Jing's Static IC

Location: Northgate Mall Parking lot.  Dinged up SUV.
The buzzing of his comm is unexpected.  So much so that he spasms upright with his ceska already in hand, and slams his head on the ceiling.    Aaar!  Frag off!    He shouts at his comm and slouches back down to holster his pistol and rub the now tender crown of his head.  The comm continues to buzz away until, with snarled threats he starts digging through the tangle of clothing, gear and junk surrounding him.  Finally he pulls it out and of course it picks that moment to go silent and he stifles the impulse to toss the thing, instead he checks who called.  
 Johnny Ang?    One look at the name and he's wide awake, anger forgotten.  He plays Johnny's message over twice just to make sure before sending a text back confirming his acceptance.  I'm in.  Flash me the slag's face and tag, I'm on my way.  You know I can't refuse you Johnny but, do they know who I am?  There also better be some fragging cred for me in this, fragging need some.    
Tweak tosses the comm onto the front seat and looks around at the mess he'd made while sleeping and considers taking a hit first or after he cleans it up.  With another curse he starts turning the chaos into a mess of travel and gym bags.  Dressed in crumpled but clean clothes and geared up again, he allows the craving to win.  Pulling out a tin of snuff he quickly fires a pinch up each nostril and holds his breath for several seconds as the stinging rush spreads.    Oh Frag yaaaaaaaaaaaaah.......    Letting all his air out with the sound and a smile.  A deep breath and a a couple of sniffs and he fires another round up each nostril and repeat the process.  Still wanting more he snaps the tin closed and stuffs it into a pocket instead.  
He climbs into the drivers seat before changing the window tint so he can see out.  With a touch the engine purrs to life and he pulls out, following the map to Freeway park.

Kyle Warsaw : Courtyard Seattle Bellevue Towers 11010 Northeast 8th Street

His father said he was not cut out for the 'runners' way of life and he could not have been more right about that.  Unfortunately he never said anything about being a parent, or in this case just a legal guardian.  It had been almost seven months since his father passed away leaving him to raise his 'almost teenage' sister Samantha.  Kyle had missed nearly five years of her life while he was away at college.  He missed her from time to time while he was away, but never really gave it much thought.  He gave it a lot of thought nowadays.  Pretty much every moment of every day he had his little sister in his thoughts.  He was her guardian.  He was responsible for making sure she made it to school, for eating, for having the clothes and supplies for school.

This particular day was no different from any other.  Samantha insisted on wearing the most revealing clothing; well, it could almost be called clothing.  It was some sort of fabric at least.

"There is not a chance in all of Hell you are wearing THAT to school today!" Kyle had to protest to Samantha when she came storming out of her room dressed like a bunraku doll.

"But dad always let me wear this outfit to school." she snorted back.

"If your goal is to make me an uncle before I turn twenty-five, or before you become a real teenager then by all means wear that." Kyle retorted just giving up on the fight there was no way he was going to win.

"Fine!  I'll change, but you are going to have to give me a ride to school.  There is no way I am going to make it on time if you don't."

"For the love of all that's Holy in this world will you please just hurry up and get changed."

As Samantha stomped off to her room to get changed, that familiar chime from his link alerted him to a new message.  Ever since he had met Fibonacci and told him about needing an odd job from time to time, he had been getting the real odd job.  Cleaning up Devil Rat nests to setting up camera links in Redmond clubs, Fib had kept him busy with petty nickle and dime jobs.  This was probably nothing different.  Peacekeeping duties in Freeway Park?  At high Noon?  Sounds easy enough.

<<@Fibonacci:[Kyle]: Thanks for the Job invite Fib.  Freeway park at noon.  Piece of cake.>>

"Come on Sam, hurry up.  I have things to do today too."

Kyle Warsaw : Olde Middle School, 14401 Northeast 8th Street

It was only four blocks to Samantha's School, and she probably could have made it taking the public transit, but something always made Kyle think she just enjoyed riding on the back of his Indian Pathfinder.  They pulled up to the main entrance about fifteen minutes before classes started.  Samantha gracefully got off the bike and took her helmet off handing it back to her brother to strap back onto the seat.  

