I'm going to post... at least, I think I am. I'm having a writing block and lack of desire. Sorry. I'll push through it.

I sincerely apologize for my absence. I've had a non-stop stream of out-of-state family visiting for the past few weeks and haven't had much time for anything other than them.

My absence doesn't seem to have been a reason for lag in the game though. I only have one post and that's from Nomad (thank you, Nomad). Have we fizzled out? Are we kaput? 

You're getting a little ahead of yourselves with the truck discussion.  You've got to get through the current bounty hunt and then your biz with the battle armor, not to mention the new challenges you all are faced with.

Dragon, check your PM, please.

Everyone, please pay attention to the dates and timestamps. I know a lot of time has passed for us in RL while the group of your characters is eating enchiladas but for them, it's been a few minutes. There's no need to pack a bunch of non-pertinent things into the current block of time.

Everyone should probably wait until Dragon posts and then you can all post as though Vegas or Charlie has called Guardian, Blossom, or Cipher and received the update. I look forward to your posts. 

GUARDIAN, CIPHER, AND BLOSSOM

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:45 PM PST - Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate.

Weather Conditions: High City (Windy, Temperature: Very Strong | High: 85°F (29.4°C) | Low: 72°F (22.2°C) | Wind Force: Very Strong | Wind Speed: 35 mph (56.3 kph) | Very Strong Wind: Strong gusts of wind that impose a -4 penalty on Awareness checks and certain ranged weapon attacks. Such gusts automatically extinguish unprotected flames. Flying vehicles struggle with a -2 penalty. | Midcity (Windy, Temperature: Very Hot | High: 98°F (36.6°C) - (Very Hot: A character in very hot conditions (above 90°F) must make a CON check each hour (DC 16) or take 1d4 points of Stun Damage. Characters wearing heavy clothing or armor of any sort take a -4 penalty on their checks. A character with the Survival skill may receive a bonus and may be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well. A character who takes any Stun damage from heat exposure now suffers from heatstroke and is fatigued. These penalties end when the character recovers the Stun damage she took from the heat. Stun damage from heat exposure cannot be recovered until the character gets cooled off (reaches shade, survives until nightfall, gets doused in water, is targeted by endure elements, and so forth). Once rendered unconscious through the accumulation of Stun damage, the character begins to take lethal damage at the same rate.) | Low: 83°F (28°C) | Wind Force: Strong | Wind Speed: 22 mph (35 kph) | Strong Wind: A steady wind with a 75% chance of extinguishing unprotected flames.) | Undercity (Windy, Temperature: Very High | High: 115°F (46.1°C) | Low: 101°F (38.3°C) | Wind Force: Light | Wind Speed: 9 mph (14.5 kph))

Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 15 | Undercity = 95 (masks required)

Guardian's head snaps up, his concerned eyes flicking to the screen of his Medscanner® agent attachment, his brows lowered in worry as he beholds the displayed numbers. Hurrying over to Cipher, the MedTech gently lifts her from the sofa and lowers her onto the floor. He then proceeds to carefully lie her on her side to prevent her from swallowing or choking on anything. He loosens the collar of her top and removes any jewelry from around her neck ((OOC: if she has any jewelry. I don't know.)). He takes Cipher's top leg and gently bends it so that her hip and knee are at right angles to each other, then tilts her head back to keep her airways open. Hurrying to the kitchen, Guardian soaks several towels with cold water and places two of them on Cipher's wrists and one on her brow to help cool her body temperature. He then repeated the entire process with Blossom.

Still kneeling next to the two netrunners, Guardian locks his concerned gaze on his Medscanner®. The numbers are still escalating.

Blossom’s vitals:

• Body temperature: 102 F


• Pulse rate: 115 bpm


• Respiration rate (rate of breathing): 23 bpm


• Blood pressure: 130

Cipher’s vitals:

• Body temperature: 103 F


• Pulse rate: 116 bpm


• Respiration rate (rate of breathing): 25 bpm


• Blood pressure: 132

There’s not much more David can do in this situation. Forcibly tearing them from the Net could cause permanent brain damage and at the very least, severe headaches, nausea, vomiting, and weakness for a couple of days. 

Minutes roll by and for a moment, it seems as if they’ve stabilized until Guardian’s Medscanner® lights up again, the alarm piercing the otherwise quiet apartment. 

Blossom’s vitals:

• Body temperature: 103 F


• Pulse rate: 120 bpm


• Respiration rate (rate of breathing): 27 bpm


• Blood pressure: 145 over 105

Cipher’s vitals:

• Body temperature: 105 F


• Pulse rate: 128 bpm


• Respiration rate (rate of breathing): 30 bpm


• Blood pressure: 150 over 115 

Cipher begins to convulse, her back arching while her breathing becomes rapid and deep, then short and sporadic. Sweat has covered her, dampening her clothing and beading up like condensation on a pane of glass. Blossom’s breathing mimics her counterpart’s but remains in the rapid and deep situation. She’s not yet convulsing but is definitely sweating.

With their numbers, they’re both experiencing high-grade fevers, tachycardia, hyperpnea (with a mix of tachypnea for Cipher), and Stage 2 hypertension bordering on a Hypertensive crisis. Even if these women were in a hospital situation, the numbers would be enough to send staff scrambling. Stuffed deep within a Chinese Edgerunner Enclave, the situation is dire and getting worse by the minute. 

With a dramatic gasp as though coming up for air that has been denied her far too long, Blossom convulses and twists into an upright position. Soaked through and wide-eyed, she immediately looks for Cipher. The other woman has not yet emerged from the Net. 

Scrambling to Cipher’s side, the Asian woman places her hands on her knees and urgently explains, “We found the bastards. They’ve got a datafortress that’s defended better than f****n Arasaka’s Bank Accounts and we locked horns with their onsites. C’mon, Cipher… get outta there…”

Still without any safe means of removing Cipher from the threat, Guardian can only watch as her vitals continue to climb.

“C’mon… c’mon…” Blossom urges the other netrunner through clenched teeth, rocking back and forward on her knees.

Cipher stiffens, her legs straighten, her arms to her side, her head thrown back on her neck.

“Pull her!” Blossom yells, but too late. Cipher’s body falls limp and her vitals begin to drop dramatically. 

“S**t!” Akira “Blossom” Oshiro hisses, falling back on her heels, her shoulders slumping. “S**t, s**t, s**t, s**t, s**t.”

Cipher has lost the battle but the readings on Guardian’s Medscanner® let him know she’s still alive. In a world where netrunning is prevalent, medical personnel are all trained to recognize the different signs of Net Damage. Setting the Medscanner® enhanced agent aside, he begins his examination (MedTech Check: 20).

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:58 PM PST - Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate.

ALL BUT GUARDIAN. BLOSSOM, & CIPHER

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:45 PM PST - Mid-City, Heywood, Mid-City, The Black Piranha Bar & Grill, X00105:4.Y00272:01.Z00385:00, South Night City Integrate.

“Well,” Patriot says as the waitress leaves, all of the meals and drinks being served. “I don’t know about my audience, but I have a gut feeling that this is going to be worth the story. I’ll tag along on the trial run and then see this through with Temecula Heights. If the Corpos are taking advantage of gonks in the Heights, I will be happy to expose them. So, what’s next?”

