IC - Mad World

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Post by Black » Thu Oct 22, 2009 6:19 am

Bodies…

Naked, hot, sweaty, writhing together in orgiastic lust. The dim red lighting added an elevated level of sordidness to the steamy environment.
Above the sounds of animal passion and sexual abandon the muted thumping beat of the adjacent night club's technogrind seemed to set a rhythm for the proceedings, heightening the tension, building the pace then easing off again, prolonging the sensations.

There was at least a dozen people involved in coital activity in the purpose made sex-room. Most of the occupants were beautiful people, their bodies prime specimens of their gender and race, be them elves, humans, dwarves and there was even an ork amongst the participants. Around the mass of flesh that resembled some multi-limbed abomination of Lovecraftian design, almost hidden in the red-lit darkness, a crowd watched, indulging in their voyeuristic desires. Some were psyching themselves up to join in the orgy while others were simply happy to get off on just watching. One member of the audience however was neither bothered by the lurid goings-on in the centre of the room nor indulging in voyeuristic fantasy, although he did keep casting an eye towards the display every now and then. He was a red-blooded male after all.
For the most part his attention was centred on the unmarked door in the centre of the far wall.

The orgy's participants were blissfully unaware of the two cyber-thugs that dragged a limp form between them from the unmarked door towards the fire exit on the left.
The watchers that noticed the out of place scene knew better than to ask questions or even openly acknowledge the event.
As unseen and discreet as his arrival, the black clad elf slipped from his table near the back of the room and made his way to the same fire exit door.

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Post by Black » Thu Oct 22, 2009 6:21 am

Already through the door and outside in the cool Redmond night the thugs threw their victim to the ground amongst the trash and dirt and followed up with a kick each.
The man on the ground was winded but still tried to drag himself away, soiling his beige slacks with the detritus of the Barrens' backstreet.
The elf watched as the thugs used the toes of their heavy boots to place kicks into the sides of the man's ribs even though he had not yet left the sex-filled room. Numerous 'windows' overlaid themselves over his normal vision showing him the alleyway from several different angles, the eyes of drones watching, hidden, waiting.

After a while the young man stopped crawling and collapsed down into some garbage bags. One of the thugs reached down with a chrome arm and took a handful of hair, dragging the man along the alley.

Once the two bullies were clear of the doors the elf slipped through, becoming just another shadow in the already dark street.

The alley opened up further down its length on a site where two ramshackle homes had burnt to the ground. Now the place was home to a group of vagabonds and winos who used the few remnants of the previous buildings for shelter. A white Mitsubishi Nightsky was parked there too and as the trio approached a rear door opened and a human male with silver hair and a glowing red cyber-eye climbed out. More thugs, these wearing cheap suits the elf noticed, stood around the vehicle and its owner, their sub-machineguns poised for action.

It took several minutes for the thugs to drag the young man along and throw him at the feet of the well dressed hood.
The elf knew who this man was. Alistair McGregor.
The man had come here from Glasgow, Scotland as a kid, arriving with his parents in San Francisco. The was not long after the awakening.
For whatever reason “Mr Mac-G” had come to Seattle and had carved himself out a very small chunk of the Redmond Barrens. He owned the nightclub whose music could still be heard out here in the street. He also owned the brothel at the end of the alley.
In all the years he'd lived in the Americas he had hardly lost any of his broad Glaswegian accent.

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Post by Black » Thu Oct 22, 2009 6:22 am

“Ah! Young Mr Cavialerra. Very nice of you to join us this evening. My associates not been too soft on you I hope.”
A chuckle rippled through the Scotsman's entourage.
Juan Garcia Cavialerra was nineteen. He was one of the few of the Barrens youth to go to school outside of the district. In fact his parents remained in one of the poorer parts of the generally poor area just so that they afford to send their son on the twenty mile round trip each day.
He was their best hope for a future outside of the Barrens. The young man also knew that and took the responsibility for his families future very seriously, including looking out for his brother and two sisters.
That is what got him into this situation in the first place. Selina, his eldest sister had come here looking for work in the nightclub. She'd ended up being put to work there for a day. The next day she had been told to report for work next door.
Juan had gone nuts and stormed down to the club. Although his sister was only dancing, albeit mostly naked, he'd still dragged her off the stage and smacked one of Mr Mac-G's customers in the face as he tried to stop him.

