"I'll keep the engine warm and the shotty handy in case shit kicks off. But don't let it," Cruz said.  "Oh and heavy sugar and cream on the soykaf.  Otherwise that shit is undrinkable."

Alex missed having real coffee on the boats.  Submariners had the best chow in the Navy and they didn't skip on the java.  Now he'd go broke drinking the real thing every day.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 09:56, Mon 11 Jan 2021.

Good eye, Kenji thinks when Whisper points out the Inquisitor huscle at the ratburger stand. There's good reason Kiroshis don't come cheap.

"Same for me, please."

While he waits for Whisper to get in line at the coffee bar, Kenji triple checks the flesh-colored dermal tape covering the Smartgun interface in the palm of his right hand. It should pass for real skin at a glance. "Time to go to church," he says, climbing out of the rental. The SOF combat vet does his best to move casually, fighting both nerves and his spun-up nervous system.

"Hi there! I'm looking for my friend. She's about your age, maybe a little older. Went missing recently. Have you seen her?"

Kenji holds out a photo of Daphne Copeland. Hopefully, the Inquisitor huscle assumes their girl has caught herself a fish. He can almost feel their eyes boring into his back. Hopefully, his new partners are watching it too.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:42, Fri 15 Jan 2021.

Whisper moves first, stepping out into the human traffic on the sidewalk oddly out of sync with the the residents grooving to the cacophony of background music.  The solo moves south along the street approaching the ratburger stand with just the right amount of attention and pulling up short at a street kaf stand.  The proprietor gives Whisper the once over, sliding his eyeballs up and down, flicks them to the left at the presumed inquisitors the next stall over, and frowns slightly. Deep scars run up the man's arms, disappearing underneath the short sleeves of his Jay's Premium Kaf! (So good you'll drop your input for a cup!) t-shirt.

"Whatcha want, choom?" he asks in fake levity.  The two other customers at the stand lean heavily on the counter, oblivious, or maybe just ignoring, the presence of the solo.

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

With Whisper on Inquisitor watch, Kentucky steps out from the backseat of the rented rust box.  The smell of the street hits hard along with the noise that the thin car windows had been buffering.  It still beats the residual smell of warmed over death in the plastic bucket that served as the back seat.

The street isn't the South American battleground Kentucky cut his teeth on, but the idea of moving through hostile terrain isn't foreign and he's able to surf the general flow without drawing undo attention.  "Joan" is facing away from him as he approaches, trying to attract the attention of passerby's who mainly break around her like a boulder in a river.  She raises on hand, trying to get the attention of a downcast woman in long black dress with silver streaks pouring through her hair, but Morticia moves away without acknowledgment.  Closer in, the medic can hear her voice: cheerful, upbeat.

"Hi," she says to a man in a clipped top hat, mohawk peeking through the ring.  "Are you free from the chrome lie?"

"Fuck off," Top Hat growls, brushing past.

"Have a nice day," she chirps back.

She turns at Kentucky's approach, head turning at his question and the photograph the smiling medic holds out.  It's not going to work, Kenji realizes at once.  Milky white orbs, totally blind eyes, flick out at him from the girl's face.  Naturally blind eyes.  Eyes that could be fixed with cloned parts or cheap cyber-optics.  Up close she's older, maybe late teens, innocent in countenance.  Innocence that adds youth in a jaded city.  A wooden crucifix hangs from a simple chain around her neck.

"I'm sorry to hear about your friend," Joan says, a slight frown of sadness crossing her freckled face.  "I will pray for her safe return.  Is she pure in body and in soul?" 

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

Cruz watches his new companions departs and settles into the driver's seat, street howitzer sitting against the door for ready deployment.  No one seems to pay much undue attention to the operation going down on the street.  It doesn't take long to fall into a rhythm with the rental meter ticking on the dash: Tick check on Whisper.  Tick check on Kentucky. Tick sweep the area.  Tick repeat.