Charlie looks to Patriot as he offers his suggestion. "I'm leaving it up to the solos to run it. I'm going to sit back and run support and stay on the sidelines where it is safe. But I do admit, if I could get inside a corporation and grab some files, I'm sure I can make some money. Who knows? Maybe we will hit something big." 

Vegas takes another bite of his food and slowly washes it down with one of his refreshing drinks as he methodically weighs his response to Patriot’s question of “What’s next?” After Charlie’s musings, the solo decides on a course of action.

“What’s next,” he says in his quiet, confident manner, “is that I am asking for volunteers to go on this head-hunting run for the Cee-metal bounty!”

The Dapper Solo looks around the table of assembled guests, before explaining further.

“I suggest that each of us who scores a kill or multi-kills contributes fifty percent of our bounty to the general fund for Charlie to upgrade our transportation and buy the needed supplies for our operation against the corpo compound that cost Jeannette her life.

“For example, if Ghlahn scores five kills, then he gives half of his bounty to the community kitty for Charlie to fund our expenses and he gets to keep the other half for himself to spend on himself or invest for the benefit of others however he pleases.

“If I score 3 kills, then I contribute half of my bounty and use the other half as I choose to spend my share. All of us benefit from what is added to the community fund for Charlie to finance our collective operation; the more kills recorded to your credit, then the more creds you have to spend for yourself or for the benefit of the group. Strictly your choice as to what you do with the other half of the bounty you personally collect on this Cee-metal run!”

As his comrades respond to his request for volunteers to go on the run, the Charismatic Crooner raises a drink to Patriot and adds, “Welcome aboard and enjoy the mayhem that is about to be unleashed on those who deserve to die!”

Ghlahn sits quietly as the others discuss upcoming plans. He knows he will be taking on the bounty job but waits to see who else will go along. 

Mathis listens carefully as others in the group speak up and make plans. Once their piece is said, it is time to actually lay down for the mission. He doesn’t really like the Cee-metal job much. He has nothing against the tribe — and Ghlahn is proof of how useful they can be to have on his side. He is a good team member and wants to support the gig. Still, he prefers to be going after a missing kid or a group of torturers. He really doesn’t see himself as a bounty hunter. In fact, the very idea is kind of funny in its own way. But if the team goes after bounties, then Mathis will be there with them.  

All of which means that it is time to throw his chit onto the table. The split is a topic that has crossed the techie’s mind as well.  

"I'm in if you need a techie for the gig, and I have no problem sharing my portion with the group.  'All for one and one for all' and all that bit. But if this is just a firefight I don't know how much use I'd be. Let’s just say that isn't my forte. I suspect I'd be there helping you guys collect the bounties. I'm ok with that, if it gets us what we need to move on to the next gig, but you gotta tell me if you think my skills are needed here. I won't be insulted if this isn't my play, you just gotta be straight about it. If I'm useful, I’m in."

Ghlahn turns his matter-of-fact eyes towards Vegas and says, "Putting half the bounty toward a group fund makes sense. However, I am not fond of the idea of each person getting the other half of the bounty personally for each kill. We work as a group and everyone that goes will have a job. We all share the risk and we should all share the reward. I suggest the other half be divided equally by everyone who goes."

Vegas quickly responds to Ghlahn, “I have no problem with equal splits for everyone who volunteers for this bounty gig.” Then, turning to Mathis, he adds, “Forte or no forte… my gut says we need you on this bounty run.”

Mathis nods at Vegas. "Okay, forte it is. As I said, I'm in if it's useful. We can't sit around eating enchiladas all day, can we?"

Casino, who has now finished his plate, speaks up, “Okay, this is all pointless in a way — to talk about splitting up money we have yet to earn. First, we need to kill us those on the bounty list and we are not doing it sitting here. So, who’s in and who’s out?”

The big solo turns his head to Echo to gauge her reaction and wait for her answer in particular, but the nomad appears to be engrossed in her meal. Mathis looks back at his now empty plate.

"Well, yeah, we can, but I suppose it's time to go earn the coin to pay for the darn things. Spending the money is always so much easier..."

"Well,” Cred Stick Charlie begins with a smile, “if everyone is on board then I'll set up a kitty fund for all your solo and non-solo needs, minus the normal fees. So, does anyone have anything that needs to be added to the truck? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Once things get modded, it's going to stay in place. With different mods, the group could be taken care of more easily. An autodoc could be an option, more tools for the techie, and maybe even a cocoon for the netrunners... Think about it but don't wait too long.”

Returning his attention to his Chinese studies, Charlie considers his next biz moves. He needs to place a few holo calls to check on some things, but that will have to wait until this discussion is resolved.

“If I remember correctly,” Patriot speaks up as he casually crosses his left leg over his right knee, “When you explained the current situation, you said that you had some netrunners working on locating the hacker’s site. Have you heard from them yet?”

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:58 PM PST - Mid-City, Heywood, Mid-City, The Black Piranha Bar & Grill, X00105:4.Y00272:01.Z00385:00, South Night City Integrate.

CHARLIE AND ECHO

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 8:32 PM PST - Mid-City, the Great Roll Hibachi Kitchen, Heywood, Night City.

“The only reason you are still alive, M?izh?u yuán zhùmín, is that we believe you may have some value yet,” Mugsy Devil uses the knife to spear some of the meat and dip it in the melted butter nearby. With the morsel still dripping the creamy goodness, he says, “You don’t make demands of us. But you will work off the debt that me sparing your life has incurred.”

Shoving the meat into his mouth, the Tong boss reaches for a cloth napkin and daps at the butter dripping down his chin. “You may continue to teach the children in that enclave. But you will teach approved lessons. Right now, you are teaching them English, yes? You will not teach them any negative words about the Tong, only good words. You will associate all good things with the Tong. The Tong are the bringers of Good. Do you understand?” Reaching for another claw, he expounds, “We will call upon your skills at our pleasure and there will be no compensation when we do. Your life is compensation.” 

Cracking into another claw, he stabs the meat and proceeds to dip it in butter. “You will also share with us all information concerning your superior’s organizational moves, and yours will be an open book as well, M?izh?u yuán zhùmín.

“I make you this offer only because you have shown yourself to have huge balls of steel and this has brought me humor.”

Throughout his speech, the twins have remained practically motionless, though their eyes aren’t rooted on Cred Stick Charlie. They’re focused on Echo as though daring her to step out of place.

Charlie does not know whether to breathe easy yet or just try to sweat it out and catch his breath. Of course, the Tong are secretive and powerful, and within a blink of an eye, they can make Cred Stick Charlie disappear. Charlie makes a mental note to purchase a chip that will give him better negotiation and gang etiquette skills; the latter being more important since he has been making too many mistakes of late. At least he doesn’t have to pay with his life or have a finger removed or anything like that. The Tong is clearly nothing to smirk at nor sneeze at... they are a large, influential, and dangerous gang operating more than just the Enclave. Charlie attempts to maintain a tough exterior even though he is scared inside and doesn’t know what is going to happen next. These people deal in violence and violence is what is respected, so Charlie is going to continue to attempt to talk tough and lay down his law and his demands. He has been pimp-slapped when starting with his demands. Thankfully, the Devil has a sense of humor and chose to spare him. The art of negotiation is more like a dance and Charlie no longer wishes to dance for fear of slipping. Still, the show must go on. 