Now Mr Mac-G was going to teach the Mexican upstart a lesson the boy's family would never forget.
“Bums!” Mac-G called to the homeless folk minding their own business. “Fuck off!” As safe as he felt here, he didn't want any witnesses to the killing. He wouldn't put it past any of the bums to grass him up to the law should any investigation take place and that was more hassle than he could be bothered with. Allowing them to see the Mexican lad alive would get the message out: mess with Mr Mac-G and die, and there isn't a thing you can do about it.

The dirt covered bodies began to shuffle away, not one of them uttering a word of complaint. They all knew the score, the big-man had done this here countless times. Beneath the litter and filth the broken tarmac was dotted with blood stains from those who had stood up to McGregor before.
As the place cleared the Scotsman prepared to dish out his punishment but noticed that one of the vagabonds had ignored his instruction and was huddle down near the burning fire, palms turned to the flames, fighting off the cold of the night.
McGregor grunted and nodded his head toward the sitting form. One of the cheap siuts wlked across to the bum and gave him a sharp kick. “The boss said fuck off! You deaf?”

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Post by Black » Thu Oct 22, 2009 6:23 am

Slowly the form began to rise, the retched threadbare overcoat slipping from his shoulders. It took quite a while for the thug the realise that what he was seeing wasn't quite right. Benath the coat was another, long, black, leather, new. Under that looked to be some sort of armoured clothing, the sort a biker would wear. The pointy ears told the man that this was an elf as his eyes made their way up the figure. The odd looking visor the elf wore certainly didn't fit the image of vagrant either.
He was going say “Oh Fuck!” then shout a warning to his companions, but he was too slow.
There was the briefest of movements from the elf, then with horror the man watched as the end of the elf's thumb seemed to return back to his hand.

None of the others seemed to realise what was happening until their comrade literally split in two, the mono-filament wire having sliced all the way up from his groin to the top of his head.
Blood splashed on the ground as though someone had just thrown a large bucketful out of a window.
“Jesus Christ!” one of the men blasphemed, reacting to the unbelievable sight quicker than his colleagues. He had his SMG up ready to fire but the elf had already moved, springing sideways, a pair of machine pistols out and firing.
Silently those deadly weapons plied their trade, both the thugs who had escorted Juan through the alleyway jerked and shook as bullets hit home.

The roar of a jet engine sounded from the far end of the alley and suddenly a drone swooped out of the blackness, twin machine-guns spitting death noisily making the bodyguards run for cover.

The elf moved again, blinding speed more than a match for the thugs and their tin-pot cyberware.
Again his pistols fired and more of Mr Mac-G's men dropped.
Ducking for cover, frantic and outraged Mac-G sought the refuge of his car. As he approached the door slammed shut. He stopped in surprise and flinched as his men began to respond to the assault, the guns barking noisily.
Again the ground around the car erupted as machine-gun bullets ripped up the street as the combat drone roared overhead again.

Alistair McGregor dropped to his knees a bullets ricocheted off the side of the car. He crawled on his hands and knees until he was within reach of the handle, then suddenly the car began to rise.
Beyond the vehicle was the strangest person the hoodlum had ever seen. He stood no more than two feet high and three articulated cybernetic tentacles protruded from his back and supported the small persons weight. The diminutive man grinned at the Scottish hoodlum, then with a mere flick of his wrist the limousine rose further off the ground ten, then twenty, then thirty feet, flipped over and was released from whatever force was holding it.
The vehicle hit the ground a yard or so from the Scotsman, the force of the impact knocking him backwards.
The noise of the impact echoed like thunder off the walls of the surrounding buildings and was enough of a distraction to bring everyone in the narrow street to a standstill.
For a brief moment anyway.
Whilst Mac-G and his cohorts were staring open mouthed at both a wrecked vehicle and the cause of it, Caliburn Black became a blurr of death.
As he moved three razor sharp twelve inch long blades projected 'wolverine' style from between the knuckles of both hands as he replaced his empty machine pistols in their holsters.
He ripped through the remaining body guards before most of them could even acknowledge his presence.
Finally the lethal elf stopped above the petrified form of Alistair McGregor, blood dripping from the tips of those deadly blades.
Caliburn grabbed the man's collar, spurs resting lightly against the older man's throat.
“Celtic or Rangers?” the elf asked, his Scottish accent surprising the human.
“Wha... What?” was all McGregor could manage.
“I, said, are you a Celtic or a Rangers fan?”
Somewhat bewildered McGregor blurted, “Rangers.”
Black merely nodded.
“My employers are not very happy with you Mr McGregor, d'ya ken? It seems young Juan here has some important family connections, you ken what I'm saying?” It was a true enough statement, although what was being inferred may not have been. Juan's family lived a street away from Black's Operations Centre in the Barrens. As he had done in Oakland, he was now ingratiating himself with the neighbours. Old Mrs Cavialerra had asked Black to help her son, which was what hw was doing.
McGregor nodded, he understood.
Black looked away momentarily from his quarry and nodded towards the wrecked car. “Nice touch!” he commented to Frank Drake.
“I thought so!” Drake replied then cast his eyes across the mass of dead or injured laying around the alleyway. “Didn't do too bad yourself.”

