Crimson Dawn (part 17)

"Welcome on board, Mister Dart. Your seats are on the left, near the front of the cabin." The hostess offered with a voice full of fake warmth and sincerity.

The blond Elven man simply nodded to her and offered a quick thanks as he took his seat on board the Federated-Boeing Commuter, glancing out the window once he was in. Outside was a typically dreary evening at Sea-Tac airport, the tarmac busy with the bustle of operations. Service vehicles and drones buzzed around, tending to the various aircraft and their needs.

"How's it looking out there, Mister Dart?" An Elven woman began as she sat down next to him. Her black hair was a contrast to his blond, but like him, she was dressed in professional casual attire, much like everyone else on the flight.

He glanced out the window again, noting the two men, a human and a Dwarf, heading towards the Commuter. "It's looking good, Ms Dart," he shot back with a small smile. "Especially the flight crew." Moments later the pair of them also entered the cabin, having a short discussion with the hostess before heading into the Commuter's cockpit.

Crimson Dawn (part 16)

Crimson had never made it clear why she only ever met her fixer after hours. Telling him that it was because she didn’t get long enough on her lunch break just simply sounded so earth-shatteringly lame that she could barely bring herself to admit it. So whenever she was at the bland downtown Soycaf shop buying bland Soycaf, it was always well after dark. Fortunately, the place was open twenty-four hours to accommodate customer needs to get something better then Stuffer Shack, which gave her some flexibility.

Even though this was the heart of safe, bland, sanitised corporate downtown, she couldn't help but glance around as she waited for him to arrive. Maybe it was Slicer's training getting to her, but it was something she was more and more feeling the need to do. Size up the place, look for threats and make sure there was nobody about to geek you. It sounded paranoid, bit that sort of thinking had kept him alive for decades in a business that tended towards a short life expectancy.

Crimson Dawn (part 15)

It was drizzling when Crimson reached the arranged meet, the thick clouds and rain making the blinking neon signs and bright lights of the Tourist district seem even brighter. As he'd suggested she was travelling light, carrying only her concealed pistol for the moment. She parked her bike and headed towards their meeting spot, a grimy storefront several doors down from a club,

Even as she approached, Crimson could tell that there was something wrong with Slicer. The older Elf was glancing around, as if he was waiting for something and not in a good way. His mood, his stance, his entire look said that he was nervous and anticipatory, like he was expecting disaster at any moment. When she approached, he turned to face her, but not without sparing a backwards glance across the street.

"So what's up?" She asked, her tone almost impatient.

Crimson Dawn (Part 14)

The sounds of gunfire and the sprays of chipped cement from stray shots might have only been ARO objects, but they definitely were adding to the urgency of the situation. "Got two behind that wall ahead," she sent to Slicer, indicating towards a row of broken cement halfway across the vacant lot. "Possibly a third."

"Understood," Slicer nodded. "They're between us and the exit too."

"Where's my damned drone support?" Crimson replied as she glanced over at both her partner and Outrun who was squatting behind the same wall as the pair of them.

"I guess the company sees me as too valuable to lose," Outrun commented. "Despite the magnificent work you've done so far in extracting me. Clearly you have a talent for this, my lady."

"Slicer, hit him if he talks again," she muttered. "I got to get us out of this mess"

Crimson Dawn (part 13)

Every time Ashely clocked off at Vendor Mammoth, it was with no small sense of relief. It meant that once again she had escaped the purgatory of idiot customers, idiot workmates, piped muzak and constant looped safety announcements of the latest alleged bargains for the day, and that she would be free to live her life a little for the next few hours. Or, at least, until she next stepped back through the gates of hell itself to live out her endless torment of greeting customers with a false smile.

What made today's release feel even more like a blessing was a message from Slicer on her comm, arranging a meet for tomorrow night. What was unusual was that he was asking her to come to the same detract facility that she'd been training at before. Maybe he's just skipping a step, she considered as she sent back a reply, indicating that she'd be there.

And so, one very boring day later, Crimson arrived at the site in question, her mind racing with the possibilities of what could be there. Even then, what she found was quite unexpected. Slicer was there, but his Rapier was now parked next to a row of other racing bikes. With him were a half dozen humans, male and female, and what a rather awkward-looking Elven man. Each of them were dressed in biker leathers, adorned with red and white stripes and each carrying one of the training rifles.

Crimson Dawn (part 12)

Slicer had called Ashely while she was at work (Staff weren't allowed to use Commlinks while on the floor except for work purposes), leaving behind a rather short and almost erse message for her to meet him at his place that evening. While that wasn't unusual in and of itself, what had struck her was the way he was handling it. Usually he gave her more notice, and usually his approach was more suggesting or asking then the almost demanding tone she was getting here.