A flash of movement in the sideview mirror catches Cruz's eye a second before a face with grinning silver teeth and nappy blond dreadlocks blocks his view out of the side window, block the effective view to Whisper and drawing his attention off of Kentucky.  The girl filling the view is maybe twenty-five, scabs covering her arms and the slight muscles twitch of heavy drug use in her movements.  She might have been pretty once.  Now...now she needs rehab.

"Hey sweetie," she says rapping on the glass.  "It's twenty eddies to park here.  Thirty if you want me to wash your windows.  Fifty if you just want me."  She winks at the last, the eyelid sticking for a millisecond on grime before opening again.

"I'm betting that you come with free parking," Cruz said, eyeing the meat.  "But I don't jam without protection," he added, reaching his hands down to his jeans.

Cruz slipped a fiver-cred stick out first, then unzipped his pants and pulled out el pitón, resplendent in it's Mr. Studd augmented glory.

"I'm out of Trojan Megas, so go get a love glove that fits this bad boy.  It's gotta be in the package, you hear me?  New in the package.  NEW IN THE PACKAGE," he said, repeating the last part slowly and louder than the previous iteration.

"I'm not getting anything or knocking anyone up.  Come back when you have something that fits," he finished, handing over the fiver.  He pulled out a fifty so she could see it, then slid it back in his jeans with an 'off you go' hand motion.

Alright, hopefully that will keep this skank occupied for long enough, he thought to himself.  Alex was betting that this junkie will get distracted by 5 euro on the way to the CVS-MethCentral^(tm) pharam and never come back.

If not, I guess there will be a 55eb parking expense for today.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:07, Tue 12 Jan 2021.

Kenji frowns, hopes the girl can't hear it. How did we miss this? he wonders, looking into Joan's milky white, sightless eyes. At least Whisper and Cruz aren't chirping in his ear*, so hopefully the girl's huscle is still chilled.

Deliberately ignoring her loaded question, Kenji tries another tack.

"I'm really worried about her. Do you know anyone around here I could talk to, ask if they've..." He almost stumbles on the next word, "seen or heard anything?"

*Kentucky wears a radio earpiece as SOP.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:42, Fri 15 Jan 2021.

Martin leans on the counter with one forearm, angling his body to keep the Inquisition enforcers in his peripheral vision.  "Three kafs.  Double creamer and double sugar in all of 'em."  He eyes the selection of pastries under Plexiglas, evaluating their likely age and content.

The barista's scars bespeak street medicine.  In this neighborhood, it's even odds whether the guy was patched up or underwent forcible hardware excision.  Martin replays the eye language, assesses the other customers, and decides not to ask.

"I'm sure we can help," Joan says to Kentucky with a benevolent smile.  "Are we not called upon to save our lost sheep?"  Before Kenji can say anything else, the girl raises her right hand up in the air, index and middle fingers crossed over one another. "Leo will be here in a second." She crosses her hands in front of her sign.

It's hard not to turn and face the table where the girl's overwatch is sitting.  Kenji knows better than to tip off whoever is looking that he's aware of their exact position.  And he's got security of his own.  Presumably the girl didn't flash the danger sign, maybe just the "head on over this way" call.

"I'm Teagan," Joan says.  "Are you pure of the digital stain? Can I tell you about salvation?"


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

About the time the three caffeine/fat/sugar delivery capsules are placed in front of Whisper, he sees one of the presumed Inquisition members stand up from the table they've been holding down.  The solo can make out the shape of a pistol tucked in the waistband of the man's pants, covered by his loose dark shirt.

"Girl pulled someone," he says with a hint of satisfaction.  "What'd I say?  The freckles. Them freckles are holy gold."  As he starts picking his way through the crowd, the men left at the table reorient themselves to watch his progress towards the girl and Kenji.  Hands don't go to weapons.  Apparently even the fervent believers of the New Inquisition are willing to speak to potential converts without deploying overt violence.  As of yet.