Turning back to Mac-G the elf's face was grim. “Are you listening?”
McGregor nodded slowly his eyes full of anger. He was not used to being pushed around.
Black continued. “They were going to have me kill you, but they changed their minds. You may be of some use to them in the future. They will be keeping an eye on your operation. However, the Silver Hill district is out of bounds for you. If you ignore this then myself or someone like me will be sent in and you will die. Are you following me so far? Good.”

Suddenly a flashing icon appeared in the upper right corner of the elf's vision; an incoming call.
Mentally he clicked on the icon and it opened up to show a well dressed young man in a designer chrome coloured long coat.

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Post by Black » Thu Oct 22, 2009 6:24 am

“Hey C, hope I'm not disturbing you?” the form asked.
“X-S.” the elf replied over the matrix. “Nothing I can't get back to. Go on.”
“Oh, sorry. Well, I've got something you may find interesting. Something Angel might be interested in looking into too.”
“Hold on,” Carnun interrupted. “Not here. I'll meet you at our usual place, give me half an hour.”
“Sure,” 2XS nodded.

Carnun closed the call and Black got back to the matter in hand.
“Remember, this is what my employer has managed to organise in jut the two hours since you kidnapped Juan. Imagine what havoc they can reap when they have been given time. Fuck with them and you will wish they had asked me to kill you now.”
Black pulled back from the human slightly, but did not relinquish his grip. “Always preferred Inverness Caledonian Thistle myself.” With that Drake smacked the man across the head with an iron bar knocking him out cold.

The pair collected Juan and placed him in Black's Prairie-Cat.


Leaving the bright, glitzy Seattle RTG behind him, Carnun navigated his way across the sparsely populated virtual landscape of Tir Tangire. The elven nation's matrix was full of green trees and valleys. Not what a city dweller would expect to find in the ultra-tech virtual world but it was what most people would consider very elven. This particular elf wasn't that bothered about the 'greenness' of the landscape. Although, that said, he did appreciate the programming that had gone into making the landscape look as realistic as possible.

The usual meeting place was as always in Oakland, a secure host on a PLTG. The host's keeper rented out space for all sorts of private meetings.
2XS was there waiting for him.
“Hi man,” the decker said in greeting as Carnun materialised inside the room.
“What have you got?” Carnun asked after some small talk.
With a wave of his hand 2XS pulled up a data folder. “These are the names and addresses of some of those Troll Killer mother-fuckers. First one's a big hitter in the gang and thinks he's something special. Likes to show off and take his 'brothers' to expensive restaurants and clubs. You know, the sort where you don't bring a gun unless you want it shoved up your own ass!”

Carnun grinned. “You're good, XS, you know that!” With a mental click he copied the files across.

“You don't know the half of it bud!” 2XS replied boastfully.
Carnun cast a questioning look at his colleague.
“Oh, man! All right, lets start from the beginning. I asked some friends of mine to give me a hand looking for those names. One dude, I assume its a dude anyway, Skylab Sorcerer has got this acquaintance Web Wanderer. Now, Web and his partner in crime Iso-Hunter were talking about the latest hot topic in your neck of the woods, namely the Arcology shut-down. Hell, you need to come on to the forums with me and hear the stuff people are saying.”
“There's some saying all the people in there have been massacred, others think this is the prelude to the emergence of a new drake on the scene and taking over Renraku's pride and joy is it's way of saying 'hi I'm hard so don't mess with me'!”
“Is there a punch line coming any time soon?” Carnun asked sarcastically. 2XS could go off on a tangent at the drop of a hat.

