Ripples in the Lake: A Seattle Adventure in the Sixth World (Inactive)

Game Master Evgeni Genadiev

"It really is the wild wild west out here. I'm not much for slam-rock or the similar, more geared to good synthlink singers or even live musicians. Good to know some things never change, though. Gangs and shoot-ups seem pretty universal nowadays. Hell, I bet the McHughs here use the same KO gas nozzles back east."

Nomad looks out as the neighborhood slowly starts to change more residential.

"Yeah, no sense driving all over again. We can split a coffin, sure."

January 3, 2076: 00:48 - Seattle, Bellevue. Ashwood Pines Residential Estate

Wraith and Jeremy continue their conversation, as the AutoCab begins turning away, zipping through the mostly empty Bellevue streets. It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for the two to arrive at their destination, a cheap coffin motel in the industrial part of Renton. A glance at the car park is filled with second-hand cars, most filled to the brim with their owners' worldly possessions, or to your eyes, garbage.

The automated kiosk beeps as the two of you approach, and a simple, affordable price.

January 3, 2076: 00:51 - Seattle, Downtown. Dram's
As the conversations (and the beer of both soy and non-soy variety) flows, the semblance of a plan begins to form.

Your PANs ping with a message from Freddy.

>>Hey there, dudes. That's for Nomad, my roadie is in town, so you can send me a list of that hardware you need getting got. Rest of you, now's the time if you need tuning!<<

Replying to Freddy: <Okay, great. If I can get about 4 CS grenades, 4 pepper punch, 2 narcoject, and 2 smoke, that should be great. Also, an area jammer might be nice, if he can scrounge one up.>

After thinking about the situation for a little while, Sunset remembers a guy her unit had on their radar a number of years ago. He was a ganger and was thought to be involved in a number of thefts where the M.O. was posing as maintenance workers. She had kept in touch with one of the gang...a lively fellow who might be able to help out.

"Say, I might have an angle on the landscaping uniforms. Let me make a quick call to a buddy of mine"

She sends him a quick pm.

Hey skud, how you doing! Have a question for you about that job you supposedly never had a part in...you remember the one we met at. Anyway, I need something special and I think you can help out...get back to me ASAP..could be a few creds in it for you. Later

"OK, we have a plan, so I think it's time to grab some shut-eye before an early start. Always best to start the day fresh."

Road-Rage nods at Sun's angle;

"Arctic. We nail down gardening look, then I give the van same profile."

The hob beckons toward the spacious interior of the Titan;

"Crash here if you want. I know few spots in Puyallup to park up, we get left alone. Not prime real-estate but safe for night. Or I drop you back wherever you want? Let me know omae."

"Here is good. Where are you thinking of parking? I would stay out of the valley...maybe near Black's Junkyard on Buckley Boulevard and 234th Avenue East? Usually quiet down there at night."

Sun snuggles into the back, making a little nest out of some of the softer items R-R have back there.

To the group: <Hey all. Got some fun party favors lined up, waiting to hear about when they'll be delivered. If you don't have a gas mask and are planning on coming into the building, probably want to snag one up soonish. - N>

January 3, 2076: 11:32 - Seattle
The roiling, gray clouds of the Seattle skyline tumble through the horizon much like the toiling gray inhabitants shuffle about their daily business on the gray streets below. The sun's few hopeful rays shine though the occasional gap, flickering the shadows in and out of sight.

Nomad and Wraith are woken up by a synchronised, loud beep, telling them that the coffin's affordable hospitality is about to run out in half an hour. The car park is much emptier than last night, suggesting that most of their nearby neighbours are out and about.

The inhabitants of the van wake up to the rustling sounds of cars, trucks and motorbikes scooting nearby, to glance at the gray and beige surroundings.

The daily news on your commlinks provide an endless stream of chitter-chatter, comments on the latest trends, fashions, foods, wars and problems around the world, and a plethora of scandals. A few of the local networks are streaming the live interview of an aide to the Mayor of Downtown, Nicola Taul, politely throwing shade at the Seattle Governor's failing ratings.