None the less she was still eager to go. It wasn't just that every little bit helped bring her further and further into the world of the Shadows and the life she so craved that id it. It was the fact that, at the same time, every little step made Ashley's life seem just that extra bit more unbearably bland and dull. With nights filled with action, violence, excitement and danger, a day of telling customers where to find toilet paper and about this week's sale on Soy Chips seemed even more banal then ever.

Crimson Dawn (Part 11)

The address that Crimson's fixer had given her was, at first glance, entirely unremarkable. The Belleview neighborhood was a nice, anonymous, middle-class one, filled largely with corp wageslaves living their boring corp wageslave lives; certainly it was a far cry from the Barrens neighborhoods where she’d so far spent the majority of her Shadowrunner career. Save for a discrete codelock on the door, the storefront looked like any other in the suburban strip mall she was currently strolling through.

The whole thing was rather missable, but if a person knew what to look for, they’d also see that there was something inside that somebody wanted people to keep away from. Not that it bothered Crimson at all as she pressed the button on the intercom. "Name and business?" The curt, clearly artificial voice on the other end began.

"Kaitlyn Vermelho. I have an appointment." A flick of her commlink sent the code her Fixer had provided to the system.

Crimson Dawn (part 10)

Jimmy the Knife knew that he was destined for the big time. He was a made man, a big player in the GIanelli family, one who commanded respect already, even at such a tender and young age. And while he was still on the up and up, everybody knew that he was going places. It was just a matter of time, they said; one day soon he was going to get charge of one of their big operations in Pullyup, and then he'd be set for life.

Right now, however, his glorious future wasn't what was occupying his mind in the middle of the packed Redmond club. What had occupied his attention was a gorgeous, red-haired Elf girl whose dress clung to her in all the right places. He'd spied her on the dance floor and hadn’t been able to take her eyes off her since, instead watching her every move and the way that the shapes under that dress moved with her.

More dangerous acquaintances

It’s been a while since I did a round-up of people we know (for better or for worse) and a lot has happened since then. Alphonso being no longer my boyfriend is about the least important, actually (Unless you’re his nuts or his car), which means that there's actually a lot of ground to cover.

Not pictured: BBQ sauce

I'll start with the one who is, at least to my mind, the most important at the moment. Mark Hawkins is an Ares Johnson who's very... Enthusiastic. That's probably the best way to put it, He's loud, he's bombastic, he's outgoing and he claims to be on our side. He also says he’s trying to work for the good of the people and make life better for those in the Barrens, which is all well and good in theory. In practice it feels less like he’s making their lives better as it does like a blatant Ares land-grab in territory that nobody else has a claim on.

Crimson Dawn (part 9)

By the time she got home, Crimson had been glad that she didn't need to work in the morning. She should have been filled with an air of elation and triumph over her first successful Shadowrun, making that key step to the lifestyle that she had dreamed of for so long.

Instead she was cold, sore, tired, filthy, drenched with sweat and had the stench of the decrepit apartment complex sticking to her and her clothes. She wanted to simply crawl into bed and die, but also needed to find the energy to shower first, lest the stink manage to permeate even further into everything she owned. And even as warm and inviting as the shower was, blasting the grime away from her, she still felt more dead than alive by the time she emerged.

Even then there was one last duty to perform, one that she reluctantly went through as she placed a call on her Commlink. "Hey Slicer, it's Crimson," she began, her voice leaden with exhaustion. "I don; know if you're awake or sober or what, but I'm back, I accomplished the objective and I'm alive." The yawn at the end of the sentence did seem to undercut that last one a little. "Arrange a meet with the Johnson so we can wrap this whole mess up, okay?"

Ending the call she simply crawled into her bed, curling up into a tight ball as she almost immediately fell asleep.

Crimson Dawn (part 8)

The fourth floor looked every bit as run down and awful as the third, just with the mounds of waste and debris in a different arrangement. There also seemed to be less people active in the hallway, although Crimson had put her hood up just to be sure. It was only minimal protection against someone discovering that she didn't fit in here, but it was better than nothing.

Apartment 417 stood out for several reasons. The first was that the door had numbers on its font still, allowing her to actually identify it. The second was that even in the gloom of the poorly-lit hallway, she could see that it was appreciably cleaner than the others around it; the trash moved back from the entrance, the walls less grimy and so on. Mister Healy, whoever he was, Seemed to be doing pretty well fort himself compared to everyone else, which she suspected was key as to why she'd been directed to him specifically.

