”Parental rights?”, thought Echo to herself, “The poor kid! What were his parents doing to him to make him want to be away from them?”

Moving to sit near the seemingly shaken man, trying to keep his attention on her so the others can search, Echo softly asks him, “Sir, have you met Jace’s parents at all? Perhaps at teacher conferences or some such?”

(if an affirmative, she will ask the following) “How did they seem - were they interested in how he was doing at school, or concerned in any way?”

“Also, did you happen to notice any friends his age, anyone at all that he spoke to or seemed to hang around with more often?”

Echo waits patiently for his answers with a small smile, trying to keep eye contact with him.

 

West Park Mallplex | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:30 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“A couple of weeks past,” Dr. Carey muses while still observing the drifting art. “Young Jace approached me asking about Parental Rights in regards to their children. He was vague in his inferences, but was keen on the particulars in a child’s legal options where Parent Time is concerned. I found it odd at the time especially since Jace had never spoken of his family before… at least not to me. The entire conversation was quickly forgotten as the issues with my wife escalated, but I do recall this intensity to him that I’d not witnessed before.

“He’s something of a lonely boy, as a matter-of-fact,” Carey continues in a level lecturing tone. “And I didn’t see him spend much time with the other boys. He tended to like the company of adults—socially, I mean. He would engage in conversation about topics that most children his age veer away from. It was most endearing and I think you’d find that the staff at the school are all quite taken with him. He was such an amenable sort that I even witnessed him speaking with the janitorial staff on a number of occasions. Strangely enough, I don’t recall any other students even taking the time to notice the maids and custodians working the buildings and grounds except to, perhaps, make fun.”

Shaking his head, Phil finally looks back up at the edgers. “I’m sorry. I wish I could offer more but it isn’t exactly good form to get close to the children and as I already said, Jace is something of a loner.”

Parental rights?, thinks Echo to herself, The poor kid! What were his parents doing to him to make him want to be away from them?

Having started with the kindness act, Fixer decides he might as well continue with the good cop routine. He steps over and leans on a chair near their host. "Everything we've heard about the kid seems positive. He seems like a nice kid, although, at the moment, you seem to have the most personal comment about him we've heard. It doesn't seem like he had many people to talk to. Except you a bit, perhaps." He pauses to think a moment, "Parental rights? You mean like he was asking about getting free from their control? One of those 'divorce your parents' sort of things? Have I got the right idea?"  He shakes his head. "Ouch. If you thought he didn't have a lot of friends at school, it kinda sounds like he didn't have 'em at home either. Any idea why? Or do you know anything about his parents?"

Moving to sit near the seemingly shaken man, trying to keep his attention on her so the others can search, Echo softly asks him, “Sir, have you met Jace’s parents at all? Perhaps at teacher conferences or some such?”

“No,” Phil shakes his head. “Jace’s parents are pretty high up the food chain working for some megacorp or another. Jace has told me that he usually deals with personal assistants and I’m afraid that’s all any of us at Bartholomew have access to as well.”

“How did they seem?” the nomad gently presses. “Were they interested in how he was doing at school, or concerned in any way?”

“It has been all very business-like. They are mostly concerned with his marks.” Dr. Carey shakes his head apologetically.

Hearing the teacher’s response, Fixer has a couple of follow-up questions. "Since you teach law—even if corporate and family law aren't the same thing—I suppose you were a logical person to ask. And a friend to him, which probably helped as well. What did you tell him about it? What are his options?"

“Also,” Echo adds, “did you happen to notice any friends his age, anyone at all that he spoke to or seemed to hang around with more often?”

Echo waits patiently for his answers with a small smile, trying to keep eye contact with him.

“I instructed him on the legal process,” Phil looks up at the far corner of the room. “Most of this can be found online, so I doubt I told him anything he didn’t already know if he were serious in his investigation. The cost might be prohibitive; most of these children don’t come into any money until they come of age. Let’s see… I did tell him that I couldn’t help him with any such endeavor as it is in direct conflict with my employment contract.

“As for friends his age? Acquaintances, maybe, but no one he spent a lot of time with in particular that I’ve noticed. He really was a bit of a loner, more prone to spend time with staff than fellow students. As I’ve said, I’d see him talking with the grounds crew and janitorial staff more than the children his age.”

"Is there anyone else he might have asked about this?” Fixer acknowledges the information they’ve received with a nod and takes the conversation in a different direction. “Either someone you told him to talk to or maybe a logical other person on staff to ask? Or someone in the neighborhood? Honestly, we don't have much to go on and right now this might be Jace's best shot."  

“I am forbidden from directing students to non-school resources by my contract,” Dr. Carey replies after taking a deep breath. “So, no. I did not direct him to any others and seeing how the other teachers at Bartholomew have similar clauses in their contracts, I saw no need to refer him to any of them. As for neighborhood contacts… You may have noticed that the Bartholomew School is a walled institution. Visitors to the school are closely monitored and the local color isn’t allowed to interact at all with the students. So, I highly doubt he’s had any help from the neighborhood.”

“Here’s the summary, old-boy,” Vegas chimes in, affecting a much more friendly tone while wearing a genuine-looking smile. “We’re charged with finding this poor boy before the cops have to be brought in. It’d look bad for the school to deal with a missing student and I’m sure you can understand the sensitivity of it all. You’ve suggested we can look around and I appreciate that. It’ll help ease the minds of those holding the purse strings, if you get my meaning.

“But back to the info you have been able to share already,” the crooner spreads his hands wide, “you’re telling us that there’s no friends or other people at the school who’re close enough to Jace that they might know more?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Phil levels his tired eyes at the solo. “I believe the other teachers would confirm my information. I would see him walking the halls happily talking with a maid, but I would rarely, if ever, see him engaging with the other children.”

"We don't want to upset your wife any,” Fixer interrupts, thinking the professor might be getting agitated by the same line of questioning. “It looks like things are tough enough there already. But, if you’re going to let us look around, we really need to get a look in the back room. Is there a way to do that without upsetting her? I don't know if it helps or hurts to play to her fantasy—be part of the game world, you know? But, for Jace's sake, a quick look would be great." He pauses, "I guess there is no chance that Jace knew her? No, just grasping at straws. The clock is ticking on this one."

“Professor,” Bloodbank scratches at the stubbly hairline at the base of his neck, his brow furrowed. “You could use some rest. If you’d like, I can administer a sedative that’ll safely put her out for a good six or seven hours. We’ll be able to do all of the looking we need to in order to satisfy our orders without disturbing her rest and you’ll be able to get some solid sleep once we’re gone.”

Phil studies the tall, black-haired young man for a moment and then nods, his shoulders slumping slightly. “That will be most appreciated.”

Mimicking the teacher’s slight dip of the head in acknowledgment, the med-tech sets his bag on the floor and crouches to unzip it. Finding his hypospray secure in the elastic strap along the inside wall of his smart bag, he then locates the correct canister for the sedative. Rising, he walks close enough to Dr. Carey that the man can read the label on the canister and shows him that it is as he says. Receiving another nod of approval from the skinny educator, Colin slips it into the administering device and says, “If you all will excuse me for a moment…”

“There’s no security devices lying about that we need to be aware of, Dr. Carey, is there?” Vegas asks as their team medic moves into the bedroom.

“On my salary?” Phil chuckles ruefully and shakes his head.

“Right,” Motioning fixer and Echo to join him in their walk-through of the apartment, the Frank Sinatra look-alike gathers his bearings by looking about for a period of two seconds before making his way over to the kitchen area. Snagging the comm-unit Fixer made for them, Luke Reeves, aka Vegas, turns the volume up just a bit and holds down the action button. “The kid doesn’t appear to be here, and the professor doesn’t appear to be our culprit. Regroup at the mallplex entrance in fifteen.”

Returning from the room, Bloodbank smiles at their host and informs him that the sedative has taken effect—Phil’s wife is sleeping a deep and restful slumber. Moving to join the others, the medtech speaks in a low volume, “I’ve checked the bedroom and there aren’t any hiding places I could find, nor any sign of a child. Just more of the poor woman’s crazy.”

“Yeah, well,” Vegas tilts his head dismissively, “The group isn’t reimbursing you for that drug. That act of kindness was all you, Mr. Bleeding Heart."

Sharing his gaze with the others, the crooner continues, “The kid ain’t here, and I don’t think he ever has been. I’ve notified the rest of the team to regroup. Time to share what little we’ve learned and strategize on where to go from here.”

“Oh,” he adds as an afterthought, “I’ve received a message from Blossom. She’s going to try and meet up with us as well.”

