Rounding the corner, Guardian's eyes scanned the view and immediately noticed suitable wheels for their escape. The car wasn't perfect, but it would do the trick and it was the only one sitting on their side of the street as if waiting for them. It was red and bright at that which would make it stand out in the crowd of vehicles and it wasn't exactly a runner. But there wasn't much Frank could do about it, so it would have to do.

There was a slight problem of course. Things never seemed be easy around DigitalScribe these days. Apparently the man was a magnet for trouble. Of course dangerous jobs had the best pay, and boring, safe work wasn't really fun anyway. This time though, Guardian had to admit, it wasn't the smaller (though colorful) man who caught attention or was the catalyst in a reaction that promised violence. The owner of the car seemed to have a problem with the big, black, leather (naturally not genuine) clad bodyguard about to borrow his car.

The corp obviously wasn't thinking straight, if the man was thinking at all. It would have been a much wiser decision to let his jaw drop, eyes widen and allow Frank to take his car (which was company owned anyway) and only report the incident afterwards. Maybe it was something about Guardian that made him worry of his own good health. Who knows? Frank would've chuckled, had he had the time for it. But he needed to move fast, so fast that there would be no need for another hail of bullets - no more bloodshed. Whatever the outcome, the media and himself were going to drive off in the car with its owner still alive and kicking, or not.

Without turning and with a voice that didn't suggest or ask, Guardian gave Frankie an order: "Get in and buckle yourself up!" Without halting his stride, the mountain of a man raised his right hand from behind his back and aimed the big barrel of the Armalite at the suit's head. There was nothing the man could to stop Guardian from flatlining him there and then, but he had no need to worry (of course no one told him that). That was not the plan anyway. The wide-eyed man's hand was already inside his trench most probably grabbing the handle of a nice and expensive handgun, but it was too late. He was already looking down the wrong way of the longest barrel and the biggest mouth of a pistol he probably had ever seen. And Frank knew it could really be very, very big in the situation the man was in. He'd after all, been there himself.

"Leave it!", the deep voice barked another command, but at the same time something else caught his attention. With the Armalite still aimed at the corp's forehead and ready to give the man a free ventilation hole, Guardian's eyes turned to the movement that had caught his attention. The situation had just become much worse than it had been a second ago. But it really wasn't a surprise to the experienced bodyguard. He'd been expecting it any moment, but still he had secretly been hoping they could fly from the scene before the bad guys reappeared. Fat chance.

An enhanced eye zoomed in with lighting speed and Frank made note of the opponent's weaponry and the obvious fact that the black ops had certainly already spotted himself and the media. No big surprise there either of course. These guys were professionals after all. But they weren't the only ones. It took Guardian less than a second to reassess the situation. The two assassins would probably have to go down before he and Frankie would be able to run away from the scene. Snailing amongst the other traffic with the deadly duo alive would only get them shot. With such a slow car, the only chance of getting away would be becoming part of the mass.

Guardian readjusted the aim of his gun to point it at the black suited specialists, took a few quick steps forward to put the beaver between himself and the new threat, and squeezed the trigger. Making sure the trench wasn't up to some very foolish moves, Frank moved into as much cover of the cherry chassis as possible before firing off another shot.

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm
Freeway wondered just how much his chances of getting out of here had improved with Bulls Eye sharing his cell. Somehow he just knew that the second that door opened the big man would be all over the guards, and they’d return the favor by breaking one of his arms or inflicting some severe beating on him with one of their meat prods. Then again maybe that was what was needed to bring him down a peg or two.

But with Bull’s Eye pre-occupied with the door, the nomad thought that the conversation with the medic would probably help further diffuse the situation. He realized that they were unlikely to want to sleep with the adrenalin still in their veins. He didn’t when they first threw him in here. He moved his hand away from his face and rolled over onto his elbow to face the medic.

“I think I’ve been here about four days give or take a few hours. It’s difficult keeping track of time when you have nothing by which to mark it. I haven’t seen daylight since they threw me in here.” For a second he wondered how much four days would have changed things back home, and whether anyone had noticed he was missing. He doubted it. It would likely be weeks before that happened, and then only because his rent was due or his tab at The Igloo hadn’t been paid and Joe was cursing and swearing about that ‘bloody unreliable sonofabitch Freeway’. His client wasn’t expecting to hear from him for at least that as well.

“I don’t know what they do here but with the security they have around the place I’d wager it isn’t something they want the rest of the world to know about. I’m here looking for someone, but finding her isn’t my main priority right now.”

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:42pm

Biotechnica Facility – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, Time Unknown
With his attempts to get the nurse/caretaker/watch dog to speak a failure, his mind turned inwards and he became quiet, his thoughts on Jaimy. He could only hope with all his heart she was alive and moving as far away from this facility as possible. MDK was no amateur he would figure out the odds quickly and hopefully take Jaimy and go underground, but knowing his lover if she knew he was here she would find a way to get to him. Hopefully MDK would be able to talk her out of any rescue attempt.

With that thought, he tore his mind away from her to ways to escape and could not help becoming frustrated when none of them were workable with him strapped down as he was at the moment. Da** it Croaker swore to himself this run had been f***ed from the moment Jaimy aka Peacekeeper had walked into the first meeting with Spring Heeled Jack and he had allowed his personal feelings for her to cloud his professionalism. But like it or not, love, real love, had a way of doing that even to strong people and now he only had himself to blame.

Moderating his breathing to calm himself he thought of Firewind and Bulls Eye. He was pretty sure that the medic was alive; as he had done a good patch job, but as for his tribe brother he could only worry that he was dead and left behind by the facilities sec force.

It was here that his thoughts came back to the present as the door to the room opened, admitting two men in suits. They were clean cut, rigid in the jaw, and straight-backed. As each took a position on either side of the door, another suit walked in on their heels. Croaker studied him as he approached and knew here was someone with power but just what level of power was yet to be determined. Croaker would not take his first visitor lightly.

“You must be Croaker,” the man said. He was tall, regal-looking, with brown hair and broad shoulders. His suit looked like it cost a lot of money, and though his skin was deeply tanned and wrinkled, his blue eyes sparkled like gemstones caught in the sands of time. His thin lips twisted in a smile as he sat on Croaker’s bedside and shifted to stare at the nomad’s face. “What a situation we find ourselves in, no? You and your crew were hired to return something to me that I’d lost, and yet here I sit. I have you and two of your companions, but that which I sent you after in the first place eludes me. Why is that, Croaker, or should I say, Mr. Tallon?”
Watching the company man the whole time, taking in his mannerisms, his tell tale body movements, anything to get a read on the stranger, Croaker remained quiet. He was sure the suit knew exactly what had happened to the drug boostered ganger girl and saw no reason for the moment to respond. He knew pain was coming, the suit exuded it as his method of getting get his way, but with Jaimy’s life hanging on anything he might say in conversation Croaker would try to stay quiet as long as he could. But the big Nomad was a realist and he knew given enough time, pain and drugs the suit would have his answers. For now as the saying went Croakers silence would be golden....

Biotechnica Facility – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, Time Unknown

Alley – South Night City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 4:31pm
Guardian’s speedware initiated, his finger depressing the trigger as his targeting reticule darted from the businessman to the lead assassin. The round was spent, the recoil flowing up the bodyguard’s forearm as the dangerous metal sped towards the enemy. The assassin was bringing his weapon to bear as well, but the round took him in the right shoulder, protected though he was by his armor, it still caused his body to twist slightly—not enough to stop him from popping off a round of his own.