Actions? Things that come to mind is collecting and paying for your grenades, Sunset meeting her contact and, obviously, scoping out the neighbourhood houses. Remember, the fact that you have 9 days left doesn't mean you have to hold on until the last minute!

Night Before - Ninja'd by the GM ;)

Road Rage kicks back in his adapted driving seat, muching his way through a box of KelpKrackers;

"Here is good. Car-park of Bump N' Sleep is other okay spot."

He flashes a grimace smile, then offers up the snack box;

"Know Black's Yard. Work there part-time... Wrecker, recovery, parts courier. Whatever they need.."

At Nero's incoming comms ping, the hob scowls, then looks to others;

"Gas masks? We smoking out the inukecavuk (Or'Zet: insects)? Drekking fumigators omaes?"

On the Morrow

The hob rises, stretching out the cramp, then pillars his "roommates" for what next;

"What on the breakfast menu chummers? Soykaf? Poison gas?"

<In a manner of speaking. Just think; would you like to stay in a house that's rapidly filling up with choking, painful, burning tear gas and pepper-juice? Probably where there's gunshots going off and dogs barking and chaos? If we chain or nail shut the doors we want, pop smoke when we want the party to start, then we can funnel our unwanted inukecavuk where our long-range and close-range specialists can tag-team them. Less risk for us, more pain for them.>

To Wraith: "Well, dear, shall we take a ride out and see where we're house hunting? It had better be far away from those trogs and pixies and such, for that price." Nomad looks for a SoyKaf stand or Soybucks somewhere nearby they can grab some java and a bite to eat beforehand.

"At some point I've gotta stop by Freddy's and pick up our party favors. Maybe we can concentrate on getting invited back soon, that way we can take a bit more time slipping things here and there."

Nomad settles his weapons and gear back into their customary spots, and looks to head out.

"Something caffeinated sounds like a plan. And food. Then it sounds like breathing gear's needed, so shopping. Maybe we shoulda planned on being roach-control." Glass grins.
"Hey, Sun, is your bud gonna have tools as well as outfits?"

"Mmmmmmm, food. Let's get food first. Then, yes, we can get your hobby on.

Let's not go back to the well too many times. We should scatter the favors on the first run, then just hit it. We go back too many times the other might get jealous and want in on this pure and innocent action."

Nomad plots out a map with Freddy's place as the midpoint and their target neighborhood as the destination.

"Once we've caffeinated, let's hit up the party favors spot, then check on our new friends. Maybe we can pull off th4 infil all at once, eh? That'd be nice."

Looking at Glass, Sun gives her answer.

"Well I am not too sure...will have to see what his mood is when we meet."

She gives R-R the directions to the meet.

"I'll go in alone so as not to spook him. Last time we met I was still wearing a Star, so it might take a little convincing to get him on our page...well that and some money!!'

January 3, 2076: 12:32 - Seattle, Tacoma, A Stuffer Shack

As Road-Rage's Ford rolls south from Downtown, your noses pick up the familiar scent of Tacoma. Giving a small praise it's winter, the smell of food processing, chemical plants and rarely cleaned streets is still almost tangible, lingering in the air like an oil film over a puddle. Kris, Sunset's contact confirmed earlier that the meet is in a Stuffer Shack in the middle of Tacoma, surrounded by warehouses, facilities and not one or ten chopshops.

As the Ford rolls into the Stuffer Shack's car park, you see a lone ork of South Asian heritage sitting on a table outside in the chill wind, collar popped over his ears, biting into an enormous burger, a drink cup the size of a bucket next to him. He lights up a cigarette as Sunset leaves the pickup, giving a surprisingly friendly wave and a grin, teeth glittering under the ketchup.

"Hoi, badge!", the ork greets."Got snacky.", he grins, the red trails in his eyes indicating it was more than hunger influencing his dietary decision. "Gotcha some, too.", he adds, shoving the paper bag across the table, then slurping from his cup. "Whatcha digging that old history, chummer? Thought the Twinkles weren't in Seattle anymore, ye?" He raises an eyebrow.

