Tonight, Valles-New Shanghai is in rare form. Light shows are projected onto the domes overhead, the streets reverberate with music, and every public space seems utterly jammed full of people wearing every imaginable morph, mod, or costume. It's Mardi Gras: The one night where social strictures are laid aside and all sins are permissible.
You, however, are on business.
If the metropolis is aglow, Little Shanghai dome is a nova, brighter than it ever is in the daytime. The neon is permanent, but fanciful LED decorations adorn every home and business - painting the quarter and even its adjacent souks joyous. Half the celebrants are wearing synthmorphs, and at most a tenth were ever Catholic, but everyone loves a party.
Shouldering through the crowd, your destination is in sight.
The club named Space Amnesia is down a flight of stairs in the sidewalk; the under-street usually lit via the glassteel floor of the canal that separates pedestrians from traffic tonight swirls with a glitter of nanomachines whose sole apparent purpose is to sparkle in every imaginable color. Space Amnesia itself is windowless, but its 'front' is a screen chosen by that nights' performance group: it currently advertises DJ Bitswarm against a background of vibrantly psychedelic cellular automata.
The pair of bouncers at the door are courteous, but the neo-Gorilla and her Olympian partner both look like they wish they were drinking.
Inside, strobe lights, smoke, and glitterdust overwhelm the dim blue background lighting, and the dance floor might be the most orderly part of the room. DJ Bitswarm's skill and taste run to bone-shaking basslines layered under soaring synthesizer work. You manage to recognize the bar, straight ahead at the back, the performers' stage at far right, and the other two walls are lined with semi-enclosed booths. Aside from the dance floor, the rest of the space is scattered with tables full of people. They might be socializing, but it's hard to even hear oneself think.
Your contact recognizes you before you spot him, and Smythe of Jhonen Smythe waves you over to a reserved booth. Unlike most of the patrons, he's clear-eyed and sober, if still cheerful about it. Jhonen doesn't seem to be with him at the moment.
Nice to see that regardless of where, people still appreciate the excuse of a festival. Vincent notices the octopus tattoo and makes a curt two-fingered wave of acknowledgement with his right hand before squeezing into the booth, his sand-colored hair brushing against the wall as he squeezes his gangly 196 cm frame in. Grey-blue eyes flutter and his graphite-colored cybernetic left arm's hand counts on the inside of its knuckles as his right hand straightens something approximating a buttonless polo, before taking a mental inventory of the antiquated pockets on his smart-khakis.
Given the size of the booth, he briefly glances outside and waits for the others sure to follow before the thought that had been occupying him escapes his lips. "How does one calculate a moveable feast on Mars? Is it a straight conversion from Earth-Gregorian or Julian UTC to AMT? Calculated locally on Darian or Mars-Julian?"
Dante paused at the top of the stairs leading down into Space Amnesia, letting out a slow exhale he shook away idle thoughts that had occupied him during transit here. Time for business.
Nodding at the bouncers, he descended the stairs. The band's music rose to greet him with its cacophony of light and noise. He let it wash over him, feeling the underlying message being broadcast. Not bad. A bit of potential here maybe.
A slow sweep through the club finds him the booth Smythe has reserved. A casual glance to notice any unexpected observers and he made his approach. Let's hope this goes well.
He makes several mental notes about the other already at the booth as he walks up. Cybernetic left arm, older, outdated fashion reference. Pre-Fall interest perhaps? Interesting.
He stopped at the edge of the Booth, his own nondescript working man's clothes and their muted color tones not seeming out of place on his thin body frame. Idly he brushes a mid length lock of unruly brown hair out of his eyes as he greets the pair.
"Nice location, Smythe. Dante here, nice to see you in person." He extends his hand for a greeting handshake and gives the other fellow a polite nod while doing so.
Smythe gives Vincent a laid-back smile and leans towards him to be heard over the music. "One asks the Vatican-in-Exile, which accounts by Earth time as it would be in Italy. That would give us one in summer and one in winter, if we had enough outside seasons to notice."
He shakes Dante's hand with a measuring curiosity, not bothering to hide that he's stacking up the others' presentation in-person against mesh presence. "Good to meet you in the flesh." He flashes a grin. "Simulspace engines keep getting better, but they're not quite the same." Smythe gestures broadly to the rest of the booth, "Please, take a seat."