As Guardian’s feet continued to pound the pavement he felt the impact of the 11mm round strike him in his armored chest. A smaller man might have had the wind knocked from him, but not Frank. He was dedicated to getting DigitalScribe out of this mess, and that meant ignoring the gnats.

For his part, Frankie wasn’t just going to duck his head and run for cover. His own weapon bucked in his hand, twice, as he spent the ammunition. The assassin’s leg jerked awkwardly and he slowed, but the second round bounced in a spray of water from his chest armor.

As DigitalScribe came up on Guardian’s left, the bodyguard felt the impact of the second assassin’s bullets striking his leg armor, but again, he was spared any additional pain though he still felt the flesh wound he’d sustained earlier as though it were on fire.

The corporate lapdog who’d first thought he was going to die at the hands of the large black man had apparently thought better once the shooting started and had dodged away towards the storefront in a flurry of fluttering, expensive cloth. He was no longer in Guardian’s sight as they slid up to the bright red city car. Guardian’s reticule darted from general body mass to the assassin’s armored head. He’d had better luck penetrating the armor of these goons in that location, so he thought he’d try it again. This time, however, the round left a smudge on the protective material of the faceplate. The shot was enough to cause the man’s head to jerk out of line of sight, his own gunfire discharging into the space beyond their location, striking a car much further down the road.

DigitalScribe followed Frank’s instructions to a tee, ducking into the city car, and sliding over to the passenger seat as the cockpit of the vehicle was turned to face them allowing the driver the space to get in curbside the same as the passenger. He ducked and swore as a round from the other assassin snapped against the cockpit door, tearing up the gray upholstery.

Attempting to keep the assassins in sight, Guardian dropped into the driver’s seat and fired off one more round for good measure. Again, the facemask held, deflecting the round, but luck was on their side. As Guardian hit the button to lower the cockpit door, the enemy gunfire was spent against the plastic of the vehicle, missing them entirely.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Frankie breathed excitedly, eyeing the two black garbed men with some trepidation as they continued their rush on the vehicle. He was confident they’d switch to full auto any second and discharge the entirety of their magazines into the thin material of the city car turning the two new occupants into Swiss Cheese.

With the sound of suction emanating throughout the cockpit, Guardian took hold of the steering control and jammed the vehicle into reverse. The four wheels of the city car were already facing in the right direction for a parallel parking job so it was a simple task darting out onto the one-way street. The gunfire had been enough to deter traffic in that area so they managed their merging without difficulty. Spinning the central portion of the steering control Guardian caused the cockpit to spin on its axis to face the right direction, and then the pedal was to the carpeted floor.

As they sped away from the scene, something bothered DigitalScribe. For some reason, the two assassins weren’t unloading on the vehicle. Twisting in his seat he watched as one of the men pointed after them while the other slung his submachine gun and turned to dash down the alley they’d just emerged from. Scanning the street, Frankie smiled as he saw the reason for them abandoning their task: two cop cars were heading towards the scene. They were a good two blocks away, but their lights were still flashing, and he was sure their sirens were blaring as well.

“We’ve got the police behind us by about two blocks,” Frankie said as he settled back into his seat. He was just glad that this wasn’t one of the more expensive versions of the car with the robotic monitor, or they’d be shut down and locked inside the vehicle like a nicely packaged gift for the police.
Reaching the thirty-five mile per hour limit for the street they merged with traffic on an adjoining street and began to put some distance between themselves and the incident.

“That was some wicked work back there, my friend,” DigitalScribe said as he felt his adrenaline start to die down and his hands start shaking a little. “You’ve definitely earned your pay today.

“Now, the big question is, how’d they find us? There’s no doubt in my mind that they were Biotechnica agents…unless you’ve pissed someone off I don’t know about.” DigitalScribe suddenly had a very nerve-racking thought. “Oh god. Get us back to the New Harbor Mallplex, Guardian. We’ve an appointment that we’re going to show up a little early for. If they tracked us this far, they might have already tracked us to—“ Frankie shook his head trying to think of all of the various methods they might have used to track them down. He wondered briefly if Croaker and the others were privileged enough to have been visited by the party, but it was a fleeting thought; his story hung on the line, and their continued safety should the story be lost.

He knew from their current location it would likely be about a half hour to forty-five minutes, depending on traffic, to the mallplex. They would be arriving just a few minutes early to pick up the doctored video footage.

Switching on the radio he scanned through the stations looking for the news, settling on KLIA News Radio. The newscast was currently focusing on overseas events, something to do with government involvement in the SouthAm again, and though the information registered with Frankie, he was slightly annoyed that it wasn’t on the local news. Rubbing at his eyes with the butt of his palms, Frankie turned to stare out of the bubble window at the city as it passed them by. There’d been the raid on the Wild Thing’s hang out that should have surely hit the news by now, and any flatfoot with a pad of paper could have found the posts put on the Internet by Preacher…the story had to of hit the news.

As they progressed through the buildings, reaching taller and taller structures, the news continued to cover the SouthAm situation.

”…Though the fighting was thought to be contained to the cartel’s compound it is now believed that DEA agents armed with what has been described as military grade weaponry did engage in a firefight with cartel forces in the streets of Panama City, apparently raiding a storage facility that the cartel was allegedly maintaining within the poorer district of Palca. While the death tolls have not yet been finalized, many civilian casualties were claimed by the Panama government while the spokesperson for the DEA, Isaiah Zin denied the claims stating that DEA operatives were focused solely on eradicating the new designer drugs—“
“Have you used your cell recently?” Frankie suddenly asked Guardian. Receiving his answer, he shook his head. “I’ve used mine. I think we should refrain from doing so in the near future. Bad idea apparently. I’m no techie, but they could track us through the GPS inherent to the phone, and that means that they have our information. They’re likely tracking down all known associates, working systematically through our contacts to find anyone we might go to for help.” DigitalScribe chuckled. “Good thing J.D. isn’t someone I hang around very often. That gives me hope—oh wait! I think this is it!”

The radio had finished with its SouthAm story and was now focusing on local news.

”…while the police continue to look for suspects in the recent firefight reported to have taken place on Bartholomew and Polk resulting in several thousands of Euro worth of damage, and at least eight injured, Lt. Manuel Tews of the NCPD has just finished with a press conference concerning the recent alleged gang shootout in downtown Night City.

“Lt. Tews stated that they are currently following leads that indicate the gunfight that killed over ten members of the Wild Things boostergang recently was not a turf war. He refrained from commenting further concerning just what those leads were, and to what they pointed, but has promised to keep the public informed as more leads become available.

“Meanwhile, more gunfire has caught the attention of the NCPD on the outskirts of Rancho Coronado and Pacifica believed to be related to corporate infighting…”
“That’s our lead, right there,” Frankie breathed a little easier. The fact that the news was now tied into the story would help him continue the sale of it to the Network. A few minutes later and the towers of the New Harbor Mallplex became visible amidst the rest of the city skyline.

“Well,” Frankie smiled at Guardian, relief evident on his handsome face. “Guess we’re free of those assassins. What do you say we dump this vehicle a couple of blocks from the mallplex so as not to carry the dirty trail on inside?”

Just South of the New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 5:08pm

---

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm
“Ok,” MDK said to her in a whisper, “your right, if the others were taken then they are probably inside there, so I guess we better get them before they tell them about the rest of us.”

He turned his head to scan the area around the facility before turning back to her.

“Tell Jack that if we are going to go in there,” nodded his head at the stronghold, “his netrunner had better be good. Here is what we will need… they have to get those security cameras on a loop…a long one…then disable the perimeter scanners…if possible..cause some kind of alarm on the other side of the complex…something to draw as many guards as possible. If they can do that…we might have a chance to get in there…if not…well hope you don’t mind being a ‘dead’ hero.” He smirked at the last, something that didn’t invoke confidence.