January 3, 2076: 12:32 - Seattle, Downtown, Another Stuffer Shack

The downtown Stuffer Shack is surprisingly clean, undoubtedly due to the cleaning drone droning endlessly around the floor. The two soykafs with the familiar green mermaid on the cups taste exceptionally adequate for the adequate price, as Nomad and Wraith pick up their drinks. A few college students and bored individuals are glued to their commlinks in the room, swiping endlessly at the Matrix.

The AutoCab arrives not a few minutes later, and a short trip later you find yourselves inside Freddy's bar. The music's stopped, and the fixer sits on the bar, feet up on a bar stool with a massive jug of coffee in his hand. "Hey, dudes!", he greets, gesturing towards at a bright cyclist backpack behind the bar. "Gotcha your Christmas presents. You paying cash or cash?" He nods at Nomad. "Don't got the paperwork for 'em, just so you know." He leaps down from the bar. "So, wanna go over the plan, or you got it down to a tee?", he inquires, fingers drumming on his cup.

Actions? You can get gas masks at any Stuffer Shack (hint, hint), so we can assume that those who don't, have already gotten them. I'd like everyone who hasn't done so, roll their starting wealth and track it on a separate spoiler on their sheets. Up to 5,000 from your starting wealth can be kept, and you roll an additional amount based on your Lifestyle.

Don't worry if you go under a tiny bit (e.g. a grand or so) for now, assume that Freddy will take it off your share of the payment at the end (should you succeed). In the future, it's wise to keep some spare change around for emergency purchases (e.g., food, snacks, train tickets, tear gas grenades, gas masks - everyday items like that!)

Road-Rage eyes the ork contact as Sunshine approaches him. He mutters under his breath to Glass;

"Look like Sun fixed for munch. Us not so much. Want food? You look like you need good meal chummer. On me... Not promise it good, but plenty?"

Regardless of the response, the hob exits the Titan, he checks that his Krime Tingler taser is primed then walks nonchalantly past Sun and her contact, entering the Shack.

Glass follows Road-Rage into the Shack.
"Food'd be good, but this place'll do. I should grab a mask while I'm here too"

No worries about the money, I just blew about ten grand on fake licenses for the ton of restricted weaponry I have on me, so I'm back nicely under 5k. And for lifestyle, I get 3d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 3) = 12x60 = 720¥

Blacksap parks his Mirage near R-R's truck and engages the security systems, entering the shack and looking around in case some piece of equipment strikes his fancy. "Let's go over it, in case you've some input or doubt. Road-Rage, if we can swing by Snohomish for a moment later, I'd like to stash some tools in your van. They don't quite fit in my wheels."

Was the house on the back (the best sniper spot) occupied or vacant?

Sun saunters up to the orc with a smile.

"Not with them anymore, and before you ask not with KE either. I like to do some freelancing these days. Speaking of which, you remember that job where some 'guys' dressed up as maintenance workers to gain access to their target. You would not know where those fellas got their gear, do you? I'm only asking for a friend, you see. Need a couple of elf-sized and one orc-sized uniform for a local landscaping company and maybe some fake ids to go with them."

She picks up the bag and removes a huge, sloppy soy-burger with everything on it. Her smile grows even bigger as she chomps down into the messy goodness.

The ork raises a suspicious eyebrow as Glass and Road-Rage leave the Titan, then lets out an amused grunt. "Friends, huh. Good to have friends, Twinkle.", he mutters out. "I might know that, true." His eyes snap serious. "If that's what you want me to get for you,", he adds, eyebrows jerking up. Sunset realises that that's undoubtedly to avoid entrapment. "Then tell me the company name. Meet me back here in two days. 500." Let's say the company name is Tia Xochitl's Greenthumbs. He slurps down the last remains of his drink, then leans back, pulling out a packet of obviously contraband cigarettes. "So why you still here when the Star's gone, bos? Like Seattle too much?"