"I will only teach English and I will teach that the Tong are good, as requested,” The fixer accepts his fate, adding, “This round-eye appreciates the generosity of this... Organization. Safe to say that the Tong’s enemies are truly weaker for offering more leniency. This round-eye will learn your ways."

Attempting to be tactfully and careful while letting Mugsy Devil know that he accepts the offer. Mr. Charlie does not want to raise the Devil’s ire. Luther knows he’s on thin ice with such a heavyweight. Still... Charlie decides to drive the point home that some other weaker group offered a better deal. This will hopefully deal a better hand with which Charlie can play the game while safely keeping his head on his shoulders. 

"I will inform you of any organizational moves within the Chinese Edgerunner Enclave, but I will stay open to other opportunities that come around." Charlie smiles, acting like he knows something of great value. "It's always good to know during negotiations what you will get in the end, even if it's nothing but your life..."

Mr. Charlie is now known to set up shop in areas that he isn’t supposed to. Perhaps Mugsy Devil would think of Charlie as a loose cannon. Of course, the Devil has put him in his place while operating on the Tong’s turf, but Charlie is letting him know that he has something of value and maybe that's the reason he is even operating within the Tong’s territory to begin with. Maybe he can plant a seed in Mugsy Devil’s cunning mind that Cred Stick Charlie is hiding from something because of the information he has. Charlie isn’t one to kiss and tell in biz, but he hopes that this play will give him a little room to play while avoiding ratting out his superiors. Additionally, Charlie is trying to leave a door open and keep his dance card open letting Mugsy Devil know that he intends to continue doing his biz in a polite and tactful way.

The Tong Boss shifts in his comfortable chair and surveys the various morsels of high-end food laid out before him. He dabs at his chin with a linen napkin to remove a little residual butter sauce. Setting the napkin down, he reaches for a bowl with a steaming white sauce stew, saying, “You’ve been given your direction and warning, Mr. Cred Stick Charlie.

“You are my Gongtíng xiaochou,” Mugsy Devil pauses, holding the bowl in his right hand over a smaller bowl, his left gripping a ladle. “Stop entertaining me and it is death. Any biz that you do while within my territory will incur an operational fee of thirty percent. I will collect this at the beginning of each week beginning today. My sources tell me that you have a team of Edgerunners and that your team just finished a big job. Tell me, Mr. Cred Stick Charlie, my Gongtíng xiaochou, what is the Tong’s profit on your latest biz?”

Mugsy Devil has picked up what Charlie is putting down. That Luther wants to continue to do his own biz is very apparent and Mugsy Devil is giving the fixer authorization to do so at the expense of a percentage of the earnings. Charlie is still in very deep shark-infested waters and how he handles this will determine whether he and Echo walk out of this establishment or are carried out.

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 8:49 PM PST - Mid-City, the Great Roll Hibachi Kitchen, Heywood, Night City.

Guardian's skills may come in more handy than his drugs in this case, Dragon. You could do research into things like, how to treat a severe seizure victim, how to stop an embolism, how to slow excessive heart rate... stuff. If you have any questions, you may always shoot me an email, PM, or Discord message. 

What will happen to those who don't go along for the adventure? I don't know... but lone edgerunners are great targets. 

Here's the thing, Mathis is a techie. He builds things, fixes things, and disassembles things. That being said, when infiltrating a compound of unknowns run by netrunners, there are more than likely going to be nasties of all kinds. Think of the techie as kind of a thief character class. Lockpicking, disassembling traps, etc. Every class is useful in every run depending on how creative you are is how useful they are. Also, remember that you don't earn experience points in CyberPunk. You earn character points or, as I like to refer to them, Improvement Points, that are directly associated with the skills you use. Don't use a skill, don't ever expect to advance in it without chipping. 

Okay... I've got three posts from two people. We're bordering on three weeks between my posts. Any way we can get back to once per week?

Well, I completely understand real-life priorities and begrudge no one their time. 

Stardate 2365.05.16 (Sunday) - Impact minus 55:36

USS Peregrine, Deck 3, Mess Hall - 09:57

"The moment the Captain made the decision to involve us into the plight of Calican II we plunged headfirst off the lofty cliff of 'No Interference'." Esel replied calmly. "There is no getting away from that, no matter the justification. Should we be successful in this venture and manage to prevent the natural extinction of the populace of Calican II you are quite correct in that their species will evolve differently on many, many levels, there is no way to avoid that in this situation, because the fact is, it shouldn't survive or evolve, as the comet should make their species extinct."

The CSO pauses and draws in a breath. Ander cants his head to the left a little at the apparent growing agitation. He has read that Andorians are prone to show anger as their predominant emotion, but he's had little opportunity to test that knowledge. For a moment, his mind wanders into territory that would require him to step outside of his comfort zone and get physical with the science officer. Blinking the pervasive thoughts away, he refocuses on what the other officer is saying. 

"There is no magic science wand that can be waved to make things right," Esel states, "to justify the why, and to prevent objects being acted on by an outside force, only personnal belief and justification in doing the right thing."

He pauses and Ander deposits another bite of egg into his mouth.

"As for the Captain," the CSO forces out, "we shall have to see. I don't know about you, but this is all to neat for me. This ship and crew undergo a horrific ordeal, but just happened to be refitted and staffed and the first mission they are sent on just happens to be in a system with a life ending comet roaring through it. I mean if the Calicans know it's coming then Star Fleet must have known about this long before that, with the mining operations going on in this system and all the shipping, that comet must have affected it all in some form as it entered. This is a test of the Captain, I imagine there is a group of Officials sat near buy watching this play out to see if he/ we are capable of maintaining the PD or are we going to break it once and possible be prone to dive into every situation we find breaking the PD to keep the Demons at bay. Honestly, I feel this ship and crew will not get past any post incident inquest, they are waiting to pin something down."

The Andorian is obviously agitated and Ander can understand why. As this is his first post under the pips on his collar, he's unsure of what to expect and the thoughts that have now been shared with him haven't crossed his mind at all. 

"The cost you need to weigh up," Esel continues, "is whether saving an entire species for good or for ill, knowing that as a species they will never know what you did or how you were involved, worth your life and career within Star Fleet?"

He stands up abruptly and starts to pace his rising emotions very apparent to any who are about, certainly to the COO who sits back in his chair, fork still in hand, and watches for the pending explosion with raised eyebrows and slightly widened eyes. 

"I mean I hope I am wrong," came the scientist's continued thoughts, "but a lifetime of Military service can jade a person when it comes to the unseen manichaions of those who weild the power above, and of course saving life is a most noble goal for any sentient race, its a long hard journey to the stars, why should we then spend that time fighting instead of exploring and learning, thats why I transfered to Star Fleet but to see that sundered and cast aside just because some high rank suit at the blunt end, wants to dilly over some black and white text and make examples of those who serve at the multi faceted, non-linear end, who are just trying to to keep things 'right' for everyone."