Krasnyy maker zer way into Space Amnesia after casing the place. Krasnyy watched the others, The sight of Vincent did send some fun thoughts though zer head but ever the solider,Krasnyy shut thous down. After scanning the area for danger, seeing nothing ze could not handle Krasnyy makes zer way over to the booth.
Tagging along with Vincent had been easy, Krasnyy had just offered to play muscle. Ze was unsure just how well Vincent was with criminals on Mars but so far, he seemed not to know how well connected krasnyy was. It was just as well,but the boss wanted zer in on this deal so here zer was.
Krasnyy slides smoothly into the booth."Simspace, be..not so good for taste." Krasnyy says in English accented with Russian. Its true that zer muse 418 could translate fairly easy, be zer kept to her accented English.
Vincent gives a polite nod back and briefly glances at the familiar-looking Fury, before turning back to Smythe. "Boringly Jovian, especially considering the past squabbles on the subject. Then again, you have seasons. And weather. 'Tomorrow: one-eighty below and dark with a chance of methe-rain' gets old from a meteorological perspective. How many are we expecting?"
At last, a neko girl with seal-brown points and distinctly Asian features emerges from the dance-floor chaos alongside Jhonen. She has the poise of someone comfortable in her body; the precision of someone who knows how to use it. The motion of her ears and tail are perfectly integrated with the rest of her movements, though their infrared signature speaks of cybernetics rather than biology. Those who've met her before* will notice that she's playing up the anime-costume aspect of her appearance for the occasion, with hints of bioluminescence that blur her outline in the smoke but highlight it in clearer air.
Both she and Jhonen have the look of people winding down from an adrenaline high. Jhonen and Smythe exchange a high-five and trade places. The smile Jhonen gives you all as he takes a seat is nearly identical to the one Smythe greeted you with.
Khalil tilts her head at him, questioning, but he only shakes his in response. She grins at the fixer (showing faintly enhanced canine teeth) and bows respectfully to the rest of the group. Then promptly shatters any pretense of formality by sprawling into a seat around the booth with feline grace and assurance that she has perfect right to be wherever she is.
With the air of someone continuing a long conversation, she asks of Dante, "You're comfortable with this job after taking your own precautions? This looks like it might be a much more challenging affair than the norm. Well, relative to what JS hands out typically anyway." Khalil punctuates the comment with a meow of amusement, her green cats' eyes bright with something other than reflections. JS knew better than to bother her with anything truly routine. It wasn't about the gain, it was about the hunt, after all.
* All of the other PCs.
Dante will sigh inwardly at the newest arrival and her singling him out. Careful. He leans against the edge of the booth in an affected casual and at ease pose, choosing to stay standing rather then sit.
"Necessity more then comfort, Kitten, but that's all you get for free from me today. I'd say I was surprised to see you here, but that wouldn't be exactly true. Let's get along better this time, shall we? A slight smile tugs at his lips as he baits the neko girl with a few leading comments.
"We're expecting...one more, Jhonen?" He regards the new arrival curiously, his palms itching but suppressing the instinct to offer another handshake. "Hopefully they arrive soon and we can get this started."
Jhonen leans back in his seat, stretching tired legs while still keeping half an eye on the entrance. "Just one more, barring surprises."
A young man in nomad-like garb enters quietly, his head turning slightly in a motion that would allow him to scan the room quickly and efficiently. Though nomadic at first glance, his clothing bears a few hints here and there of things done "wrong", as often seen among city-folk playing dress-up.
He glides over to the table and pauses with a slight nod to Jhonen. "Good evening," he offers softly, "I was given to understand there is to be a party?"
The young man's eyes twinkle a bit in the reflected light, though his face remains largely in shadow under the heavy canvas of his hood.
Jhonen grins at the nomad playing himself. "You've found it." He draws a hub and several spools of cable from a pocket, hooking himself in via a data port on his left wrist. "If you don't mind connecting yourselves for confidentiality, we can get started."
Vincent taps an osseointegrated plastic-and-metal port behind his right earlobe, the cover receding. "You have a method of wideband RF jamming to foil MitB sniffing? Or would that be too blunt for the folks with networked toys?" He draws a device the size of a pack of playing cards with a switch and a series of LED lights on the side and sets it on the table in front of him as he accepts a cable.
