Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure Subject:
X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, Frontline Apparel | Night City Integrate | Undercity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 9:15 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)
“Hello,” a pleasant female voice chirps from right behind him. “You appear to be loitering. This is not permitted. Do you need assistance in making a purchase decision or will you be moving along?”
Most might have jumped out of their skin but M’haru Ghlahn hadn’t heard any doors open and knew he was alone so his immediate response is to recognize the interruption for what it is, an AI hologram. He can make out the reflection of the projection in the window, faint and ghost-like but there nonetheless and likely programmed to respond in this way because there are no human clerks to keep the downtrodden and troublemakers from using the costly space as a hangout.
Charlie breaks squelch. “Ghlahn, this is Drone, Over. Can you get eyes on an odd pair covered with blankets next to Einstein’s Book Emporium? Possible hostiles, use caution, over.”
Ignoring the AI hologram, Ghlahn shifts and scans up the street until he finds the sign for the Emporium. Just past the bumper of a parked car, he spots the pair that the fixer must be referring to. He can’t quite make out their details beneath the blanket covering but their body language is definitely suspect. Retrieving his rifle, the sniper peers through the scope to get more details.
“I really hate to bother you, sir,” the female programmed AI says with a sense of urgency in her tone. “It appears that you’ve produced a weapon. Are you in need of the police?”
Again ignoring the computer, Ghlahn sends back an answer. "Two people are doing a pretty good job of ‘hanging out’ indiscreetly as homeless people. One is sitting on the ground, the other is leaning against the building, both african-american, probably female. Can't get a real good look. Something just doesn't seem right about them. Don't think they are homeless but they seem to want people to think they are."
“Copy that,” Casino’s voice sounds over the radio. “If your two 'homeless' draw weapons and move toward us, take them out."
“Sir,” the AI tries again. “Please, sir. I don’t want any trouble. If you’re in need of the police, please let me know and I’ll call right away. If you’re not in need of the police, I insist that you holster your weapon and either make a purchase or leave immediately.”
(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 09:20 AM PST)
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X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, 12th Alley | Night City Integrate | Undercity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 9:15 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)
“Is this a grab and get out situation?” Bloodbank asks just as Echo reaches the mouth of the alley.
“I say we see what’s what and if the package is there,” the nomad woman pauses and scans what lies ahead, “we take him and get the hell outta here.”
Raising his eyebrows behind his combat mask, the medtech is surprised by her statement. She’s been calm for the most part, and more interested in doing things using diplomacy up until now. He suspects the whole situation with Casino and maybe even a little of what has happened to Vegas is to blame. “I know we’re on a clock, but there might be an opportunity to talk our way into a better position. I say we ‘sess the situation with an eye towards not spilling blood.”
Casino looks over to the medtech. “Not to inflame the situation more than I have already but so far ‘peace talks’ have gotten us nowhere. I say if the kid’s in here, we shake and bake the bad guys and get the kid the f**k home.”
Without another word, Casino follows Echo further into the ally, the roughly drawn canine skull of the Dead Dogs painted on walls barely giving him any pause. The heavy stink of odorous ammonia hits the groups nostrils practically the instant they step foot in the alley, mixed with a nearly overwhelming smell of mold. Then, there’s the first of a number of patchwork dwellings made of fabricated wood panels, bailing wire, canvas sheets, chicken wire, rusted steel pipes mixed with copper and PVC pipes, and packing plastics.
“Ok,” Fixer breaks his silence, “no telling what’s ahead but do we roust the people here and check the lighted hut, or move on?”
Fixer prefers to continue to listen more than offer advice. On an operation like this, he is not going to be the lead dog. But when a vote is called for, it is time to speak up. "Assessment seems best in almost all cases. And blood causes problems we'd rather not deal with if it isn't needed. We don't know he's here. If not, we need more info. Shooting first can make that hard. Let’s get going, but… take it easy until we know something."
But that isn’t the only issue—it seems that they aren’t sure where in the alley to look. Voicing his opinion again, the techie shares what he remembers. "Didn't the address we got say the back end of the alley? I think we start there. We should have eyes on this end anyway if someone tries to leave. Or come at our backs. I'd say start at the far end. Unless one of you charming types wants to ask in the first tent about Rya’s location."
Beyond this, he intends to follow their lead. So much of this is above his pay grade. He keeps his eyes and ears open while wondering if they look suspicious. He is torn between wanting to stay tightly together as a group and wanting to separate a bit to cover more ground visually, and to perhaps not let everyone know they are together, although that is probably obvious. Still, he stays near the back of the group and keeps his eyes on the rear. He tries to leave just enough room that he might not appear to be with the others, but wants to make darn sure they know where he is. An alley like this is filled with desperate people and they don’t know him as just another desperate person. Anyone of them could be a target for one of the kidnappers or just some poor sap who’s down on his luck, or never had any to begin with, up, down or otherwise.