Spinning around Esel suddenly slams his open palms onto the tabletop in frustration causing the superior officer to start in his seat and drop the fork on his plate. Clenching his now empty hand into a fist, Ander does his best to regain his exterior composure while glancing around the room to gauge the reactions of any others who are present.

"But," Esel begins to talk himself down, "I also understand the need for rules, guidlines, protacols and those to enforce such within the system to prevent rogue strands from upsetting that balance, life is frail and delicate you just cant go messing and interfering as you see fit. All actions need to be delibrate, considered and transparant."

The Andorian returns to his seat opposite the COO, and lets out a slow breath. Reaching across the table for a napkin he slowly wipes up the spilled drinks.

"Apologies for upsetting your breakfast Lieutenant," he offers. "I get agitated when those who where not there, inform you of what you should have done while you where there living it."

Ander's lips form a pinched point and he realizes that his eyebrows are still elevated. Relaxing his face, the Chief Operations Officer shifts in his chair and retrieves his fork. "Well, I can't say that I blame you. If you feel so strongly about these orders, Esel, maybe you should schedule a meeting with the Captain. Needless to say, he's an astute man or he wouldn't have survived in the position he's in for as long as he has. He's going to catch on."

Thank you for your posts. I've updated the game. Check your PMs for specifics to your characters. If there's not a PM from me, there's nothing specific that you need to know. I look forward to everyone's next posts!

GUARDIAN, CIPHER, AND BLOSSOM

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:35 PM PST - Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate.

Weather Conditions: High City (Windy, Temperature: Very Strong | High: 85°F (29.4°C) | Low: 72°F (22.2°C) | Wind Force: Very Strong | Wind Speed: 35 mph (56.3 kph) | Very Strong Wind: Strong gusts of wind that impose a -4 penalty on Awareness checks and certain ranged weapon attacks. Such gusts automatically extinguish unprotected flames. Flying vehicles struggle with a -2 penalty. | Midcity (Windy, Temperature: Very Hot | High: 98°F (36.6°C) - (Very Hot: A character in very hot conditions (above 90°F) must make a CON check each hour (DC 16) or take 1d4 points of Stun Damage. Characters wearing heavy clothing or armor of any sort take a -4 penalty on their checks. A character with the Survival skill may receive a bonus and may be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well. A character who takes any Stun damage from heat exposure now suffers from heatstroke and is fatigued. These penalties end when the character recovers the Stun damage she took from the heat. Stun damage from heat exposure cannot be recovered until the character gets cooled off (reaches shade, survives until nightfall, gets doused in water, is targeted by endure elements, and so forth). Once rendered unconscious through the accumulation of Stun damage, the character begins to take lethal damage at the same rate.) | Low: 83°F (28°C) | Wind Force: Strong | Wind Speed: 22 mph (35 kph) | Strong Wind: A steady wind with a 75% chance of extinguishing unprotected flames.) | Undercity (Windy, Temperature: Very High | High: 115°F (46.1°C) | Low: 101°F (38.3°C) | Wind Force: Light | Wind Speed: 9 mph (14.5 kph))

Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 15 | Undercity = 95 (masks required)

Returning to his article, Olsen does his best to regain his focus. Succeeding for a time, he gets lost in the information until his Medscanner agent attachment rips him violently from the article with an incessant beeping. As soon as he is aware of the alert, Guardian has reflexively pulled the data being reported on up on his subvision viewscreen. 

One side of a two-sided column displays the vitals for Blossom. The other, for Cipher. Both netrunner’s vitals are elevating.

Blossom’s vitals:

• Body temperature: 100 F


• Pulse rate: 110 bpm


• Respiration rate (rate of breathing): 20 bpm


• Blood pressure: 125

Cipher’s vitals:

• Body temperature: 101 F


• Pulse rate: 112 bpm


• Respiration rate (rate of breathing): 22 bpm


• Blood pressure: 128

Jerking his head up, the medtech visually confirms distress. Both women are rapidly breathing and sweating profusely. In the time it takes the medtech to register their vitals and visually confirm, the numbers have increased again. They’re on a steady pace indicative of the two netrunners being in a high-stress situation and should those numbers exceed certain thresholds, the situation could turn disastrous. The problem is that they are rapidly approaching those thresholds.

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:45 PM PST - Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate.

ALL BUT GUARDIAN. BLOSSOM, & CIPHER

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:35 PM PST - Mid-City, Heywood, Mid-City, The Black Piranha Bar & Grill, X00105:4.Y00272:01.Z00385:00, South Night City Integrate.

Fixer listens to Vegas prove why he has the handle he does. The performance is impressive and he applauds to show his appreciation. He has every intention of enjoying the little downtime that they have. Why not?

The fixer turns back to Patriot and dives into their current biz, “We are going after Temecula Heights. Are you still interested… or did you want me to contact someone else that was more... experience?" Charlie gives a quirky smile to mess with Patriot, then flashes his signature smile and lightly chuckles. Charlie likes the guy, but Charlie isn’t one who readily trusts anyone. Still, Patriot is his best and only choice. Media types like him want followers which gives them more influence, and the more influence they have—like Tesla Johanneson from back in the 1990’s—the more useful they are to people like Cred Stick Charlie. Charlie and the group may be able to leverage the story to certain Media brands using Patriot as an in, or even get e-petitions signed through Patriot’s followers to stop these megacorps from getting away with murder. That is what Temecula Heights is currently getting away with, as far as Luther is concerned, and someone has to pay. Compounds like Temecula Heights have deep pockets and that can help keep the team alive, Charlie thinks.

“Temecula Heights…” Patriot blinks rapidly for a second and a half, “That’s a corpo compound out in the Temecula Valley area, no?” Looking around at the group of new people in his life, the media furrows his brow. “And what’s the hook?”

“The hook is,” replies Vegas to the query posed by Patriot, “is that I was held captive and tortured… before I was able to escape. Then while on the lam inside Temecula Heights, I had the good fortune of being aided by one of the residents… Jeannette was her name…“ The Frank Sinatra look-alike trails off his explanation as the Charismatic Crooner thinks back to those dark hours that ultimately claimed her life.

“She was murdered by some heavy muscle,” continues the Dapper Solo, “but she was too stubborn to divulge her secret… which cost her… her life… but I was able to discover the secret she was hiding… before making my escape… so, here we are… plotting vengeance and offering you a slice of the pie… for your expertise in publicly exposing the dark secrets housed inside Temecula Heights…“

Vegas tails off again as he takes another bite from his enchilada plate, followed by a long drink of life-sustaining rehydration, before continuing.

“We have another gig to pick up some quick creds,” the Dapper Solo explains, “which, as far as I am concerned, will serve as a tune-up… before dealing some payback to some dark souls… so are you and your followers in… or out… on publicizing their dark secrets?” (OOC: Persuasion & Fast-Talk: 19)

“So,” the black man leans forward but pauses as their food is brought in and distributed. Once the waitress has left them alone again, he continues, “To sum things up; The security team policing Temecula Heights—a corpo compound owned by Daltdom Corporation (which is a subsidiary of Petrochem)—is Falcone Security and at least some segment of them are running their own little torture chamber operation. Then, to top it off, this Jeanette who saved Vegas’s life, was performing corporate espionage—I can only assume against ArmorTech, which doesn’t make sense since she’s a chemist, but we’ll get into that later—and now you have a hand to play in that card game. Then, before we even dive into the Temecula Heights story, you’ve got to stop a small group of hackers from their cyber attacks on a nearby CEE-metal enclave. Did I miss anything?”

