at the other end of the room. 

 

Titus glared at her for a moment before following her down the aisle between cubes and towards the doors to the actual lab. The stench of professional grade cleaner hit them full force as soon as the doors were open. The only reason anyone should need that strength is if there was a hell of a lot of biological evidence to wash away. A quick glance around the lab space made the hair on both of their necks stand on end. There were no less than three empty autopsy tables along the north wall, and behind them, one way glass panels with sterile looking cells containing a cot, toilet/sink combination and a drain in the floor. Lights flickered like crazy in the cells as they passed by on their way to a terminal at the far side of the room. One scrawny looking human male looked up at the sound of Fox’s heels clicking on the flooring and did a double take and swallowed. 

 

”Hey! You working on that terminal over there? I just need to grab a few files, but if you need it I can wait.” Fox said with a bring smile on her face, her left eye twitching ever so slightly as she tried not to laugh as she caught the look of abject terror on the man’s face as he spotted Titus looming behind her. The human gulped and shook his head, before trying to look like he was incredibly interested in the mostly empty note pad he had set up beside the microscope he had placed in front of him. ”Thanks doll! We’ll get out of your hair in just a tic.” she added and moved in on the terminal to get the data and get the hell out of this horrible place.

 

Titus thoroughly checked the human out, sizing him up openly and smirking slightly, before taking a step towards the man, enjoying the flinch he couldn’t suppress at the movement. ”Your shoe’s untied.” he said and smiled viciously at the man. 

 

Fox finished up her download and slipped the data stick back into her purse and headed back towards the doors out of the lab. It would take her a few hours to sift through the information she had downloaded, but considering the whole team had been assembled in the late evening she suspected that most of their work would end up happening at night; they were called shadow runners for a reason, and nobody likes to run in the light. 

 

”Hey, you’re being paid to keep my safe, not scare the people I work with, c’mon, I need to get to the bank and do some serious shopping before finishing up this report. Hurry up!” she said to Titus and gave the human a roll of her eyes and a slight shake of her head, like she was annoyed to have this brute following her around at all. They left the lab and headed back to the elevators down to the garage. Her head was throbbing from trying to focus on the VR over lay of the building and reality around her without walking into walls that may or may not really be there. It was painful but necessary for this to work.

 

She killed the VR once they got into the elevator and made sure she was facing away from the security camera in the upper corner. ”Back to the apartment and then I really do need to go shopping… I need something happy and shiny and bright to get that horrible place off my mind for a while. It smells like death in here.” she shuddered and rubbed a hand over the bare skin of her arm.

 

”They’ve got to have some seriously pro cleaners to be able to make the place look that squeaky. I’ve got to give them that.” Titus replied and took a small step closer to Fox as the elevator ticked down to the garage level. The sooner they could get out of this tomb the better.

 

---

Dice Stuff:

 

Hack: to find/break into Shelly’s terminal: 3+L(6) + 2 Codeslinger, +1 Cyberwar = 12 dice: 7 success

Hack: search for any records involving cats and metahumans in the labs (dice as above): 6 success

[DarK_RaideR]

It is said Astral travel happens at the speed of thought, but as a novice shaman, Vintage hasn't yet gotten rid of his meatspace perception of things. Leaving the Union Square Lab only took a fraction of a second, but in his mind he still kept going for a while before he felt it was safe to stop. Once the fiery red tentacles of stress recede into a blur of his aura, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. Fox was true to its fame when it taught him the way to sneak into that coop, but he never expected to find all the chickens massacred inside. It is then that Vintage realises the true reason Fox took him through the Land of the Dead. He thought it was to cover his tracks from potential pursuers, but in reality Fox wanted to mask him from the lamented horror of a million tormented souls he'd run into. Apparently the spirit is not only smart, but wise as well. Had it known about this all along? Who can tell, for the ways of the Fox are sly and tricky.

 

At this time, the quiet in the Astral probably reflects that of the streets. Besides a few nervous spirits waiting for dawn to break their chains, everything else seems quite. Late night shift employees plod along inside their aura of sleep and boredom while junkies sleep in eggshells of bliss. Nothing seems to betray the horror Vintage witnessed only moments ago. The realization of how this place can swallow up a man's soul in an instant tingles the elf's being. For a moment, he debates whether he should return to his corporeal body and check out any messages regarding the Ren Hongo rescue. "I might be slightly addicted to that damn commlink" he muses to himself, as he also realizes that doing so will cancel the masking Fox gave him by having him cross through the lands of the dead. San Cha Bar it is, then.

 

Discussion of the rescue plan is just like a million others Vintage has seen newbie runner teams make. They all go to great extremes to cover every potential base, everything that could possibly go wrong, but once it's time to execute there's no backup for when something actually does go wrong. Eleven times out of ten that one thing was not part of the original plan and things devolve into a shoot and run job once the drek hits the fan. In all likelihood, this will end up with Vintage scolding the careless ones, but what for is the reason he's still stalking them.