(OOC: Time is 6:45 PM PST)

 

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Wolf Point Plaza | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:07 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Ghlahn moves into the room after cutting through the lock. It seems that for some reason security is higher than expected in the building. Moving towards the bank of windows he finds his luck going from bad to worse. The windows do not open. There is little time to search for another vantage point and it is unlikely that the other rooms have windows of a different sort. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he examines the window to determine if a torch will melt the glass. It’s worth the chance of being discovered. The only options are to cut through the window, break the window, or simply watch the street beyond and, if needed, break the window with a quick first shot. Taking out the torch, he lights it up.

If the flickering light from his cutting tool is drawing any unwanted attention, the Cee-Metal edger will have to wait to see the results. Glass, just like the rest of the buildings in the sprawling metropolis spanning the entire Californian coast, will be repaired by the nanobuilders that constantly tear older, dead buildings apart to reuse the materials in newer constructs. There’s no way for Ghlahn to determine when the nanobuilders for this building will make their presence known and all he can do is hope that the hole he’s rapidly melting away will last long enough for the rest of his team to reemerge from the mallplex.

Slipping the barrel of his .44 Nomad through the newly cooled hole just enough to rest the weapon in without drawing more attention to his position, M’haru Ghlahn establishes his overwatch position. Now comes the time that most people dread—the waiting.

(OOC: Time is 6:10 PM PST)

 

------------------------------------------

 

Tranquil Grotto | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:10 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

With the fifth floor a total bust Casino decides that there’s nothing to do but head up to the sixth floor and hope to find an open spot or room to provide overwatch from. However, his plan is quickly put on hold as the large solo turns to make his way back to the elevators.

“Holy s***! You startled the hell outta me, solo. You a f****** solo, right? You look like a f****** solo. S***! You here to croak someone? F***. Can I watch?”

Maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, the young man making his declaration of surprise wears a red, green, and white leather jacket. His head is shaved into a short mohawk that’s been dyed neon green. He’s of Indian heritage or a half-breed, and hovering over his left shoulder is a SkyWorm cybernetic companion—a six-inch drone that acts as an entertainment device, recording device, and net link. Having controlled his first instinct to kill the kid all he could do was talk. Being a bad lier Casino would take a chance and tell the truth.

“Naw, kid. Not here to kill anyone. Just looking for a place to watch that building across the way,” the big solo casually replies.“Hey, maybe you can help me. Know any good watch spots?”

“Bruh! You got the right Raff,” the teen smacks his chest, causing the leather jacket to jingle all of the metal accouterments attached to the zippers and pinned through the leather supplement. “I can pass ya through the gate to the s***, Hammerhead! So long as I get paid, savvy? Twenty’ll have you sittin’ in comfort, true! There’s a park just ‘round the bend with an open view of the s******* ‘plex. You got a meatbag scoped inside that ‘plex, Choomba? Bet it’s a Sheila some corpse zombie’s pissed she’s playin’ input for another John, right?”

Further back the way Casino had come—towards the elevators—the music that had chased him this direction in the first place is getting louder.

(OOC: Time is 6:12 PM PST)

 

-------------------------------------------

 

Infinity Towers - 3rd Floor - West Beach Garden | Night City Integrate | Midcity | Urban,Zone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:08 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

As with most boardwalks, the ground beneath his high-end half-boots is wood. Benches line the wood rail (which sits just inside the Plexglass barrier between the outside world and the inside) and despite the architect program’s best efforts, their surfaces are wet from the rain being blown in. Here, too, people walk the length; some are arm-in-arm, and others are walking real animals, or cyberpets, and still others are leaning against the rail looking out on the city street twenty meters below oblivious to the rainfall and the large air purification fans that filter out the pollutants from outside.

Charlie finds a quiet place to sit, an empty wooden bench near the wooden rail so that he can work in peace within the safety of the Infinity Towers. Settling in, he opens his laptop case removes the drone from the foam encasement, setting it on the ground at his feet. Producing his agent, the well-dressed fixer calls up the control app and begins his real-time feed.

Charlie centers on Infinity Towers and decides to fly his drone over all three buildings (Wolf Point Plaza, Tranquil Grotto Building, and Infinity Towers) despite the earlier conversation with the large, leather-clad solo named Casino. The problem he must overcome is that though the mallplex consists of most of the structure visible within this level of the integrate, it continues into the next level so there’s no conceivable roof to fly over. Luther is left to fly his drone at an altitude that provides a decent bird’s eye view while skirting the exterior of the mallplex. With this realization, Charlie goes to work and begins to identify potential targets, look for his teammates and.

“ Alrighty people,” buzzing motors lift the small drone from its perch and out over the Tower’s street. “Let’s find out where everyone is...”

Setting the Skymaster Delta Cross XLT in a slow forward trajectory, the Native American thrusts his hand into his coat’s breast pocket and retrieves the device Fixer put together for them. Double-tapping the action button, he breaks squelch twice in short succession.  

“Charlie's up,” Luther "marks up" on the channel and hopes that one of his teammates will answer to let him know if anything is going on.

Glancing down at his agent while he waits, Cred Stick Charlie performs a quick survey, spinning the Skymaster about so that the camera can sweep the street below. So far, he isn’t able to see anyone that he recognizes. Setting the walkie-talkie on his right thigh, close to his abdomen, the fixer returns his attention to the screen and now with both hands, begins to direct the drone on its path. Mentally calling up the time from his agent to his optic splice, Luther registers the hour.

Sending his drone through the air traffic is done with caution. While it has a built-in obstruction and anti-collision sensors, some corporate delivery drones move at a high-enough speed that collisions aren’t unheard of. Then, there are anarchists who just like to watch the world burn and might find it fun to shoot down a drone. They don’t usually target corporate machines, but a private drone? Those are fair game: not as much chance of repercussions being dealt.

Twelve minutes is what it takes to fly the full route. Thumbing the autopilot control on, Luther sets about reviewing his business on a split screen function of his agent while waiting for some news.

(OOC: Time is 6:25 PM PST)

Fixer was ready to give up on this elad when one last thought struck him.  Maybe the good doctor had given them something after all. 

"Dr. Darey.  We have all been looking for friends and contacts for Jace, but perhaps we are looking in the wrong place.  You said he didn't talk to students, but sought out adults.  And specifically you have said that he would speak with and could be seen smiling with maids and custodians.  Perhaps he wasn't quite as alone as we all have been lead to believe."  he shook his head at the fact that they seemed to be committing the classic mistake - overlooking the servants.  "Those maids and custodians he was talking to.  Do you know their names?  Do you know anything about them?  If nothing else, what do they look like?  Maybe there is a hint here after all."  

   Galahn waited.  Waiting was something he was good at as he had a great amount of practice.  Some people were horrible waiters.  The tended to fidgit or daydream and lose focus or worse draw attention to the fact that they were indeed waiting.  This was not a problem for him, he settled in and looked over his assigned coverage area.  With luck his waiting would end with him simply standing up and walking out.   

Echo was glad they didn't find anything at the Carey's place, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy who just had a hard life dealing with his wife's crazy, and seemed truly concerned for the boy's welfare. She was also glad they could pull Vegas' bad attitude towards the doc away, and began to wonder if the crooner was only kind to those he had an itch for - like Blossom.

"Thank the powers that be it ain't me he's sweet on", she thought to herself, rolling her eyes at him behind his back. "Maybe she's like one of them drugs on the street I've heard of for him - he gets all kinds of cranky when he ain't seen her in a while. I hope meetin' up with her will put him in a better mood."

As they filed out of the tiny apartment, Echo made herself the last out, making sure to let the door close a little before turning to the exhausted man. She offered the teacher her tiny hand to shake, and gave a small but heartfelt apology to the man, using the High City proper language that hadn't crossed her lips in years.

"I am most sorry for interrupting your vacation, Doctor Carey," she begins. "Please forgive the missing manners of some of my companions, they really do have Jace's best interests at heart. They are just unused to dealing with those more, um, cultured than themselves. I hope you won't hold that against them - they are good folk."

(OOC - Provided no large response) She gives the man another warm smile, then turns and leaves, closing the door gently behind her.

 

 

OOC - Apologies!! I had thought I posted on this update already - apparently not! My week has been nuts since I got laid off a week ago, and they're being asshats about things. But I've got the Dept. of Labor on my side, so they'll get their just deserts.

His handheld client made the drone began it’s dance with the winds of change...

Minutes past as the airodrone made is way along the path, speeding up, slowing down and changing its altitude. A few minutes past as the drone went about it’s own business along a flight path.. Till something was captured on it’s camera receptors. A blue racing aerodrone with nomad markings... following the same path.... Luther make a correction to the drone and within seconds.. Nomad Blue changed as well...