As Patriot spells it out, Casino looks around to the others and though reading each of them exactly is not easy, he sees no one in disagreement.

“Yep that pretty much spells it out and Charlie feels we need your help, so here we are,” the large solo says though it is uncertain in his tone as to what he’s feeling.

The room falls quiet as the waitress begins bringing their orders in, four to a load, two on each arm. Casino realizes from the smell of the food now directly in front of him, how hungry he actually is. A fork seems to spring into one hand and he dives into the food, eyes on Echo. The solo touches knee to knee with the nomad, a smile forming on his lips, and mouths thank you. Casino owes Echo one. 

As the plates arrive Echo smiles up at the waitress and thanks her. Seeing how Casino dives into his food after first saying he was not hungry, she knows she had been correct in that getting a delicious smelling plate of food in front of him would do the trick. After al,l besides sex, food is the way to a mam’s heart. A knee touching hers makes her look at him and smile. Yep, he owes her one.

Fixer’s meal isn't worthy of the resort experience he is seeking, but it does fill his belly, which is also worthy of applause at times. After finishing, he sits back and listens. There is a lot of discussion with Patriot about media deals and information. He listens. This isn’t his bit but it will certainly impact him, so he pays attention.

“Well,” Patriot says as the waitress leaves, all of the meals and drinks being served. “I don’t know about my audience, but I have a gut feeling that this is going to be worth the story. I’ll tag along on the trial run and then see this through with Temecula Heights. If the Corpos are taking advantage of gonks in the Heights, I will be happy to expose them. So, what’s next?”

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:45 PM PST - Mid-City, Heywood, Mid-City, The Black Piranha Bar & Grill, X00105:4.Y00272:01.Z00385:00, South Night City Integrate.

CHARLIE AND ECHO

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 8:32 PM PST - Mid-City, the Great Roll Hibachi Kitchen, Heywood, Night City.

“So… Mr. Charlie,” the smiling man—Mugsy Devil—reaches across his plate and picks up a lobster claw with a pair of silver tongues. Luther can’t tell if it’s a real bio-engineered, farmed lobster or one of the shaped and flavored soy-based products that the common people are privileged enough to eat. “We are here to discuss your crimes against the Tong. You decided to do biz in our territory. You would be dead right now if your bosses hadn’t promised you can make it right. How, then, Mr. Cred Stick Charlie, are you going to make it right for the Tong?”

From where she stands, feet a shoulder’s breadth apart, her trench coat hanging against her thighs and her hands clasped in front of her, Echo watches the interplay. Odors of various foodstuffs drift through the air causing her stomach to rumble a little. She’s not a partner in the biz happening at the table. The current role she’s playing is a bodyguard and that puts her at the door. The two women by Mugsy Devil’s side are obviously his bodyguards, but their position hides most of their bodies making it difficult for Elizabeth to tell what kind of dangerous toys they’re carrying. They’re older than Echo and in this industry, older solos deserve respect. They have survived where so many others have died and that means they’re better than decent at their jobs.

The scene is set and Mr. Charlie is on stage... for now. 

"Well, the Devil, as always, is wanting his due, Sir," Mr. Charlie replies. "I would like to start by offering my services to you when you need a "round eye" and can't use your own people." Charlie explains further, "I can negotiate as an importation option to feuds, and blood rival conflicts if that would please you, Sir."

Charlie can’t stop looking at the lobster and wondering if it is real or soy-based... he is betting it is real. 

"I will also pledge that I will use Tong services while occupying Tong space in the enclave as part of the umbrella of protection that the Tong so graciously provides for its citizens." Charlie smiles for a second. "Now I will respectfully ask that my terms and conditions with the students stay in place, with the rationale that you will have, in the long run, more income coming to the Tong by having more educated people that will always need a place to feel comfortable and among those of their own kind. The educated will make more so that the mighty Tong will be able to tax those that can "donate" to the Tong’s cause."

Charlie further explains his weak defense, "As for the Joygirls, I could introduce them into a higher-paying bracket if you would agree. But I would ask that I be allowed to assist the operating side of the said business with the understanding that any terms you would set are negotiable if you would find this agreeable. I will look forward to working closely with the mighty Tong if given the chance." Charlie finally gives his infectious smile to hopefully seal a deal and to live yet another day. (OOC: Awareness/Notice: 15; Persuasion & Fast-Talking: 26 (Critical Success); Human Perception: 15; Streetdeal: 31 (Critical Success) )

From where she stands with her feet a shoulder’s breadth apart ready to move, her trench coat hanging against her thighs, her hands clasped in front of her, yet close to her MP2020, the female nomad watches the room and people around her. The two women by this Mugsy Devil’s side—Jesus Christ, was this chink big, damn near as big as Casino—are clearly his bodyguards. However, their positioning is such as to hide most of their body’s definitions making it difficult for Elizabeth to tell what kind of dangerous toys the two are carrying. The womens' suit coats are a little loose, somewhat like her own trenchcoat, easily concealing possible shoulder holsters for handguns or small submachine guns.

They are both older than Echo, she can tell, and including Mugsy all three of the Chinese have stylish lines on their faces indicative of cyberwear enhancements such as optics, audio, and potentially more. Notwithstanding, all the tech, to be older in this industry deserves respect. However, it is obvious that not only does Mugsy rely on the two females, he also relies on an overabundance of tech. Cameras are everywhere in the room; one in one corner near the ceiling and a second kitty corner from it. These are obvious and no attempt has been made to hide them. Echo can only wonder what type of cameras or weapon tech is unseen within the room’s walls.

Whatever this place is, it is clear; with the number of Tong boys outside this is no crab shack. For now, she will play her part and hope quietly Charlie does not f*** up whatever he has to do. If he does, the odds of the two of them getting out is very, very low.

“The balls on this one,” Mugsy Devil scoffs, “You trespass and then make demands of the Tong.” The big Asian laughs a hearty guffaw that continues for a good ten seconds. The whole time, he keeps his eyes squarely on the fixer sitting across from him. Finally, leaning forward, he selects a lobster claw and fits his nakiri knife into the seam of the shell. Violently yet surgically breaking it apart, he pauses long enough to return a level gaze at Cred Stick Charlie. 

“The only reason you are still alive, M?izh?u yuán zhùmín, is that we believe you may have some value yet,” Mugsy Devil uses the knife to spear some of the meat and dip it in the melted butter nearby. With the morsel still dripping the creamy goodness, he says, “You don’t make demands of us. But you will work off the debt that me sparing your life has incurred.”

Shoving the meat into his mouth, the Tong boss reaches for a cloth napkin and daps at the butter dripping down his chin. “You may continue to teach the children in that enclave. But you will teach approved lessons. Right now, you are teaching them English, yes? You will not teach them any negative words about the Tong, only good words. You will associate all good things with the Tong. The Tong are the bringers of good. Do you understand?” Reaching for another claw, he expounds, “We will call upon your skills at our pleasure and there will be no compensation when we do. Your life is compensation.” 