Jhonen raises an eyebrow at the little device. "Pass. When Mesh signatures blink out, it catches more attention than it's worth." He shrugs a shoulder. "I'm keeping tabs on the nearby outgoing traffic. Usually good enough." His voice has a faint uncomfortable edge to it on the last sentence.
Vincent nods and pockets the RF jammer, as he sockets his end of the cable.
Dante will give the cable a disdainful look like someone suddenly dropped a snake in his lap, but reaches out for it anyways. "Let's get this over with compadres." His own dataport is at the back of the neck, hidden behind the length of his hair yet he clips it in with the smoothness of a very familiar action.
Eyeing this Vincent fellow with a glance, he notes to himself this one may need a handshake later. He could be too smart for his own good.
Mathar watches the exchanges with a neutral expression, then reaches down and palms the end of the cable. There's a quiet *snap* as it clips into place just above the heel of his palm.
The feline morph smiles impishly at Dante. "Comfort is necessity. That's what mama cat always taught anyway." She pauses and places her index finger on the middle of her chin, tail swishing. "Well, you can be crazily desperate or desperately crazy to take this job. I feel better now that you're here since I don't have to outrun the bear, I just have to outrun you if things go badly." She sprawls languidly in a corner of the booth, leaving room for Mathar as if by accident.
Her mouth quirks slightly at Jhonen's answer to Vincent but she is otherwise unperturbed. She pries slightly at where a kitty ear attaches to her head. She fiddles a bit and slides the cable into her port there.
When everyone has linked in, Jhonen cracks his knuckles and waves a hand over the table, causing an AR map to unfold across it. [The courier with the cryo-case left New World Metagenomics in Noctis-Qianjiao this morning. Bio-containment regs confine experimental microbes to ground transport, so you should have no trouble catching up.] A position marker and mesh ID appear on the map, tracing a route SSW from Noctis-Qianjiao. [That's the box. Since it's meshed, the client has supplied an ID mimic to extend the time before it's discovered missing.] The dull grey object that Jhonen sets on the table resembles a stylus more than anything else. [Obviously, it's not supposed to stand up to visual inspection.]
He settles back into his seat. [The destination is in Hellas Planitia, but the blind drop you're to leave the cryo-case at is carved into a glacier in southern Promethei Terra.] A marker appears for each destination as it's named. [The box is to be delivered with original seals intact.] Jhonen's digital 'voice' has a faint touch of skepticism when he describes this deviation from standard process. [I advised the client that it would neither stop NWM's research program nor keep the products out of others' hands indefinitely. Microbes are like data; they want to be free. But the client insists, so the instructions are what they are. Payment is half up-front, half when the drop registers presence of the correct, unopened case.]
Jhonen surveys the group's expressions. [Any questions?]
Vincent taps his cyberhand, as his muse starts drawing up roadway diagrams for the highways and flyways between the two, and collates data on regional politics. [Biotics headed for one of the centers of Movement support. Gut says it's terraforming-related...it's also half the planet between start and end, not including glacier detour. What type of transport's available for this merry crew? Better questions: expected opposition, and sources to acquire gear to discourage said opposition?]
Mathar shakes his head quietly, then remembers to send a negative pulse along digitally.
Dante will listen quietly, but his questions come immediately after Jhonen makes his inquiry. [I'd like whatever known specs on the courier(s) and the transport being used itself, if you please.] By the end of his words, he is already finishing tucking the ID-mimic into his coat.[Size of the case itself? Is other competition for the target to be expected?]
Dante will then wait for replies as well as questions the others may ask, noting who asks what when they do. His own Muse fires up, indexing details that he has flagged for further consideration.
Krasnyy mostly says nothing. Why the boss wanted this item or at lest to know about this item zer did not know, but the boss had lots of transport options.[Transpot, no a problem,Krasnyy can get transport] Krasnyy also ran zer weapon options though zer mind [Ze courier is using private transport no? Number of armed guards?] Krasnyy had no issue with killing every ego on the transport but the less that had to put down the faster the mission went.
