IC - Mad World

[arcanus]

"ITS GOING CRAZY DOWN THERE ON I101, DRONES, KIDNAP, THREATS OF MURDER MOST FOUL"

"FOLKS YOU COULD NOT HAVE TUNED INTO A BIGGER EPISODE OF CANNONBALL, NOW DON'T GO FLICKING"

[arcanus]

Black sat in his small office in Sisco, he retraced the events two and a half years earlier, they'd been set up by the Media Fixer 'Mogul', not an uncommon event within the shadows particularly from those in the LA shadows.

The run had resulted in their reaching San Fran and tangling with the Japanese occupational forces before hightailing it to Oakland, there they'd become involved in the Metahuman resistance movement fighting the Japs.

The past two years had been sucked up by their involvement with the ORA (Oakland Resistance Army), Bishop had almost become its public face as well as highly wanted by the JIS.
The others had remained behind the scenes.

These events they'd found had grounded them, once again given them purpose, curiously it occured to Black that they once again found their wall, their CZ and ultimately their status quo.

The events in 57 had rocked the world Dunkelzahns election to President and his assasination on his electrol evening, the world once again suddenly changed, new corporations were born, two years later others looked upon the verge of collasp.

Over the past three months, they'd gone about their business, Mogul had reared his head again, certain mob elements had suddenly turned their attention to Oakland, which in turn had drawn the gazed of the yakuza.
Silk had gone to ground, Bishop had hooked up with the media arm of The 'Vixen Fashion' House and gone on an offensive against Mogul.

Their were deeper rumblings up and down the West Coast.

[arcanus]

It was hard to tell the watchers race these days, since learning his ‘Humaform’ formulas he’d existed as no less than three or maybe four metatypes, this night he sat within his birthrace.
From his vantage point upon the rooftops of the Oakmore neighbourhood, he watched, this wasn’t Dog or Ghost town, Oaklands Barrens, no this was downturn middle class, in the 21st Century this was a heavily metahuman populated district and hunting ground.
The group members hadn’t failed to notice the similarities between what they’d seen in LA, 2 years previously and Oakland in 2059, Japanese agents moved through the metahuman communities of the city looking for rebels.
Those that had been displaced from San Fran or sympathized, waged their covert war against their homes oppressors, the JIS and their yakuza allies bore the brunt within their
corporate city and hunted the rebels within their Oakland refuge.

Rumors had existed for several years that the Yaks had death squads, targeting innocent metahumans in retribution or example.
They were more than just rumors, part of his past was linked to the Japanese gangsters and now it appeared part of his present.
From their location they were heading for the ‘Filton Habitat’, potentially they were heading for the ‘Wilmore’ family again.

The question in all of their minds was why was this particular Ork family so important.

[arcanus]

‘Karen Ashton’ knew that the meeting would be tough, David Angel was a suspicious man at the best of times, but persuading him that a corporate sponsor meant him no ill will and would require no more of him than a simple request would be difficult to say the least.
She stepped across the sidewalk of Yelser Terrace, in south east downtown, she moved through the entrance of ‘The Angel Foundation’ into its hallways before arriving in the office of David Angel.

Her ritual was different this morning, before she even greeted Dave, who by now was looking up from behind his reconditioned desk.
She poured herself a coffee, sitting before him she did not speak for a full minute, by which time 'Angel' was staring at her intently.

"The client scheduled to meet you at 11am, has been trying to meet you for the past 2 months" she started hard and firm "He has a significant amount of money to give you, which he says he owes you"
Angel began to speak, his face betraying the paranoid surge of emotion.
Ashton steeled herself and silenced him with a glare.

"David, you have established a foundation, one that still needs revenue and funding to operate, you need to talk to this man!!"
"I don't have to talk to anyone" retorted Angel "The client as you call im, is a suit and suits ave no place in the foundation"
Karen shot too her feet, a gesture that forced Angel to recoil defensively, momentarily his presence seemed to grow, then receed.
Angel became sullen, finally withering below her baleful 'do not fuck with me gaze' he relented "Okay I'll meet the reptile"

[arcanus]

The reptile turned out to be a middle aged man that Angel found to be annoyingly likeable, he met him in the Aurora Resturant on Chapel Street Downtown.
Aftering ordering a pot of tea, Angel sat opposite the man.
He smiled, a further tick developing as he fought to not let his guard down
'I'd rather be in some firefight than this' he mentally spat