Cracking into another claw, he stabs the meat and proceeds to dip it in butter. “You will also share with us all information concerning your superior’s organizational moves, and yours will be an open book as well, M?izh?u yuán zhùmín.

“I make you this offer only because you have shown yourself to have huge balls of steel and this has brought me humor.”

Throughout his speech, the twins have remained practically motionless, though their eyes aren’t rooted on Cred Stick Charlie. They’re focused on Echo as though daring her to step out of place.

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 8:43 PM PST - Mid-City, the Great Roll Hibachi Kitchen, Heywood, Night City.

I don't want to chase posts and hold up the game for them, so, if we are done there's no harm in that.

So... we seem to have lost a lot of players. Should we just call this done?

Nice to have you back, Dragon. I hope you had a great time. 

Now... if we can just get some posts! Is the game dead?

Yeah... there are a couple of opportunities within what I wrote for people to engage. Role-play... bring the characters to life... you know the drill.

Is everyone alive still? No posts for the entire week is ominous and disturbing. 

I've got a new post up to move things along. Thanks for your patience. I'd like to post again on Friday if my schedule allows it so please get your posts in. As usual, if you have questions, please ask.

Espatier and Mischief, I realized that we never played through the meeting with the Tong so I've continued that.

GUARDIAN, CIPHER, AND BLOSSOM

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:15 PM PST - Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate.

Weather Conditions: High City (Windy, Temperature: Very Strong | High: 85°F (29.4°C) | Low: 72°F (22.2°C) | Wind Force: Very Strong | Wind Speed: 35 mph (56.3 kph) | Very Strong Wind: Strong gusts of wind that impose a -4 penalty on Awareness checks and certain ranged weapon attacks. Such gusts automatically extinguish unprotected flames. Flying vehicles struggle with a -2 penalty. | Midcity (Windy, Temperature: Very Hot | High: 98°F (36.6°C) - (Very Hot: A character in very hot conditions (above 90°F) must make a CON check each hour (DC 16) or take 1d4 points of Stun Damage. Characters wearing heavy clothing or armor of any sort take a -4 penalty on their checks. A character with the Survival skill may receive a bonus and may be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well. A character who takes any Stun damage from heat exposure now suffers from heatstroke and is fatigued. These penalties end when the character recovers the Stun damage she took from the heat. Stun damage from heat exposure cannot be recovered until the character gets cooled off (reaches shade, survives until nightfall, gets doused in water, is targeted by endure elements, and so forth). Once rendered unconscious through the accumulation of Stun damage, the character begins to take lethal damage at the same rate.) | Low: 83°F (28°C) | Wind Force: Strong | Wind Speed: 22 mph (35 kph) | Strong Wind: A steady wind with a 75% chance of extinguishing unprotected flames.) | Undercity (Windy, Temperature: Very High | High: 115°F (46.1°C) | Low: 101°F (38.3°C) | Wind Force: Light | Wind Speed: 9 mph (14.5 kph))

Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 15 | Undercity = 95 (masks required)

Time moves slowly for the medtech sitting in Charlie’s living room while Cipher and Blossom rest unmoving in their seats. His neural processor’s slave AI has an internal timer and clock soft that keeps him regularly checking the netrunner’s vitals. That combined with the medscanner alerts free the blonde man from the necessity of sitting with his eyes riveted to the reports. He’s been keeping himself occupied by reading medical journals, viewing holo blogs, and listening to radio medical tech reviews. 

The women are doing well, at least as far as his monitoring goes. Their vitals are both within acceptable ranges and the occasional increase in heart rate is par for the course—David heard that phrase a lot in med school but he’s never played golf. Of course, his situation isn’t too bad. He has to admit that being alone in the room with two exceptionally beautiful women who are so deep in their cyber world that they have no perception of what’s happening in the Real means that his view is vastly better than what the rest of the team is likely looking at.

Returning to his article, Olsen does his best to return his focus to the content.

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:15 PM PST - Mid-City, Heywood, Mid-City, The Black Piranha Bar & Grill, X00105:4.Y00272:01.Z00385:00, South Night City Integrate.

“They serve a preem enchilada, choom,” Patriot spreads his arms wide in his own welcome and turns slightly to motion the group forward. “I have us set up in the conference room just back there.”

Once everyone is seated in a chamber where the Latino music is just loud enough to drown out any quiet conversation except for those who have enhanced hearing, a waitress arrives through the only door in or out of the room. Orders are placed (OOC: the cost is between eight and twenty credits; let me know what you’re spending), along with any beverages including beer (OOC: the cost is between two-fifty and five credits; again, let me know what you’re spending).

Charlie takes a seat after everyone else sits down and orders a soft drink, which the waitress adds to her hand-held device.

“Not hungry, my friend?” Patriot asks, noticing Luther’s light fare. “Trust me. You don’t want to miss out on Mamacita Pauline’s enchiladas.” Rapping a knuckle on the table, he closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head slowly, “Preemo stuff. You can’t even tell that the meat is soy-based.”

Turning to the waitress who is still calmly hovering nearby, Patriot says, “I’ll take an enchilada plate with red sauce, smothered, refried beans, black beans, and some rice, por favor, Marguerite. Oh, and uno cerveza, por favor.”

She smiles and taps in the order on her device, “Sure thing, Pat. And for the rest of you?”

Changing his mind, Charlie gives the waitress his order in Spanish to ensure that he receives good service and lets the establishment understand that he is part of the Spanish-speaking crowd.

"Me quedo con el plato de tacos, pollo y al pastor con cilantro y cebolla, arroz y frijoles con rábanos, por favor. En cuanto a la bebida... el agua estará bien por ahora." (( OOC: Translation: I'll take the taco plate, chicken and al pastor with cilantro and onions, rice and bean with radishes, please. As for the drink... water will be fine for now. )) He’s changed his mind about the soda. 

“Gracias, Señor,” Marguerite smiles sweetly and adds the fixer’s order to the device, and Luther is immediately notified that his cred chip account has been pinged fourteen eddies.

Vegas is glad to be out of the heat and it seems as though Patriot is trustworthy enough. A long time has passed since the Frank Sinatra look-alike had indulged himself with any kind of dining, fancy or otherwise, so he takes a cue from Patriot and orders the same plate!

“I will have the same as our gracious host here!” Vegas joyfully exclaims, motioning towards Patriot. “Plus, I would like plenty of your best non-alcohol beverage to help me rehydrate from the outside heat index! Also, make sure you add a couple of credits for yourself, my dear!”

“Gracias, Señor,” the cheerful reply accompanies the ding on his cred chip account for thirty-seven eddies.

Vegas is expecting the others, especially his partner Casino, to realize from his order that the Dapper Solo has indeed fully recovered from his recent ordeal, at least physically, if not fully mentally.