"Please do it Kyle." She pleaded with hopefully sad puppy dog eyes.

"Sam, this really isn't the place to be doing stuff like that.  It's not safe to jag around like that.  Someone could get hurt." Kyle replies as he begins to cringe watching the horde of girls, Sam's friends, swarming over to her.  She gives him the most pitiful face, tucking her lip in slightly looking as if she could just burst into tears at any moment.

"Fine I'll do it!  But just a  little bit."

Kyle focuses his attention on the bike as he shifts it into first gear.  He revs the machine up a couple times just to make his sister smile.  Holding the front break, he releases the clutch quick, line-locking the pathfinder and creating a beautiful plume of white smoke from the tire.  The tire being nice and tacking now he pops a wheelie to the edge of the parking lot bring the front wheel down a few meters short of making the turn back onto the street.  Kyle jams on the breaks just in time to avoid running into a heavy-set Orc woman dressed in bright orange.  The Orc glares at him obviously not impressed with his little stunt.  Kyle raises the visor on his helmet.  

"Sorry Ms. Sherburne." Shrugging his shoulders and bringing his palms up he looks at the Orc woman.  I swear that woman wears the same clothes every single day.  Every single time she has on that same lavender scarf with that day-glow orange safety vest.

Kyle takes off slowly out of the parking lot and down the street back on to 8th.  He can feel the stare of Ms. Sherburne all the way to the next corner.  The things we do for the ones we love.  A few minutes later he is pulling back into the underground parking garage of the Courtyard Towers.  He says hello to Mr. Anderson as he exits the elevator, but the tall and handsomely dressed Elf is far to busy talking to his lawyer colleagues to respond.  While Kyle rides the elevator up to the 6th floor he sends his fixer buddy a message.

<<@Fibonacci:[Kyle]: What are the details on this job?  Who's in charge?  Specifics kid, I need specifics.>>

With a little peace and quiet Kyle sits on the couch and slips into VR to do a little research on Freeway Park.

Orren has half a mind to tell Durango just where he can shove this work offer. The chump actually wants him to provide physical security at an outdoor event!

Bad work is better than no work, though. This is the only job Orren has been offered in weeks, and the rent doesn't pay itself.

As Orren's van pulls up to the parking structure his consciousness slips into the Matrix with a seamless, smooth transition, like the tide rolling over the sand. As his living persona materializes in the Matrix, Orren is already hard at work gathering the raw data and static from around him, making order of the chaos. The conscious, living being Orren creates is nothing short of a miracle, but to Orren the process is routine.

Compile Machine Sprite:

Orren tickles the sprite playfully, watching in amusement as annoyed binary sequences radiate from the creature. The thing is not amused. Orren chuckles to himself before issuing his first command;

Orren's Living Persona wrote:

Hey, pal. You're in charge while I'm gone. Try not to cause too much trouble.

Orren orders the machine sprite to command his surveillance drone, and notify him if any threats approach. The sprite chirps and easily interfaces with the small MCT Fly-Spy as it soars out of a tiny gap in the passenger window.

Satisfied that his early alert system is armed, Orren starts scanning for unregistered or suspicious nodes in the area, taking special care to note any Lone Star or law enforcement networks. It would be a shame if his combat drones were confiscated by the authorities over unlicensed modifications...

Kyle Warsaw : Courtyard Seattle Bellevue Towers
SIN:  Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major')

Kyle snaps back to the augmented reality of flesh & blood happy with the results of his matrix search on the meet site.  With Johnny Law hanging around the park today this will not be the piece of cake I had originally thought.  Guess I should head over there a little early and get a first hand view of the area.  He walked to his bedroom to grab his gear for today’s job.  He changed into his favorite OD green camo fatigues and t-shirt that had 'Surf Nicaragua'.  Underneath the shirt he of course wore a form fitting body armored shirt.