Jaimy scowled at his cavalier attitude, but nodded and began texting back. The smaller keyboard of her phone and the heightened intuition of the word selection made it so that her typing was nearly as fast as talking, and within a few seconds she’d received confirmation that the message had been sent, and was waiting on Jack’s reply.

The netrunner is already in their mainframe. Everything else should be doable.
“He said it’s a go,” Peacekeeper whispered back, shifting to get a better look at the facility once more as MDK slipped his mask and bandana back into place.

“Tell the net runner to monitor us on the cameras,” MDK said in a hushed tone as he checked his ammunition and scanned the area before them, “and give him my optic frequency 038.830 so the runner can send me directions and warnings via the marquee in my optics.”

Jaimy immediately relayed the information. She had worked with netrunners before—they were about as useful as a decent fixer when it came down to the necessity of having one on board. She was thankful to Jack for coming through. After a moment, she received the texted response.

The ‘runner is tapped in. Ready for the go ahead.
That’s when a message scrolled across the bottom left hand corner of MDK’s left eye: I’ve found a fairly clear five minute block of time on the camera feed. Beginning loop…now.
“Follow my lead,” MDK whispered to Peacekeeper as he crept forward, “do exactly as I say and we might get out of this alive…not likely…but maybe.”

Jaimy shook her head at his back and slid the phone back into her pocket, gripping her weapon tightly, and creeping forward a few feet behind him.

The decent towards the fence was approximately thirty meters, and they devoured it in about two minutes. This left the fence to deal with…

The electricity to the fence is null. The message scrolled across MDK’s eye as though on queue. That left the simple problem of getting through it. The top was covered in razor wire and it was nearly fourteen feet high. The metal of the chainlink was too thick for the cutter in MDK’s Swiss Army Knife, so it would have to be another solution.

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:43pm

---

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm
“I don’t know what they do here,” Freeway answered. “But with the security they have around the place I’d wager it isn’t something they want the rest of the world to know about. I’m here looking for someone, but finding her isn’t my main priority right now.”

Keahi tilted his head to the side at the response. “Finding someone?” For a moment he wondered if the missing person happened to be the very same that they’d been hired to procure…the one that had died in the van due to that strange side effect from the intelligence enhancer.

Bull’s Eye turned away from the door releasing an expletive. “That thing’s sealed up nice and tight!”

Firewind raised his eyebrows as though to say, ya think!? Then prompted Freeway further absolutely positive that they’d need his help to get out of this mess. “We’re here looking for something rather than someone, but we started the night looking for someone.”

“Shut up, Choomba!” Colton growled as he turned on the medtech. “You don’t know if you can trust this sumbitch, so don’t go bearin’ your soul!”

Firewind held up his hands a bit in defense, then decided on another route. “Your name. Freeway. How’d you get it?”

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:42pm

---

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:15am
“Not speaking to me are we?” the suit said with a slight smile on his weather-worn face, his voice a bit gravelly. “Perhaps we haven’t built that bridge of trust yet, Mr. Tallon. My name is Mick Ackerman, and according to reports, you and your crew did exactly as you were hired to do. You snatched my daughter from the sinful den of those street rats, the Wild Things. Only, this is where I’ve become a bit confused. You see? You were supposed to bring her back to me, and you haven’t. Instead, I find you snooping around outside of my facility for some odd reason.”

Ackerman continued to smile as he gave Croaker’s knee a slight pat. “All of this could have been avoided had you but delivered my daughter to me, Mr. Tallon. All of the pain you’ve experienced—the pain your friends will experience…”

Ackerman’s hand shifted to one of Croaker’s bandaged wounds where it hovered, the corporate’s eyes shifting from the nomad’s face to the hand as though drawn by the macabre intention of it. “It all could have been avoided, Mr. Tallon.”

Rising from his seat, Mr. Ackerman surprisingly enough did not press down upon the wound, but straightened his coat instead and met Croaker’s gaze once more.

“Rest assured, Mr. Tallon, that I will find your friends, and we will round them all up for a grand reunion where you tell me where my daughter is. I’ve the resources, the patience, and the determination to make this a very miserable time for each and every one of you—young Miss Hammond, your friend Mr. Tordesky…I’m already offering my hospitality to your friends, Mr. Harris, Mr. Makani, and the fellow called Freeway. It is only a matter of time before I’ve rounded all of them up. You might as well save me the trouble and just tell me where my daughter is. You can understand my concern, I’m sure.”

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:22am

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:22am
Croaker listened as the suit spoke to him and was surprised when he spoke of Mery Deth as his daughter.
Was this really a Dad worried over his kid maybe so, maybe not, but Croaker in that moment decided to take a chance.

"The girl, Mery Deth, daughter or not, is dead. Her system was so full of some type of enhancement bio drug that it killed her during our extraction of her."

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:22am

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm
“Shut up, Choomba!” Colton growled as he turned on the medtech. “You don’t know if you can trust this sumbitch, so don’t go bearin’ your soul!”
Firewind held up his hands a bit in defense, then decided on another route. “Your name. Freeway. How’d you get it?”
“You don’t have to worry about baring any soul to me. I’d wager a good night’s sleep and a decent meal that this room is bugged, besides whether you tell me or not is irrelevant really, they’ll get it out of you in a few hours, I’m pretty certain of that.”
He wondered how long the tough guy act would last once they decided they needed him to talk. Freeway had lasted no more than a few minutes, and he’d considered himself fairly resistant to mild forms of torture. A week in a Shiv marauder camp had helped toughen him up, but these guys were pro’s. He almost looked forward in a macabre sort of way to seeing Bulls Eye crying like a baby.

He let a fleeting smile escape his lips.

“The name’s more of a rank in my family than an actual name, but I use it with the zeroes coz they tend to remember it better than a real name. I’m just a driver, nothing more glamorous than that, big rigs, interstates and freeway’s.”
Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:42pm

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:43pm
The decent towards the fence was approximately thirty meters, and they devoured it in about two minutes. This left the fence to deal with…

The electricity to the fence is null. The message scrolled across MDK’s eye as though on queue. That left the simple problem of getting through it. The top was covered in razor wire and it was nearly fourteen feet high. The metal of the chainlink was too thick for the cutter in MDK’s Swiss Army Knife, so it would have to be another solution.
MDK approached the fence and scanned the other side with his enhanced optics looking for the position of the guard patrols, especially those with dogs. While doing that, he will stay as low as possible to minimize his outline to anyone watching.

Once he tags the patrols and has their timing down, he slips up close to the fence and slips off his large leather armored duster and throws it over his shoulder. He turns to Peacekeeper and signals her to watch while he goes over.

MDK never had a use for chainlink cutters, he often found it slow and left a sign that someone had come through here. It was best to go over and razor wire, while detrimental to the unskilled or prepared, was not a problem to a trained infiltrator such as himself. Once the guards were moving away at a distance, he quickly but quietly made his way up the fence, his heavy hard soled boots digging into the fence easily.

At the top he paused and holding on with his left hand, he used his right to whip the long duster over the razor wire at the top. The trick to razor wire was to not touch it and even if you did it was not life threatening though it could hurt someone quite a bit. He spread the duster out covering a good 5 foot wide section of the wire; weighing down the coils with the heavy armored leather. With a quick scan to see if he had been spotted, he quickly raised himself to the top and saying low over the wire, eased himself over and then down the other side.