“ interesting” Luther told himself

After a few minutes of cat and mouse, luther recalled back the drone to his side..... And the nomad blue racing drone still followed.

When the blue racing drone came closer, luther could see that it had some sort of optics but he wasn’t 100% about the rating of them. As luther let his drone hover close to the building as he began to move to the other side of the gardens... Nomad Blue began to follow Luther.

Luther had moved to the other side of the building park as his drone simply hovered 12 ft from the building opening... but nomad blue followed luther’s movement as he began to walk to the otherside. Luther without looking directly at the drone paused to look and observe some of the flowers and other garden bits and changed his vector... nomad blue followed yet again. This game lasted only minutes but for luther it seemed longer.

Luther changed his position of seating three times and still... nomad blue followed him wherever he sat in the beautiful gardens. Luther wasn’t about to simply leave his drone so he finally showed his hand and recovered his drone vehicle.

West Park Mallplex | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:30 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“Right,” Motioning fixer and Echo to join him in their walk-through of the apartment, the Frank Sinatra look-alike gathers his barings by looking about for a period of two seconds before making his way over to the kitchen area. Snagging the comm-unit Fixer made for them, Luke Reeves, aka Vegas, turns the volume up just a bit and holds down the action button. “The kid doesn’t appear to be here, and the professor doesn’t appear to be our culprit. Regroup at the mallplex entrance in fifteen.”

Fixer is ready to give up on this lad when one last thought strikes him. Maybe the good doctor had given them something after all.

"Dr. Carey,” he begins, “We have all been looking for friends and contacts for Jace, but perhaps we are looking in the wrong place. You said he didn't talk to students, but sought out adults. And specifically you have said that he would speak with, and could be seen smiling with, maids and custodians. Perhaps he wasn't quite as alone as we all have been lead to believe." He shakes his head at the fact that they seemed to be committing the classic mistake—overlooking the servants. "Those maids and custodians he was talking to. Do you know their names? Do you know anything about them? If nothing else, what do they look like? Maybe there is a hint here after all."

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to do with the custodial and grounds-keeping staff,” Phil shakes his thin head in regret. “Ms. White would have a list of those who have been working the school. I’m sure she’d be happy to provide you with their dossiers.”

Echo is glad they didn't find anything at the Carey's place. He seems like a genuinely nice guy who just had a hard life dealing with his wife's crazy, and seems truly concerned for the boy's welfare. She is also glad they can pull Vegas' bad attitude towards the doc away, and began to wonder if the crooner was only kind to those he has an itch for—like Blossom.

Thank the powers that be it ain't me he's sweet on, she thinks to herself, rolling her eyes at him behind his back. Maybe she's like one of them drugs on the street I've heard of for him—he gets all kinds of cranky when he ain't seen her in awhile. I hope meetin' up with her will put him in a better mood.

Returning from the room, Bloodbank smiles at their host, having just caught the last part of the techie’s line of questioning, and informs him that the sedative has taken effect—Phil’s wife is sleeping a deep and restful slumber. Moving to join the others as they gather up, the medtech speaks in a low volume, “I’ve checked the bedroom and there aren’t any hiding places I could find, nor any sign of a child. Just more of the poor woman’s crazy.”

“Yeah, well,” Vegas tilts his head dismissively, “The group isn’t reimbursing you for that drug. That act of kindness was all you, Mr. Bleeding Heart.”

Sharing his gaze with the others, the crooner continues, “The kid ain’t here, and I don’t think he ever has been. I’ve notified the rest of the team to regroup. Time to share what little we’ve learned and strategize on where to go from here.”

“Oh,” he adds as an afterthought, “I’ve received a message from Blossom. She’s going to try and meet up with us as well.”

As they file out of the tiny apartment, Echo makes herself the last out, making sure to let the door close a little before turning to the exhausted man. She offers the teacher her tiny hand to shake and gives a small but heartfelt apology to the man, using the High City proper language that hadn't crossed her lips in years.

"I am most sorry for interrupting your vacation, Doctor Carey," she begins. "Please forgive the missing manners of some of my companions, they really do have Jace's best interests at heart. They are just unused to dealing with those more, um, cultured than themselves. I hope you won't hold that against them—they are good folk."

“It’s been no trouble at all,” Phil blinks away the surprise and peers directly into her eyes. “I truly am grateful to your friend for his help with my wife. Please… if—when—you find Jace, will you please notify me? I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep with the idea of that poor boy missing bouncing around my head.”

Echo gives the man another warm smile, then turns and leaves, closing the door gently behind her.

(OOC: Time is 6:50 PM PST)

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Wolf Point Plaza | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:10 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Slipping the barrel of his .44 Nomad through the newly cooled hole just enough to rest the weapon in without drawing more attention to his position, M’haru Ghlahn establishes his overwatch position. Now comes the time that most people dread—the waiting.

Ghlahn waits. Waiting is something he is good at as he has had a great amount of practice. Some people are horrible waiters. They tend to fidget or daydream and lose focus, or worse, draw attention to the fact that they are indeed waiting. This is not a problem for him. He settles in and looks over his assigned coverage area. With luck, his waiting will end with him simply standing up and walking out.

“Charlie's up.”

Squawking through his internal radio splice, the message would have sent a lesser man through his skin revealing the cybernetic shell beneath it to the world. Alex McKennon, however, is not a lesser man and the startling message passes by without so much as an acknowledgment.

One downside of being plugged into a bodyshell is the internal clock, and the next thirty-five minutes pass by as though he’s watching water boil. “The kid doesn’t appear to be here, and the professor doesn’t appear to be our culprit. Regroup at the mallplex entrance in fifteen.” Vegas’ voice comes across the splice and immediately sets the sniper in motion.

He doesn’t take time to clean up the scene, to conceal his presence, or otherwise make any effort to hide his arrival and exit. Slinging his rifle, he snatches up his bag and slips back out the way he had come.

Arriving at the mouth of the Plaza unmolested, Ghlahn steps into the rain and immediately turns towards the mallplex. A short walk, crossing the street, and the Cee-Metal soldier finds himself at the entrance to the West Park Mallplex.

(OOC: Time is 7:02 PM PST)

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Tranquil Grotto | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:12 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“Naw, kid. Not here to kill anyone. Just looking for a place to watch that building across the way,” the big solo casually replies.“Hey, maybe you can help me. Know any good watch spots?”

“Bruh! You got the right Raff,” the teen smacks his chest, causing the leather jacket to jingle all of the metal accouterments attached to the zippers and pinned through the leather supplement. “I can pass ya through the gate to the s***, Hammerhead! So long as I get paid, savvy? Twenty’ll have you sittin’ in comfort, true! There’s a park just ‘round the bend with an open view of the s******* ‘plex. You got a meatbag scoped inside that ‘plex, Choomba? Bet it’s a Sheila some corpse zombie’s pissed she’s playin’ input for another John, right?”

Further back the way Casino had come—towards the elevators—the music that had chased him this direction in the first place is getting louder.

“I don’t got twenty, kid,” Casino states flatly through his newly acquired mask. “I’ve had a bit of a hellish night that’s left me pretty broke. But I’ll tell ya what. You get me sittin’ in comfort and I’ll let you hang with me until I leave. If I shoot anyone, you’ll be front and center.”

Eyebrows climbing over his sunglasses, the kid presses, “True? What ‘bout fifteen?”

“Nothin’,” the big man responds, spreading his hands to emphasize his situation.

“Got any glass? Sticks? CPS? Rabbit?”

“Nope,” Casino confirms.

“Well, s***,” shoulders slumping, the kid looks towards the noise that’s still around the corner and down the hall. “That sucks. But it ain’t no large thing. C’mon, torpedo. Might as well get my jollies by watching you blow someone’s brains out.”

Following the young man around the corner, Casino is greeted by the sight of a small gathering. Seven other youth are milling about outside the entrance to the park, their “pets” hovering over their shoulders or slithering about their necks, synced to loudly play the same grinding music.

“Yo! Frosty,” a tall youth—practically the solo’s height but much skinnier— calls out to the Indian boy. “Who’s yer babysitter?”

“Ha!” A shorter boy grins broadly showing off a silver grill covering his teeth. “Yer mom worried ‘bout you?”

“Shut the f*** up, Bugs,” Frosty orders. “This torpedo’s with me, choomba. He’s gonna ice someone an’ said I can watch.”

“Sick!” the tall boy declares and the others nod in excited agreement. “Can we watch?”

“He got any sticks?”