Kyle slid his hunting knife into the sheath running diagonal across his back and snapped it secure in place.  The Colt 2066 he loaded with a clip of Stick-N-Shock confirming on the smart link the weapon registered as being loaded and the safety locked.  He tucked the Colt into his concealed shoulder holster and loaded the other two clips into the designated pockets in the holster, one of the clips loaded with gel rounds, the other with regular ammunition just in case things get lethal.  

He checked his links, setting his main device to hidden mode making sure is Analyze program was running constant sweeps of the system and Stealth program was active.  His faux link he enabled with the fake SIN Edward Murphy.  Setting the device to run active mode he also loaded Analyze and Stealth programs on this link too, not so much for their intended function, rather so it didn't appear to be a burner link.  All his wireless ware checked green for secure skinlink.

Kyle, posing as Edward Murphy, made his way to the hallway closet garbing his lined coat and grabbed his helmet off the table next to the door.  He checked to make sure the door locked behind him and double checked his home security status feed out of a sense of paranoia as he got on the elevator, riding it down to the basement level to the garage.  

His helmet slid on snug and the skin link activated the HUD on the helmets visor connecting him to the Grid Guide.  With a touch of his hand on the top of the fuel cell the Pathfinder roared to life.

“Current traffic conditions on I 405 are causing short delays.  Time to destination will be approximately eighteen minutes.” The female Grid Guide voice informed him.  A red blip on the side of his visor HUD alerted Kyle to an incoming call.  It was his fixer buddy Fibonacci.

::”You have reached the UCAS's sexiest bachelor, how may I help you?”::

::”Sexiest bachelor my ass!  You know 'I'  have the market cornered on that topic.”::

::”You may be sexier, but the chicks love the bike.  It matches my enormous...umm... hands.”::

There is a few seconds of silence as both parties contemplate how to handle that awkward moment.

::”Well if you and your... enormous hands aren't to busy, perhaps you would like to make your way down to THE Sports Bar.  Downtown on the corner of University and Terry.  The Johnson wants to meet at 11:30 sharp.  And don't be late to this one.  This is the real deal paying real 'yen.”::

::”Excellent Fib, Thank you.  I'm actually heading that way right now.  I should be there a few minutes early.  It will give me a chance to look around before the meet.  Seriously kid, thanks again for everything.”::  

Kyle pulls out of the parking garage giving a thumbs up to 'Skinny', the doorman at the Courtyard Towers, as he drives by.  Just as Grid Guide had said there was some traffic congestion heading into Downtown, but the good thing about being on a motorcycle, its much easier to get around congestion.  Fifteen minutes later Kyle pulled up on Seneca St. along the south edge of the park.

DNI is such wonderful technology.  With just a thought Kyle loads is Spoof Program and spoofs his access ID on his hidden link before doing a quick scan of the area trying to locate the parks local node. [EDIT] Several nodes show up in the scan, some of them with signals fading in and out randomly.  Freeway Parks local node shines like a beacon in Kyles AR vision.  I have time, let me throw a few commands at this baby and see what I'm up against.  With that thought he drops his Spoof and Scan programs, exchanging them for his Exploit program and double checks to make sure his Stealth program is still running before brutally pitting his software against the nodes in a battle for dominance.

“Damn I am good!”  The words just came out without thinking.  

After just a single attempt Kyle managed to brute force his way into the parks 'brain'.  Oh I hope this is a sign of how easy this job is going to go today.  A moment later the current time in the upper left corner of his field of vision showed 11:20:16.  Guess it's time to go see Mr. Johnson.  

Kyle merged back into traffic driving around the block and back over to Terry Ave.  He turns north through the medical school and pulls into the parking lot of The Sports Bar right where Fib said it would be.  The time showed 11:23:07.  Plenty of time to spare.  He got off the bike making sure to activate the Anti-Theft system before taking his helmet off.  With his best aura of nonchalance, Kyle strolls up to the main entrance of the place.  I'll have to keep this place in mind.