“All right, okay!Web has been holding a vigil on the Arcology, I got the impression there's someone in there he knows. Anyway, complete black-out, like a void in the matrix.”
“X! I know this. Drake and I checked it out within minutes of it coming on the news. Nothing in and nothing out. What's changed?” Carnun asked, reigning in his friends building excitement.
“The nothing in and nothing out part!” 2XS exclaimed.
“The Arcology is back on-line?” Carnun was now interested.
“No man. Not as simple as that. The matrix is dead as usual. No, something went in and something came out.” 2XS held his hands up to Carnun indicating that he wasn't finished yet.
“Iso-Hunter started getting these rumours on her forum about this Johnson who's been loosely affiliated with Renraku, scooping up runners at an ungodly hour. This got Web and her into poking around. Looked like some heavy decker activity around the Arcology, and some of them were in a bit of a flap cos some half-assed AI know-bot type thing had been probing the arc.”
After a brief pause where it looked as though 2XS was doing some other task he returned to his explanation. “Sorry dude Marina Marsten's new trideo has just been released. Man, she's hot! Right, where was I. Ah, yes. Everything goes quiet for a few of hours and Iso is off trying to track down the source of the know-bot. Web and Skylab are discussing the usual theories when they suddenly get a transmission from inside the arc. It's from someone on the inside and from the conversation its from some guy who has just managed to penetrate the building. He also transmitted images of a dead family still in their home. The transmission was sent on an open phone line, no encryption. Whoever sent it wanted it to be seen. Things is, this dead guy is someone that Web knew. They went to college together. He's some wiz decker, a system analyst, went down the corporate wage slave route. This got Web and Skylab fired up. The two traced the cell to a Mr Jericho. A bit more digging revealed him to be a PI. Not the sort of guy you'd expect a big corp to send in on a high profile mission like this, but his transmission was back to a corp intermediary.”
“So this is where it gets fuckin interesting. Iso-Hunter has found the source of the probe, an apartment on the eastern edge of Tacoma.
While she's having a poke around, avoiding the Corp deckers, who should turn up, but Web and Skylab. They've followed the trail from this PI back to his home. What the fuck is a nobody PI from Tacoma doing with a know-bot in his apartment? Iso managed to intercept some of the traffic between the Corp deckers and their home base. They didn't reveal much the guys didn't already know about but one of the things that had got wagers buzzing was the phrase 'Echo Tower'. Web and co were at a loss. All number of searches got nothing. But I'd heard it before. Took me a while but I'm sure I heard you or Drake talking about an Echo Tower before. So then it clicks, Jericho, Echo Tower, you. The guys had found out this Jericho's real name; Joshua Calladan. A fully registered private investigator there in Seattle but originally from Chicago.”
Carnun was impressed this was a lot of information and 2XS's friends seemed to be accomplished deckers.
“You've got an agent or something,” 2XS went on, “ that does a search of the matrix for a list of various name and phrases. When I checked Jericho, Calladan and Echo Tower are all on that list. You know this fuckin dude, dude!”

Carnun smiled. “You're a clever bastard, my friend, you know that? Yes, I know him, or at least of him. He was one of the ones that went into the Aztec pyramid in The Zone. Not surprised they've got him going into the arc. This means something's going to happen soon.”
The elf thought over the situation for a moment. “Okay, I think there could be a good opportunity to get our hands on some pay data, and maybe even some physical merchandise too. Get a team of deckers ready to go in when the power comes back up. While the system is rebooting there's gong to be all sorts of exploitable gaps in their defences. It'll take an army of deckers to get that place locked down properly, and most of the people who knew the system are inside and could even be dead by the looks of it.”

2XS nodded, liking the idea of rushing in and plucking out some choice gems before the vault door slammed shut on them. “What are you going to do?”
“Go and take a look, see what's going on. Send me a LTG address where your team is hanging when you're ready. Wait! You said Angel might be interested, why?”
“We don't know if people are alive or dead but if they aren't 'R-I-P'ing it in their abodes then chances are they ain't going to be in a good way. Thought it might be up Angel's street to help them out.”
“I'll be in touch,” Carnun said satisfied.

Black logged off.
He looked across at Drake. “There's something going down at the Arcology. I'm going to take a look, you wanna come?”
Drake shrugged, “Nah, I need some sleep. Give me a shout if anything kicks off though!”