“The alley is clear as far as I can tell,” Echo mumbles out the side of her mouth while shifting her SMG to a more ready position. With the decision on their approach split, she figures that she’ll follow Casino’s lead (He’s got way more experience than the rest of us…), she leads the party of four into the ramshackle array of shacks and tents.
To the nomad’s thinking, the alley is about 60 meters entrance to end, but it continues around to the left. The first twenty, or so, are filled with refuse, filth, and discarded “building” materials. It isn’t in the least bit inviting and in no way says to her, come on in. The buildings on either side have been tagged with so much graffiti that it is nearly impossible for her to decipher any of it. One that she does take notice of is the roughly drawn canine skull of the Dead Dogs. Odorous ammonia strikes her nostrils practically the instant she steps foot in the alley, mixed with a nearly overwhelming smell of mold, Echo fights against her watering eyes. Then, there’s the first patchwork dwelling.
Moving past the shack, Casino watches as Echo makes her way towards yet another ramshackle pieced-together dwelling, smaller than the first and, like the first, spilling forth light from cracks in its construction. The big solo can see yet a third pieced-together shelter beyond that is almost hidden in the dark of the ally but thanks to his optic spliced eyes, the big solo has no problem listing it in his brain for possible later reference.
Charlie breaks squelch, his muffled voice barely audible from Casino’s jacket pocket. “Ghlahn, this is Drone, Over. Can you get eyes on an odd pair covered with blankets next to Einstein’s Book Emporium? Possible hostiles, use caution, over.”
A couple of minutes pass as Echo leads the troop cautiously past the second shack, her submachine gun held at ready before her in a tactical advance. Casino advances just a few steps behind, his preferred weapon at the ready as well.
Ghlahn sends back an answer, his reply muted a bit by the materials of the coat. "Two people are doing a pretty good job of ‘hanging out’ indiscreetly as homeless people. One is sitting on the ground, the other is leaning against the building, both african-american, probably female. Can't get a real good look. Something just doesn't seem right about them. Don't think they are homeless but they seem to want people to think they are."
Casino fetches the walkie from his pocket and keys the mic, “Copy that. If your two 'homeless' draw weapons and move toward us, take them out."
So much for diplomacy, Bloodbank thinks bitterly. His pistol feels very heavy at the moment, as though it is reminding him of the spiritual weight it carries. Apprehension rises within the chest of the medic with every step they take. Why does it always have to be shoot first and ask questions later with these types? Of course, he remembers the possibility of a second team bearing down on them but he is keenly aware that a firefight often has collateral damage and their goal was to bring Jase back alive and in good condition.
No lights are on in the third shack. It is clearly made of the same materials as the others but for the moment, registers with the lead pair as empty. A fourth shack on the right side of the alley is also showing as empty, so Echo leads the group up to the corner and raises her left fist… Raising his hand to stop the others, Casino calls for them to stop.
Peering around the corner, Echo surveys the remainder of the alley with a critical eye. There’s only approximately twenty- to twenty-five meters of real estate left in 12th Alley. Just around the corner and four or five meters from her position is another small shack. Made of Plood™ planks and plastic portions of shipping containers, there’s visible light inside. At the end of the alley, an estimated fifteen meters away, is the poorly constructed Plood™ entrance to a shack that appears to be attached to a military tent spanning the width of the alleyway. The canvas of the tent is too thick to allow light to seep through, but there is a small stream of smoke coming out of the stove pipe on the right side of the tent.
“We have two possibilities,” Echo informs Casino quietly. “Someone’s home in both cases.”
(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 09:20 AM PST)
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X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, 13th Street | Night City Integrate | Undercity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 9:15 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)
Activating the fans, Luther lifts the aerodyne from its resting position and pulls away from the curb, spraying water all about the battered vehicle and causing more than one of the loitering street population to exclaim in annoyance. Quickly passing the rest of their team, Charlie heads for the turn up ahead to make his rounds of the block.
“I’m going to attempt to tap into the Cop-camera down the street,” Blossom states, pulling her keyboard from her bracer and shifting her weight on the uncomfortably hard seat.