She apprehensively knocked on the door, listening carefully for whatever reaction came from within. Several tense seconds later, it opened to revel a battered, worn, middle-aged human on the other side, bleary eyes peering out from behind cracked glasses. "Mister Healy?"she asked

Crimson Dawn (part 7)

Crimson had followed Slicer's advice. She’d returned home early, gotten a good night's sleep and been fully refreshed and awake when she got to work the next morning (even being a little early as a way to apologize for her tardiness the previous day). The day had actually seemed to fly past, as she spent her time running over everything she'd seen and done one more time, while trying to figure her own plans. Even the inevitable awkward lunch break conversation with Dennis had been a lot more bearable than usual.

Because when you're about to go off and do something questionably illegal to horrible people for money, the last thing you're worried about is the dropkick in the lunch room, she figured as she fired off her usual 'having a thing' excuse.

As soon as her shift was over, she was out the door and on the move. Within an hour she was at Slicer's apartment, moderately surprised to find her mentor awake, sober and ready two days in a row. "Great to see you, Crimson," he practically beamed as he let her in, offering her a bottle of water. "Shall we get down to business?"

Crimson Dawn (part 6)

There were any number of things that Crimson had expected her first run to be like. Dull was not one of them, and yet, that was exactly how it felt right now. Every part of her wanted something to happen to take everything off script and liven things up a lot (or even just a bit) but so far, instead, things were pretty much going to plan to an annoying degree.

Slicer had told her once that a Run never went as expected and that there always was some twist, some unknown that would throw a spanner in the works and send things spiraling out of control. The secret, he'd explained was not trying to stop it from happening. That was impossible. Rather, it was to try and control the outcome and use it as best you could to turn things back to your advantage. It had made a strange amount of sense to her at the time and, as a bonus, he merely hungover when he said it, so there had to be some truth to his words.

But that didn't make this job any more exciting. Going off the information she'd been given by Mister Johnson, she'd been able to find some of the Devil Dogs. They were a pretty ugly bunch, all human males who decided that tan coloured fatigues and red bandannas were their 'thing' and had chosen to confine their activities to a chunk of Redmond that nobody else was actively fighting over at the moment. Doubtless that was a low profile thing, as an up and coming gang that stepped on the wrong toes could easily find themselves crushed by those that didn't like the competition.

Crimson Dawn (part 5)

The boardroom window exploded into a million shards, sending those inside ducking for cover. A moment later, a hail of gunfire poured in from a series of drones, shredding any unfortunate enough to be in their way. Cries of alarm went out form those inside, but were not matched by alerts from the building’s own systems; instead, the ARO displays remained focused on yearly profit graphs as if nothing was happening, while the soothing lighting was entirely at odds with the violence unfolding.

A single figure leaped in through the shattered window, moving with a blinding speed faster than any human being could even hope to follow, No sooner were they down then they were in motion, a black and red blur that darted across the room, weapons at the ready and primed to unleash hell upon anyone foolish enough to get in their way.

And somebody did; a single man, his eyes crackling with unearthly power as he stood, sun-like disks of energy building around his hands as he prepared to unleash the arcane mysteries he commanded upon the target. But already, the intruder was wise to him, spinning around and sending a single blade flying towards him. It hit the mage in the throat, the man issuing a single, sudden gurgle before reeling back, the lights in his eyes and hands flickering and burning out like a dying sun.

Home is where the weapons locker is

I've mentioned the Firehouse enough times; I think it's time I actually wrote a bit about it.

Before I met the team, I lived in my own little apartment in Seattle. It wasn't the best place, yeah, but it was good enough and had reliable services and was comfortable, and that was enough to work. My main concern was slipping in and out while carrying my weapons and other runner gear, something that residents of nice, middle-class neighborhoods aren't supposed to do. After all, you can only do so much to conceal an Ares Alpha or a Katana.

Wraith had floated the idea of getting together and setting up a team base. It had a few immediately obvious advantages; we would all know where we were and be able to grab each other for a run or in emergencies; we would have a central storage of weapons and gear that we could all access; we could equip it with whatever amenities and facilities we needed and, if the worst came to the worst, if somebody was after one of us, then they’d need to take on the rest of us as well.

Filler post is Filler

It's been a while, I know. I would say that I’ve been busy with Runs and stuff, but the truth is we've been on a bit of a break after the whole Pierce fiasco and the fallout from it. More than a little of that has been focused on what to do about that Reraku Johnson who was behind it all. We've come up with several plans, but most of them amount to 'snipe him while he's on the deck of his boat', 'blow his boat up with him on it' and 'snipe him while he's on the deck of his boat and then blow it up to be sure', but they all have common issues of getting the chance to kill him and also making sure that Renraku don’t come after us too. The good news is that they haven't taken a shot at us so far either, but while this guy is out there, it's hard to feel completely safe.