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Shadows in the Firelight - News Years Eve 2060

Post by arcanus » Wed Nov 04, 2009 12:43 pm

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

Chorus.-For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne."
Auld Lang Syne - 1788

He sat in the corner of 'Coomwells' soaking in the cheerful atmosphere, the mock emerald green leather seats and polished cherry fixtures.
He smiled at the cliche of people who at any other time would ignore each other in the street, for the space of a single hour united in cheerful drunken merriment and welcomed the stike of midnight.
He breathed out, his ribs still sore, at least his breathing had settled down.

It had been a week since they'd escaped the SCIRE, the world had an idea of what they were up against, or at least how dangerous it was.
Further attacks had occured within the immediate vicinity as Blue eyed figures had struck at the Renraku contingents and the newly amassed Seattle Taskforce, General Angela Colloton had ordered that any suspect figures with this same cyberwear be shot on sight within a two block radius fo the arcology.
Still the experience had taught him a valuable lesson, it was time for change, this soldier needed to assume a command position.
A message that had reached him some two days after his release from UCAS military custody had confirmed this.

Someone had been looking for him, looking for the past three years.
He smiled to himself testament to his ability to vanish, change the face, create a new identity and start again.
It had only been because he'd checked in on some old contacts through intermediaries of course that this search or message had come to his attention.

An agent acting on the estate of Miss Stephanie Abdul had been looking for him, displaying considerable patience they'd kept at the task since 57.
It turned out that Miss Abdul had imploded the way that many stars do, marrying a rich and shallow celebrity which had allowed them to both slide into BTL addiction fed by gratuitous amounts of cash.

Sad he thought but 'you threw it all away', she'd now slipped into obscurity, her brain scrambled by habitual use.
The bombshell had been that the estate was searching for him due to the concerns of another, they had been searching for him to inform him that he had a nine year old son.

As of yet he hadn't replied.

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Post by Drake » Thu Nov 05, 2009 10:06 am

Drake had spent many of the last 48 hours in the Barrens Firestation repairing his damaged appendage.
Finally, Number 4 was back in operation, and all 4 tentacles were back to fully working order.

In addition, he had replaced their central coils with a new system which, when activated, flattened each tentacle. They could change from their usual cylindrical shape to a flat, almost wing shape. In their new flattened form they could not support Drake like legs, but could wrap around to form a shield, and with practice could act like wings enabling the gnome to glide.

While he worked away in the workshop the trid played constantly in the background. The big news story was till the Renraku Archology. Stories had leaked of possessed people, murdered civilians, all manner of horrors. The more Frank listened the worse he felt... The strictures of the Soldiers of Light were no joke, and played constantly on Frank's mind.

One rainy evening he knocked on Black's door and poked his head round.
"That jaunt into the Arcology you mentioned... I'm in."

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Post by Rey'th » Thu Nov 05, 2009 10:06 am

Jericho stared at the glass of amber liquid on the table before him.
He picked it up and sniffed the harsh aroma.
He'd been clean for nearly five years, but the last week , then this news had driven him to this Irish bar and he'd gone so far as ordering the whisky.
The smell of the liquid actually repulsed him, reminded him of a dark chapter in his life.

Turning from dark chapters to the dark steaming liquid in the cup sat beside the glass he picked it up and took a draw.
Real coffee. Expensive, but worth every nuyen.

He had sat staring at the drink, fighting the urge to knock the stuff back but had eventually pushed the glass aside and ordered the Starbucks. Even so he had refused to let them take the glass away.

“Fuck! I've got a son!”

That had to be one of media's best kept secrets. Miss Abdul's bastard son was kept quiet, a fact, Jericho realised, that was facilitated by the boy having the surname von Geller. By the time anyone found out about her child, no one really could give a damn, so it ended up being a small insignificant two paragraphs on some two-bit matrix site.
He guessed it would have been her manager's idea to keep the pregnancy under wraps. But why the hell hadn't she told him sooner. Galager had been around for quite some time after they had split up. Again the detective cast the finger of blame in her manager's direction.
In fact the mother-fucker had quite a lot to answer for. From what he could gather he was the one who had got Steph and her now husband together. 'A perfect celebrity match-up' the media had called it.
The ex-police officer wanted to hunt the fucker down and give the man a good going over. And that weasel of a husband too.
Why had either of them let her get into such a state in the first place? His fists clenched with the thought of them corrupting the one person in the world he had truly loved.
It was love for her that he had quietly backed down from their relationship. His lifestyle was led in the shadows, not such a good connection for someone in the celebrity limelight.
God, how he wanted to break some heads.
But he couldn't, now could he? Now he had to be responsible. Now he had a son. The boy didn't know his father but, Jericho decided, that was going to change. Which meant that he was going to have to change too.
Stephanie needed him to come to her rescue again, even if she didn't realise it yet.
With some good doctors and perhaps someone like Swift she could recover. Time would tell.