Blacksap, the house on the back was vacant, as well as the other two around it. The rest, there's plenty of masks, in plentiful different colours and styles.

Sun takes her cred stick and slots 500¥ to Kris.

"There, now that is taken care of, how have you been? I stuck around...well partially for family reasons, but also I know this place, and there is still lots I can do to try and help people, ya know?"

Inside, Blacksap finds Glass and Road-Rage selecting gas-masks from the PPG4U auto-vend.

As the sniper approaches the deliberating pair, the hob's ear's twitch and he cocks his stocky neck without turning round;

"You here to help us pick colour omae? Better not have ill intent... Friend here knows Krav. Geek you up go-..."

He stops short as the elven shaman nudges him, before clocking Blacksap himself, eliciting a jagged smile from the rigger;

"Hoi. Thought you might have been some street slot chancing arm. Hope we not scare you..."

Glass gives Road-Rage a look.
"Seriously, chummer? You're threatening people with me? With those boots on?"

"Yeah, Mister Scrawny here is not the most intimidating presence. You're best suite for the role." deadpans Blacksap, looking at the gas mask selection. He pats Road-Rage's shoulder with his left arm, amicably but letting him feel the weight of the highly illegal strength enhances inside the chrome.
"I'm partial to Ju-Jitsu myself, omae. Anyway, I was saying, do you mind swinging by Snohomish so I can keep some hardware in your wheels? Assuming you've a safe stash, of course."

At the spot with Freddy:

"Oh yeah, chummer, everything's wiz. No worries on the papers and such, by the time anyone thinks about that, there wont be anything to worry about. Heh. As for the plan, pretty simple. The missus and I, being fine and upstanding citizens newly moving into the neighborhood need to find out if we're safe. Cant have those scary undesirables too close, eh? So we make nice nice, go in for tea and cookies, and prep for some party time fun later at night. Get the job done, peace out, and no-ones the wiser. Maybe some horned or pointy-eared folks get a call to pick up a present later on, maybe not."

Nomad takes the messenger bag and slings it, transferring the ¥800 via credstick to Freddy.

"Teams gearing up and prepping now, should be good to go tonight or tomorrow."

Seattle, Tacoma, A Stuffer Shack
The ork ganger gives Sunset a long, appraising glance, before breaking eye contact and finishing the rest of his murderously large burger. Sticking the credstick in his pocket, he grins.

"Good to hear, good to hear.", he nods as he hears about Sunset's reasons, before checking his commlink. "I've been good, bos. Learned if you keep your nose clean, you can sniff it out when it gets real Tacoma. See you 'round, hm. Twinkle don't cut it no more, does it." The ketchup-stained tusks flash once more as Kris stands up, crumples his bag and leaves towards a new Ford Americar.

Seattle, Downtown, Der Gute Messer
As soon as the credstick disappears in Freddy's pocket, he lights up a cigarett. "Right on, dudes. You two seem to be in sync." He seems to want to add something, but shrugs. "Just play it by ear when you get there, it's how to keep the crowd happy." Holding a fist towards you, he grins. "Give 'em a**!$*@s hell, Kafer."

Nomad grins and pounds the hippy fixers fist.

"That's the plan. Keep it loose, free flowing, and moving along. Me and the Missus should have plenty of sweet talking and friend making skills between us, I ain't worried."

Once everyone is situated and ready to move onto the next phase, Nomad calls another AutoCab and punches in the destination.

"Ready to be charmingly racist, Alanna, dear? Maybe you grab a few of the party favors, and we can slip them in with wireless active as we chat?"

"So, what's the plan chummers? We let Mr & Mrs pure breeding case the joint while we wait around for Sun's bud to come through with some costumes? Or are we going to have a little driveby and get a feel for the neighbourhood?"

Back @ The Stuffer Shack

Road-Rage chuckles at Glass' concern at being used as a false threat;

"Relax omae. Gives them pause... Think I just driver. Maybe they double think you is trouble. Then I drop 'em 52 Blocks style. Kick brainpan in good. Heh."