Khalil smiles crookedly. "I'm thinking even if security is light, I'd prefer they not even know they were robbed until they go to use the microbes. I know you're our hammer, Krasnyy, but this problem might work better with a screwdriver. A mind screwdriver. Dante can help us with this, if others think that's a good idea? Though," she pauses and flashes zer a winning kawaii infused smile, "you are an awesome hammer, Krasnyy and I am so happy any nails we meet will be pounded down very firmly!"
Jhonen collects the questions and enqueues them in a box in the top-right of ones' personal AR display, ordered for efficiency. He ticks down the list, starting with the box. [The cryo-case reports itself to be one of these.] A flick of his fingers, and the AR image of a rectangular case takes shape as if resting atop the map. It's roughly the size of a human hand, with a matte blue anodized aluminum exterior and grey plastic shock guards on each rounded corner. The same material covers the integral handle which runs the length of the case opposite its hinge.
[The courier appears to be one Shaleen Gaurige, whose job description for NWM is 'transportation specialist'.] The image of a woman with dark hair and features that hail from the Indian subcontinent forms in the air above the table, a three-dimensional product of security camera footage. Her posture speaks of barely constrained restlessness.
[Looks like there are only two guards. NWM's own security, not a class act like Direct Action. Company car to go with it.] Next to the image of Shaleen, a 2D frame unfolds itself. The video shows three people walking through a parking lot: Shaleen, a blandly androgynous-looking 'pod, and a neo-chimpanzee. The latter two wear uniforms of vaguely official style - the sort which tries to evoke ingrained responses to authority, without actually claiming it. All three of them are using atmosphere converters, masks obscuring the lower half of their faces. The neo-chimpanzee has a sidearm, and the 'pod has a rifle slung over xer shoulder. They board a flying car of middling quality (nothing fancy, but not obviously cheap) which moves out of the camera's view in ground mode.
[To the best of my knowledge, the only people who want that little box are the client and its originally intended recipients.]
Vincent relaxes and sighs once the scope of the transport and its guards flashes into view. Though I doubt she would have contacted us if there weren't some way for things to belly up. He glances toward Khahlil.[@Khahlil: Mind screwdriver?]
[I do admit, a swindle sounds better than going in with sabres drawn, especially against three corp bluecollars on a road trip. We could make a duplicate case, wouldn't be that hard to fab—oh. Scratch that; Mars, artificial scarcity, etc. Since it also falls under 'logistics', what's the payment for this little endeavour?]
Dante will glance over at Khahlil after her last comment. [While it is true that my studies in the Neural Sciences would allow for a fairly soft touch to things, time would be a major detrimental factor let alone multiple targets. I will have my tools for such on hand however, in case they will be of benefit.]
Privately,@ Khahlil.
Krasnyy says nothing about zer being a hammer, zer was a hammer after all.Krasnyy clinks zer thoughts and speaks to zer Muse <<418, find out what you can about Shaleen Gaurig and how good the guards are. You know my contacts>> Krasnyy's muse did not respond, nor did it needs to do so, it was a tool and Krasnayy did not need it to chat.
As the others spoke Krasnayy brought up another AR window sub vocalized a message and sent it upon its way. zer had nothing much to say here, zer would let the others talk.
I am not sure if I need to roll my Networking (Criminal)(+1) skill to find some info but 418 also has basic research as well. Krasnayy will also fire off a request to Gustave Provanco asking if there was some ground transport near that could be used.
Jhonen watches Vincent for a reaction as he names a figure that could fund a 5-person Titanian microcorp for a fiscal year or so. [Assuming both parts of the job are completed, of course.] He shrugs, but elaborates for the foreigners' sake. [The nanofab underground could help you produce a duplicate case, or one of the cartels. The clients' security spec doesn't preclude it, so long as everyone takes normal precautions.] The fixer seems about to say something else, but sits up straighter and looks into empty space for a moment instead. He appears more alert, but not alarmed.
[The 'People's Militia' is dropping by early this year. Most times, we get another six hours.] Your muses inform you of a large upload from Jhonen and a translucent AR map unfolds before each of you, describing a route from the Space Amnesia into the warren of mini-domes that make up the Little Shanghai souk - the worst neighborhood in this already disreputable part of town. Jhonen waves a hand to the map. [T-Factor set up a bunch of dead-sensor routes for the celebration; he's good for them. After you use the attached public key at the service door in back, you'll have 15 minutes. You ought to be able to make it in 10, but the safety margin is there if you need it.] He leans back in his seat, clearly not intending to join you. [Best of luck.]