 

Once the plan is finalized, Pendergast leaves to set up the safehouse and Kaanta goes to grab the target. Vintage has no doubt in his mind where the action is, so he shadows the simian metahuman. He has no trouble immediatey recognizing his backup goons as yaks. If Kaanta flashing the yak symbol lighter wasn't as obvious as broad daylight, one of the two has gone the extra mile of getting an awakened tattoo on his back. Kids these days, you'd think a nano-ink dancing dragon on their back would be enough for them to show off but no, they have to go and get magical tattoos like they're ninja adepts or something. Whatever, now Kaanta owes a favor to the yaks. Hell of a way to get this started.

 

"You don't seriously expect her to follow you now, do you?" he says to Kaanta, before realizing that he can neither hear him (unless he materializes) nor does he actually "talk" in the Astral. When the goons begin their charge on the door though, it is truly worthy of an astral facepalm. Moments later, Kaanta's squad are making a run for it while carrying an unconscious Ren Hongo and being chased by 4 guardian spirits. In the Astral, they've taken the form of rabid hellhounds as they dash towards their prey. "Nope, not gonna help him" he thinks to himself. "Gotta clean up after his own mess, live with the consequences. Help him now and he'll expect the same when we go for the cat." If Kaanta survives this, it'll be a learning experience. Hopefully. If not, the team will be short of one reckless member and everyone's share of the pay will go up a notch. Win-win, however you see it.

 

Trying to cover his escape, Kaanta triggers his electronic booby traps and the building explodes internally in a shower of sparks and shattered glass. While that's enough to block any physical pursuit, the spirits simply ghost their way through the mess. "Subtle, real subtle" Vintage sighs as he begins to follow the scene from a safe distance. It's up to Pendergast to deal with the spirits now.

[DarK_RaideR]

If the original scene in meatspace looks like a Hollywood action movie, in the Astral it's a spectacle that would put Michael Bay to shame. Kaanta is a whirlwind of colours as his emotions switch from excitement to stress to joy and back within seconds. Next to him, Ren Hongo is a solid beacon of dark crimson. Her initial surprise and anger is slowly turning to typical far eastern disapproval. Apparently she's no stranger to extractions, maybe that's how she was recruited for whoever she's working in the first place as well, but now she's probably wondering what she's done to deserve such reckless agents.

 

Right behind them, the spirits glide with unnatural speed as they're catching up to the van that is their target. One of them barely has the time to activate its Accident power before it's knocked sideways by some invisible force. The effect is lessened by the interruption and Vintage silently tries to dispel it, resulting in a minor loss of control for the yakuza goon driving the van. Entering the fray in his sports car is the culprit right behind. Pendergast lowers the window, high speed air shuffling his perfect hair in a way that still makes him look like a supermodel in some trideo ad. Switching to autopilot, he hands control to the vehicle's AI as he starts to weave his magic. The spirits do not seem to mind him, single-mindedly commited to their command of recovering the abducted Hongo, but Pendergast's spells keep harassing them. Still not wishing to make his presence known or assist in any obvious way, Vintage instead chooses to hang back and erase the astral signature of Pendergast's magic. With his spectral fingerprints removed, no awakened investigator will ever be able to trace the scene back to him.

 

The van barely manages to take advantage of the situation and gain some ground on the spirits when the sirens start wailing in the distance. Vintage doesn't seem to recall whether the city has a contract with Lone Star or Knight Errant, but at least hire-a-cop services will be easier to deal with. Had megacorp security gotten involved, even if it was just Hongo's employer, things wouldn't have been pretty. Before the "police" have a chance to join in, half a dozen mint green motorbikes swarm in from the alleys. Not that Vintage can tell the color from the Astral, but he recognizes Morrighan's aura. She and her Ancients buddies fly in just in time to jump in and out of the fray and pick their shots at the spirits. Bullets and blades aren't exacty as effective as magic against such opponents, but they do allow Pendergast to get back on the steering wheel and floor the gas. Kaanta notices and waves at him to catch up, then slides the side door of the van open. Ren Hongo isn't having any of this, but it's not like there's much she can do besides kick and shake, bound and gagged as she is. After sliding the roof down, Pendergast provides an easy target for his ally and the target switches vehicles successfully. A sharp right turn later, the sports car speeds away followed by the spirits and an astral Vintage in the distance. Shouldn't be hard for the two magicians to deal with them now.

 

Fashionably late, the police catch up to the scene of Ancients on motorbikes chasing a van but never get a glimpse of the spirits or Pendergast's sports car. With a word from Morri on the commlink of her helmet, the bikes slide into a tight formation. The message is clear: stay out of this. Kaanta decides to join in and starts firing random shots in the air, as if he's trying to lose the go-gang's tail. Doesn't take long for the beat cops to back down; none of them want any of this high speed chase, let alone trouble with the Yaks and Ancients.