Echos of the Past

Pick's facial scars writhe as he frowns at the Johnson's answers. There are ways to get details on a site, even if the heads of security locked everything away. It would only take finding one or two people who transferred out of the site and debrief them, or, at worse, mind-probe them to find out some of the physical aspects of the site.

Pick waits for the transportation byplay to finish before resuming his inquiries. "I apologize for misunderstanding the relationship between the deceased and this facility," he begins, receiving a fractional nod from the Johnson. "I do hope you appreciate my concern for safety here. We have zero idea what we're walking into. There is no intel on personnel whereabouts, nor any idea the type of research occurring at this facility. The reasons for loss of contact with the facility are numerous: everything from a nerve gas leak to some sort of magical accident to an Aztec platoon taking over the facility. Based on what you've given us, we have absolutely no way of knowing, and we'd have to prepare carefully for every eventuality."

Pick inhales a lungful of carcinogens and continues. "If a rival corporation is behind a facility hit AND hits on three black ops higher-ups, their assets are probably pretty well-equipped. I assume your exec and his assistants had some top-drawer security assets protecting them...?"

"Here's where I stand. My life is worth more to me than 5K + a 10K line of credit. Drek, 15K wouldn't buy you enough plastique to level the place. We're going to need some specialized equipment if you want a chance of getting back some of your assets: drones, chemsniffers, geiger counters, what have you. If you can provide it, great; otherwise we'll need a bigger line of credit - say 50K. If you don't care about recovery enough to spend a hundred Gs on it, give me a pallet full of C4 and I'll blast it to kingdom come. I'd be happier if I didn't have to step into a facility containing spirts-know-what anyway."

Pick leans back in his chair. "And one other thing, would Neonet HR have a list of personnel who have ever worked at this facility? Or would accounting have travel records, receipts, etc. for trips to Belize?"

As Pick leans back and waits for a response from the Johnson, he takes stock of those around him. It's a motley crew. The tech-kid seems to be fixated on drones and guns, and seems young and inexperienced. The mage in front is a cool character. Pick dislikes attention-getters, but he must admit that magically playing with ice cubes is a good way of advertising your skills. And he did have a good idea in asking for a favor as part of the payment.

The pixie hasn't said anything but "Yes" the entire conversation. It doesn't seem too worried its own hide; either it's dumb or conditioned to completely trust superiors.

The stutterer is disconcerting, though. Textbook split-personality disorder, unless he's faking. But what possible reason could there be to show weakness in front of a Johnson?

Pick just shakes his head. The characters he runs across in this line of work...

Johnson smiles slightly, but shakes his head. "I know a team in Vladivastock who would nuke the place for me for that price. No. The pay stands as is. Remember though that the 5k is to just destroy the place, no questions asked. You could charter a plane, fly over, and drop a bomb for very minimal risk and still show a tidy profit. Going into the place is more dangerous, but offers the chance to recover researchers or data, which I've already offered to pay bonuses for. And I'll tell you what, I'll offer a wimp-out clause. If you find significant information about what's happening on site and what defenses are in place, but decided they are too hard for you to hit, send it to me and I'll send in a braver team. IF your data helps them acomplish what you were to scared to try, I'll still pay you 1,000y. But only if the data really is significant and helps the follow up team."

Pick leans back and folds his arms across his chest as the Johnson counters his "offer."

"Well, I guess that's your final offer," Pick begins. He adds thoughtfully, "I might just ask you for a comm code for that team in Vladivostok before the end of this." Nodding to himself, he reaches his conclusion. "It sounds like our options are acceptance, incarceration or death. For my part, I could use some downtime to hit the books, but I find exotic travel hard to resist. If your offer of future possibilities for a job well done still stands, I'm in."

"Now, do we get to enjoy our last night of freedom, or are we going to end up under armed guard until the plane leaves tomorrow? I for one would like to do some shopping before we leave civilization, and an advance on the fee would certainly come in handy."

The johnson looks around as the group falls silent and the silence seems to stretch out. "Sounds like we're finished here. I've places to go, people to kill, so we'll wrap things up. Check in at desk C7 for your fight tomorrow - mention NeoNET and they'll take care of everything. Use any name you like, no one will be checking it. No advance tonight, but you are welcome to leave to take care of anything you need to do before heading out. Riker will be running that line for you though. Feel free to leave a list of anything you already know you'll need with Dreen-man, he'll get it to Riker, who should already have the gear waiting for you. I'll also make sure he has a link to our sat and the profiles on the security team."