“ You know…” Cred Stick Charlie says with consideration, “Something is bothering me Bloss... did you see that odd pair back on the corner?” Charlie cocks his head to the side a bit. “Those two that were covered up in blankets on the corner near Einstein’s Book Emporium? What strikes me as strange is that it isn’t the best place to ask people passing by for money first off, the other is, I really can't see their features, they were moving around so much, but not very animated like most people asking and engaging others for handouts. They seem to me just waiting for something and this is what makes me really nervous. There aren’t any other OBVIOUS homeless people around here.”
Charlie eases off the fans and slows down a bit, then resumes the posted speed before continuing his talk with the netrunner. “What's more, is that they are being left alone by the public nearby whereas the public isn't really leaving anyone else alone. I got a bad feeling about this Bloss and it could spell some trouble for us.”
Looking back out the plastic window of the ragtop, Blossom frowns. “I saw nothin’.”
Charlie decides to break squelch and picks up the radio from where it rests between the front seats. “Ghlahn, this is Drone, Over. Can you get eyes on an odd pair covered with blankets next to Einstein’s Book Emporium? Possible hostiles, use caution, over.”
Charlie looks to Blossom, “You think that you can get a look at those two via cop cam? I could try pulling over, doubling back if you need me to.”
“The nearest cop cam is two blocks south of here,” the Asian beauty shakes her head slightly, her wet platinum blond hair clinging to her elegant neck. “Won’t do us any good in this case.”
Drawing inside his core, Charlie attempts to recall and use his database access to look for a possible match. Images that Blossom had previously shared flash up on his HUD display. He doesn’t have the two suspect’s faces but something might hit, and If either hits, it will be a gang member or worse... one of Santa's elves waiting to clean up his mess. Charlie's stomach twists and turns at this thought. Will it be the end or is his imagination running wild and the shadows playing tricks?
Ghlahn sends back an answer. "Two people are doing a pretty good job of ‘hanging out’ indiscreetly as homeless people. One is sitting on the ground, the other is leaning against the building, both african-american, probably female. Can't get a real good look. Something just doesn't seem right about them. Don't think they are homeless but they seem to want people to think they are."
Casino’s order follows right on the heels of the CEE-metal’s, “Copy that. If your two 'homeless' draw weapons and move toward us, take them out."
As the faces fly by in a rather distracting manner, Luther speaks once again to Blossom. “Hey… kiddo, if we all make out if this soggy messed-up sandwich, I plan to let you guys stay with me from time to time so that you guys don’t have to squat for the night in some godless hellhole. You know what I mean?”
“You try’na make a team out of us, pretty boy?” the netrunner responds distractedly as she plugs away at her keyboard.
Charlie nods his head. “I couldn’t do what you’ll do... Maybe I’m just too spoiled but so be it. At least I can help out with things and get us into better jobs. I’m just trying to make a mark like everyone else here. I got things but I want more, you know?”
“Uh-huh,” Blossom acknowledges.
“I mean—I got this truck that I’m piecing back together and I was thinking that we might be able to equip it better if I can get everyone’s help. Heck... maybe we could pimp it out with a portable doc cocoon for Bloodbank, an electronic suite for someone like you and a nice paint job so that I don’t ruin my threads when riding in it.” Charlie smiles and pops his collar while giving Blossom a sideways glance.
“Mmm,” she stares ahead at something that the fixer can’t see and pulls her diminishing lollipop from her mouth. Using the sucker like a baton, she taps the air three times, pauses, then two more. “Yup. That’s it.”
Plopping the candy back into her mouth, she returns to typing. After a moment, she responds, “You got yourself a hard sale, Zute Suit. We’ll see, right?”
Reaching the corner near the church again, Charlie slows and rolls onto the cross street bringing the Jeep back onto the street they had first made the area through. A pedestrian wearing a pair of slacks, tucked-in button up shirt, and a dark green rain hooded rain slick is the closest person outside of the aerodyne. About mid-way down the block, the group of people who had been hanging out in front of the West Baptist’s Church has thinned out a bit, but there’s still quite a few individuals.
“Got it,” Blossom breathes out hard. “The cop cam is mine. I’ve also got a cop channel broadcasting app running. If the po-po are involved I’ll have their twenty before they’re a threat to us. Net traffic is pretty benign as well but to see the bones of the matter, I’d have to completely jack in.”
Looking sideways at the fixer, she smiles slyly, “Will you be okay all on your little lonesome while I go virtual?”
(OOC: Assuming a yes, of course&hellip
Settling back in the worn seat, the gorgeous blond rests her head against the headrest and retracts her keyboard back into her bracer. After a moment, the only signs of life she shows are the slow rise and fall of her breasts.
(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 09:20 AM PST - 19th Street)
Posted on 2019-11-26 at 13:34:52.
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