I also remain broken up with Alphonso. He's taken to asking his mechanic (Dave) to ask Freddie to ask me to call him. Not gonna work. You had your chance, chummer, and you blew it big time.

Crimson Dawn (part 4)

Deep breath

Clam

Relax

Remember where you are and who you’re pretending to be

This is easy. You can do this

“Welcome to Vendor Mammoth, my name is Ashley. How can I help you?” The stock greeting had all its usual false cheer and enthusiasm, but a perceptive customer, one who’s assessment of her didn't just begin and end at ‘cute Elf girl’ would have noticed an edge to it, one that was at odds with the attempt to greet the customer, create a friendly atmosphere and encourage them to spend their hard earned money on cheaply made, low-quality products.

Those perceptive individuals might have observed just a hint of resentment, a touch that suggested that the cheer was just as superficial as everything else in the store. They would have been able to tell that her feelings towards the customer wasn’t just the usual bland indifference born of a greeting that was spoken not out of any desire to show them kindness but a requirement of her continued employment.

Crimson Dawn (part 3)

The Redmond Barrens were rarely quiet, even in the dead of night. The streets were usually just as lively after sundown as they were during the day, echoing with the sounds of life on the edge. More than just the usual hustle of day to day traffic, there was so much more that could be heard.

The roar of engines, the blare of music, raucous arguments, the distant wail of sirens, honking horns and, more often than anyone from Seattle's better districts would be comfortable with, the sounds of gunfire.

In among the cacophony that was Redmond, there was one rather odd noise. The irregular but at the same time almost rhythmic sound of wood striking wood, punctuated by cries and shouts. This odd sequence was coming from the roof of a run-down apartment block, one seemingly otherwise no different from the numerous others of its kind around it.

Dangerous Aquaintences

So beyond the team, there's a bunch of people we know one way or another. These guys are more or less allies, although this being what it is and our doing what we do, there's plenty of ways that any given ally could be tomorrow's deadly enemy. It's the way things go.

Lightspeed. Yes, she always looks this grumpy

Lightspeed was a runner in the 2050s, but since she's an Elf, it doesn't really show. She used to be a decker back in the Old Matrix and had the good luck to survive crash 2.0 which drove her into retirement. Nowadays she's more of a consultant and info broker and is rather well connected, even if many of her contacts are other old fart ex-runners. She definitely knows her stuff, and I suppose the fact that she lived so long as a runner means that she knows what she's doing. Her network has been very helpful to us in a number of ways, not the least of which is getting us some more recognition. She also apparently runs her own Data Store which serves Seattle area runners.

While she hasn't said much, I got the impression that most of her old team were dead or retired now. The few times she's mentioned them, she didn't seem to have many nice things to day about them.  Lightspeed apparently has a lot of her old pre-Crash cyberdecks, although they're utterly useless now. She turned one of them into an Ant Farm.

We jokingly call her "decker mom", although it turns out that she actually is Neon's mom (and, incidentally, refers to Neon as "the brat" a lot). Apparently, she didn’t know that Neon was an active Runner for some time, until someone 'outed' Neon in front of her. On the other hand, it explains a lot about where Neon got a lot of her skills and knowledge from.

Technologic

As I mentioned before, if you wanted to call me any one traditional type of Shadowrunner, then I'd say that I'm a Street Samurai. Usually, the definition of which (and I know that if you ask for such a definition it causes fights on the matrix) is a heavily augmented mercenary combatant, which I'd say fits me perfectly. Of course, in order to do this I had to replace a good chunk of meat with 'Ware, but the results are pretty damned awesome if I do say so myself. I'm faster and more agile then any Metahuman ever could be. I dance between bullets, I leap across the landscape and I do the impossible every day.

A diagram of somebody's 'ware. Not me, actually.

They key to all this is a combination of Wired Reflexes and Reaction Enhancers. These two systems, both working together, mean that I'm blindingly fast. Both of them are above normal grade 'ware; I recently got a new set of Betaware Reaction Enhancers, so I'm running quality stuff and not your average street grade junk. The pair of them throw in a whole bunch of adrenaline stimulators, neural boosters, replacements of key vertebrae and other such big-time changes that rewire my body to give me lightning fast reactions and agility. Added to that is some Bioware in the form of Muscle Toner which gives me just a little bit more of a boost while preserving my natural (sexy) physique. Blink and you'll miss me.

(Of course, it doesn’t hurt at all that I was already pretty dammed fast and agile to start with. I was the star of my school's junior gymnastics team, but that's neither here nor now. Back to the 'ware)