***** 12 hours later *****

The flight and checking go smoothly. You land in Belize without incident. The airport isn't as bad as you might of expected - its stying and furniture is about 30 years out of date, but no worse then many small airports in the USAC. You spot a dwarf holding a sign reading "NeoNET Sales Party" almost immediately, his beard long and black, and his bald head covered by a peaked cap. He wears loose fitting cloths and in standing infont of a long low limo, with several carts of what look like the team's gear already sitting next to him. Trevor's bike leans against a rack nearby.

As far as transport to a job site went, this was, by far, one of the nicest infiltrations Anya and Darkwolf had ever experienced. It certainly beat crossing a border in the middle of heavy artillery shelling, and any flight that ended the same way it started (on a runway) counted as a luxury in Anya's books. The entertainment options, on the other hand, were decidedly lacking. The requirement to turn off all communication devices, or at least disable networking capabilities, meant Anya was once again trapped in Jack's head with nothing to do. 'I spy with your little eye' could only captivate her interests for so long, and eventually Anya decided to resort to catching up on her realignment until they arrived.

By the time the group spotted their dwarfy welcoming committee, Anya was just waking up from her 'nap,' stretching luxuriously in the air above Jack's head before groggily blinking her glowing blue eyes open. <Oooh, would you look at that?> She eased off of her invisible platform to stand next to Jack, pointing excitedly at the long vehicle waiting for them. <Our own limo! We're like celebrities here! The army never treated us this good!> Just then she spotted the boxes by the dwarf and her attitude (and background light) immediately darkened. <Hey, they crammed my drones into some crates with everyone else's stuff?! They better not have broke anything! Go- would- would you please go check to make sure they're okay?> She turned her pleading eyes to Jack, her worry plainly evident in her voice.

Before they'd left, Trevor had quietly picked up a disposable link. It would only be good for about a week but that's all he figured he needed for the job. Besides it was all he could afford out of pocket at the moment anyway. Setting that up as his 'public' link and thus leaving his real comlink in hidden mode he then went to meet the others at the airport. It hadn't been the most comfortable of flights Trevor had ever taken, but then it's not like he was able to fly executive class very often anyway. Not on his budget unless he'd spent about a year saving up for a trip or picked up a decent pot street racing. Like Anya, Trevor was also dismayed, but for slightly different reasons. His drones were all small and more or less pocket sized. That made them pretty easy for him to pack up nice and snug where they were unlikely to be damaged. But his bike on the other hand, leaving such a beautiful thing, that had it's own gyro stabilization leaning against anything.. that.. that was a sin! In it's 'natural' state the heavily modified thundercloud contrail was as flashy as any racing bike and then some. Sporting a customized outer body, chromed fittings, slightly modified handle controls and all the rest, all backed up by a chameleon overlay that could make it any colour he so chooses. So naturally the first thing he does is head over to it and check it for even the slightest sign of damage before powering up it's gyro stabilization at least so the bike just remained where it was on it's two wheels, without sinfully leaning against anything.

As the plane landed, Jack felt slightly sad. He had enjoyed the flight, even with the cramped quarters for 12 hours. Before getting off the plane, he changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a light T-shirt. He grabbed his travel bag and headed off the plane. After hearing the distraught AI ask him to check its drones, he put the luggage down. <Ye-yeah, a-alright.> He quickly headed for the crates. After examining the crates, he deemed that the couldn't be opened with out a crowbar. "Uhm, d-does a-a-anyone h-have a c-crowbar?" He looked around hopefully, but his hands were starting to shake again.

The dwarf leans over to Darkwolf and speaks very quietly. "Sir may wish to remember this is a public airport and sir may not wish to show his luggage to anyone who happens to be walking by. It might be wise to not unpack until we reach the ville."

When the dwarf spoke, Jack flinched and nearly fell down, as if he didn't expect a reply. "Ah, y-yeah, th-that m-makes s-s-s-" Once again he was having a panic attack. His heart was beating quickly and his skin was turning red. His right arm was shaking badly, making motions to grab the non-existent knife at his side. In his mind, a barrage of thoughts entered his head all at once. Thoughts of confusion, killing, mass murder, napalm, running, all at once.

He put his one hand on the crate to keep from falling, but his legs were quickly weakening. His skin, due to all the pumping of his heart, was getting very warm, and it looked like he was about to collapse.

The delay to checking on her beloved Optic-X drone set off a litany of mentally grumbled protests as Anya muttered, among other things, <I know my stuff isn't illegal...> The Ferret drone she wasn't worried about, so much; that thing could take a beating and keep right on rolling. But flying vehicles were another situation altogether, and the little suckers were fragile. The last thing she wanted was for Jack to open up the box when they arrived only to find two broken wings and a rather worthless fuselage.