"Ten eddies, choom," the barista says, a bit louder than he needs to.  Perhaps trying to pull Whisper's attention back to him and away from the neighbors next door.


---------

Methasaurus-Rex vanishes from the window, waving the cred stick and what she probably supposes is a decent "come-hither" smile.  Might have worked if the shakes weren't making her lips quiver (and not in a good way) at the same time. "I know just the Instant Satisfaction Machine," she yells back over her shoulder.  And now the bystanders moving past the car know about it to.

The disappearance of the distraction allows Cruz back into the game.  He spots Kenji chatting with the girl, sees the huscle moving towards the pair in no particular hurry, and takes in Whisper with the promised kaf, watching the solo watch the opposition.

If his time in NC has taught Cruz anything about vending machine deployment density, he's probably got about 60 seconds before his new friend returns for servicing.  Unless she decides that 5eb is enough to get high as fuck.

"Uh, yeah sure," Kenji answers, again evading a question regarding cyber. Casually, he shifts his body to open up his peripheral vision on the huscle's likely avenue of approach. He wants to look surprised, not be surprised when the expected gangoon shows up. Once Teagan's plus one arrives, Kenji goes back to the script.

"Hey there. Have you seen my friend? She went missing recently. We're all really worried about her."

"We're" is a very deliberate word choice. Kenji wants to subtly plant the seed that he's not alone, but not in such a way that will put the cultists on their guard.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 18:14, Sat 16 Jan 2021.

Martin keys his implant radio.  "You've got one inbound.  Looks ministerial, not hostile," he transmits.  Not for the first time, he offers praise to the Hoshino neural interface and the covert comms it provides.

He slips a 25eb note out of his pocket and slides it across the counter, then takes a sip of his kaf.  "Oh, what the hell, may as well" he says aloud, feigning decision.  "Let me get three of those Danishes too.  One apple, one cherry, one whatever the hell that is.  Is that peach?"  It'll keep him in position for a minute more.

Alex makes a mental note that he needs a drone in his life, equipped with the same kit he's got on his tool hand, for sabotage and fuckery at distance.  Now all he had was the fervent hope that this chick didn't have the ability to delay gratification.

If Kenji was paying attention to Teagan, he'd hear a pleasant sounding utopian dream of unsullied souls and bodies reclaiming the paradise of Eden.  Mostly, it comes across as an earnest young woman pouring out her vision of a day dream.  The last words land in Kenji's ears like a bomb.

"And I will be made whole again, able to see the colors of a rainbow.  I hear they're beautiful." A quick glance shows Teagan to be smiling at the thought, not crushed by her desire.  Before he can respond, a rough and tumble middle aged man approaches them wearing a long sleeved button down black shirt adorned with a silver cross on each side of his collar.  A matching cross tattoo traces down from the forehead and over one eye before branching off, one arm of the cross reaching across his nose, the other tracking towards the scar tissue of a former ear.

"Who's this wanderer, Teagan?" the man says, eyes tracing over Kenji, perhaps evaluating the odds of conversion versus punishment.  When the sweep is complete, the man's right hand drifts near his hip, indicative of a weapon in his waistband.

"This is my new friend, Leo," Teagan's eyes almost match up to Leo's location, just missing with the background noise making him difficult to track.

"Told you, call me Father.  And friend's got chrome.  Come to repent, Teagan's friend?"

Kenji rolls with his script, pushing forward Daphne Copeland's picture and a subtle sob story.  To his credit, Leo spends more than a third of a second looking at the scan, tongue pushing against the side of his cheek while he thinks. "No," Leo says finally.  "You trying to say I should of?"  The edge of a threat comes into his voice.  "Don't like your looks Chrome Boy.  You lookin down on the pure?"

Teagan gasps.  "Leo! Father! The girl-"

"Shut it." Leo doesn't take his eyes off Kenji. "Got something you want to say, false friend?"