He then settles his pitch gaze to the cybered arm, then back to Blacksap with a jagged grin;

"Jits? One of Stars at Wynaco knew some jits. Funny story: One time I was being... resistant. Got me in a leg triangle... Night-night-tight... Til' I sink my fangs into him. Breeder screamed higher than a drekkin' pixie until I let go... Muzzled me from then on."

The hob frowns to himself as his mind wanders, then refocusses with a nod;

"Snohomish? Sure. Never took you for a farm boy omae! Got a spot in the van to keep your gear. Eyes off, safe and sound. Just say when."

As Glass chimes in he shrugs with a toothy grimace;

"Best we speak with Sun. Her boi come through speedy we can roll for the Farmer Blacksap's harvesting tools eh. Heh."

Alanna stops thinking about cleaning her gun and nods at Nomad, suddenly realizing that the fun shooting part is still a long, long way off.

Blacksap laughs genuinely as Road-Rage trades snark. "We can spar later, big chummer, see if I can pick up something from you. And well, it's harvesting tools of sort, but more of a Grim Reaping persuasion. Farmboy'd've been a sweet name, though."

January 3, 2076: 15:48 - Seattle, Bellevue. Ashwood Pines Residential Estate
As the winter sun sets over Seattle, the fumes and clouds of the city rendering the skyline an impressive shade of red, Nomad and Wraith step out of the cab into the cold air in front of 'their soon to-be-new-home'. Giving the lovely, if ridiculously overpriced, building one more glance, they set off towards the actual house they're here for, gray snow crumbling with every step. A thing you notice is the lack of aerial drones. People here sure seem to live a quieter, more serene life than the rest of Seattle. Or simply hide their indiscretions better.

Any last minute advice for one another, now's the time!

January 3, 2076: 15:39 - Seattle, Downtown. Road-Rage's Pickup, in a congestion

While not completely stopped, you feel like you'd have been better walking. The pickup slowly crawls through the streets. Aa few glances from your current neighbours wash over the hobgoblin seemingly operating the car himself, before pointing back towards their ARO's. You think you'd be there in about an hour, at this rate.

"You think you'd ever want to live there?" Wraith asks wistfully as they pass by the overpriced-yet-respectable townhouse.

"Maybe if someone else was footing the bills."

Nomad plasters a wide grin on his face and takes Wraith's arm in his, walking close by as if to keep warm and cozy.

"Now, let's go meet the neighbors and see if they match our political leanings."

As they approach the target house, Nomad scans the building with a practiced eye, looking for weaknesses, hidden security, or any other secret features.

14d6 ⇒ (5, 3, 6, 5, 6, 5, 5, 4, 5, 5, 2, 6, 1, 1) = 59 capped out at limit of 8 hits. Visual Perception.

He moves to knock on the door unless otherwise intercepted.

Speaking loudly, he says to Wraith, "I hope there are no trogs or pixies here, not like last time. I really dont want to have to go house shopping all over again!"

"Yeah. Probably doesn't even come with a white picket fence. Pretty dumb." She puts on her glasses and holds tight to Nomad's arm.

Team Perception!: 12d6 ⇒ (3, 5, 1, 5, 2, 2, 2, 3, 5, 3, 4, 4) = 39 3 hits, Nomad's dice pool increased by 3, and +3 dice

"Fragging trogs always moving in and stealing other people's jobs. THAT'S why the Barrens are so bad. They'd be really nice if it wasn't for all the sub-humans walking around. They should go back to where the CAME from," she says, without a hint if irony that most meta-humans were born in the same location they currently live in.

@Bumper 2 Bumper...

Road-Rage glowers at anyone shooting a look toward him or his heavy pickup, then grumbles to anyone and no-one;

"Drekkin' traffic. No good... Places to be. People to geek."