“Solos like that don’t carry sticks, Boomer. He’s probs got sin or snap-coke, er somthin’.”

“He’s just postin’ up at the park, yo.” Frosty explains with sudden authority. “Can’t have all of us hanging out with him. Jack up his game, savvy?”

“Aw, c’mon!”

“That’s s***!”

“What makes you so special?”

“You ain’t doin’ nothin’ without my say, Frosty,” the tall boy puffs out his chest and folds his arms definitely.

Frosty’s demeanor changes dramatically and the authority he’s shelling out vanishes with haste, “It ain’t like that, Uncle Whopper. I was just saying that he and me got a deal—”

“You made a deal for the Moth Syndicate, Frosty?” Uncle Whopper scowls.

“No, Choomba,” Frosty whines. “It’s just me and him. I’d never make a deal for the Syndicate without you.”

“Are you a Syndicate for life?”

“You know it.”

“Then any deal you make, is a deal with the Syndicate,” Uncle Whopper looks imperiously down on his gang brother. “And that don’t happen without me.”

“I don’t care who the deal is with,” Casino’s deep voice cuts through the conversation and he squares his shoulders against the group of teens. “A deal has been made and time is running short. One of you better open that park door for me or I’ll make my evening interesting in other ways.”

Gazing up at the large, masked solo, Uncle Whopper presses his lips together tightly while frowning. His eyes are blocked from view by a pair of mirrorshades, but the side of his neck pulses quicker than before and he shoves his hands in his jacket pocket to hide the tremors that had sparked up.

“Frosty’s a good kid,” Uncle Whopper haltingly explains. “Just need to maintain order, ya know? We weren’t gonna stop you from getting in. See? Here. Double Bull’ll let you in. Won’t ya Double B?”

“Yes—I mean, yeah, Uncle Whopper.” A smallish latino boy steps forward with a definite bow-legged stride and draws an access card from his pants pocket to hold it in front of the reader.

Not waiting for the gang members to regroup, Casino strides through the moment the doors open. Not surprisingly, none of the gang-members follow him in. Setting up overlooking the street and he mallplex, Casino is barely established before Cred Stick Charlie’s notice sounds across the make-shift radios. Not entirely keen on drawing more attention to himself, the large solo doesn’t bother replying. The same as he doesn’t reply when his partner’s news is relayed and he realizes he’s got fifteen minutes to make it to the rendezvous point.

Retiring from his overwatch position, the masked edgerunner notices the Moth Syndicate members hovering within sight but making no further effort to engage with him. Minutes pass as he makes his way down to the street and he finds himself approaching the entrance to the mallplex without any trouble. Finding Ghlahn, Cred Stick Charlie, and the others who had gone into the building already there, Casino joins them.

(OOC: Time is 7:05 PM PST)

-------------------------------------------

Infinity Towers - 3rd Floor - West Beach Garden | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 6:25 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Twelve minutes is what it takes to fly the full route. Thumbing the autopilot control on, Luther sets about reviewing his business on a split screen function of his agent while waiting for some news.

His handheld client makes the drone begin its dance with the winds of change...

Minutes pass as the airodrone makes its way along the path, speeding up, slowing down, and changing its altitude. A few minutes more as the drone goes about its own business along a flight path. At least, until something is captured on its camera receptors that causes it to detour.

A blue racing drone with nomad markings... following the same path.... Luther makes a correction to the drone and within seconds the Nomad Blue changes as well.

“Interesting,” Luther tells himself.

Cat and mouse is the game he begins playing with this mysterious drone until, frustrated and a little alarmed, Luther recalls his drone. And the nomad blue racing drone still follows.

When the blue racing drone comes closer, Luther can see that it has optics as well, but he isn’t 100% about the rating of them. As Charlie allows his drone to hover close to the building, he begins to move to the other side of the gardens… but Nomad Blue follows.

Moving to the other side of the building park as his drone simply hovers three meters from the building opening, Cred Stick Charlie feels his anxiety rise as the nomad blue follows his movements, not his drone’s. Without looking directly at the drone, the fixer pauses to observe some of the flowers and other garden bits and changed his vector. The nomad blue follows yet again. This game lasts only minutes but for Luther it seems much longer.

Luther changes his position of seating three times and still, nomad blue follows him wherever he sits in the beautiful gardens. Unwilling to simply leave his drone, he finally shows his hand and recovers his drone. As he’s packing it up, Vegas’ message comes across the radio. Making one last assessment of the Blue, the fixer makes haste to exit the park and make his way back down to the entrance.

Pausing at the glass door, Cred Stick Charlie scans the skies beyond searching for the Nomad Blue or any sign of possible additional threats on the ground. Finding none, he takes a deep breath, waves to his new friend, and steps back out into the weather.

The Nomad Blue is nowhere to be seen. Was it a rival spying on him? The police? Wracking his brain for any memory of recent injuries he might have committed with his recent dealings, Luther begins his walk to the meetup all the while keeping his eyes peeled.

Rounding the corner, he finds most of the crew waiting on him; Casino being the only one missing.

(OOC: Time is 7:04 PM PST)

------------------------------------------

West Park Mallplex | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 7:06 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“All right,” Vegas declares once everyone is gathered together again. “At least this went off without a hitch. Problem is, the boy isn’t here and the good professor doesn’t have a clue as to his whereabouts. Couldn’t even offer us any leads—”

“Hold on,” Bloodbank interrupts and while holding his hand close to his chest, he points towards Fixer. “I think our friend, here, may have stumbled on something.”

(OOC: Assuming Fixer will share his idea with the group&hellip

“It’s a possibility, fer sure,” the crooner nods thoughtfully and glances about at the passing humanity with suspicion. “Blossom will meet us at a bar just a few blocks from here. It’ll take us about twenty-minutes to get there so let’s start walking.”

(OOC: Unless there’s any argument&hellip

Though wet and chilly, the walk is not eventful. The edgerunners soon find themselves walking into an alcove entry beneath a holographic projection of a rather imposing Roman soldier animatedly tipping back a large mug of beer and the name the Empyrean overhead.

The Reflection Fighters are on the radio and the bar is filled with the incessant humming of conversation. Patrons from the blue-collar populace have hedged in on the available tables but Echo’s sharp eyes are able to pick the netrunner out from the crowd and the team joins her in the booth with only minor acrobatics.

“Ha!” the chipper little Asian woman laughs at the sodden sight of the rest of her team. She appears to have either dried off already or somehow avoided the rain altogether. “You’re all wet.”

“We are,” Vegas slides in next to her, appropriating the position before the others can. “I’d weather worse to be by your side mon cherie.”

(OOC: Assuming someone pushes the conversation past the solo’s sickening moves and shares with Blossom what they learned at the professor’s&hellip

“Maybe the surveillance video will be helpful in determining who this kid hung with,” Blossom grins as though she knows something juicy. Pulling out her agent, the wardriver sets it on the table in front of the group, and as she’s activating the software, Bloodbank activates the wireless ordering system.

“I’ll take a Budweiser,” the medtech orders.

“Make that two,” Vegas adds looking down at the open bottle of Heineken in front of the Asian beauty.

(OOC: Feel free to place character orders. Beer pricing is about $.50 more than modern pricing.)

“Looking for interactions with the help…” Blossom begins to scan through the footage while at the same time, writing commands that will help her speed up the process.

The drink orders arrive at the hand of an attractive young Latino woman wearing a white blouse and a tight black miniskirt—standard dress code for waitresses, it seems. As edgerunners crack open their respective beverages, Blossom declares, “Take a look!”

On her screen is a timestamp indicating the afternoon before last… the final day Jace was seen at the Bartholomew School. Behind the timestamp, two figures are shown in deep shadow. One is obviously a child and with fairly minimal discernment, it is quite easy to see that the shadowy figure is Jace. The other is a tall, thin female figure with her features completely wrapped in shadows that are acting as good as a mask. There is, however, a patch visible to the camera on the left breast of her uniform that reads, “Upstairs Downstairs Inc.”

(OOC: Time is 7:51 P.M. PST)

“Upstairs Downstairs Inc.” the fixer thinks to himself as he listens to the conversations that surround him. Luther works his skills with scanning the interwebs on his agent while sitting at the bar / restaurant. He ask for just water.. No alcohol for him.

“Upstairs Downstairs Inc.”

Luther works his skills with scanning the interwebs while sitting at the table the crew has met their netrunner (a first time meeting for the fixer). He asks the auto waiter for just water... No alcohol for him.

“ Choombas! I found a website matching the description and it looks like we have a contact number with some standard monday through friday postings. ”

Luther taps a few keys and then listens  to the agent for a few seconds before continuing. “ Yup, just  like I thought.. Answering service”. Luther frowns.