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

Whisper doesn't miss the shift in body language.  The Inquisitor goes from curious to suspicious in a matter of seconds, hand shifting around to be near his weapon, but not on it.  His friends don't miss it, either.  Fifty feet away from Kenji, the other two cultists stand, pushing their chairs back, and start a slow mosey towards the conversation.  Neither looks to be in a hurry, but one does stoop to pick up an aluminum baseball bat that had hiding underneath the table, casually throwing it over his shoulder.

"Don't look like a convert," the one with the bat says.

The street barista drops three danishes in a bag, and sets the bag heavily in Martin's peripheral vision while clearing his throat.  "I hear," he says, "that it's orange."  A beefy hand pushes the bag forward.  "Have. A. Nice. Day."

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

Back in the car, a blessedly skank free Cruz watches the incoming thugs and the provision laden Martin form an odd triangle with his position on the street.  No one flowing by has quite reacted to the change of energy, but spending enough time on the road has given Cruz the ability to watch traffic patterns morph around disturbance.  Or maybe it's years of calibrating power flows.  Pedestrians are starting to give a little extra distance from Kentucky, the girl, and the newcomer.  Like animals sensing a storm even if heads aren't turning.

The engine hasn't tilted yet, the shimmy becoming a little worse.  Time still remains to push the system either way, but there is turbulence forming in the flow.

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

At that moment, three cellphones buzz.  Should any of the men take the second to identify what came in, their agents all inform them of the same thing.

<<Pending Data Squirt:
Source: Viceroy
Size: 5gb
Accept? Indicate Y/N>>

How's he know I got chrome? Kenji wonders. No point in denying it, though.

"Not looking down at all. This is your neighborhood- we respect that. Figured if anything went down around here, you'd know about it. If we thought your people had our girl, you really think we'd be here asking?"

Kenji studies the man intently, sizing him up, deciding whether the conversation's going anywhere, or if it's time to punch Father Leo in the throat, create some space to draw iron.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 05:14, Sun 17 Jan 2021.

The second time Kenji says "we," it lands in Father Leo's awareness.  Taking half a step back, the Inquisitor sweeps his eyes side to side, looking for the backup Kentucky has brought up again. A nervous right hand moves a fraction of an inch closer to his concealed piece, thumb hooking under the seam of his shirt.  He stares hard at Kentucky, appraising.

"Father Leo," Teagan says softly, seemingly able to hear the stand off in front of her.  "Is not our duty to protect the weak?  To show the corrupt the path to the light?"

Leo's eyes flick over to Teagan and his mouth ticks a tiny scowl.  "It...is."  Maybe the arrival of his own backup gives Leo a bit of confidence.  The casual way the taller backup holds his stained and battered baseball bat tells Kenji it's been used more than once.  The other Inquisitor stands at a forty-five degree angle, watching the crowd.  The crowd that is now openly avoiding the potential furball forming in their midst.

"Okay, friend," Leo's mouth twists like he's sucking on a lemon.  "Tell me why you think we can help you."

"Thanks, man," Martin says easily.  He takes an experimental sip of his kaf, nods, and slips it back into the plastiprint holder alongside the other two servings.  With his thumb, he loosens all three lids.  Then he scoops up the holder in his right hand, grabs the bag with his left, and turns away from the stand.

He doesn't look directly at Kenji as he sets a course that'll take him through the edge of the street crowd, past the developing standoff, and back, eventually, to the car.  Doesn't look directly at anyone, really.  Just another regular guy avoiding trouble, avoiding eye contact, lost in his head, not wholly aware of anything happening around him.