He'd had a close shave with death in the Renraku Arcology he brought home just how precarious his life was. That was a situation he couldn't repeat if he was going to be a father to Daryll.

Daryll? “Jesus, who came up with that name?” Jericho wondered aloud.

A grin began to spread across his face. I have a son, he thought.

He gulped down the hot coffee, ignored the alcohol, and walked stiffly out of the bar.

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Post by Rey'th » Thu Nov 05, 2009 10:07 am

It had been two months since his dramatic slide down the side of the SCIRE.

The military, in an uncharacteristically benevolent mood, had paid him for the services he had provided in gaining the useful intelligence. Even the Johnson had coughed up a considerable amount of dough for the footage of the incursion. Jericho had split the payment with Pie.

Looking in the mirror to check that his tie was straight he walked from his new Downtown office and smiled at Janine.
She smiled back and unusually said nothing.
“I'm just...”
“I know,” Janine interrupted. She'd made the appointment. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, babe.”

The private detective closed the door behind him, noting the glass engraved sign on the wall; Von Geller Investigations.
Yet another name change he'd undergone. It had gone full circle.
Karl von Geller took the elevator to the basement car park and slipped behind the wheel of the brand new Westwind.
He drove across town, eventually arriving at the offices of Broomwell, Broomwell & Walsh, Attorneys at Law.

Their offices weren't as plush as their name suggested, but that didn't matter a fishes tit to the german born human.
The receptionist guided him towards an office where a suited man shook his hand and in turn led him to another office. The man went in leaving von Geller waiting in the anti-room outside.
Karl took a deep breath. He was oddly nervous. More nervous than he'd ever been in his life. On the other side of this door was his son. A son he was about to meet for the first time.......................

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Post by Black » Fri Nov 06, 2009 12:59 pm

The rider leaned his bike around a sweeping arc in the road as the free-way curved south taking the traffic down past the eastern face of the Renraku Arcology. The rider's black long-coat flapped in the wind like a cape until suddenly the elf pulled the bike in to the side of the road and jumped off.

He leaned against the safety barriers and looked through he binoculars at the cordon of troops around the SCIRE.
From here the elf could also see the smashed window through which Jericho and his colleague had made such a dramatic exit almost six months ago.
Sweeping the digitally enhanced device from one side to the other Black could see the soldiers and their armoured vehicles. He could also see the surveillance drones constantly buzzing around the gigantic building. Then there would be a formation of airborne attack drones which would swoop down from the sky and zoom past the almost constant crowd that gathered around the base of the pyramid.
Some of these people were relatives of those who were inside, feared held prisoner or dead. Speculation as to the fate of those trapped in the arcology was rife, and Black wondered just how much of it was actually right.
Given the skirmishes that had occurred between the army and what seemed to be the original security personnel, and the one or two snippets of information he had managed to pilfer from the matrix, it was beginning to look as though those who guessed at more grizzly ends to the residents tales were likely to be more accurate.
Despite the excessive amount of interest in the arc, Black and Drake still talked about going in and getting their hands on some of the Jap's R & D gear. Getting in might not be as hard as it looked even with the army's perimeter. It would be getting back out with the stolen equipment that would be difficult.
The there was 2XS and his friends who were on about getting inside via the matrix too. Although Black had been the one to suggest the electronic assault, 2XS had picked up the ball and was running with it. He'd become almost obsessive about it and had set up a 24 hour matrix vigil, probing and prodding, constantly looking for weak points.
2XS didn't just have the money in mind though. He was after the kudos that being the first unofficial decker into the system would bring.
Black had warned him that he needed to make sure his arse was well covered otherwise he might not survive to bathe in his own glory.
The young decker had already felt the sting of the protection and wound up out of action for a fortnight.
What the fuck had gone on in there, Black wondered?
He didn't know the full answer to that yet, but he knew a man who did.
Black logged on to the matrix, Carnun calmly seeking the address for von Geller Investigations.
The bike's engine purred as it accelerated back into the flow of traffic.

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