Fixer can’t help but wonder what the media guy is patriotic towards. Some country or nation no longer makes sense. The New United States is primarily an East Coast embodiment, though there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that President Kress has her Militech agents doing what they can to disrupt the Pacifica Confederation and the Free City-State of Night City as she attempts to re-unify the old United States of America. Charlie had previously said that Patriot isn’t aligned with any of the Media Neocorps. Perhaps his loyalty is towards a group of edgerunners like Fixer's is now. Fixer doesn’t trust unknown loyalties, and he sure as hell doesn’t trust the idea of patriotism. It smells of... either blind self-righteousness or blind loyalty. Neither of those is good.  Or something to trust. But this is Charlie's gig. if James can trust Ghlahn about one need, he can trust Charlie on another.

He listens to the guy go on about the good enchiladas. He likes enchiladas but isn’t overly hungry. He orders food but keeps it light and experiences the notification of the draft on his account. (( OOC: About 15 total between food and beverage. )) It is time to stop pondering the philosophical elements of the plan and start figuring out what the hell is really going on.

“Just a glass of water thanks” Casino replies after Fixer places his order. He’s waiting for this show, whatever it is, to get on track. With Vegas’s return, the weight of leadership, or as Charlie called it, co-leadership, was off the large solo’s neck and that is just the way he likes it. In all the time the two had worked together Casino has been perfectly happy to let the Sinatra look-alike take the lead and now is no different. For the moment Casino stays quiet but watchful.

“And you, miss? What would you like?” The waitress closes proximity, her words bringing Echo back to the here and now, her mind having been preoccupied with thoughts of the one last friend she has in her tribe, Luke. A low growl in her stomach reminds her that she has not yet eaten for the day.

“Bring me one of your enchilada plates and a glass of soda. Did he order anything?” She points to Casino, having been lost in thought when he’d ordered his water.

“No ma’am, just water.”

“Put a second plate on my tab for him.”

Hearing that the big solo’s questioning eyes turn to her, but she just smiles saying nothing with words but everything with her eyes. Though they had still only known each other a few days, in this line of work sometimes a few days are a lifetime and the young nomad is not about to let the big solo ignore his body’s needs.

With all of the orders placed, the waitress moves out of the room, and Elizabeth decides to worry about Luke later and listen to the conversation.

Vegas thinks back to the conversation they’d held before leaving Charlie’s conapt where he had asked Ghlahn, “What do your CEE-metal choombas need for proof of elimination? A right ear from each head? A finger for proof of prints? Or will a photo of each execution be sufficient for collecting two thousand eddies per Tychoon that we eliminate?” The answer was a live video feed of the execution. Very brutal, but what else should one expect from unfeeling cyborgs?

Now that the waitress has left their table to submit their orders, Vegas decides that it is time to more than subtly ‘tip off’ his partner, as to where his head and heart are now at while they prepare for their next run!

Ol’ Blue Eyes graciously flows to his feet, clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention, gives a nod to his partner, Casino, and begins to belt out an old tune (( OOC: THE SONG )). He hopes that this serves as a ‘Coded Message’ for Casino from the earlier days of their partnership letting the big man know of his determination and blood lust. He’s so wrapped up in his performance that he doesn’t even notice the reactions of his teammates (( OOC: Perform Check: 21 )). The performance is spot on, something he can be proud of.

At the end of the song, the Charismatic Crooner pauses to bask in the applause, whether it be real from the group assembled at the table, or just imagined in his own mind, before returning to his seat. As he sits down, the Dapper Solo gives a nod to his partner Casino, with the briefest of punctuations: “Macky Is Back In Town!”

(( OOC: Feel free to insert your character’s responses. ))

"Patriot,” Cred Stick Charlie turns his attention to the media. “Cipher is a good contact to help get info about taking down the megacorps, and with your connections, your knowledge, and ways around the media, this relationship should increase not only your followers but get you noticed on several media platforms, don't you think? Of course, that is why I called you—” Charlie leans in a bit, “your headlines should read, ‘Sex, Murder, and Mayhem.’ How is that for a newsfeed cutline? That should grab a few reads, yes?" 

Patriot sits back in his seat with an expression of interest easily read on his face but says nothing. Charlie continues working his biz.

"Of course... this needs to be a mutual thing, so I'll need any information that you can provide me with... deal? And I will not sell any stories from underneath you, you dig? But... I need the help, I don't know media like you know media. This will be an exclusive investigational report,” Charlie nods his head prompting affirmation. 

“And there’s the Cred Stick Charlie I’m familiar with,” Patriot’s handsome features split into a wide grin. “I get the exclusive and in return, I share with you the information I find whether it has immediate headlines or future payout possibilities. A standard contract, eh? Sure then. No problem. Here’s my amendment then. I determine who receives top billing. My kind of coverage can turn people into legends.” 

(( OOC: I imagine there might be an additional discussion at this point… ))

Charlie moves the conversation on from the arrangement with the Media explaining to the rest of the team, "I was figuring that the best way to handle ‘group expenses’ is for the members to contribute what funds they want to a centralized account. That way it isn't a matter who is covering what expense, it is more the group is covering the expense.

"I can handle this for everyone and as per the usual... I'll find deals." Charlie's handheld beeps, the alarm sounding in his ear through the cyberaudio augmentation and he glances down at the screen, taps a few keys, then continues with his explanation.

"I'll handle the money, the acquiring of the goods, and support the group. Everyone else has their own fortes. So, until we get a kitty going, we will only have one vehicle for now, but at least after a mod or two... will be able to carry everyone aboard."

(( OOC: Again, any discussion at this point… ))

The fixer turns back to Patriot and dives into their current biz, “We are going after Temecula Heights. Are you still interested… or did you want me to contact someone else that was more... experience?" Charlie gives a quirky smile to mess with Patriot, then flashes his signature smile and lightly chuckles. Charlie likes the guy, but Charlie isn’t one who readily trusts anyone. Still, Patriot is his best and only choice. Media types like him want followers which gives them more influence, and the more influence they have—like Tesla Johanneson from back in the 1990’s—the more useful they are to people like Cred Stick Charlie. Charlie and the group may be able to leverage the story to certain Media brands using Patriot as an in, or even get e-petitions signed through Patriot’s followers to stop these megacorps from getting away with murder. That is what Temecula Heights is currently getting away with, as far as Luther is concerned, and someone has to pay. Compounds like Temecula Heights have deep pockets and that can help keep the team alive, Charlie thinks.

“Temecula Heights…” Patriot blinks rapidly for a second and a half, “That’s a corpo compound out in the Temecula Valley area, no?” Looking around at the group of new people in his life, the media furrows his brow. “And what’s the hook?”

(( OOC: I’m going to assume that after all of the discussion the result is Patriot’s better understanding, as follows. ))

“So,” the black man leans forward but pauses as their food is brought in and distributed. Once the waitress has left them alone again, he continues, “To sum things up; The security team policing Temecula Heights—a corpo compound owned by Daltdom Corporation (which is a subsidiary of Petrochem)—is Falcone Security and at least some segment of them are running their own little torture chamber operation. Then, to top it off, this Jeanette who saved Vegas’s life was performing corporate espionage—I can only assume against ArmorTech, which doesn’t make sense since she’s a chemist, but we’ll get into that later—and now you have a hand to play in that card game. Then, before we even dive into the Temecula Heights story, you’ve got to stop a small group of hackers from their cyber attacks on a nearby CEE-metal enclave. Did I miss anything?”