Kenji suppresses a frown as the gangoon steps out of striking range. With his hand already on his piece, Father Leo might be able to draw faster than Kenji can, even with the latter's GI overtuned nervous system. The combat vet Medtech has never considered diplomacy to be one of his strong suits- it's a muscle he hasn't exercised much. His professional life has consisted mainly of patching up holes in allies and, on occasion, punching holes in enemies, not cutting deals with unstable fanatics on city street corners. At the moment, however, his options are limited. He just hopes his mouth isn't about to write a check his butt can't cash.

"'Cause we think she was grabbed near here. Thought you might be pissed that some other crew," he's careful not to use the word 'gang', "is operating on your turf. Heard it might be Maelstrom. Know you don't get along, might want to help us get some payback. We aim to steal the girl back, fuck up the gonks who snatched her while we're at it- 'the enemy of my enemy', and all that. But first we gotta find her."

Kenji carefully gauges the gang lieutenant's reactions. If it turns out the Inquisitors are behind the kidnapping, Kenji's just tipped his hand, and things are likely to pop off forthwith. If that happens, he's going to try to get to some sort of cover while he draws his own iron. Hopefully, Whisper and Cruz Control are getting into position to hit the trio of cult gangoons from behind. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 05:34, Mon 18 Jan 2021.

Cruz was feeling a bit relieved that the 'parking maid' had left, but also on edge as he picked up on the vibe and subtle shifts in posture around the area.  When his phone buzzed, he took the call, mostly to have a distraction visible in hand if others were looking at him, while he subtle surveyed the scene, shifting his eye line between the phone and the surrounding area.

Cruz's agent tracks his eyes and highlights the yes option on Viceroy's squirt.  The download starts immediately and lasts a matter of seconds, five gigs ripping across the wireless network that keeps Night City from descending further into a shitstorm.  After all, what would the angry masses do without 24/7 access to porn, music, porn, and movies featuring violence and sex?

The file is set for browsing, but also comes with Viceroy's observations and input. "Okay," the netrunner says in a husky alto.  "Daphne is already inside at this point.  Watch."  An odd angle video capture starts, taken from a store front next to the club where Daphne was taken.  At the bottom of the capture, a man leans against the wall, viewed from behind, smoking a cigarette and wearing an oversize armored jacket.  "Remember this asshole," Viceroy narrates, a red circle appearing on the sleeve of the coat.  Cruz can just make out some sort of patch on the faux leather.  The speed of the camera feed accelerates, capturing the figure smoking at least four cigarettes, everyone else in the frame blinks around, appearing and disappearing at random intervals.  Then the video abruptly resumes.  The leather clad smoker nods to a woman with short black hair and ugly raw optic cyberware strapped to her face.  "She's a prize, too." The smoker steps out, the woman steps in, and the feed accelerates again.

After another sped up hour or so, the original watcher reappears, swapping places with his partner again.  Instead of vanishing, the woman enters the club.  "I just want you to see the snatch.  I have capture on both faces, but watch..." Time blasts by until the clock shows two minutes before Daphne was snatched.  The smoker puts a hand to his ear, maybe using an implant to communicate.  A gray shitbox van appears, approaching the curb.  Daphne and her date come out of the club, coming into the frame from the below street stairway, at which point the speed of the video goes down by at least half.  It is, Cruz, has to admit, a thing of beauty to behold.

As Daphne enters the frame, the picture bucks, breaks for a split second as a line of static runs the width of the show.  "That was a local EMP thump.  Horizontal spread, ten to twenty feet above the ground.  Fried most of the camera's around the area.  This one is hardened.  Turns out Pierre the Taco Man is paranoid." The panel door of the van opens and two obviously Maelstrom hardasses emerge, each with a Militech SMG in their upgraded cyber arms.  The woman from before follows Daphne and the input up out of the stairs, raising her right arm, a subdermal weapon emerging from the forearm.  Daphne starts to react, pulling her date as she tries to move down the street.  The woman fires, and Daphne starts to tumble, right into the arms of the smoker.