Once on the ground he signaled Peacekeeper to follow him over and to drop the duster down once she was over. He turned his back to the fence and unsung the two H&K and staying low kept them covered while she made her way over.

Once she was down, he quickly donned his duster again and looking towards the nearest building gestured for her to follow and stay low. Quickly they would make their way to the shadows of the building, all the time on the lookout for any sign they had been spotted.

MDK hoped the net runner kept and eye on those cameras and texted his display with intel, otherwise they wouldn’t get far. If the runner was capable they just might have a slim chance of getting in and finding their comrades and getting out again. Strange, he thought, he had just referred to Croaker, Bull’seye and the others as comrades. He smirked a bit at the thought that he must be getting soft.

Alleyway Just South of the New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 5:08pm
The pair parked the car in a back alley where a series of shipping flats could partially cover it from public view. As DigitalScribe stepped from the cockpit he instinctively hunched his shoulders against the fierce onslaught of the storm. Peering up at the swirling mass of pea soup clouds overhead he presented a disgusted expression and muttered something about the weather under his breath. Snatching his bag from the seat he turned and waited Guardian’s instruction.

The large bodyguard was intent on studying the street down which they’d come, the rain slicked tar snakes glistening beneath the pale yellow of the street lamp some twenty meters away. Without another word, Guardian proceeded down the alley back towards the main street.

Shouldering his bag, Frankie followed, his eyes scanning the street ahead for any sign of trouble. Things were getting out of hand what with the attack at the motel. He’d been in difficult scrapes before in his attempts to bring the Truth to the public concerning megacorps—hell, he’d been in dangerous scrapes just trying to get any story so he could eat! But this one had to top them all. In each incident he’d attempted to take on the megacorps in the past, he’d always had the backing of a studio so he couldn’t just be off’d as easy. This time, he had a couple of nomads, a buxom bounty hunter, a couple of fixers, and a bodyguard. The odds just weren’t as good. So, DigitalScribe felt more than a little paranoid as they stepped onto the street and made their way down the few blocks to the mallplex.

With the evening’s arrival and the storm clouds overhead, the street lamps were already ablaze, and those few people who were dumb enough to brave the weather (like them) were already heading for cover, splashing through the rivers of drainage overflow that threatened to choke the streets. Most were likely heading for some restaurant for dinner, home to their conapt for a lonely meal of kibble and a beer, or even to the mallplex itself, but none seemed interested in the large black man being escorted by the good-looking white boy which suited DigitalScribe just fine.

Reaching the mallplex doors, Scribe let Guardian lead the way. He was filled with anxiety over the possibilities of what awaited them in the business tower, and excited as well. If J.D. had done his job, they had their escape from this nightmare, and Scribe had a huge payout coming (something he desperately needed to keep Guardian on the books).

The warm air of the interior washed over them as they stepped into the entry hall. There were a group of juves hanging out there, pressed up against the walls in their leathers and retro clothing playing at dice and jostling each other, but Guardian’s presence gave them pause as the two men passed. The interior of the mall was an open gallery that rose up the height of the shopping area with stores lining the exterior and a nice balacony view of the interior. The mallplex’s populace liked to hang out around the fountain, and tonight was no different though the area was far more crowded than usual. Mall security didn’t knowingly allow any of the gangs into the building, but this didn’t stop the rowdy juves from congregating.

DigitalScribe stopped when Guardian did so, the larger man scanning the people for signs of trouble before proceeding to the right towards the elevators. The entry to the business towers was along the northern wall, and to the left, but DigitalScribe figured they were taking a roundabout path to better assess the area, so he followed without a word. Along the way they passed men wearing IconAmerica, women wearing practically nothing at all (one of the latest fashion trends included covering oneself in transparent plastic and wearing designer lingerie underneath), but nothing that Scribe noticed Guardian tensing over. Entering the elevator they proceeded to the third floor where Guardian was, once more the first to exit.

From there they made a slow circuit about the balcony, Guardian surveying the whole of the lower floors from a better vantage, eyeing the Samson ‘borg as it strolled like a behemoth across the floor where teens were making out on benches and mothers were pulling their children close. Standing back from the railing, Scribe peered about the walk they were on, noting the woman wearing a black leather jacket that was obviously armored, but only covered one fifth of her upper body revealing a good bit of her rather generous assets, the clerk standing outside Skinlight, the body cosmetics shop, hands thrust into his pockets eyeballing the same girl, and the suit walking into Gelbert’s World Information right next door, obviously oblivious to Guardian and Scribe’s presence. No one seemed to be paying them too much mind after a quick glance, though the beautiful girl did smile at Scribe dazzling him with her dimples and pearly whites. Smiling back, he nearly missed Guardian turning from the railing and heading towards the bridge entrance.

The bridge connecting the shopping levels of the mallplex with the business complex spanned the canal, and as it was covered with bowed, tinted SmartGlass™, it was now just showing the raging waters running the canal below and the rain pelting the glass. The city skyline beyond was washed and blurred by the beading rain, but it wasn’t here that Scribe was looking. He had his eyes on the business complex’s doors.

The same holographic receptionist greeted them as before, and Scribe went through practically the same motions to gain access to J.D.’s office. The pair made their way to the small, secluded office in silence, noting that the majority of those who’d been there previously were gone, their workspace cold and dark but for the pale glow of computer monitors, the flashing red lights of their office phone, and a few desk lamps shining false sunlight on cultured plant life. J.D., however, was there waiting for them.

“It’s about time!” he whined slowly rocking in his seat.

“Hey,” Scribe spread his hands wide. “A man’s busy, ya know? How’s it look?”

“You come barging in on my workday, manipulate our conversation to pay me pennies for the work I’m doing—“

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it pennies—“

“—And then you question the quality of my work? Screw you, Jumper!”

Scribe chuckled and held out his hand expectantly.

“Uh-uh,” J.D. shook his head causing his fat jowls to sway back and forth beneath his stubble-covered chin. “Money first.”

“Now who’s insulting who? Huh?” All the same, Frankie reached into his wallet and produced the bills. “All cash, Choomba. Nothing to trace.”

The look on J.D.’s fat face said he could care less for the cash, but he took it none-the-less. Only those on the wrong side of the law, or those wishing to keep their financial transactions secret, dealt in cash anymore. With a slow move that was definitely exaggerated, J.D. placed the disk that Scribe had given him earlier back into the media’s hands.

“I think you’ll find it satisfactory,” the digital specialist grinned. “That was one helluvah show, Jumper.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Frankie held the disk up appreciatively and waved it a little before slipping it into his jacket pocket. “I’d suggest you forget you ever saw it.”

“Saw what?”

Frankie smiled his Hollywood smile and turned to exit the room, Guardian already out the door ahead of him. J.D. waited until they were gone for some time before settling back in his chair and letting out a long breath. After a moment more, he swiveled in his seat and pressed a button on his phone, picking up the receiver. It rang a couple of times before being picked up.

“They got it,” he breathed into the receiver in a conspiratorial tone, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in on his conversation.

“Uh-huh. They should be leaving the mallplex within the next few minutes.” Pause. “Yup. It is as you asked, and I’ve uploaded the copy to the location you designated.” Another long pause. “Nice doing business with you too.”

Setting the receiver down in its cradle, J.D. pulled up his bank account online and smiled at the sight. “Ten thousand Euros,” he breathed happily.

DigitalScribe and Guardian made their way back across the bridge, the whole while Scribe was thinking about the best way to handle the media. He’d have to make copies of it, to be sure. They’d have to secure their well-being while participating in the negotiations so that meant they’d have to set up a delivery, or two, with contingencies.