Speaking of Jack, her host appeared to be struggling again with his severe antisocial tendencies. Anya considered calling Darkwolf to the front, but she feared that taking that short cut repeatedly would have more serious long-term ramifications. Unless they were in a crucial or life-threatening situation, perhaps it would be better to help Jack through his problems, rather than around them. To that end, Anya walked around in front of Jack, her luminescent cyan eyes peering into his. <Jack, are you alright? You're nearly hyperventilating here and there aren't even any threats around. What has you so worked up?> She did her best to sound soothing to his mind's ear, and even brushed a hand against his cheek, kicking his sim module in to simulate the feeling of her comforting caress. It was the closest she could get to actually touching him, and even then it was just her best approximation of what it would feel like to him. To her it was just numbers and lines of code.

Having ignored his usual flash of playing with ice, he spent the trip in silent reverie, running through various scenarios of what may come, pondering on memories of what had already passed.
His only words the whole trip as he sat inside the limo waiting for the others to join him. He hadn't even introduced himself to anyone but instead concentrated on the task at hand, one he needed to be a bit faster for.

--
Improved Reflexes
force 3 (through the sustaining focus; the locket necklace kept beneath his clothes and armor)
Spellcasting 5 + Magic 5 = 10 = 4 hits

Drain
(f/2; rounded down)+2 = 3
Charisma 5 + willpower 5 + centering 1 = 11 = 2 hits
drain: 1 stun damage
--

A minor headache had started to form, but it was pushed away from his mind as he waited for the others to join him.

Jack started to cool down. His breathing slowed and his heart stopped racing. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to keep it together. <I'm s-sorry Anya. I-I don't k-know what happened. I j-just started thinking of a-all this stuff a-and what's happened t-to me a-and wandering w-who's after me and-> His heartbeat started to rise again, but he quickly cooled down. <I'm a-alright. L-lets just g-get going.> He picked up his travel bag again, his hands shaking, and walked to the limo. His heart rate was still high, but no longer life-threating. To help, he used his commlink to play some Classical music. The sound of AC/DC could faintly be heard.

Aimond kept silent the entire trip. He wasn't much for socializing. Aurora had taught him, that those outside of their order didn't think the same way they did. "They won't understand you. They can't grasp our devotion to the Earth." is what she had hammered home to him. So, Aimond had learned that it was best to keep his moth shut. It agonized him, he had been fairly loquacious when he was younger. He yearned to spread the word of Gaia's Wrath, to share with the others the good they could do in Earth's defense. Some of those he was with seemed like they could be extremely useful, and would make great recruits. He held his tonuge. Aurora was the only one allowed to recruit. He would pass on what his thoughts when they next spoke.

Satisfied that he could convince Aurora to at least interview them later, he floated into the limo. He would have prefered to travel on foot, that always allowed him to ground himself, but he had learned to make concessions. He folded his hands in his lap and waited. He was anxious to get to work, and see just what NeoNet had been up to in the forest.

Trevor for his part simply excused himself a few moments to change into his motorcycle crash armor. Limos were boring. Besides, he trusted his bike a hell of a lot more than any rental vehicle. The limo could have it's dog brain hacked pretty easily. At least with his bike, worst case scenario he could override most such attempts by simply jumping into it. Course that would leave his flesh and blood body at some risk but oh well. There were trade offs to everything, ergo the crash suit and helmet.

His luggage though could be loaded up with everyone else's. That would leave him free to simply enjoy the ride.

Pick hasn't had that much opportunity to travel, so the multi-hop flight from Seattle to Belize is a novel experience. Intellectually, he knows that he should be concerned about personal safety, but the departure was just so easy. No guards, no metal detectors, nothing. He had been worried about bringing his toolbox full of wire pieces, kitchen timers, voltmeters and electrical knick-knacks (Demolitions Toolkit) on board, but no one even did the barest of visual scans on his two battered duffel bags.

The trip itself is uneventful. After engaging the kid in conversation, they realize quickly they have a shared interested in cars. While Pick's interest is more in collecting (and then selling to the highest bidder), the kid enjoys racing. They go on to realize they have similar interests in the mechanics of guns and automotive mods.

"In some ways," Pick thinks, "this kid is just like I used to be. Except that he comes from the opposite end of the socioeconomic spectrum..."

After a while, Pick starts studying. He begins with the mapsoft of Belize he picked up at Barnes & Borders, reviewing the history and culture of the area in the last few years. The scenery is absolutely gorgeous - the trid of the recovery of the Rain Forest since the Awakening is incredible. The mapsoft/travelogue goes on to warn travelers to stay near civilization: all of South America is consumed either by civil wars, petroleum grabs, or drug syndicates. Neocommunist and rebel armies still roam the countryside, and shifting alliances make the political landscape difficult to follow. Pick copies the salient bits of the mapsoft into his internal commlink for later review.