The input moves to protest only to have one of the Maelstrom goons to accelerate to hyperspeed, grasp his face, and ram it repeatedly against a steel light post until goo is produced.  The others focus on Daphne, the smoker pulling the Black Bag from under his coat and rolling the girl into it.  The goons lay down a little bit of gunfire and a lot of attitude to keep the lookie-loos at bay.  A few more steps and they all collapse back into the van with Daphne carried between them.

"Estimated time," Viceroy says, "twenty one seconds.  It's Maelstrom.  And look at this."  The picture zooms in to the the goons.  Each is heavily modified, cyberware and hardware blasting from the skin at weird angles, eyes replaced.  But each sports a tattoo.  A modified cross that starts on their forehead, travels down their right cheek before branching out of their nose and back towards their ear.  The main body of the cross continues down the cheek, only to split again in a twisted mirror of the first branch, same length, but jagged instead of a strait line.  "Never seen this design before.  I don't know this crew.  And another thing.  They never spoke.  Not once."

At the mention of Maelstrom, Kenji gets to watch a bizarre gesture. Each of the Inquisitors makes the sign of the cross over their hearts using their left hands, rights reserved for handling their weapons.

"Demons," Leo spits.  "Serve the devil, hisself."  Next to him, Teagan pales.  The other two goons just look pissed.  "You," the lead Inquisitor indicates Kenji with a nod of his head, "are a sinner.  They are far past salvation."

"Can evil not be turned against evil? To save a sinner?" Teagan asks.

Leto pauses.  Clearly Teagan is the brains of the outfit, even if Leo is the decision maker. "Won't fight them with you.  Won't dig our souls through the mud.  But it ain't us.  Grabbed no girl."  There's an unsaid "lately" hanging in the air, but for whatever reason, the occasional chrome extractor decides not to remind his audience of the side gig. "Do like to see those fuckers burn, though. Let me see the scan again."

Cruz grabbed the best image of the goons and their tats that he could, then sent it over to Kentucky, with an SMS note that simply said, "Ask your new friend about these Maelstrom markings."

With the packets pushed, he scanned the area again, then glanced back down to his unit (the phone, not the other one) and pulled up a supplier site he'd made note of a while back.

If these guys want to sling EMPs...

https://hollandshielding.com/p...romagnetic-radiation

"We're just looking for intel," Kenji reassures Father Leo, taking a step forward to hand over the photo. An incoming message indicator flashes in the corner of the Medtech's smart glasses. "I'm just going to take my agent out of my jacket pocket, OK?". Cruz's forward is there waiting in all of its low-rez glory. Kenji's eyes flick back and forth between Father Leo's tatted visage and the uncannily similar one in the digital close-up. Kenji suppresses another frown. He's just managed to diffuse the situation with the Inquisitor enforcers; this image could blow things up.

"And there's this. Just came in." he says, slowly holding his agent up so that Father Leo can see the screencap. He's close enough for that throat punch, should this latest development necessitate getting kinetic.

-

"Got sin on her.  Eyes shine evil," Father Leo says of Daphne's pic. "Our holy work has not found her."  The tone wavers on judgmental, but not aggressively so. "The Demons show up here sometimes.  Been coming more lately, tryin to push us out.  Stop'em every time.  Blood and faith beat their rot.  Coming from their house of hell.  The Molt.  That's their place.  Crossroads of Janissary and Stein."

Wary eyes watch Kenji slowly remove his agent from inside his jacket.  The medtech doesn't look at the phone, he watches Leo's eyes.  Gets a real good view of the Inquisitor's face registering the picture on the screen.  Watches as skepticism tips over to outrage.

Leo's hand flashes up, reaching for the agent or maybe to attack. The world goes into slow motion as Kenji's reflexes blast into overdrive.  He pulls the phone back, left foot chasing the arm backwards, body twisting for power.  His right hand tilts into a blade as his muscles tense to strike.  The situation repeats for Whisper, experienced reflexes prepping to get the drop on the back up Inquisitors.