Vincent shrugs and gestures the sum and the key to his muse.
[Skidt. I'm suddenly realising why Khahlil wanted so many here. You don't have to outrun the eSPos, just the slowest person in the group.]
He snaps the wired plug out of his neck and sighs. "Red, might need to borrow a tack-hammer. Right now all I have a penknife, sparky fingers, and the grin of an awkward tourist with a tenuous visa." As if to make a point, he concentrates on his right hand and makes a small static discharge jump from forefinger to thumb, before waving with both hands to gesture outside the booth.
Khalil pauses a moment
She stands and stretches languidly "Well, it seems we should move this party to a more private location. I can think of a couple of places, after we've gotten to the end of T-Factor's trail of breadcrumbs out of the neighbourhood. But I'm game for any reasonably low key venues." She smiles winningly at Krasnyy "I am glad to be working with you, I'll be very attentive following your lead if anything unduly hostile happens".
Those who are very good at hearing will catch Dante's murmured comment."Cracks appearing this early do not bode well." He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before opening them again. His expression afterwards is fairly cold, and one of all business.
"We need to go. Now. Further options can be discussed in transit, i suggest." His tone makes it clear the word 'suggest' is merely an affectation.
Khahlil and Vincent both get a glance that could be approval of their already in motion response. He himself is turning to leave even before he has finished unplugging himself from the conference. He moves easily through the crowd, almost as if he knows how the mob is going to shift to the music and anyone familiar with the practice would note it is also in a way that would not attract undue attention from casual observers.
Without looking back again, he'll use the provided Key, slide open the door and step through, stepping to the side to allow others to follow or alternately pass ahead of him if desired.
Internally....GM:(PC's are welcome to click on any of Dante's spoilers if interested, as a player i do not mind at all!)
A) Reactions by everyone at the table to the turn of events, particularly if anyone was less surprised then the others as well as any impression or even hunch of deceit, nervousness, etc. This would include Jhonen as well of course.
B) Keeping the crowd in mind, and making note of anyone who could be paying more attention to the group then attributed to a casual party goer. Anyone/everyone who flags he will subroutine a background probe into(understood that such a task would take time for results)
C) While he is entering the door first, he is stepping to the side so that a different party member Will end up in the point man position, this is premeditated and intentional.
D) Beta(fork) will be brought online, given a copy of the route, and sent remotely to netlook and watchdog ahead to detect any of the more obvious possible surprises.
E) He will task F3L1X with gathering as much information on the current state of Little Shanghai, in particular the area around the path itself and it's terminus. Traffic, outbreaks of violence, PM locations currently, etc.
As you make your way through the crowd, there's a subtle shift to the music. The bass line turns a shade harsher. The soaring synthesizer begins a graceful descent into an areal dogfight, its simple joy gaining a fierce, almost anticipatory edge. It's not at all difficult to pick out Smythe from the mass of people - his current dance partner is wearing a quicksilver synthmorph, and is contributing to the light show in a dazzle of almost sculpted-looking afterimages.
The hallway that parallels the length of the club's main room is almost shockingly calm and empty by comparison. Immediately ahead, double doors lead to the kitchen, and a green-haired 'pod wearing an apron is standing in the doorway shouting to someone on the far side. To the left is a door labeled "Employees Only", and farther down the hall to the right is the one awaiting a key. It opens at Dante's touch, and an AR countdown timer appears on your HUD.
The far side is what passes for an alleyway on the subsurface levels of Valles-New Shanghai. The oversize corridor is surfaced in rust-orange Martian concrete and hums with the active machinery of the dome's infrastructure. Nearing the stairwell that will return you to ground level, loud slurred voices can be heard from the cross-alley ahead, but they don't seem to be moving.
You emerge from a service entrance perhaps 2/3 of the way to the souk, into the massive ongoing street party. There's a small clear space where a jazz band is performing in playful counterpoint to the algorithmically-generated faux-blues emanating from speakers across the street. Everywhere else has too many people in it for ease of movement. The timer shows 12min.
Khalil strides through the postmodern maze in short precise steps She is near or at the rear. She makes note of the timestamp when the music changes.