As Luther sits and listens to the others, he begins to put in some “work time” in his “Fixer Business”. Luther taps away at his keys as the group talks about everyone's next move. Luther pulls out his alt cult dog tags and begins to rub them for a bit. He takes a couple of sips of water and then closes his eyes for a bit and recites a native american prayer before reopening his eyes.

“ Great grandfather, hear his child’s prayer, I need guidance and directing for this little one is lost in this growing metal city, for I have lost my way. This child asks for forgiveness for missing time with his living caln and not dancing in the great prayer circle”.

Luther sighs as if he didn’t get something inspirational or divine after his soft words and sits in silence.

As time passes he looks upon his alt cult dogtags, then nods to himself. “ Anyone wanna go down to the edge runner's enclave, we could take the underground short cut near here,,,, anyone?”. Luther looks upon the group. “ Well... if anyone changes their minds I can be reached on my agent”.

Luther exits the restaurant and begins to walk down to one of the many entrances for enclaves that surround the city.

 

ENCLAVE

Different enclaves have different entrances, many are covert and require the use of dogtags or risk the high chance of getting killed outright.  The walk was long and the time to get into the enclave was even longer. But once inside the area was lit up like the night city above but underground ( or as far is I perceive ). It was like a club scene underground.... They had gaming to entertain the enclaves as well as music, mind numbing sounds blasting out of small to medium stalls in what luther would only call a soulk (Bazaar).

Luther once passed the gates of the enclave with his dogtags his shoulders relaxed abit as he made his way to the agent center. Luther knew that his agent wouldn’t connect unless he could connect via the enclaves secrued network from below. Luther once again used his dogtags as his ID and was allowed to make and recieve call via his agent. Inside the the phonebooth as Luther connected via his agent it was hot, sweaty and smelled of “Dorph” smoke.

** securing lines

** tunneling

** secured line

His agent’s app went from red to yellow while connecting, then finally green.

Voice calls --

Kelsey Dawn

His agent rang the other end to no avail till the voicemail picked up....

“ Ms Dawn?..... Yeah, this is Mr. Charlie, yes the one that met you during your “Battle of the Bands” downtown. Well the reason why I’m calling you is simple.... You’ve got talent and I would like to see with your permission if you would allow me to “book” a few gigs if you interested in making some additional money”.

---------------------

"Sunny" Higgins

His agent rang the other end to no avail till the voicemail picked up....

Ms Higgins... its me Mr Charlie, are you still interested in my proposition about making some extra credits as my secretary?. Yes... wonderful we can work over the details over dinner if your free this week...

----------------------

"Packer" Jones

His agent rang the other end to no avail till the voicemail picked up....

“ What’s crackin Packer, you still got that boom boom, POW, dorph right?. I think that I might have a new drop for you to set up shop soon. I’m dealing with a rocker group so I’m talking exclusive rights if you want to work a little something, something, player. So if your feeling me hit me up... No shade...

 

Mr Charlie, Peace out

---------------------------------

Luther was tired of talking to voicemails but this is what fixers needed to do to be that type of person. It was just the others said. “ Feast and Fame or Famine and Foolhardiness”.

** Damn can’t a brother catch a break here** Luther thought to his prayer and closes his eyes and mouthed the words “Please Grandfather....”

Yo Suk-Chul

His agent rang the other end to no avail till the voicemail picked up....

 

“CHOOMBA! Mr. Charlie here and I got some sweet deals on some new shoes. croakers that don’t ask questions, so let’s config something, eh? And if you need an experienced dropman, hollar atcha boy, here first!”. But before the agent dropped the call.

“Sigan-i majchwoseo, Mister Charlie! How many do you got? What’s the tag?”

“8 pairs of shoes, Choomba” remarked Luther.

“We’ll take six,” Yo Suk-Chul remarks. “How soon can you have them delivered?”

“ As soon as I can get a runner to drop them off, I'll contact you then to drop a pin so I’ll know where to meet”.

---------------------------

“ Thank you grandfather” Luther spoke out loud to himself before trying to find some runners.

-----------------

Voice calls resume ----

Tomás Japón

His agent rang the other end to no avail till the voicemail picked up....

Vato, Diega me!

You need some work perro?!

-----------------------------------

Flore "Feathers" Messier

“Feathers”...Hey babygirl,You need some work? You know us natives need to stick together, right FAM?

---------------------------

Luther *Sighs after the phone call. “Just one Grandpa, thank you for that one”. Luther exits his private booth and begins to wander about the enclave in search of giri (favor) work in the enclave particular the vehicle sections (Parts)

"Near as I see it we've got a couple of options," the solo leans forward after ordering his beer and addresses the team from beneath the brim of his fedora. "There are still a bunch of school staff that could have some insight. We could track each of them down and pay them visits like we did with the Professor back there. If we go that route, I suggest we start with this Ms. White. She's the headmistress, or whatever, for the Bartholomew School and may be able to clue us into some high-level s***. 

"We can chase down whatever leads from this Upstairs Downstairs, Inc. I imagine that might take some more ops work but it seems like Jace had some cozy talk time with at least one of the employees. So, that might be our best lead yet.

"And last, but perhaps something that we can do while working on another angle, is that Cred Stick Charlie here might be able to put his feelers out to see what the word on the street is concerning the boy. I hear tell that blokes in your line of work, Charlie, are somewhat adept at that sort of thing. Starlight wouldn't have glued us together if she thought you could be anything but helpful."

"I've been through the footage with as fine a tooth comb as digitally possible," Blossom adds around the straw she has in her mouth. "The only vehicles that arrive on scene or leave during our window belong to the Upstairs Downstairs peoples."

   "All of those options sound appropriate but they sound like jobs for someone who blends in a bit more than I do.  Unless you want to try to scare them into talking that is.  If any of you want me to go with them I certainly won't say no , but if not I'll just watch from a distance for now."

Fixer listened to the options.  

"Ok, well, all of that makes some sense.  Certainly Cred-stick should do what he does.  That just makes sense.  It is what he is here for.  I'm for looking into the cleaning staff.  Lets go talk to Mrs. White."

As Casino listened to the various idea's he caught himself looking around at the other runners, his gaze settling on Echo. For better or worse there was a bond growing between them.

"I think Blossom and Vegas are on the right track so I'm in, lets as Fixer said check out this Miss White." 

"And last, but perhaps something that we can do while working on another angle, is that Cred Stick Charlie here might be able to put his feelers out to see what the word on the street is concerning the boy. I hear tell that blokes in your line of work, Charlie, are somewhat adept at that sort of thing. Starlight wouldn't have glued us together if she thought you could be anything but helpful."

Luther nodded then spoke “ Yeah, I’ll ask around a bit and see what kind of info that I can get and I’ll check back with you guys soon via agent”.

---------------

Luther began to put out his feelers to other fixers on the net as well as “ask” around the enclave about doing some favor to get a favor in return. Luther asked around bit to several vendors in what Luther called a “Soulk” (Bazzar) that was this dimly lit town underground. Luther made several post to several info brokers to assist with working on his problem, with any amount of time, problems would get solved but Luther didn’t have time, neither did the quarry. Luther spent the rest of his time posting with his nyecube about trading favors (Giri) for work or other Giri. Soon Luther hoped to hear more information than just an address, agent number and webpage....

 

Luther looked over his last posting to the Giri board  to see if it had the “hustle and flow”

 

What’s good FAM, Bless up!

Mr Charlie here...

 

Listen up players and playettes, I’m on one!. I’m out here to ride hard with my new Fam here in the night city and I ain't got nothing but love and want to share my blessings, so welcome to the hot spot and I’m looking to trade and make Giri  with affiliates. No shade to the haters because I’m just getting my grinding on. I’m looking to wheel and deal while making some “Giri”, so hit me back if you got something that you might need help with. Hollar atcha boy boy first. Remember FAMILY over friends, no shade

 

[email protected]_City#9246

Cred Stick Charlie

 

Seemly satisfied with his Giri posted he was confident that work or Giri would come his way. So to pass the time Luther made his way through several crowded, small traffic heavy areas. Luther inquired with different vendors that were hawking their wares.

The Reflection Fighters are on the radio and the bar is filled with the incessant humming of conversation. Patrons from the blue-collar populace have hedged in on the available tables but Echo’s sharp eyes are able to pick the netrunner out from the crowd and the team joins her in the booth with only minor acrobatics.

As the two women's eyes meet, Echo's face breaks into a rare full grin, happy to see the girl after spending the last hours with so much testosterone.