And Leo freezes, realizing what he's done.  Kenji sees the halt, telegraphed from what seems like seconds away, holding his strike, but not dropping the preparation for his strike.  Whisper follows suit, unnoticed, but fully prepared.

"Blasphemers," Leo hisses with swallowed rage. His eyes move up to Kenji, fear warring with disgust at the display of augmented reflexes. "Them's the worst the demons have.  Call'em the Arch Devils," he continues, through clenched teeth. mispronouncing the "arch." "Don't know what they call themselves.  Kill their own, too.  See it misself."

At his seeming limit, Leo manages to draw himself up, muster a bit of faux dignity and brush the front of his shirt.  "Now, get gone.  We gotta wash your sin off.  Teagan, find us some real converts."  The Inquisitor gives Kenji one last look and starts to lead the other two goons back through the flow of people, right around a keyed up Whisper without giving the solo a second look.

Teagan smiles shyly in the direction of Kenji.  "I'll pray for you.  And your friend," she says.  She reaches out a tentative hand to shake hands with the medtech, passing a small piece of paper with raised dots to Kenji as she does so.

"Thanks," Kenji replies sincerely, surprised by Teagan's proffered hand
and touched by the genuine warmth of the gesture.

He breathes a sigh of relief, willing his spun up nervous system back into standby mode. It's like rounding third just to get tagged out at home, or a drug crash, without the fun of getting there. Despite the physical discomfort, Kenji feels relief. They got what they came for, and no blood was shed. He watches Father Leo and friends pass by Whisper, makes eye contact with his new partner, cocks his head at the rental. Let's delta.

Back in the car, Kenji passes his agent's reader over the tiny raised dots on the note Teagan slipped him.

"Huh. Gave me her number," he muses. "Says call 'if you need help'. Don't think her boss would approve." He pockets the note, saves Teagan's number in his contacts list, wonders what kind of help is on offer.

"Gangoon calls himself Father Leo. Calls the Maelstromers with the face tattoos in the pics Viceroy sent, 'Arch Devils'. Says they kill their own. Makes 'em sound like some kind of splinter faction- worst of the worst. Said their hang is a place called The Molt, intersection of Janissary and Stein."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:05, Wed 20 Jan 2021.

"Wanna drive by and see what we see?" Cruz asks when Kentucky mentioned 'The Molt'.  Alex eased the rental into drive slowly, in an effort to keep Lowell from ending up with hot coffee crotch.

"Should put the 'runner on it before go in," he added, trying to make clear that he's only suggesting a looy-loo at this point.

Martin lets go of the boost gradually, letting the neurachem damp out the adrenaline shakes, and heads back to the car with kaf mostly unspilled.  He takes the allegedly orange Danish for himself, figuring that it's probably bad form to inflict experimental pastry on new partners.

"Nice job.  Huh.  Maelstrom's making a territory push," he muses when Kentucky reports on the conversation with Leo.  "That means they need bodies and funding.  I'm pretty sure she's more likely to bring in cash for them than to make a good draftee."  He pulls up the file from Viceroy and scans it again. "Yeah, let's take a look at the neighborhood.  And keep an eye out for this shitbox van, too."

"Area recon sounds good. I'll call Viceroy." Kenji thumbs through his agent's contact list, finds the number for Black Jasper's netrunner. He catches an almost imperceptible hitch in the ringtone when her encryption kicks in.

"Viceroy, Kentucky. We need everything you can find on a place called The Molt, intersection of Janissary and Stein."

"On it," the netrunner replies, keyboard already clicking away, before hanging up.

Something Whisper'd just said jumps out at Kenji, brings to mind a little 20th century history he'd learned after another kidnap recovery gig- one that didn't end well.

"Rich girl... could do both- bring in the cash, and make a good draftee. You guys ever heard of Patty Hearst?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 05:24, Thu 21 Jan 2021.