"What I suggest? Full spectrum spots, bright as you can get. Lots a' the baddies are sensitive to light, and there's something about Corktown that makes it hard to predict how bright it'll be, block to block, even in full sun. And they're calling for rain all day tomorrow, before the acid rain at night."
With a chuckle and a nod, I slap the table, "You bet, chummer. Thanks again for the intel." I stand up, ready to go as long as Mat's done and Grbek's got nothing more for me.
You and Mat split up after leaving The Hum. He's headed back to tinker with his drones, and you've got a stop to make, at Madre Teresa's" Botanica. Of course, it's not just a Santeria supply store any more, and Madre Teresa is long gone, if she ever ran the joint. An aged female troll named Variska greets you when you when you jingle the bell, walking through the door.
"Hoi. Haven't seen you in my shop for an age or two. Watchoo need, chummer?"
Variska is good people. I look around, "Wow, the place looks great, Variska." I pull out my pocket secretary with Lindo's list, show it to her, "The great and powerful Lindo sent me on some errands. We're going to summon... Cthulhu. I think." I grin.
Variska shakes her head, horns scraping the ceiling, reinforcing grooves that are already there. "Don't even joke about that drek, Jubilex. What's going on, really?" She reaches out a hand to grab the AR representation of Lindo's shopping list.
When Variska admonishes me, I hold up a hand, not wanting to make her mad. "We're going into Corktown, Lindo's cooking up some protection and the like." I pause, then ask, "Any fetishes or the like that I should grab? Anything you'd suggest?"
"Aside from not going?" She looks at the list. "That's standard protection stuff, but if you run into a spectre or worse, it will just buy you time." Variska roots around, pulls out some craggly roots and a few vials of powder. "That's the list, but if I was going in, I'd want to be invisible, on the astral. Of course, that will cost."
I give Variska a sly grin, "Of course it will cost. We aren't going in for nothing." I'll pay her some extra for that, but how much is the question.
"C'mon pretty lady. Cut your old friend a deal here. Don't forget the time I found Mr. Whiskers when he ran off." Mr. Whiskers is Variska's pet tiger. He caused a hell of a lot of trouble when people saw her around the neighborhood. Almost got me shot.
The old troll gives you a look of affectionate exasperation. "You know you always get a deal from me, Jubilex. Let me grab Lindo's stuff and I'll throw in a few extra things to up the juice on his protection talismans."
She putters around and returns with a plastic bag full of herbs, raw materials and arcane bits and bobs. "Anybody else, this'd be ¥ 350, but you get the friends-and-family discount, so I'll make it 250." Mr. Whiskers emerges from the back room to walk over and butt your hand with his head.
"Thanks, Variska." I say as I key over 300. I give her a grin. "You're a peach." I pat the tiger's side. It's not a bad pet, all things considered. I'll chat with her for a bit about her shop and the barrio, then head out. I think I'll head over to Mac's to pick up some wine and a few nice bits. I want to cook tonight. Starting to feel like tomorrow's job is going to be a small hell, and I'd like to die with a happy tummy. I'll message the team, invite them over for an early dinner. I doubt Lindo will make it, but the others might.
Variska chats easily with you. Business is pretty good, she says, and she doesn't mention anything about any new gang activity. After a few minutes, you head out the door with the bag of supplies for Lindo. Do you drop off Lindo's stuff first, or head to Mac's Market?
I drop off the stuff, of course. Lindo needed it, and he'll need to add in the extra bits I got for him. Plus, I can invite him face-to-face, then head over to Mac's.
You head back to the "office." Lindo comes out of his workspace and takes the bag with a raised eyebrow. "I see that crafty old Variska did a bit of back-seat driving. Well, her ideas are always good. I'll see about this. Thanks for making the shopping run."
Mat's here, too, working on retrofitting a few dozen small generic drones for surveillance and Matrix access. You'd guess some other things, too, but don't know quite what.
"You two want to take a break in a few hours?" I ask out loud. "I'm heading to Mac's to pick up some food and cooking. Think of it as a Last Supper, if you want." I grin. This is going to be hard, I realize that now.
Mat nods. "Sounds good. Ramen only sticks with you for so long, and tomorrow is going to be a fair piece of work. As long as I deploy these tonight, it's good on my end." He looks at Lindo.
Lindo
To your surprise, Lindo seems to be considering it. "Yes, I think that would be a fine idea. The last part of preparing the talismans has to happen at midnight, anyway, and I can let some of the potion simmer down while we eat."
Well. Wonders never cease. I guess looking death in the face will do that to you. "Only a few drinks, and it will be early so most of us can get a few hours sleep, but yeah... some time as a team. That'll be excellent. Any requests? I'm doing my normal tacos and quesadillas otherwise."
I like good moods. "Hola Diego! How's tricks?" I'm moving through the aisles that I know by heart, grabbing supplies and putting them into a canvas bag I always use when I come here. I've been to Mac's so many times. I like this place, from the little old TV behind the plexiglass to the tinny music playing to the neighborhood kids outside. I'll pick up some bottles of water to give them on the way out.
Diego responds. "Got some fresh o' that queso blanco you like from the Greenzone, and some actual meat that probably ain't somebody's pet cat." You load up your sack with tortillas and meat and cheese, grab a few bottles of the good hot sauce (running low at home—how much of that stuff do you use, anyways?) and a few bottles of wine that'll get the job done. You've got whiskey and beer at home.
Hey Jubilex, Nizoni's in. You calling Tink as well?