“Let’s head over to Data Inc.,” Scribe suggested as he concluded his plan. That was another thing he didn’t particularly enjoy about the situation they were in. He normally operated on a fully functioning plan with contingencies already in place. Here, he was thinking on his feet, moving one step ahead of those that were tracking them. “Then we can get something to eat—I’m starving.”

Data Inc. specialized in netrunner programs, but Scribe happened to know that they’d also burn copies of datadisks for a price and that was the price he was willing to pay. So, after a bit of basic interaction with the clerk, he handed over the disk and turned to wait on the results, watching as Guardian continued to scan the mall from the doorway.

From his vantage, Guardian couldn’t see much of the floor, but what he did see set off warning bells in his head. Across the floor, near the escalators, there was a man who Guardian had been sure was watching them. As soon as Guardian obviously settled his attention on him, the fellow turned his attention to a balloon vendor presenting a purchased set of balloons to an Exotic; a blue cat woman wearing a white, sequined bikini that allowed her tail to protrude without hindrance. The man wore a black trench coat that was likely armored, and it was slicked by rain. His head was bald and glistening in the mall’s light. He wore a suit underneath his jacket, and black mirrorshades the likes of which were likely in the three hundred euro range. Scanning the areas to their left, and right, Guardian couldn’t see any others right away, and returning his gaze to the man’s position he’d lost him.

Just South of the New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 5:25pm

---

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:43pm
Scaling the fence had been a slow, tense process, but it was accomplished. Crouching low, the pair quickly made their way to the shadow of a building near a utility meter that provided them with some limited cover.

Guards have been rerouted. Proceed to northern building.
Following their instructions, MDK and Peacekeeper proceeded to the opposite corner and peered across the empty compound. There were no guards in sight, but the distance between the two buildings was about fifty meters, and it was lit by flood lights.

“You go,” Peacekeeper said, slinging her submachine gun forward. “I’ll cover.”

Not wasting the opportunity the mysterious netrunner had provided them, MDK bolted for the relative cover of the building, remaining low and moving like the wind that still carried the rainwater down upon them. There was a parking lot off to the right with a couple of jeep-like vehicles, both with steam rising from their hoods as the rain hit, but there was still no sign of the guards. Moving up to the eastern edge of the building, MDK peered around the corner, looking up the inside stretch of the L towards the doors. Still no guards. Motioning Peacekeeper over he waited until she arrived.

The door is unlocked. There’s three pairs of roaming guards inside the building as well as a security room holding four more. The hall inside the door is clear for now.
They went. MDK leading the way to the door and opening it with a quick, fluid jerk allowing Peacekeeper to slip inside, out of the rain. There was nothing they could about the water that was forming in puddles at their feet, and they message MDK received next set them in motion immediately upon entering.

Ahead, then right at the second hall. There will be a door there. I’ve unlocked it. Your friends are inside. You’ve maybe two minutes until the next patrol.
Pointing down the hall, MDK proceeded quickly to the first corner, peering around it to the right and securing their position. Leap-frogging past MDK, Peacekeeper proceeded on to the next hall, unaware that this was where they would be turning, she set up position and motioned MDK forward. The black-garbed assassin slipped around the corner and began to make his way down the hall, peering up at the numbered doors with the small windows.

213. I’ll unlock the door when you get there.
Sure enough, as soon as MDK stepped in front of the door he heard the audible click of the lock disengaging. To his left, Peacekeeper’s pretty brow furrowed as she readied herself to barge into the room.

Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm

---

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:42pm
“You don’t have to worry about baring any soul to me.” Freeway said sardonically. “I’d wager a good night’s sleep and a decent meal that this room is bugged, besides whether you tell me or not is irrelevant really, they’ll get it out of you in a few hours, I’m pretty certain of that.” He let a fleeting smile escape his lips, “The name’s more of a rank in my family than an actual name, but I use it with the zeroes coz they tend to remember it better than a real name. I’m just a driver, nothing more glamorous than that, big rigs, interstates and freeway’s.”

“You’re a nomad?” Bull’s Eye suddenly stopped his pacing and looked directly at Freeway, suspicion and appreciation a strange mix on his hardened face.

(OOC: Assuming a yes.)

“What nation?”

The conversation was led a little further down that road with Bull’s Eye sharing that he and Croaker had been with the Snake Nation before their family had been obliterated by the NCPD. Bull’s Eye doesn’t explain why the raid took place, but he relaxes some when Freeway relates what history of his he deems low-security enough to do so.

“So,” Firewind presses after the two nomads became acquainted some, and Bull’s Eye appeared to calm a bit more. “The person you were looking for…”

(OOC: whether Freeway reveals the story of how he got there or not, as well as who he is looking for…)

The medtech glanced at Bull’s Eye and raised his eyebrows, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t likely Merry Deth had been the source of Freeway’s search. It was about then that the door lock clicked, startling Keahi who spun about and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Bull’s Eye did the same, popping up ready to spring into action.

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm

---

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:22am
"The girl, Mery Deth, daughter or not, is dead. Her system was so full of some type of enhancement bio drug that it killed her during our extraction of her."

Mr. Ackerman’s face froze, his eyes narrowing as the only sign of his sudden change in mood. “She was on drugs, you say? Was it an overdose? How did you figure this information out? And why the hell did you miss the drop? There might have been something we could have done for her.”

Ackerman suddenly lunged forward and put his face just out of head-butting range of Croaker’s. “I am holding you personally responsible for the death of my daughter, Mr. Tallon, so I suggest that you be forthcoming with your information. This is, after all, sovereign ground and the only justice you’ll find here is that which I dole out.”

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:23am

Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm

213. I’ll unlock the door when you get there.

Sure enough, as soon as MDK stepped in front of the door he heard the audible click of the lock disengaging. To his left, Peacekeeper’s pretty brow furrowed as she readied herself to barge into the room.
MDK had to admit this net runner was worth every penny Jack was paying him; that they had gotten this far without incident was a miracle. He had never counted on luck so he really didn’t like it when everything went according to plan. Not that this was much of a plan, but he had expected that one or both of them would be dead or captured by now.

As he stepped up to door 213 he signaled Peacekeeper that this was the door. It looked like a heavy detention style door so maybe they were inside, or maybe this was a trap. When the door lock clicked he signaled her to hold her fire and for her to slowly open the door and that he would cover her from the side of the doorway. If her friends were inside they would most likely respond better to her than to his dark draped form in the doorway.

He scanned the hallway quickly for any sign of trouble, while he let her have the doorway. As she reached for the handle he turned to cover her with the two HKs he had ‘annexed’.

Biotechnica Facility – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, Time Unknown
The question running through Croaker’s mind as he listened to Ackerman talk was this guy really Mery Deth, or whatever her real name was, Dad or just a well trained liar. Though he seemed earnest in his words, and his clear show of barely continued rage, Croaker had taken a big chance in revealing the girl was dead. Yet if this was the girl’s father Croaker telling him the truth could maybe get them all out alive, if not get them all killed. There was an old saying on the streets Sometimes you have to risk it all to gain it all But first a little more proof was needed with Ackerman’s face inches from his he replied.

“Ok if you are her father I can understand your need to know the whole truth of what happened but I have been in this business too long to take anything on faith. Before I say anything else I want proof of you being her father. Give me that proof and I will tell you anything you want to know, except the names of those involved. I’m sure somewhere within your reach is a pic of the 2 of you together.”

Though knowing he was in no position to bargain he was not about to just open up and say ahhh, but if this guy was Deth’s father then the chances of staying alive had just gotten a whole lot better. If not the then he was most likely dead and he'd go to the grave with out saying a word.....