Tweak glares at the long trail of vehicles in crawling along in front of him and impatiently taps out a complex rhythm on his steering wheel that doesn't jive with the angry music blasting from his stereo. Quietly cursing the traffic, the sunny weather, and especially the Saab that just cut ahead of him when Johnny Ang calls again. You fraggin yanking me Johnny? I just past that fraggin joint. You you you got dreck timing timing omae. Spotting a gap in the oncoming traffic he slams the accelerator and spins the SUV into a u-turn and heads back towards The Sports Bar, laughing at the panicked squealing of breaks his sudden maneuver generates and adding to their frustration by sticking his hand out the window to give them all a one fingered salute. Yes I'll be there! He shouts at Johnny's worried question. No No NO I am not Jazzed! Fragging relax omae, if they don't shoot at me I won't shoot at them. Soka?.... Frag off, I'll let you know how dreck flows. With that he cuts the connection, already tired of listening to Johnny worry.
Tweak pulls into the nearly empty parking lot at 11:24 and kills the engine. In the sudden silence his nerves start jumping with anticipation, the muscles around his left eye dancing up a storm. He pulls out his tin of snuff and fires several pinches through his sinuses to sooth the twitch, with little visible affect, but his brain again runs cool and calm. Not sure what to expect he considers his arsenal and finally decides to walk in light. Tucking the Predator, roomsweeper and the ceska back under his seat. He then checks his berreta in it's concealed holster and his cavalier in it's quick draw holster before climbing out of the SUV and janders on into the bar.

Orren pulls his van up to the bar. He doesn't like making meat-space appearances during a run, but over the years Orren has realized that for some crazy reason normal people don't like talking to drones. Before he steps out of the vehicle, Orren gives himself a look in the mirror. Scraggly salt and pepper hair frames a thin, middle-aged face. The skin is pale and clear, and the first age-wrinkles are starting to show.

Not my finest, but it'll have to do.

Orren looks into the back section of the van, reassuring himself that his drones are ready for action should the need arise.

He walks in the bar showing all of the confidence his heart doesn't actually feel. Everything is just so...so goddamned slow in meat space. His body just creaks along with agonizingly lumbering strides, like an ancient, malfunctioning machine. The only thing that keeps him sane is distracting himself, diverting attention away from this mundane existence. Part of him is watching the urban brawl game. Another part is monitoring the van's sensors and tidying the node up a bit. Another part of him is running a diagnostic on his GM-Nissan Doberman drone (just in case).

And there's still enough of his mind left over to be bored.

As he approaches the poster in the bar, Orren glances around. He's not at all excited to work this job, and he half-hopes the other members of the team don't even show...

Kyle Warsaw : THE Sports Bar, Downtown Seattle, Corner of University and Terry : 11:24:33
SIN:  Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major') - PAN: Active Mode

As he made his way across the parking lot Kyle noticed an SUV pull in to the lot.  He didn't get a good look at the driver, probably because it didn't really seem important at the time.  THE Sports Bar was everything you would expect in the Downtown sports themed scene, especially one rumored to be affiliated with the Mafia.  Entering the bar Kyle gives a nod to the bartender as he walks over to the Combat Biker room.  The Everett Jets poster is easily identified and he walks over to it and leans against the wall waiting on the rest of the team to arrive.

Khaki colored sneakers, green camo fatigues and a gray t-shirt covered by a long black synth-leather duster all topped with wildly unkempt blonde hair describe Kyle by his general appearance.  He has obvious cybernetic eye implants judging by the fact there is no color to the them, just pure black orbs surrounded by the metal retaining frame.  A data jack just above and in front of his left ear is clearly visible as well.

((OOC: Modeled after Val Kilmer's character Chris Knight in Real Genius.))

Kyle Warsaw : THE Sports Bar
SIN: Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major')

Kyle stands there leaning against the wall watching as the other runners asked here today come in, giving a slight nod to each in turn. Here I thought I was going to be over-dressed for this meeting. This is his first honest to goodness meet with a Johnson and he doesn't want to blow it acting like a drek head so he just waits patiently for someone to speak up.