"Hola, Chika!" She says to Blossom, still grinning. "Thanks for saving space."

“Ha!” the chipper little Asian woman laughs at the sodden sight of the rest of her team. She appears to have either dried off already or somehow avoided the rain altogether. “You’re all wet.”

“We are,” Vegas slides in next to her, appropriating the position before the others can. “I’d weather worse to be by your side mon cherie.”

At that, Echo's eyes practically complete a 360 in her head at the crooner, wondering if she should mention his rudeness to the poor doctor to Blossom, but deciding that the pretty Asian might look fragile but could most likely hold her own against him. Besides, she was no telltale - that would be childish and the team didn't need anything to drive a wedge between them. Plus, she had her own issues to deal with.

Scooting into the booth opposite Bloosom, she removes her balacava and grabs a few napkins, trying to dry at least her face and hands, and focuses on putting what little info they gathered from the doc in the forefront of her mind and dismissing Vegas' shortcomings.

“Maybe the surveillance video will be helpful in determining who this kid hung with,” Blossom grins as though she knows something juicy. Pulling out her agent, the wardriver sets it on the table in front of the group, and as she’s activating the software, Bloodbank activates the wireless ordering system.

“I’ll take a Budweiser,” the medtech orders.

“Make that two,” Vegas adds looking down at the open bottle of Heineken in front of the Asian beauty.

"A Coke for me, please," Echo says, not wanting to dull her senses with alcohol. Plus, she disliked the taste of beer, wine was more to her liking.

Minutes pass as he makes his way down to the street and he finds himself approaching the entrance to the mallplex without any trouble. Finding Ghlahn, Cred Stick Charlie, and the others who had gone into the building already there, Casino joins them.

Echo crumpled the now sodden napkins into a ball and set them on the table, when a few more figures arrived at their table. She looked up to see their new team member 'Cred-Stick' Charlie, Ghlahn, and Casino join the ranks, making their group complete once nore. The petite nomad offered a polite nod to Charlie; a brief smile and nod to Ghlahn; and a broader smile and nod to the solo that made her eyes sparkle just as his met hers. Suddenly realizing her gaze lingered too long on him, she grabbed the damp napkins back off the table and dabbed at her arms, blushing. Saved from anyone asking awkward questions by the arrival of their drinks, Elizabeth 'Echo' Cooper focused on her drink, listening to the ideas from the team and agreeing they were all good next steps, and then offered one of her own.

"Blossom", she asked, turning to the woman, "I'm guessing that vid has a timestamp on it? Could you get into their employee schedules and see which female workers were out there that day, and working in that building? That might save a bit of time by hopefully gaining some names without having to chat with the bosses. I feel the less we talk to regular folk", her eyes dart to Vegas and back before she can stop herself, "The less folk might be alerted to us coming about and asking questions."

Glass Bottom Bar & Grill | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 7:52 PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

The Reflection Fighters are on the radio and the bar is filled with the incessant humming of conversation. Patrons from the blue-collar populace have hedged in on the available tables but Echo’s sharp eyes are able to pick the netrunner out from the crowd and the team joins her in the booth with only minor acrobatics.

As the two women's eyes meet, Echo's face breaks into a rare full grin, happy to see the girl after spending the last hours with so much testosterone.

"Hola, Chica!" She says to Blossom, still grinning. "Thanks for saving space."

“Ha!” the chipper little Asian woman laughs at the sodden sight of the rest of her team. She appears to have either dried off already or somehow avoided the rain altogether. “You’re all wet.”

“We are,” Vegas slides in next to her, appropriating the position before the others can. “I’d weather worse to be by your side mon Cherie.”

Echo's eyes practically complete a 360-degree rotation in her head at the crooner’s move, wondering if she should mention his rudeness towards the poor doctor to Blossom, but deciding that though the pretty Asian might look fragile, she could most likely hold her own against him. Besides, she’s no telltale—that would be childish and the team doesn’t need anything to drive a wedge between them. Plus, she has her own issues to deal with.

Scooting into the booth opposite Blossom, she removes her balaclava and grabs a few napkins, trying to dry at least her face and hands, and focuses on putting what little info they gathered from the doc in the forefront of her mind while dismissing Vegas' shortcomings.

“Maybe the surveillance video will be helpful in determining who this kid hung with,” Blossom grins as though she knows something juicy. Pulling out her agent, the wardriver sets it on the table in front of the group, and as she’s activating the software, Bloodbank activates the wireless ordering system.

“I’ll take a Budweiser,” the medtech orders.

“Make that two,” Vegas adds looking down at the open bottle of Heineken in front of the Asian beauty.

"A Coke for me, please," Echo says, not wanting to dull her senses with alcohol. Plus, she dislikes the taste of beer, wine is more to her liking.

“Looking for interactions with the help…” Blossom begins to scan through the footage while at the same time, writing commands that will help her speed up the process.

The drink orders arrive at the hand of an attractive young Latino woman wearing a white blouse and a tight black miniskirt—standard dress code for waitresses, it seems. As edgerunners crack open their respective beverages, Blossom declares, “Take a look!”

On her screen is a timestamp indicating the afternoon before last… the final day Jace was seen at the Bartholomew School. Behind the timestamp, two figures are shown in deep shadow. One is obviously a child and with fairly minimal discernment, it is quite easy to see that the shadowy figure is Jace. The other is a tall, thin female figure with her features completely wrapped in shadows that are acting as good as a mask. There is, however, a patch visible to the camera on the left breast of her uniform that reads, “Upstairs Downstairs Inc.”

Upstairs Downstairs Inc. the fixer thinks as he listens to the conversations that surround him. Luther works his skills with scanning the interwebs on his agent while sitting at the bar/restaurant. He asks for just water. No alcohol for him.

"Near as I see it we've got a couple of options," the dapper solo leans forward after ordering his beer and addresses the team from beneath the brim of his fedora. "There is still a bunch of school staff that could have some insight. We could track each of them down and pay them visits like we did with the Professor back there. If we go that route, I suggest we start with this Ms. White. She's the headmistress, or whatever, for the Bartholomew School and may be able to clue us into some high-level s***.

"We can chase down whatever leads from this Upstairs Downstairs, Inc. I imagine that might take some more ops work but it seems like Jace had some cozy talk time with at least one of the employees. So, that might be our best lead yet.

"And last, but perhaps something that we can do while working on another angle, is that Cred Stick Charlie here might be able to put his feelers out to see what the word on the street is concerning the boy. I hear tell that blokes in your line of work, Charlie, are somewhat adept at that sort of thing. Starlight wouldn't have glued us together if she thought you could be anything but helpful."

"I've been through the footage with as fine a tooth comb as digitally possible," Blossom adds around the straw she has in her mouth. "The only vehicles that arrive on scene or leave during our window belong to the Upstairs Downstairs peoples."

"All of those options sound appropriate,” Ghlahn adds in a low, barely-audible tone, “but they sound like jobs for someone who blends in a bit more than I do. Unless you want to try to scare them into talking that is. If any of you want me to go with them I certainly won't say no, but if not I'll just watch from a distance for now."

Fixer listens to the options before chiming in, "Ok, well, all of that makes some sense. Certainly, Cred-stick should do what he does. That just makes sense. It is what he is here for. I'm for looking into the cleaning staff. Let's go talk to Mrs. White."

“Choombas!” Charlie states emphatically, “I found a website matching the description of Upstairs Downstairs Inc and it looks like we have a contact number with some standard Monday through Friday postings.”

Cred-Stick Charlie taps a few keys and then listens to the agent for a few seconds before continuing with a frown, “Yup, just  like I thought... answering service.”

As Luther sits and listens to the others, he begins to put in some work time on his Fixer Business. Luther taps away at his touchscreen as the group talks about everyone's next move. Absently pulling out his alt cult dog tags, he begins to rub them between his fingers for a bit. He takes a couple of sips of water and then closes his eyes and recites a Native American prayer.

Great grandfather, hear his child’s prayer, I need guidance and directing for this little one is lost in this growing metal city, for I have lost my way. This child asks for forgiveness for missing time with his living clan and not dancing in the great prayer circle. Luther sighs as if he didn’t get something inspirational or divine after his soft words and sits in silence.

Echo crumples the now sodden napkins into a ball and sets them on the table. She takes the time to look up and inspect their new team member, 'Cred-Stick' Charlie, scanning Ghlahn, and Casino as well. The petite nomad offers a polite nod to Charlie; a brief smile and nod to Ghlahn; and a broader smile and nod to the solo that makes her eyes sparkle when his meet hers. Suddenly realizing her gaze lingers too long on him, she grabs the damp napkins back off the table and dabs at her arms, blushing. Saved from anyone asking awkward questions by the arrival of their drinks, Elizabeth 'Echo' Cooper focuses on her Coke, listening to the ideas from the team and agreeing they were all good next steps before offering one of her own.