Biotechnica Facility – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, Time Unknown

"We are the Russia, and we are offering you a home, Mr. Spiff, not a job.”

Spiff paused, it was brief, and it was only a pause, but it was an indication that he was caught off guard. It would have been a jaw drop, glass on the floor type situation for anyone not as talented as Spiff at keeping his cool, but it was definitely enough to indicate surprise to the observant.

He set down his glass, and leaned back in his seat. "You're offering me all this?" he looked around at the luxury that Kremlin had indicated previously.

((assuming a yes, even if not really, I figure a mafia guy will say yes to get a new hire))

He rubbed his chin, it held a five-o-clock shadow at the moment, which immediately got him to stop. He wasn't even in his best threads or trying and somebody was offering him a home. It made him wonder, if only briefly, how much more he could get if he tried. The thought faded quickly as he knew how difficult that sort of thing would be. It hadn't really occurred to him until now to do something of that nature.

He hadn't wanted to be in Jack's organization because he didn't want to be a rival to someone he respected so much. He hadn't been offered entry into other organizations, like Becky. He and she had done a lot together with Net54 just two years ago. It was a lot to swallow. The worst part was, he was pretty sure his answer had just been given to him. He had a few options. He could sleep on it, and decide in the morning. He could agree, and try to enlist the Russian Mafia's help with Biotechnica. Or he could tell them he'd sleep on it, and be on the run from the Ruskies the rest of his life. He was fairly certain no was not an answer anymore.

He inhaled deeply, the cigar smoke choking him a bit as he thought. He sorted through the options. No was out, unless he was quicker with his gun than he knew himself to be. Sleeping on it falsely was probably expected and had been seen before by someone so quick-witted and capable of keeping his guards on edge. This also meant that sleeping on it for real could likely land him in an interrogation facility. The only answer left was yes, and he wasn't displeased with the decision.

"Here's the truth of the matter. I'm in the middle of a job. I could use some competent help with it, and I think that it will be worth putting myself up for sale in exchange. I'll accept your generous offer Mister Kremlin, but if I don't succeed in my current task, there won't be anything left of me to put to work."

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:42pm
“You’re a nomad?” Bull’s Eye suddenly stopped his pacing and looked directly at Freeway, suspicion and appreciation a strange mix on his hardened face.

“I am, but I feel like I’ve been in the rat race too long.”

“What nation?”

“My Family is Jode, but I’ve spent more time with the Aldecaldo’s in recent years.”

The conversation was led a little further down that road with Bull’s Eye sharing that he and Croaker had been with the Snake Nation before their family had been obliterated by the NCPD. Bull’s Eye doesn’t explain why the raid took place.

“I’ve had more than enough run-ins with the NCPD. I’ve been up in northern Arizona mostly the last few years, came down to Night City to look for a family member. Been taking on the odd job to make ends meet. The places I go, I don’t seem to make friends too easily, not lately anyway.”

The nomad was careful what he let the men know, despite the gravity of their situation he fully intended to claim Rackman’s bounty, and somewhere in this facility was the information he was looking for.

“So,” Firewind presses after the two nomads became acquainted some, and Bull’s Eye appeared to calm a bit more. “The person you were looking for…”

There was what seemed like an awkward pause between them, the medic wondering if he’d gone too far, Freeway wondering whether Rackman was worth it.”

“He’s a nobody. A suit who’s been embezzling, a wayward husband, a thief. Take your pick. To me he’s just a paycheck.”

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm

I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:55am
"Here's the truth of the matter,” Spiff said. “I'm in the middle of a job. I could use some competent help with it, and I think that it will be worth putting myself up for sale in exchange. I'll accept your generous offer Mister Kremlin, but if I don't succeed in my current task, there won't be anything left of me to put to work."

“Is that so, Mr. Spiff?” Kremlin chuckled and took another sip of his vodka. “And what does job entail? Hmm? How can your new family help you?”

There was an undertone to Kremlin’s question. It carried upon it the tone of the spider who’d caught the fly in its web, but that could’ve just been the nature of the arrangement as Kremlin was now Spiff’s superior—at least should the job pan out. After all, working with the mafia was never really like a job. There was no resume involved, the background check was performed, but it was far more thorough than a corporation’s would have been, and it ignored your criminal past. No, this was a way of life, and as Kremlin had said, he was part of the family now, expected to follow their rules, expected to answer their call, and expected to put all else behind the welfare of those higher up in the organization. Spiff was just about to sign the dotted line with blood.

I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:57am

---

New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 5:25pm
From his vantage, Guardian couldn’t see much of the floor, but what he did see set off warning bells in his head. Across the floor, near the escalators, there was a man who Guardian had been sure was watching them. As soon as Guardian obviously settled his attention on him, the fellow turned his attention to a balloon vendor presenting a purchased set of balloons to an Exotic; a blue cat woman wearing a white, sequined bikini that allowed her tail to protrude without hindrance. The man wore a black trench coat that was likely armored, and it was slicked by rain. His head was bald and glistening in the mall’s light. He wore a suit underneath his jacket, and black mirrorshades the likes of which were likely in the three hundred Euro range. Scanning the areas to their left, and right, Guardian couldn’t see any others right away, and returning his gaze to the man’s position he’d lost him.

Clenching his jaw, Guardian’s hand went beneath his wet trench coat, his fingers closing over the familiar grip of his Armalite 44. He still hadn’t disconnected the interface plugs that connected the smart software with his neurolink, so he didn’t have to worry about that, but he wanted to be damn sure he was ready for any action should the slick suit decide to risk mall security.

He waited at the entrance like that for a good ten minutes while DigitalScribe remained at the counter waiting on the copies he’d requested, watching the activity within the mall foyer searching for another sign of the watchers, but to no avail. When Scribe approached, Guardian kept his eyes on the spread before him, but spoke in a low tone so as not to attract any one’s attention other than the media’s.

“We have a tail.”

“Speak for yourself, Dog,” Tordesky smiled as though enjoying a light conversation with his bodyguard, and despite his response, Guardian knew that Scribe was taking the warning seriously. “Well, let’s go get a couple of these disks packaged properly. You can tell me of your discovery along the way.”

Eyeballing the crowd to the left, and again to the right, Guardian nodded and the two moved out. The large bodyguard explained the dress of the man, and his attentive nature as well as his sudden disappearance as they walked along the outer edge of the shops. Frankie had to admit that it certainly seemed like a tail, and that did not sit well with him. Finding one of the DataTerm booths unused, he motioned for Guardian to wait for him as he stepped inside, resisting the urge to stare out at the crowd as he did so.

Most DataTerms were simple boxes with enclosed viewscreens for some minor level of privacy sitting atop cement blocks to keep them from being randomly destroyed. There was a new wave of these devices hitting the streets of late; a wave meeting the demand for higher levels of privacy putting the device inside a booth similar to the way payphones were covered. Scribe appreciated these a lot more, but was looking forward even more to the promise of cell phones that linked right up with the DataTerm network provided you were within range. Sure, cell phones allowed Internet access, but a DataTerm was a city’s information bank, providing services you couldn’t easily find on the Internet. To have both at one’s fingertips was potentially huge, and the promise of such new technology was due to deliver later this year. Scribe could hardly wait, almost always being on the cutting edge of new tech, especially if it helped him find the latest and greatest story.