Pick then spends some time setting up searches on public and shadow datastores in the UCAS and Costa Rica using the in-seat commlink. He starts with megacorp activities in the South American Trade Zone and the business climate of Belize, Colombia and Argentina. He proceeds to do some background research on the Awakened rain forest, familiarizing himself with the people and animals (mundane and awakened) that the team might encounter. Satisfied that the search parameters are sufficient, the thief disconnects and pops his Spanish linguasoft into his datajack. The travelogue said English is prevalent in Belize, but Spanish is a close second. By the time they land, Pick's Spanish will be chip-perfect.

.......

Pick surges to full consciousness, reaction enhancers and wired reflexes pumped to the max, as the rickety Boeing 737 from the last century bangs in for a landing. He punches the kid in the side to wake him up. The team picks up their gear and makes for the limo while Trevor splits off for his bike. Pick manages to get enough to the dwarf picking them up to ask him a question. "Y'know, the Johnson was a little vague on your involvement in this endeavor. Are you available to help out directly, or are you only providing logistical support?"

As the group settles into the back of the limo, Pick speaks up. "Enough pleasantries here. If we're going to face the drek together, I'd like to know who I'm working with and what you can offer to the team. At the very least, tell me what to call you, or I'll make a nickname for you myself."

"Call me Point-Man. I'm quiet, I can get into places, and I'm good at noticing valuable stuff. I can drive well, and I've got mechanic and engineering skills." Pointing at Taur, Pick continues, "You're next, mana-man..."

Kieron approached the limo while squinting around. Glaring at the bright sunlight, he grumbled to himself and went about giving himself some better protection.

-------------
Alleviate Allergy(sunlight) sustained by focus
Force 3

spellcasting 5 + magic 5 - 4(allergy)= 6=2 hits

Drain
f3/2=1-4=-3
will 5+ cha 5= 10= 2 hits
Drain= 0
---------------------

Though still uncomfortable, the sun was tolerable now. He finished reaching the limo in time to enter and hear introductions being started.

Kieron looked at the group around him in the Limo. "Quite the odd assortment of characters that's for certain," He thought, "Not like I have any right to judge." He certainly appeared odd. Dressed in a long dark green hooded jacket and black pants, he hardly was dressed for the weather. A youth would stand out in this crowd ordinarily, but he appeared as though he had no intention of being near this normally pleasant environment as well.

He reached into his bag and withdrew a smart canteen. He took a drink from it, peered inside and saw the blood swirling within. "I'm gonna need to find someway to restock," he thought, "Hopefully we encounter some before I run out." He put the canteen away and once again focused on the current speaker.

Pick harumphs at the mage's reticence. "Somebody go next!"

Aimond decides to speak up. He might not like it, but he has to put up with these people for a bit. Holding back information could jeopardize the mission, and it's not like he got many opportunities to socialize outside of Gaia's Wrath.

"My name is Warden. Gaia has graced me with the ability to commune with the spirits. I was sent here to provide support against magical threats. My services are at your disposal."

He gives a small bow as he finishes his statement. He leaves out the fact that he was also tasked with determining the length of the damage to the ecosystem caused by NeoNet's facility, and to scout the facility. Just in case Gaia's Wrath decided it needed to pay the place a visit at a later date.

"Agent 003 Darkwolf, covert ops commando with the-" Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. "I-I mean I'm J-jack. I-I'm good a-at sneaking a-and stuff. I think I-I'm good w-with an assault r-rifle t-too, but I-I'm not s-sure." There was a startling difference in the two tones of voice, as if they were completely different.

<You probably ought to...> On second thought, asking Jack to clarify would probably just make matters worse, and besides, Anya realized she had a chance to (hopefully) set some suspicions at ease, so she changed her request halfway through. <Go ahead and hold out- er, put your comm on the seat, I'll transfer to the holo projector.>

As soon as he does so, Anya gets up and walks over to the small device, shrinking all the while until the cheap commlink's trideo projector began to glow, creating a small floating image of her for all to see, her pure black form only a foot tall. "And I am Agent Program zero zero three, advanced Matrix intrusion software package, at your service." Anya stood at attention, hands clasped behind her back as she addressed the group. She tried to keep her voice appropriately monotonous, devoid of any form of creativity that might give away her status as a synthetic intelligence.

"You can call me Ebb." Trevor speaks up. "If it's got wheels, flies or walks I can pilot it and fix it. Even know how to fix guns, armor and a little bit about fixing subs. Not so good with guns though, but I know which end to point."

Kieron leans forward and says,"I'm Kieron. I'm decent at magic and stealth. I'm more accustomed to taking things down alive for my usual job but can kill. Generally used to acquiring things or people alive sometimes against their will." He gives a nod and sits back.