"Blossom", she asks, turning to the woman, "I'm guessing that vid has a timestamp on it? Could you get into their employee schedules and see which female workers were out there that day, and working in that building? That might save a bit of time by hopefully gaining some names without having to chat with the bosses. I feel the less we talk to regular folk", her eyes dart to Vegas and back before she can stop herself, "The less folk might be alerted to us coming about and asking questions."

“Already thought of that, Peach,” the hacker shakes her head slowly causing the reflection of overhead lights to sway within the heart-shaped sunglasses she wears. “There’s a timestamp, sure ‘nuff, but the employee records are sealed. I’d need to be on-site to pull that data. Good thinkin’, though!”

Casino listens to the various idea's he catches himself looking around at the other runners, his gaze settling on Echo. For better or worse there is a bond growing between them. "I think Blossom and Vegas are on the right track so I'm in. Let’s do as Fixer said; check out this Miss White."

Luther nods, then speaks, “Yeah, I’ll ask around a bit and see what kind of info that I can get and I’ll check back with you guys soon via agent.” He looks upon his alt cult dog tags, then nods to himself. “Anyone wanna go down to the Edgerunner's Enclave? We could take the underground shortcut near here... anyone?”

“You’re bailing on us?” Vegas stares flatly at the new addition to the team.

“Now hold on,” Bloodbank sets his beer down and leans forward. “We’ve been at this for no small amount of time and I’m willing to wager that not many of us are operating on much sleep. So, we either proceed with a lot of stim, or we catch an hour or two of shut-eye, and an Enclave could allow us some solid downtime while putting this man in his element.

“I know Jace doesn’t have a whole lot of time, but we’re no good to anyone dogged out and foggy.”

(OOC: Endurance Checks by Character rolled using Roll20.net. The current challenge level is 18. At this point, for every additional hour your characters go without sleep, the challenge level increases by one:

Bloodbank: rolling 1d10 + 12 = (5)+12 = 17 (exhausted - needs rest)

Vegas: rolling 1d10 + 19 = (10)+19 = 29 (Exploding 10) rolling 1d10 + 29 (4)+29 = 33

M'harú Ghlahn: rolling 1d10 + 12 (2)+12 = 14 (exhausted - needs rest)

Fixer: rolling 1d10 + 12 (5)+12 = 17 (exhausted - needs rest)

Echo: rolling 1d10 + 20 (3)+20 = 23

Casino: rolling 1d10 + 19 (6)+19 = 25

Blossom: rolling 1d10 + 12 (3)+12 = 15 (exhausted - needs rest)

Cred-Stick Charlie isn’t included in this because he joined the group later and it is assumed he’s operating on a full-night’s sleep.

)

“We don’t have that kind of time to waste,” Vegas argues while spreading his hands, palm up.

“I agree with Bloodbank,” Blossom mumbles, the charge seemingly draining from her as her shoulders slump with the realization of how tired she is.

Luther looks upon the group, “Well... if anyone changes their minds I can be reached on my agent.” Rising, he tugs his overcoat about him and reaches for his drone case.

“Now, hold on,” the Sinatra look-alike shakes his head and looks down at the table. “I don’t like the thought of us not being able to take action quickly when needed, so I’ll concede. How ‘bout the lot of us soft-shoe our way to this Enclave and everyone can get some rest while Charlie, here, does his song and dance routine. A couple of hours tops, and then we are back at it. What say you all?”

(OOC: Assuming no complaints&hellip

Luther turns and leads the group from the bar once they gather up their things.

Enclaves for the various alt-cults are staggered throughout the stretch of nano-builder constructs spanning the whole of the California coastline. Edgerunners, Desnai, Cee-Metal, Riptide… all of the alt-cults, and there are multiple Enclaves for each one with Edgerunner Enclaves being the most prevalent. The node in the dog tags syncs up with the agent to give directions to the Enclave entrances making it easy to find the one that each individual is associated with and dog tag I.D.s are shared across each alt-cult’s network to provide access for all members wherever they may be in the sprawling mass of humanity.

Once again being pelted by the cool rain, faces masked to filter against the harmful toxins in the air, the group find themselves traversing garbage infested alleyways, backstreet corridors, and narrow, busy streets filled with people focused on their various interests and barely paying the team any mind. Eventually, the Edgerunner’s agents notify each individual that they are upon the Enclave entrance as they come to the narrow, gated mouth of an alley.

Bathed in the red neon glow of a nearby sign, the dark street and alley present an ominous, devilish facade. Twisting and turning in on itself, the iron gate is a work of art the likes of which could rival the famous gates of Charleston, SC, and hunkered down beneath a sparse awning are two individuals wrapped in the shadow’s embrace. Standing in front of the gate, the team watches one of the shadows tear away from the relative comfort of the alcove, a single glowing red eye focusing on them.

With a trucker’s ball cap turned backward on his head and a NuCybe eye splice for his left eye, the burly looking, bearded caucasian fellow lumbers up to the gate with his hands tucked into the heavy wool peacoat he wears.

“Tags,” he says in a surprisingly high voice.

Charlie holds his up knowing that the node is being read by the cyberware in the gatekeeper’s eye. Stepping aside, he allows Vegas to move in next, then Blossom followed by Bloodbank. Next comes Casino and Fixer leaving the non-Edgerunner members for last.

“And these?” the Kevin Smith look-alike asks bluntly giving a nod to the remaining team members.

“They’re with us,” Vegas states, rolling his shoulders to throw the water from them.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Vegas smiles his lopsided grin. “Bill me.”

“Count on it.”

Stepping up to the lock, the guard passes his hand over it and the gate clicks providing the team entrance.    

“Don’t need t’ remind you that this lot is your responsibility,” his red eye settles directly on Vegas’ sculpted face with an unsaid addition to the warning.

“Best behavior,” Vegas raised his hands defensively. “I promise.”

At the end of the alley, the team finds themselves stepping into an open bazaar with the massive skyscrapers and starscrapers framing the open-air marketplace in glittering borders that eventually break up the clouds overhead with crisscrossing walkways. Noise is a huge element of the atmosphere here; people calling out to each other, the hum of conversation mixed with the baritone of generator engines playing the baseline, and even the sounds of dogs barking. Navigating the maze is no easy thing. More often than not, vendors and service providers move their tents around to avoid bill collectors, take advantage of available space, and run various rackets and that’s just the market. The surrounding buildings are all Edgerunner Enclave property, locked down from the outside with access only given from within the bazaar. Inside those towering giants, more profitable businesses exist—those that can afford the storefronts—housing units are rented, gardens and parks exist, and eventually, the Enclave Council quarters look down over their small kingdoms.

Strolling down one of the sodden corridors, stepping over beer cans, plastic bags, and various other trash while trying to avoid bumping shoulders with equally drenched inhabitants, the team discovers a coffin motel off to the right.

Each coffin unit is stacked on top of the foundation units and clamped down using electromagnetic locking mechanisms to keep them from being knocked over by any event short of a cataclysmic one. Elevator platforms sit in front of each column with very little space between them and a CredChip Reader installed right on the platform. A holographic woman in a nighty hovers over the top of the whole assembly beckoning passersbys with an enticing gaze and a crooked finger while lounging seductively on her side. A much less attractive Asian man stands just in front of the temporary domiciles yelling in heavily accented English, “Get rest! You do it now! Cheap. No rats!” while a mangy looking, real-life dog, sits forlornly at his muddy, booted feet.

“This work for everyone?” Vegas turns and addresses his team. “Two hours enough time?”

“Two hours is better than nothin’,” Bloodbank nods and wearily walks past the crooner to board one of the elevator platforms.

“You no regret!” the Asian man grins exposing rotting teeth and blackened gums. “You sleep like baby.”

“Well,” Blossom stifles a yawn with the back of her hand. “That’ll keep me up.”

“I can think of other things much more pleasant to keep you up,” Vegas sweeps in with a roguish smile.

“So can I,” Blossom quips, tossing her soaked platinum hair over her shoulder with a deft turn of her head as she glides past the solo. “But I think I’ll try my luck with the nightmares for the time being, choomba.”

“She don’t know what she’s missing,” the fedora-wearing gunman grins at his partner. “You gonna try to get some shut-eye?”

(OOC: Casino’s reply… we can continue this conversation if necessary, otherwise, if Casino is down with catching some Z’s, then Vegas will resign himself to the same.)