Retrieving his ImageWallet, Scribe produced a couple of colorful bills and slipped them into the cash receiver igniting the screen with a warm welcome. Advertisements flashed across the top of the screen:

Reality a drag? Finding yourself less and less capable of enduring the struggle of Real Life? We’ve been there. We understand. WYR-HEAD Where you’ll kick the addiction of Braindance and find beauty in the Real World.
*A picture of a beautiful, young female model wearing a chrome-finished bikini top and a metal-plated, chrome-finished micro-mini skirt underneath a transparent overcoat switched poses every couple of seconds* URBAN FLASH! For those who aren’t afraid to be bold.
Affordable. Comfortable. Stylish. Home. The conapt studios for the artistically-minded. Brought to you by rockerboy Johnny Silverhand: Silverhand Studios provides the creative environment that promotes success. For studio prices, call 555-2331.
A series of buttons ran down the left portion of the screen with quicklinks for everything from historical information on Night City to Public Transportation, but it wasn’t to these that Scribe’s attention turned. Screwing his interface cable into his wrist, Frankie plugged the other end into the DataTerm’s port granting him cyberaccess. Next, he slipped one of the disks into the reader, waiting as a screen popped up asking for his direction. Scribe’s next few minutes were spent securing the data from the disk in multiple public storage servers. It was a tedious job, made quicker by his mental link, but necessary.

Standing outside of the booth, Guardian continued to keep an eye out for their watchers, his presence there causing people to give a wide berth to the series of DataTerms lining the wall. Even the young woman wearing a black leather halter top with red, neon stripes running vertical across her ribs, and a short, black leather miniskirt with fishnet stockings and stiletto, black leather boots (all synth-leather, of course) who stepped out of one of the adjacent booths paused for a moment in surprise at his sheer bulk, her black-painted lips slightly agape as she peered up at him. Guardian noticed the simple square light tattoos that ran down the right side of her throat, the slightly chewed gum in her open mouth, the pierced tongue, and her Color-Shift contacts in minute detail in the span that she stood there before catching herself and quickly making her way in the opposite direction. His size and demeanor helped in some situations, but that didn’t mean that he’d found what he was looking for. The watcher remained elusive.

Leaning against the wall of the booth, Scribe watched impatiently as the upload finalized. He produced some more cash from his wallet and slipped it into the receptacle as the last of the file finished and a screen popped up asking if he wished to continue the rental. After he’d confirmed, the media took the public server space ID numbers and fed them to various message services, scheduling delivery of the file to Network News 54, WNS, and InfoComp. Sure, they were all megacorps, and only two of them were news corps, but they’d all eat the video files up should they receive them. Once he had completed his work, Scribe unhooked his cyberlink and wound the cable back around his forearm, dropping the disks back into his jacket pocket before placing his bag over his shoulder once more and stepping outside of the booth.

“One more stop, and then we can find someplace to lay low until we hear from Croaker,” DigitalScribe explained to Guardian, and again, the two of them were on the move. “Any sign of our new friend?”

Guardian was forced to admit he’d not seen anything, and Frankie swore under his breath. He didn’t mind being watched so long as he could keep an eye on the watcher. Oh well, he thought ruefully. Nothing for it now.
Their next stop was the postal service. Though most things were handled digitally, there was still a huge package delivery industry with security that made most airports pale by comparison. After all, with technological advancements, a delivery company needed to ensure that their customer base didn’t have to worry about assassin bots, poisons, or explosives more so than ever before. They also needed to insure that the items being sent were protected like the pony express riders DigitalScribe had learned about in school had fought to insure their mail. He’d heard it was a fairly lucrative job for the solo who could pass the background check.

Leaving Guardian at the door once again, Scribe approached the bulletproof glass-encased counter. A young woman with black-dyed hair and multiple piercings in her ears and face, wearing a dark brown shirt open at the collar to show a hint of bosom and a red-lace tank top, approached, her eyes taking in Scribe’s beauty with clear intention, the tip of her tongue touching her scarlet red lips to play with one of the rings.

“Can I help you?”

Frankie was sure there was more innuendo there than the common customer received. Smiling his best, most personably smile, he leaned against the counter with his left arm and slid his right hand into his jacket pocket.

“I need to set up delayed delivery for three packages pending contingency, if I could please.”

“Not a problem,” The girl activated the touchscreen in front of her with her thumb as her fingers all bore fairly long, red-painted nails that occasionally changed shades through chemical displacement. “Your name?”

“DigitalScribe,” Frankie said while flashing his teeth, his eyes darting to the nametag over her left breast. “Star, is it?”

“Yeah,” she said with a slight blush. “My parents were hippies.”

“Really? Nomadic?” Scribe watched as she spelled out his name on the touchscreen. “That’s one word, with a capital D and S.”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, nomadic,” she blushed again as he grinned at her dismissing the mistake. After the last letter was entered she paused for a moment and then looked up at him with surprise. “Are you the DigitalScribe? The one who writes that column for The City Scream?”

Frankie continued to smile. “You bet. Hey, listen honey. I’m in something of a hurry here, but I’d love to share a cup of coffee with you a little later. You sound like a prime interview for my column, what with your parent’s background and all. Tell you what. Put these disks here—“ Scribe slipped the disks out from his pocket and into the receiving tray, pushing the tray in so she could access the disks. “—into three different envelopes—the protected kind, yeah—and set them to go out in three days to the addresses I give you should I not cancel the order, and then give me your number. I’ll give you a call in a few days and we can have that cup of coffee. What do you say?”

“Sure thing!” The girl’s voice held a tremor in it akin to that which Scribe had heard in women fawning over a rockerboy. It warmed his heart that people actually felt so strongly about what he wrote. He continued to make small talk with the girl while she finished processing his order, and when it was done, he had her number in his cell phone as well as a rather seductive picture of her posing behind the glass, showing a little more cleavage (he didn’t remember at what part in the conversation she’d undone those buttons) than she had been when he’d first entered.

“I’ll call,” he said as he backed away from the counter, the warm smile still on his face. She grinned back in a coy schoolgirlish manner and waved. Reaching Guardian, he turned about and allowed the bodyguard to lead the way out relieved of all of the video’s copies, the original, and the doctored version the only remnants from that night remaining on his person.

“Well, what now? I’m done setting this thing up, so now all we need to do is reconnect with Croaker and his crew.” DigitalScribe knew that had Guardian seen the watcher, he’d have informed him. So, he was leaving it up to the big man to determine where they’d play it safe at.

New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:30pm

---

Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm
Firewind had been about to respond to Freeway’s explanation when chaos erupted.

The door swung out quickly, lighter than expected due to its thick nature. Peacekeeper stepped forward, weapon leveled at the three men inside, only to quickly lower it just as one of them lurched forward and slid to a stop on his heels. Taking in each of their faces, Jaimy felt her heart lurch. Richard wasn’t with them.

“Where’s Croaker?” she asked in a quiet voice, dreading the answer.

“They took him to another room,” Bull’s Eye answered. “At least that’s what we’re hoping.” The nomad’s hardened face softened a little. “Look, Peacekeeper, he was shot up pretty bad—“

“How bad?”

“A minigun tore through him—“ Bull’s Eye started to explain before being interrupted by Firewind.

“He’ll live, Peacekeeper. I patched him up pretty good before we were separated.”

Taking a deep breath, the bounty hunter clenched her jaw and gave them a brief nod. “We don’t have much time before the guards hit this sector, so let’s move out. Who’s he?” Her attention went to Freeway with steel eyes to accompany them, and the shift in her body lined her up just enough that all she had to do was raise the weapon a hair to put a few holes in him.

“That’s Freeway,” Firewind said from her side. “He’s a captive here as well, so I don’t imagine he’d object to coming along for the ride.”