Athletics roll
Alertness Roll
She otherwise focuses her attention on two things: making sure no one's following us and a backup way out in case T-Factor's route is somehow flawed. (Her main worry is T-Factor might be failing to guard against subtle overconfidence which might be ensuing from what could be his first experience with testosterone. However since she knows his reputation, it's more of an academic exercise than anything she expects to use.)
Of course she keeps her senses focused on her comrades in case her memories need to be consulted later for physical details.
Kinesics:
Almost as if he was riding the music itself, Dante will slip through the crowd like a fish in the sea. He'll pause, somehow holding his place with minimal shifting as the crowd flows around him, again waiting for the others to catch up. If the wait irritated him at all, he didn't show it. His expression remained the same as when he left the table earlier.
Inwardly, his mind is anything but calm. Processing his surroundings as well as his companions locations and actions all while keeping the time limit in mind, his thoughts were never idle.
If he accepts, he'll gain a FATE point. If he wants to refuse, he'll have to pay a FATE point.
Then he happens to look over his shoulder and notice the rising column of smoke that's beginning to obscure the vivid light show being projected onto the dome surface. It's like being doused in ice water. And... was that the faintest hint of a flaw?
Vincent follows out the service entrance, doing his best to wheel and stumble around gawkers in the street party, while using his height and AR to keep tabs both on the group of co-conspirators and potential hostiles lurking in the crowd.
Unexpectedly, Dante will misjudge his movements and slam into a synthetic morph passing by in the crowd. He'll stagger a bit, clutching at his head and sometimes being hidden from sight by the press of the crowd as it passes by. Visibly wincing a bit, he still keeps glancing around and making headway along the route given to the group but his movements and even body language seem to be 'off' from before.
For the keenly observant types:
As you wind through the press of the crowd, thing seem to be going smoothly at first. Dante looks back at something near Vincent, but his crowd-reading fails him and he moves directly into the path of a synthmorph that may as well be a bipedal forklift. It's like trying to body-block a wall, and the impact elicits a digitized snarl of curses. Staggering away, he's unable to warn Vincent about the person moving towards him.
No one else notices the woman in red and tawny-gold until she steps out in front of Vincent. It's none too steady, but not quite the motion of a reeling drunk. All the same, she manages to hook a necklace of cheap plastic beads around the Titanian's neck and press herself against him before he can move away. "Can I have this danche?" she asks. Vincent is still within the dead-sensor zone, but only just.
Vincent grits his teeth in a forced smile. "No offence, milady, but I am needed elsewhere." He sends a mesh message to the group. [A bit of a holdup here.]
Still a bit unsteady, Dante will fire off a singular reply.
Vincent:
He will send an irritated look behind him and fight to the edge of the crowd to let most move by him in case he needs to turn back and help, his fingers still pressed to his temple.
The faux party girl steps up to Vincent and quickly plucks the necklace off his neck. Holding it unsteadily she makes a show of inspecting it "Oh that's so LAST season, darling." She smiles insincerely at the drunken(?) woman "Yes, I need him. A lot. Someplace more private. Find another dancer, dear." she smiles cattily and puts the necklace around the woman's neck. Khalil does her best to imply she's company he's rented for later in the evening (yet not clinging to him, presumably by his request).
She pauses, smile unfaltering as if nearly off balance from the sudden movement yet amused as anything by that itself. Once she's "ready" again she sets off after Vincent, getting somewhat closer than before. She still doesn't presume to physically touch him. She does make a point of staying between him and the necklace wearing woman.
The woman painted in red and gold recoils as Khalil casually invades her space, despite it being less of an intrusion than she was inflicting on Vincent. "If itsh like that." She turns unsteadily to the man in the Hazer morph, "You coulda had better for free, handsome." As the group moves away, she allows herself to be guided by the flow of the crowd until lost among the revelers.
The sensor-free path ahead leads around a corner, where the graceful arc of Little Shanghai dome can be seen curving to almost vertical as it approaches the ground. The buildings are in worse repair as you move towards the periphery, and a desperate edge starts to rise from the partying crowd like cheap cologne - the breath of the souk, as people circulate through its once-grand Art Deco entryway.
Your HUD timer now reads 6min.