The mans name was Sam Burridge, another tick.
Small talk pursued, "Mr Curren" said Burridge finally, his hand came up to calm 'Angel'.
"Do not be alarmed, it is our business to know such things, and I might point out that had we intended anyone harm it have already occured"
"How are we getting on?" said Karen as she sat down upon the table
“Is this a set up” retorted Angel, only to be met with another baleful glare
“Actually your past events have been entirely secret due to our knowing your whereabouts, no corporation is aware the connection”
“So who are you and what do you want” asked Angel with quiet menace
“I represent the Seattle Metropolitan Government, you’ve conducted some work on the Children Defense Front on our behalf on and off for a few months, I’m in a position to provide your foundation with no-strings sponsorship in return for continued non-profit investigation of child related issues or disappearances”
By this stage Angel’s eyebrow was going nuts, veins throbbing upon his forehead
“I’ll not be in the government or corps pocket”
Unperturbed ‘Burridge’ continued “David, no matter what I say your going to be suspicious of my motivations, however your Foundations case resolution has been very successful and it being a Foundation the Metropolitan Government can write off its sponsorship as a tax break”

Burridge stood “Good to finally meet the pair of you”, he buttoned up the front of his suit jacket and laid a certified credstick upon the table “It has my contact details upon it as well as your sponsorship for the past 6 months, the families of those you’ve helped send their thanks”
Angel sat looking at the credstick as if it were a venomous snake while Karen, thought of where to go next.

[arcanus]

Oblivious to the blue flickering cast by the trid, upon the darkened room, Eddie Gilbard sat in his own private hell, his descent had begun some 6 weeks ago, when his pregnant girlfriend 'Miranda' has gone missing. Her cat 'Tali' stared into space in that unnerving way thats cat do to make you think they've seen something, 'Tali' slowly following something across the back of the room.

In his hand Eddie still clutched the scrunched up Awol letter sent by both his and Miranda's employer 'Veratech Telecommunications', his compassionate leave had run out a week ago. He sat staring vacantly at the game, it was by far worse somebody going missing than even the discovery of their death.
The days slipped by, turning to weeks, it was the fear that she might be dead, followed by the guilt of starting to think that even hearing that readful news would be a release, but instead nothing.

In Oakland this was worse, metahumans often disappeared, rumours of killers stalking the darkness, preying upon the innocent, especially if you were an ork.
Eddie shivered and for the first time turned his attention, looking at the window, taking in the days of ready meals and takeout littering the floor before sinking again.

[Curren]

Curren exhales explosively, and stares at the credstick. His stare moved to the pretty lawyer.

'Karen' he muttered between clenched teeth, 'What was that all about? Who was he? And why should I take his money?' he gestured opened palmed at the stick on the table.

'I feel an explanation is in order!' Curren relaxed slightly as he rested his arms on the table and steepled his hands under his chin.

'Well?' he barked loudly as he completely failed to keep his irritation in check and startled a waitress serving drinks on the table behind him.

[arcanus]

Curren exhales explosively, and stares at the credstick. His stare tranferred to the pretty lawyer.
'Karen' he muttered between clenched teeth, 'What was that all about? Who was he? And why should I take his money?' he gestured opened palmed at the stick on the table.
'I feel an explanation is in order!' Curren relaxed slightly as he rested his arms on the table and steepled his hands under his chin.
'Well?' he barked loudly as he completely failed to keep his irritation in check and startled a waitress serving drinks on the table behind him.

For all his mistrust, stubborness and irrationality Curren had to concede that Karen Ashton was a tough cookie, despite his bark the attorney merely turned and gave him a cool hard stare.
"I should think it is perfectly obvious, a government department finds your foundation useful and are willing to provide you with funds so that you can improve your facilities, hire more investigators that sort of thing, however you could be too pig headed to accept this"
With that she stops, sips her tea and returns the glare.

[Curren]

'Bloody hell, I love it when she gets angry!' Curren thought as he looked at the defiance written on her face.

His attraction to Karen he would never express or admit, but when she got emotional on a subject the fascination he had for her would only intensify.

'That's maybe why you goad her so much' a truthful but unwelcome thought crossed his mind.

'Alright, take the credstick.' He said flatly as he took another pull on his cup of tea and subtlely ran his eyes over her as she stood.

Curren's thoughts detracted from the business at hand.