Orren takes a look at the others, gathered under the designated poster in the bar. In his thin cotton button-up shirt, Orren looks more like a retiree on vacation than a soulless Shadowrunner. As he approaches, Orren pings each of the other Runners' comlinks, politely requesting to transfer his living persona's contact info. Sure, he could probably just crack the firewalls and dump the info, but something tells him there's at least one person here who'd be offended if he did...

"Name's Wake," Orren says to the gathered runners. "Looks like we're in this mess together, today. If you see a drone, it's probably mine."

While he speaks, Orren's fly drone perches on the roof outside the building, watching over the entrance and paying extra attention to his van.

Dressed in rumpled brown denim and a rumpled black shirt under an even more rumpled long coat and battered hoop-kicker boots, all topped of with battered and ragged ball cap.  Tweak eyes the others, with a cold expression that almost borders on either contempt or disdain, leaning against a table with his hands tapping out asynchronous rhythms on a gun belt, his right forearm resting against a revolver in a quick draw holster.
When his comm chimes with the information request Tweak pulls his comm out without taking his eyes off Wake and, after recording the comm code, physically turns it off before tucking it away again.  

Spoiler:

 Tweak twitch tweak,  call me tweak.  You a metal-jumper Wake or a wire-jumper?  What about you blondie, what's your schtick? chrome-jockey I bet.  Same same same, good.  
Tweak shrugs and sniffles a couple of times then spots the bland human.  A muscle in his left cheek starts jumping at the same time the muscles around his eye stops dancing.  As soon as Trotter mentions the cred Tweak knows he's stuck with this one, needing the cred too much to care or worry.  Tweaks hands stop their tapping for a couple of seconds and then continue with a completely different rhythm and he nods.    Parks big, lot's of areas.  We guarding a section, a building, what what what.  I like the cred, I'm in but I need more info, details

Kyle Warsaw : THE Sports Bar
SIN:  Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major')  

Kyle nods at Wake, accepting the ping and starting a new virtual contact entry for the gentleman.  He sends his contact info back in response and to the twitchy fellow as well.

“Names Edward, but you can call me Murphy.”  He smiles as if had just said something amusing.  “Nice to meet you.”

The unkempt man rapid fires off a barely comprehensible string of words that apparently formed a thought somewhere in his mind.  That draws Kyle's attention and he turns to stare at the man for a moment while he processes what was just said.

“The eyes?  Oh yeah.  No I'm not what you would call a chrome-jockey... I mean I can shoot a gun and all that but I write code.  I wouldn't really say I am a hacker so much.  Well I can do that too but I much prefer the software side of tech.  So I guess the closest I could come up with to call myself would be a script kiddie.”

Kyle (Edward) finishes up his self realization just as the Johnson walks into the room.  He listens to him describe the job and the pay offer and when the Johnson gets to the end Kyle raises his hand slightly, more to draw attention rather than asking to be called on.

“It's an interesting place for a meeting that requires guards to keep the unwanted away when there is a security convention going on within a stones throw from the place.  Half of Seattle's corporate security will be hanging around the park today as well as an equal amount of private security reps from all over the continent.  Very interesting.  Oh and before I forget, just who are these VIP's expecting to need guards against?  Rumor on some seedier trix sites suggest the possibility of some gang activities in the area.  Is this what we are supposed to keep out?  I'm in and all that.  I don't want you to think I'm saying no or anything.  Just curious as to what to expect.  No full frontal assaults, so I guess it can't be all THAT bad.”

CrowDancing wrote:

 Tweak twitch tweak,  call me tweak.  You a metal-jumper Wake or a wire-jumper?

Orren holds his arms wide, and shoots an annoyed look at Twitch.

"Do you see any wires, chummer?"

When Trotter arrives and makes his offer, Orren keeps his mouth shut. Kyle already said everything on Orren's mind, probably better than he could have said it himself.