“That so?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

(OOC: assuming an affirmative answer.)

“Well, we’ve some hardware for you boys, and we’ve a link from the outside through Jack, so arm up. We’re going to go find Croaker and see if we can’t finish this frackin’ mission.”

With a fluid motion, Peacekeeper dropped the retrieved submachine guns into the hands of the captives, stepping aside to allow MDK to share his weapons as well should he decide to.

“Where to?” she asked the assassin.

Croaker is being kept in the main building, sub-floor 3, room 12b. The words streamed across MDK’s eye as though the netrunner had some kind of audio link and was answering the question.

(OOC: assuming MDK shares in his directions.)

Most likely location for drug is main building, sub-floor 5, room 9c. Thirty seconds to clear that hall.
Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:56pm

---

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:23am
“Ok if you are her father I can understand your need to know the whole truth of what happened but I have been in this business too long to take anything on faith. Before I say anything else I want proof of you being her father. Give me that proof and I will tell you anything you want to know, except the names of those involved. I’m sure somewhere within your reach is a pic of the 2 of you together.”

Ackerman stared into Croaker’s face for a moment further before slowly rising up to stand over the injured man once more. With a sour expression on his face, he stiffly reached into his suit coat and from an interior pocket produced a high-end, real leather ImageWallet. Opening it, he pressed a couple of buttons and then turned it to show the nomad a picture of Ackerman with a middle-aged, blond woman who could have very well been a model in her younger years wearing a white, off-the-shoulder sweater with her arms around a teen girl who very well could have been a cleaned up version of Merry Deth, though instead of dyed hair worn by Merry Deth, there was the same blonde hair that the older woman wore. This picture more closely resembled that of the image they’d received from Jack when they’d first taken the job than the one of the teen who’d died on the floor of the van.

“Her name is Meridith, after her mother,” Ackerman breathed, slowly closing the wallet once he was sure Richard had received all that he’d needed to from it. “Now, why don’t you answer the questions I’ve already asked Mr. Tallon? Was it a drug overdose? What kind of drugs? Who diagnosed this? Why did you miss the drop?”

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:24am

Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:56pm
“Well, we’ve some hardware for you boys, and we’ve a link from the outside through Jack, so arm up. We’re going to go find Croaker and see if we can’t finish this frackin’ mission.”

With a fluid motion, Peacekeeper dropped the retrieved submachine guns into the hands of the captives, stepping aside to allow MDK to share his weapons as well should he decide to.
MDK stepped up behind peacekeeper towering over her looking at the captives, his gaze paused on Freeway and quickly assessed the man. Once Peacekeeper stepped aside he unslung one of the HKs he carried and handed it over to Freeway without a word to the man. He figured if he was in here then maybe he might be useful in getting them out.

“Where to?” Peacekeeper asked the assassin.
MDK paused as he received the input from the eye link to the netrunner then hefting the remaining HK in his hands he whirled back to the hallway gesturing for them to follow.

“Move,” MDK said as he lead the way, “we have less than 30 seconds to clear this hallway. Close that door.”

“Croaker is being held in the main building, subfloor 3, room 12b.” he said as he lead them out of there quickly yet quietly, “the drug might be in the main building, subfloor 5, room 9c. We will worry about that later.”

He would hurry them all out of there, making sure the door to the cell was closed again that way anyone wandering by wouldn’t become suspicious.

(Remainder in collaboration with the GM)

The dark assassin lead them back out the way he and Peacekeeper had entered and they cleared the hall only seconds before a guard patrol came along from the other direction. When they reached the door leading to the outside, he paused for a second as if receiving more info from the netrunner then turned and gestured them out the door.

“Move a patrol is near,” he opened the door and gestured them out to the left as footfalls sounded up the hallway they had just left.

“Stay close to the wall,” he whispered as they passed him and he was the last to leave the doorway and close it behind him only a second or two before the guard patrol entered the room they had just vacated.

(Assuming all follow directions here, if not, your on your own. )

Once outside the building, MDK once again assumed the lead and with a quick glance around he turned to the group to issue instructions.

“Ok, follow me, move quietly yet quickly,” he said in a whisper from behind his armored facemask and the black armored bandana that covered his entire head and face, “we must cross this open well lit area but the cameras have been taken care of so just stay on my tail and keep moving.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed out into the open compound headed south towards the main building. Miraculously they made it across without incident in plain view of the surveillance cameras which seemed to be everywhere. He led them to the west side of the main building and up to a door which contained what looked like a very high security keypad and retinal scanner. MDK paused with them all behind him hugging up next to the building and turned to face them.

“There is a guard booth on the other side of this door,” he whispered, “when this door opens I will enter and handle the guard; give me a 5 count before you guys follow.”

Once he received acknowledgement, he nodded and turned back to the door and slung his HK back behind him out of the way; apparently he planned to ‘handle’ the guard with his bare hands. The door lock clicked and MDK opened it and entered immediately headed to his left.

On the other side of the door is a foyer with window from the guard's room looking into it. The foyer is a square room, and in the northern corner of the eastern wall is the door to the rest of the facility, also keycard locked. Through the door, immediately to the left is a long hall with highly polished gray tile, and a small recess in the western wall containing the door to the guard's booth. The hall to the left isn't the only direction you can go once through that door however. There's also a hall running straight ahead and down the width of the building from west to east.

MDK enters the foyer and with long quick strides and heads directly to the recessed doorway to the guard booth; the door clicks open as his hand is reaching for the handle and without breaking stride he opens the doorway and heads towards the lone guard. He notices the guard is distracted by the flickering screens of his monitoring equipment which seems to be malfunctioning.

Knowing the guard would hear the door opening and the heavy tread of his boots, he spoke normally to the guard as he closed the short distance to where he sat looking at his monitors. (Assume he is sitting, if not adjust actions accordingly).

“Hey,” he said softly, like a greeting, as if just another guard coming in to see how things were going.

When the guard turned in his seat, MDK would launch a devastating Taekwondo combo at the surprised guard. Lashing out, mostly by instinct, would deliver a powerful front snap kick with his left leg towards the seated man’s face followed quickly by a leading hand jab towards the throat, a reverse hand jab towards the solar plexus and finally ending with a downward axe kick using his back leg; his heavy black Ruf Tuff boots descending heel first onto the man’s head or back, whichever presented itself, in a blow that could crush a man’s skull if properly executed.

Such a powerful and devastating attack delivered by an accomplished martial artist such as MDK, would normally drop a man instantly if not kill him outright. But just in case the guard did manage to dodge all or part of his surprise attack, MDK would be ready to follow up with other equally capacitating techniques. He knew he couldn’t allow the man to reach for any sort of alarm switch or get off a shot, either would seal their doom here deep inside the Corporate base.

Biotechnica Facility; Main Building – Northeast of Night City – Saturday, March 14th, 2020, 12:05am

Biotechnica Facility – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, Time Unknown
Seeing the picture of Ackerman with a girl closely resembling that of Mery Deth, the man’s comment about her name, and a gut feeling Croaker relaxed somewhat and begin the tale of the past few days leaving out only the names of those involved on his side. Everything else from the moment of first meeting with Spring Heeled Jack (Name omitted), Mery Deth dying in the van, Firewind’s (name omitted) diagnosis as to why, to getting ripped apart by the minigun in the forest, to this exact moment in time was told.

At the end of the journey’s telling Croaker drew a deep breath and waited for the next part of the story to take place. His life and those of his friends were in this man’s hands and he hoped the man would understand the why’s of what had happened.....

Biotechnica Facility – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, Time Unknown