'Karen was a striking woman; five foot one and a perfect size ten with long dark brown hair that fell in subtle curls almost like a shining waterfall over her shoulders; and ran down her back to the middle of her slender waist.'

'She was dressed in her business suit today; which comprised of a stylish white shirt with a grey designer suit jacket and knee length skirt. A subtle black belt and black low heeled shoes completed the ensemble. There was always a wonderful fresh fragrence that followed her about, and on many occasions this had distracted me from my train of thought whilst dealing with her.'

'Her luxurious dark brown hair crowned a well formed face, and to put images into words I suppose that she looked similar to the twentieth century actress Audrey Hepburn. The intensity of her brown eyes were a sight to behold. And I had folded in my confrontations with her so many times when those eyes had fell on mine.'

'Gettin' all bloody Mills and Boon aren't you; you weak willed bastard?'

Reasoning and reality kicked in swiftly as this thought blundered into the fray.

'Anything else you want to spring on me today before you go? Curren added quickly with a cutting sarcasm as he stood up himself and wiped his mouth and hands with a paper napkin.

'Fuckin' Breakfast At Tiffanys be damned!' he thought with irony as he looked at her impassively.

[arcanus]

Hanson Alwitcher looked up from the basement floor, through a street level window and up to the South Circle monorail accelerating away from the Monobe Industries tower, it had stopped at the scrappers 30th story station. It allowed him a moment of respite from the grim scenery before him.
A former Lonestar homicide detective, Alwitcher had gone into Private Investigation after corporate politics and scapegoat internal investigations had pushed that one step too far.
Being perfectly honest the PI wrap had stank, he’d struggled to find work, with no reputation or corporation to fund him he’d been faced with losing his home and admitting that he’d made a big mistake.
Then the ‘Angel Foundation’ appeared, a Private Investigation agency that provided assistance to those lacking the funds and specialized in child protection cases, they needed investigators and ‘Angel’ the guy in charge had almost bitten the hardened ex-cops hand off when he’d walked into the newly refurbished offices doors.

There were some sights that no matter how many years of experience or how hardened you were that you could never prepare for nor ever forget, or should forget.
He looked with sympathy at ‘Moira’, psychically sensitive she finished puking for the third time. The Lonestar cops and detectives looked on somberly, their forensic mage having had to go and compose himself, the smell of petroleum Jelly fighting to mask the stench.
The building was in the Manor District of Downtown Seattle, being renovated for one of the Real-Estate Corps, the refurb going right down to sealing the basement foundations, particularly in respect to any entrance by Undercity inhabitants.

Alwitcher watched the CSI officers slowly examine the infant corpses, slowly unwrapping the polythene shrouds each was wrapped in.
His former colleague Detective Tony Frier, turned to him “This mean anything to you?”
“Some of the perps we’ve been looking at could have done this but it’s a stretch, their mostly into abuse and perversion” he replied lost in grim thought
“No this is something else, something much worse”
“Why’d you call Tone?” Hanson asked still not looking at his old colleague
Frier stepped over to a wall away from the CSI “The department might not be able to keep a hold of this one Han, the Feds are twitchin”
“So” he replied
“So we need to keep a link, this is serious bad news” Hanson could see pain in ‘Friers’ face, the pain of a separated father a thousand miles from his child, the pain of a parent seeing the face of his child lying upon the floor, unspeakable violation perpetrated upon them.

“Okay Tone, ‘Angel’ won’t let this go, this is the kind of thing that brings his blood up, righteous fury and all that” answered Alwitcher, squeezing his friends shoulder.
Moire had stopped retching when the shouting started, automatic gunfire roared in the stairwell, angered and paniced shouts, followed by pain and suffering.
Both Frier and Alwitcher’s Lonestar training combined with cybernetically boosted reflexes brought their guns to bear, that and the other officers within the room, as a figure launched itself from the stairs into the basement room, half a dozen Ruger heavy pistols roared, on semi-automatic.
The figure beaten back still swung its SMG up, ‘Hanson’ however took a different tact then gaining more body shots on the maniac, he aimed for the gun, squeezed the trigger of his Predator III and fired placing ‘Black Rhino’ rounds into its workings.
Frier put several shots into the attackers face before after sustaining a horrifying and unbelievable amount of injury, the attacker collapsed.

Each of those present within the basement covered their eyes as the figure was suddenly consumed and disintegrated by a piercing white flash.
“What the fuck is going on” said Alwitcher on behalf of just about everybody present in the charnel house