The hob's scowl increases as he accesses AR Mapping looking for potential side routes or short cuts

Navigation (ARM): 7d6 ⇒ (5, 5, 2, 3, 2, 6, 2) = 25 (3 Hits)

January 3, 2076: 16:00 - Seattle, Bellevue. Ashwood Pines Residential Estate

The winter sun begins to set, forming a beautiful red skyline over Seattle's bay, as Nomad knocks on the door. The air is chilling you in your coats, as a moment later the door opens with a pleasant, old-fashioned jingle.

The man who appears at the door is seemingly in his early fifties, judging by the salt-and-pepper beard and crow-marks around the eyes. A pair of golden-rimmed glasses is perched low on the man's nose. Dressed in a comfortable looking house robe and slippers, he seems relaxed and thoughtful, as he holds a mug with an inscription in a language you neither of your has seen before.

"Good afternoon.", he greets the couple standing outside on the front porch. Giving the two a long glance, he smiles warmly. "May I help you?" His voice is a confident baritone, with an inperceptible accent. A small corridor behind him reveals a number of doors, as well as a fireplace with a couple of couches in the centre of the main hall.

January 3, 2076: 16:00 - Seattle, Downtown. Road-Rage's Pickup, in a congestion.

Road-Rage's skills in navigating in Seattle pay off, and soon the truck continues cheerfully towards Shonomish via a couple of smaller streets (and one illegal turn that at least five cars ahead of you do with GridLink off.) Starting to merge into the larger streets, the traffic seems to quiet down, and the party arrives outside Blacksap's place of residence, an ancient five-story apartment block of dull and chipped concrete, sitting like a well-hidden gash in Shonomish's usually green environments. Parking the truck alongside a couple of older, similar trucks, most of the streets are empty, bar the occasional street dog, with wageslaves and small business owners out for an honest day's work.

The split parties are now in time-sync. Remember, even if you're not at the same place, you can aid each other over the Matrix. The guy in the chair, and all that.

Nomad steps up and offers his hand in a friendly gesture. He introduces himself and his 'wife' with a wide smile.

"Good afternoon, terribly sorry to bother you. My name's Jeremy, this is Alanna, and we're looking to close on that beautiful property over behind us."

Nomad gestures back at the overpriced home they were just nearby, then turns back to the man.

"We've been looking all over the city, and we keep finding nice places that seem just about perfect, only to find out there's some undesirable element nearby."

He leans in and pitches his voice down a bit, as if used to speaking unpopular opinions in public.

"You know the type, right? Ears all pointy, holier-than-thou, fakers. And even worse, those tusks and horns!" Nomad shudders a bit at the statement.

"I'm optimistic to find real red blooded people here in the neighborhood, and I was hoping to hear those types won't be around. So, neighbor, whaddya say? Do we need to keep looking, or should we continue with the paperwork and lawyers and such?"

16d6 ⇒ (5, 5, 6, 1, 1, 6, 5, 1, 3, 6, 5, 2, 3, 1, 2, 1) = 53 Con (assuming pheromones work) to sell the story. 7 hits

"Eh, it's not much but it's a place to stay. Bee-arr-bee."
Blacksap takes the elevator to the fourth floor, not for the first time wishing for a cybernose to block out the smell of mold and mildew.

In case nothing weird happens in my apartment.
Ten minutes after he's gone up, the sniper returns with a military green duffel bag, baggy enough to conceal its contents to an unwary observer. He places it somewhere in the back, where it makes a metallic sound. "I'll organize it a bit on the way. You need some spare iron? I've a couple rifles I'm not carrying, or a Roomsweeper if you want bang for your buck."

"Nice little collection. I prefer something a bit quieter. Well, most of the time. Still attracts attention if you're not careful though."

"That's why this little thing on top is called a silencer."

Road Rage flashes a gargoyle grin at Blacksap's offer of improved arms;

"Am good omae. Plenty iron in my diet.. Rem Suppressor an' Krime Tingler under the hood... both pretty hush-hush."

He peels back his poncho showing a glimpse of the machine pistol nestling in a subtle holster complimenting the large taser in open carry.

As he packs the sniper's weapons into his van's secret compartment, you all see it already contains a heavily modded AK-97 surrounded by boxes of APDS and Explosive ammo.