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:35 PM PST - Mid-City, Heywood, Mid-City, The Black Piranha Bar & Grill, X00105:4.Y00272:01.Z00385:00, South Night City Integrate.

CHARLIE AND ECHO

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 8:30 PM PST - Mid-City, the Great Roll Hibachi Kitchen, Heywood, Night City.

Red walls reduce the din of the diners outside of the room to a meer hum. Charlie sits with his back to the door of the room, his food before him, Echo standing near the door. At the table with him are three others, Chinese all. A larger man with obvious augmentations that enhance his bodily structure sits directly across from him wearing a custom-tailored suit, his bald head covered by a blood-red Homburg hat with a black silk hatband. The rest of his ensemble matches the hat and his round face hasn’t stopped smiling since the fixer and nomad arrived at the restaurant. He’s flanked on either side by two women, twins, wearing white suits with black silk shirts and the top half of their faces painted black like masks. Their Techhair® is currently in pixie cut styles, with shimmering, soft red lights coursing through. The only real difference in their appearances is the slew of earrings the one on the left is wearing. 

“So… Mr. Charlie,” the smiling man—Mugsy Devil—reaches across his plate and picks up a lobster claw with a pair of silver tongues. Luther can’t tell if it’s a real bio-engineered, farmed lobster or one of the shaped and flavored soy-based products that the common people are privileged enough to eat. “We are here to discuss your crimes against the Tong. You decided to do biz in our territory. You would be dead right now if your bosses hadn’t promised you can make it right. How, then, Mr. Cred Stick Charlie, are you going to make it right for the Tong?”

From where she stands, feet a shoulder’s breadth apart, her trench coat hanging against her thighs and her hands clasped in front of her, Echo watches the interplay. Odors of various foodstuffs drift through the air causing her stomach to rumble a little. She’s not a partner in the biz happening at the table. The current role she’s playing is a bodyguard and that puts her at the door. The two women by Mugsy Devil’s side are obviously his bodyguards, but their position hides most of their bodies making it difficult for Elizabeth to tell what kind of dangerous toys they’re carrying. They’re older than Echo and in this industry, older solos deserve respect. They have survived where so many others have died and that means they’re better than decent at their jobs.

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 8:32 PM PST - Mid-City, the Great Roll Hibachi Kitchen, Heywood, Night City.

Did we die again? I just posted and I'd like to apologize for being absent from the site these past few days. I'm back though. So, the party may continue.

Stardate 2365.05.16 (Sunday) - Impact minus 55:41

USS Peregrine, Deck 3, Mess Hall - 09:52

"In line with the Prime Directive, how do we provide an explanation for the change in direction that the people of Calican II would accept should they discover it? True, their technology isn't exactly up to our standards but there's some chatter that indicates people are aware of the pending collision. A sudden change in trajectory might be suspicious."

Esel studies the man before him for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly it's irrelevant what they think, accept, or believe. Whether it's a miscalculation by them, some cosmic force, or Divine intervention. We are not here; they don't know we are here, and we are not going to swoop in for a medal ceremony."

He pauses briefly and gives out a low chuckle, "Besides the gravity tractor solution is much cleaner than it suddenly bursting into billions of pieces, and swamping the planet in a grand light show, as you suggested might happen post the brief."

The Chief Science Officer sits back and takes a swig of water, and looks out of the window into the darkness beyond. Ander chews on the inside of his left cheek for a couple of seconds while he ponders the Andorian's position. Slowly nodding his head, Ferrero uses his fork to cut away a portion of his meal and then absentmindedly deposits it in his mouth. Too reckless, he concludes. At least without some way of scientifically explaining the detour...

"I'm afraid I need to disagree, Esel," Ander says after swallowing. "The Prime Directive requires no interference. Without arguing the finer philosophical points and just sticking with the facts at hand, anyone with a decent amount of skill could argue that an unexplained change to the trajectory of the meteor affected the inhabitants. Who knows what kind of disruption it could cause in their societies? Maybe the course of their entire theology might be affected, or their focus on science completely derailed... I'm just pointing out that when we present this option to the Captain, we better have answers to those kinds of questions." Reaching for his coffee, he adds, "And I'm not the scientist here so coming up with an idea here is completely out of my wheelhouse, comprendo?"

Lifting the steaming beverage to his lips, Ander does his best to portray a friendly visage, understanding the militant nature of Andorians and not wishing to insult Esel.

I apologize for my absence. Had knee surgery done so I've been out for a bit. 

Different club, I promise you, Espatier.

Enjoy your trip, Dragon-Soul. If the story moves beyond where it wouldn't make sense for Guardian to be sitting in his own drool while staring at the beautiful netrunners, I'll do a bit of passive NPCing.

I will endeavor to have a game update in place shortly. I'd like Mischief to have a chance to post for Echo if she wants before I do. 

I am loving the speed of the site. Thank you, Olan!

I heard Eol likes playing with soft balls... 

Sounds good. Okay, I've received three posts and heard from one other. Since CTP was eaten by RL that leaves me missing three posts from people who haven't let me know life's a little hectic. Will I be able to post this week? Stay tuned in!

I understand busy, really I do. But... it's Friday and I've nothing to work with so I can't post again to move the game forward. 

...

Stardate 2365.05.16 (Sunday) - Impact minus 55:45
USS Peregrine, Deck 3, Mess Hall - 09:48

Picking the PADD up from the seat beside him, Esel started to lay out the foundation of the plan. Sliding the PADD across the table so that the COO can see the visuals whilst enjoying his meal.

"...Basically, If we can redirect enough power to the deflector, whilst maintaining a close and fast orbit, we can act as a Gravity Tractor and pull the asteroid off course without any explosions or energy signatures." The CSO pauses a moment to allow the information to sink in. "The effectiveness of this approach would be increased with assistance from other Starfleet assets within system. The only consideration is how far do we pull it and in which new direction do we send it safely."

As he finishes, he sends the data over to the COO's account and sits back taking another draft from his glass while waiting patiently for Ander to finish his current mouthful, and to hear his thoughts on the data presented.

Lt. Ferrero sets the fork down and chews on his eggs, his tired eyes scanning the information presented in the PADD. He understands the basics having taken many science classes in the Academy but the deeper math and equations are Greek to him. Swallowing his bite, the Operations Officer scratches at his chin and nods slowly. 

"Bueno," he says with less energy than he intends. "This will likely present very well, only... we don't yet have an inkling in how to align this effort with the Prime Directive. Gaining assistance from additional Starfleet assets may be out of the question. Have you checked with Engineering to confirm the viability of this? Perhaps even rerouting power to increase the output of the deflector to compensate for a lack of additional ships?"

Pushing the PADD back towards Esel once he sees the transfer of data indicated in the notifications, Ander takes up his fork again and pushes some eggs around on his plate as he contemplates another factor that just came to mind. "In line with the Prime Directive," he muses, "How do we provide an explanation for the change in direction that the people of Calican II would accept should they discover it? True, their technology isn't exactly up to our standards but there's some chatter that indicates people are aware of the pending collision. A sudden change in trajectory might be suspicious."

Maybe even ancient...