(OOC: Two hours of sleep within the coffin compartment costs 5 NCD/hour, so a total of 10.)

To Luther, the Enclave is like an underground club scene. They have gaming to entertain the inhabitants as well as music, mind-numbing sounds blasting out of small to medium stalls in what the fixer can only call a soulk (Bazaar).

His shoulders relax a bit as he makes his way to find an Agent Center away from the matchbox sleep modules where the others are going to spend the next couple of hours. Luther knows that his agent won’t connect unless he can connect via the Enclave’s secured network. Once again using his dog tags as his ID, the Native American entrepreneur is allowed to make and receive network calls via his agent. Inside the booth, where Luther sits connected to the private network via his agent, it is hot and humid, sweaty-smelling, with the additional odor of “Dorph” smoke.

** SECURING LINES **

** TUNNELING **

** SECURED LINE ACHIEVED **

His agent’s app transcends from red to yellow while connecting, then finally green. Mentally activating the menu, he makes his selection.

VOICE CALLS --

Welcome to the Edgerunner Voice Network, Choomba. Who do you want to connect with? The pleasant female voice sounds in his head.

Kelsey Dawn, he responds.

His agent rings the other end to no avail till the voicemail picked up. “Ms Dawn? Yeah, this is Mr. Charlie. Yes, the one that met you during your Battle of the Bands downtown. Well, the reason why I’m calling you is simple... you’ve got talent and I would like to see—with your permission—if you would allow me to book a few gigs. If you’re interested in making some additional money?”

She’ll know how to reach him so Luther doesn’t leave anything further. Mentally disconnecting the call, he reaches out again.

VOICE CALLS --

Welcome to the Edgerunner Voice Network, Choomba. Who do you want to connect with? The pleasant female voice sounds in his head.

"Sunny" Higgins, he sounds off.

His agent rings the other end, but again, to no avail resulting in voicemail picking up.

“Ms Higgins... it’s me, Mr Charlie. Are you still interested in my proposition about making some extra credits as my secretary? We can work out the details over dinner if your free this week.”

He again disconnects and charts another call.

VOICE CALLS --

Welcome to the Edgerunner Voice Network, Choomba. Who do you want to connect with? The pleasant female voice sounds in his head.

"Packer" Jones, he inputs.

Voicemail again...

“What’s crackin Packer? You still got that boom boom, POW, dorph right? I think that I might have a new drop for you to set up shop soon. I’m dealing with a rocker group so I’m talking exclusive rights if you want to work a little something, something, player. So if you're feeling me, hit me up... No shade…

“Mr Charlie, peace out.”

And another disconnect. Luther is tired of talking to voicemails, but this is what fixers need to do to be that type of person. It is just like the others said, “Feast and Fame or Famine and Foolhardiness.”

Damn can’t a brother catch a break here, Luther thinks back to his prayer and closes his eyes while mouthing the words, “Please Grandfather...”

VOICE CALLS --

Welcome to the Edgerunner Voice Network, Choomba. Who do you want to connect with? The pleasant female voice sounds in his head.

Yo Suk-Chul, he thinks, hoping his prayer has been heard. This time, there’s a click on the other end.

“‘Sup?”

“CHOOMBA! Mr. Charlie here, and I got some sweet deals on some new shoes. Croakers that don’t ask questions, so let’s config something, eh? And if you need an experienced dropman, hollar atcha boy, here first!”

“Sigan-i majchwoseo, Mister Charlie! How many do you got? What’s the tag?”

“8 pairs of shoes, Choomba,” remarks Luther. “Eight hundred.”

“We’ll take six,” Yo Suk-Chul immediately responds. “How soon can you have them delivered?”

“As soon as I can get a runner to drop them off, I'll contact you to drop a pin so I’ll know where to meet.”

“You got it,” the voice on the other end responds. “Don’t wait too long. Gotta move the merch. It’s starting to stink.”

** CALL ENDED **

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Luther says out loud, his voice echoing dully from the odorous booth. Now he’s got to find some runners to drop off the goods.

VOICE CALLS --

Welcome to the Edgerunner Voice Network, Choomba. Who do you want to connect with? The pleasant female voice sounds in his head.

Tomás Japón, he orders, but he’s back to voicemails.

“Vato, Diego me! You need some work Perro?!”

Cred-Stick Charlie manually ends the call while trying to hide his frustration.

VOICE CALLS --

Welcome to the Edgerunner Voice Network, Choomba. Who do you want to connect with? The pleasant female voice sounds in his head.

Flore "Feathers" Messier, his thoughts refocus only to have his frustration levels rise with the sound of her voicemail service answering.

“Feathers!” he attempts to hide his consternation. “Hey, baby girl, you need some work? You know us natives need to stick together, right FAM?”

** END CALL **

Luther sighs, “Just one Grandpa, but thank you for that one.” Exiting his private booth, he begins to wander about the enclave in search of GIRI work. Heading towards the vehicle yards where sounds of engines and the clanking of the metal ring out over the blasting, grinding, music.

Putting out his feelers to other fixers on the network as well as asking around the enclave about doing some “back-scratching,” Luther asks around a bit to several vendors. He makes several posts within the Enclave’s network sites to a mess of info brokers to assist with working on his problem. With time all problems would get solved, but Luther doesn’t have time and neither does the quarry. Charlie spends more of his time posting with his NuCybe interface about trading GIRI for pay or additional GIRI as well. Soon, Luther hopes to gain more information than just an address, agent number, and webpage.

Looking over his last posting to the network boards to see if it had the “hustle and flow,” he decides to drop another post. Fingers flying across his agent’s touchscreen, Cred-Stick Charlie writes...

What’s good FAM, Bless up!

Mr Charlie here...

Listen up players and playettes, I’m on one!. I’m out here to ride hard with my new Fam here in the night city and I ain't got nothing but love and want to share my blessings, so welcome to the hot spot and I’m looking to trade and make Giri with affiliates. No shade to the haters because I’m just getting my grinding on. I’m looking to wheel and deal while making some Giri, so hit me back if you got something that you might need help with. Hollar atcha boy boy first. Remember FAMILY over friends, no shade.

[email protected]_City#9246

Cred Stick Charlie

Satisfied with his GIRI post, he is confident that work or GIRI will come his way. So, to pass the time, Luther makes his way through several crowded, small, traffic-heavy areas. Inquiring with different vendors that are hawking their wares along the way.

(OOC: Espatier rolled 1d10+9 Gather Info (6)+9 = 15 (Streetwise), to Streetdeal: 1+11 = 12

Looks like Charlie isn't getting any good results yet.)

Time’s rolling up on the two-hour mark and still no love from the network. Resigning himself to a bad report, Cred-Stick Charlie makes his way back to the coffin motel.

Two hours just isn’t enough to be fully rejuvenated, but it is enough to pull him together for a few hours. Soft guitar wakes Bloodbank from his slumber and for a moment the medtech doesn’t know where he is. He’s staring at a ceiling scarred by deep cut graffiti in the cream-colored plastic, marked by pen and—Is that blood?—, but then it comes back to him. Jace, the team, their timetable… snatching the agent from his chest, Colin rolls over and hits the call button. A couple of seconds later he’s greeted by a beep as the lift arrives and his coffin door unlatches. Pushing the door open, the medic slides out and drops his booted feet to the corrugated steel platform of the lift, hoisting his bag over his shoulder in the process.

Scanning his surroundings through the eyeholes of his combat mask, Colin breathes in the filtered air and considers how tired he still is. Could he operate under these conditions? Yes. Would it be better if he had a clearer head and less fatigue? Yes. Thinking back to his Medical School days, Bloodbank considers their options.

“Feelin’ better?” Vegas calls as the medtech steps into the mud and strolls towards where the team is gathering.

“A little,” Looking about, Colin continues, “Anyone up for EnduroDrink? Bet we could find some shops selling the stuff nearby.”

“That stuff tastes like s***, but you can live on it,” Blossom injects with a smile as she unwraps a lollipop. “I could use the boost.”

“Fine, we’ll see about grabbing some on our way out,” Vegas concedes. “Now, where’s that fix—There he is! Charlie! What’d you find out?

(OOC: Charlie’s turn to report&hellip

“Well, that’s that,” Vegas grumbles and looks out at the mass still milling about despite the later hour of the evening. “OK, I’ll put it to the lot of you. Should we pay the headmistress of Bartholomew School a visit at her home—a place that is likely pretty heavily secured—or do we head on over to the Upstairs Downstairs, Inc offices and see if we can’t get Blossom some alone time with a server?”

(OOC: Time is 11:05 P.M. PST)