The rigger pats the weapon as he places Blacksap's ordnance into the smuggling niche;

"Things go to drek I breakin' this bad-boi out. Geek 'em all."

Sun sits shotgun as the others gather their wears. She waits to hear back from Kris as to when and where they can pick up their goods. She smiles as R-R shows his back up weapon.

"Always keep mine close at hand..and APDS ammo is just normal for this gal!!"

January 3, 2076: 16:03 - Seattle, Bellevue. Ashwood Pines Residential Estate

The man, seemingly thoughtful, leans to listen to Nomad, with seeming interest. "Hm.", he sends a pained smile, almost as if its pains him to agree, but then nods. "Bluntly put, Jeremy, if I may be so bold, but...", he raises an open palm in agreement. "The neighbourhood is a little barren, but..." He suddenly shakes his head. "Manners! My name is Samuel, pleasure to meet you. Please, come in.", he says, ushering the two in the house. The hallway opens up several feet inwards to a beautiful staircase, leading up. Surprisingly tactically defensible, too. A large, muscled man with a close-cut black hair glances over the railing, seemingly suspiciously looking over the newcomers, but as he sees the trio walk in calmly, waves a hand and smiles a pristine smile. "Hello, hello!", he blurts out cheerfully in a Seattlite accent, before disappearing inside.

A couple of couches and sofas are placed around the hallway, with political and cultural magazines (made of real paper!) sit on a couple of coffee tables. Gesturing over the furniture, he waits for the guests to sit down, before closing a paper-backed book on his couch. "Drinks? Tea, coffee, beer?", he asks, before disappearing himself inside the spacious house with the orders.

Actions? You're currently alone in the 'lobby/common room', which has walls covered in painting and bookshelves, and doors heading in different directions. You don't see any visible cameras (I rolled), but that doesn't mean there isn't any.

January 3, 2076: 16:03 - Seattle, Shonomish, Holyoaks Residential Estate

The large arsenal inside the large truck becomes even larger as Blacksap's 'gardening equipment' is placed inside the almost overflowing tax evasion compartment in the truck. As the four people sit and ponder their next step, Sunset's commlink beeps with a message.

>>hey hey, Fallen Star! Good news and bad news. Found your suits, and they're there, but my contact was sacked for stealing a month back, so you'll have to rec them yourself.

>>Address sent. [Link to dry cleaning place in Tacoma]

>>Lemme know if you want a refund, omae.

Alanna returns Samuel's gaze with a placid smile, not trusting herself to lead off the conversation. 'I'll kill you with...two shots to the abdomen,' she thinks, accepting the invitation inside, not for the first time feeling a little...vampiric.

She waves prettily to the paid stiletto up top, pretty smile accompanying the wave. 'You...you will probably close to melee. I'll absorb your first blow, and then you'll understand why they make guns. You get a full six seconds of my attention before moving on.' The smile never leaves her face.

'Oooo! Some tea would be nice.' "Beer," she blurts out unable to hold back. "Just talking about those...dandies...gets me kerfluffled. Something to calm the nevers, if you will," she smiles and covers for herself.

While he gets the drinks she cases the place, pretending to examine the books.

>>>nice place<<< she sub-vocals to Nomad, checking their private link.

"That's a nice mug you have," she says to Sam as he returns. "But the writing on it..it isn't...you know...'dandalionese,' she asks, making "finger quotes" in the air.

Looking down at her comm, Sun quietly exclaims "Sh!t...looks like we might have to go and get the uniforms ourselves. Here is the address R-R. Let's go and see what we can do...and I can hear your sneering from here Blacksap!"

Road-Rage grips the wheel of the heavy truck with a grimace, then shoots a look back toward Glass;

"Snohomish. Tacoma. Where you want go Glass? Tour of Barrens? Maybe trip to Bug City eh?"

The belligerent hob shakes his head and charts a course to the uniform pick-up point...

"I've got sneering, snarking and six different flavors of sarcasm. By the by, I've a hideout in the Barrens if you're looking for a lay-low."