Kyle Warsaw : THE Sports Bar
SIN:  Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major')

“Well Mr. Johnson, I can't speak for these other fellows here, but I for one am in.  I don't want to seem rude Sir, but now its just a matter of that upfront reparation that was mentioned.” Murphy is obviously tip toeing around the money situation.  It's not like everyone in this room doesn't already know the nuyen runs the show, but something about Murphy's voice shows he is a little green in these situations.

People sometimes say they can look into your eyes and see what you are thinking.  That just isn't the case with cybernetic eyes.  There is no soul to be seen.  There are no tells to be noticed.  There is only the blackness and the cold metal in their place.  Because of this its hard to tell what's really going on in Murphy's head.  He stands there leaning on the wall apparently looking at the Johnson.

Looks like this job is a go, time to do a little work.  Murphy minimizes the AR framework of his active link keeping it running in the background while he pulls up his hidden work link.  He opens a small window in the upper corner of his AR field of vision setting it to alert him of messages from his active link.  First thing I need to do is set up a Reusable Backdoor Exploit just in case things go bad fooling around in here.  Now, lets see what we can dig up in here...

Tweak flexes his scarred and heavily tattooed hands as Trotter gives them the run-down of the job.  Except for the location it sounds pretty simple, and that simplicity makes Tweak uncomfortable.  Life has taught him that very little in life stays simple for long and the simpler it seems the more FUBAR it can get...  Like most of his life.  That thought brings a staccato chuckle.  With a series of almost spastic twitches he rises to his full height and pulls his comm back out, turning it back on and setting it to passive mode while nodding at Trotter.    Like I already said,  I'm in.  Show me the cred and I'm solid to go.    Tweak looks at the other two.    I ain't a techno, don't fraggen play in the trix or any of that slotting dreck.  I am fraggen liquid fast and fraggen good at violence.  I know you both are into that techno dreck but would like to know more before we jet.

Kyle Warsaw : THE Sports Bar
SIN:  Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major')

While his mind was racing around controlling the direct access to his link, Murphy could hear the real world conversation more like background music in one of those fancy highrise tower hotel elevators.  It was probably the word 'techno' that caught his attention in the moment forcing him to spend a little more effort trying to bring Tweaks words into his mind.  Murphy turned his head from the Johnson to face Tweak.

“With the amount of security I saw at the park on my way over here, I hope there is little need of violence.  Personally I'd like to draw as little attention to our... situation as possible.  However you certainly look like you can handle the liquid fast kick-ass needed should things call for it.  What else would you like to know?”

Kyle Warsaw : THE Sports Bar
SIN:  Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major')  

While waiting on Tweak to formulate any questions he might have to the Johnson or to the other runners in the room, Murphy slips his focus back into the AR task at hand.  The camera feeds were easy enough to find and it appears they cover a good portion of the park.  With a neural command Murphy sends the video feeds for each camera to their own window and minimizes them into very small boxes at the upper extent of his vision.  He then begins recording each of their feeds separately.  A small duration icon shows up on the corner of each minimized camera window showing how long they have been recording.  If this works and I get enough duration recorded I can just loop the recording back to the source and none will be the wiser.  

While the video feed records Murphy draws his attention back to the people in the room with him.  He turns to Wake...

“Your drones, are they weaponized?  I mean if by chance we do run into trouble today, can they take a person down?  I'm working on the parks camera feeds at the moment.  I believe I have a work around to keep us from being seen.”

Kyle Warsaw : THE Sports Bar
SIN:  Edward Murphy (UCAS Seattle Native & Student at U-Dub 'Corporate Securities Major')

Murphy turns back to Tweak considering his desire for more answers may have been directed at Wake and himself.

“Well I'm not sure what else I can tell you about myself other than what I have said so far.  I don't play with drones other than writing and debug code for their operating systems.  I don't know a lick of magic and I don't HEAR the matrix in my head, well technically yes I do but I mean I'm not a Ghost in the Machine.  I'm a Scorpio and if you're looking for something more personal might I suggest Candy, a sassy little red head down at the Banshee on 163rd.”

Murphy pauses for a moment watching the twitchy fellow contemplate the snide comment.

“Good enough?”