I'll cue up The Ocho and watch some sports on the vidscreen wall while I cook up the food. Best part is the tasting, watching the meal come into shape. I usually eat most of my meal while it's getting ready. I'm not getting sauced tonight, need to keep things sharp. So, a little dancing, a little cooking, a tiny bit of drinking. It's a great night.
So, the food's done, the house smells like a fiesta. You've got booze and ice sitting out, ready for the crew, and some ElectroSalsa pumping its beat through the speakers. You said six o'clock, right? Who shows up first, Jubilex, and when do they get there?
Free food and booze? It's Tink. She's a total mooch. She shows up as I'm getting things out of the oven, just a few baked chips, nothing special. I dice up the salsa while she comes in.
Tink immediately grabs a chip, not waiting for the salsa to be finished. She pops it into her mouth and talks while she chews. "Thanks for the invite, J-J. I like Mexican. Ever been to Aztlan? Not me. Wouldn't go for a million NuYen. Wait, that's a lie. I'd go for a million, for sure."
I huff a laugh. "Yeah, been a few times, back in my CorpSec days. Don't want to go back." I keep working on the salsa, thankful for some conversation. "Glad you were free for this run, Tink." I'm pretty sure that will get her talking. Doesn't take much.
The elf starts dancing a little to the beat of the music, hips swaying unself-consciously. "Me, too. Different kind of challenge, right? A little physical danger, get the adrenaline pumping. Haven't had time for BASE jumping recently. Hey, you think there'll be time for a jump off the Michigan Central Station? That would be wiz. I've got a spare chute if you want."
Nizoni lets herself in. Was the door locked? Does she have a key?
It was locked. She doesn't have a key. I offered her one, she refused. She doesn't need it evidently.
Guess a quickie with Tink's off the agenda.
"Sounds fun, Tink." I reply. When I see Nizoni, I grab a Corona from the cooler, open it up for her. "Hoi, Niz. Come in. Drink. Dance." Dance sounds good. Need to keep cooking, though.
Nizoni takes a sip of her beer and gives you a toothy grin, then gives a sidelong glance at Tink, shrugs, and snags a jalapeño that you haven't sliced yet, takes a bite. "Dinner's a good idea. Mat and Lindo coming?"
Tink moves to the "bar" and pours herself a glass of red wine.
"Both, actually." I answer. Niz and that pepper, that's a hot one. Speaking of hot. "Didn't know you liked red, Tink. Let me know what you think of that one." I head over to the blender for the guacamole.
"It's tasty. I don't have much of a... what did Roger say? Much of a palate, but I know what I like. Hey, Nizoni, how are things? Do anything good today? Read any good books lately?" She's still dancing, sorta.
Nizoni
Nizoni gives you a look, like 'this is your fault, and you'll pay for it.' (Her looks are very expressive.) "Just picked up the new edition of the Anarchist's Cookbook. I love romance."
Niz is a peach. I love how much she despises Tink. To be honest, I'd like having Tink on the team, but I don't want to piss Niz off. Angry Niz is no bueno. I let them chatter while I finish off the appetizers, then start putting out some large, colorful dishes. "Eat up, ladies!" Then, I'm back to the meat and cutting vegetables.
Nizoni continues trying to ignore Tink, with varying degrees of success, until Mat and Lindo arrive at the same time, ringing the bell like a normal person. Niz goes to let them in as you finish up the main event. Mat pours himself a scotch and noshes on chips and guac, while Lindo seems to be abstaining for the moment. He roots around in the fridge and finds whatever fruit juice or energy drink you have in there, looking a little drained.
Lindo can have some of the soycaf or the Buzz cola. I have some AJ in there, not sure how old it is. As we're hanging and chatting, I punch in the station I programmed earlier for Delphine. I figure she can be our spirit animal for the run, or something.
"I hope you are all hungry. I went a little overboard." I say as I pull the grill out for the quesadillas.
Lindo sips on some Buzz Cola, which is an odd sight. "Not sure it's overboard, here. I'm starving. I've been sitting still for two hours, you wouldn't think it would burn calories. But the astral..." He shakes his head and shovels in three chips. Guac, salsa, guac.
Mat
Mat shrugs. "I can always eat, especially when someone else is cooking." You notice he's a little pickier, though, trying not to get too much diced chile on his chip when he scoops out the salsa. "I'll take my quesadilla mild. The hormones mess with my digestion." He looks around, realizing Tink's in the room, then shrugs again.
Nizoni
Tink's mouth is too full to respond (for once), but Nizoni gives you a wink that would probably send most troll gangers scuttling for cover. "I could eat. Hey, don't forget you have that bottle of sriracha in the back of the fridge. I like that stuff." She hasn't gone in the fridge since she showed up, for sure.
Niz grins contentedly as she fumbles around in the fridge for the sriracha, then comes back around the table as you put out all the food. Taco bar, customized quesadillas, it's like heaven in here.
For a few minutes, everyone's involved in customizing their tasty food, then they spend another minute or two in the first steps of the feeding frenzy. Apparently, your crew was hungry.
You all make idle chit-chat once folks come up for air. Who's the first one to bring up tomorrow's job, Jubilex?
Lindo, of course. He's the most focused one on the team. One of the reasons I like having him aboard.
I'm content to enjoy the food. Over the last day, I've gotten such weird intel from folks, I don't know what's real. Once he starts in, I relay what Grbek said, share tips from Variska, too. We're going to need all the rumors and tibdits we can get.
I wonder what Jess would think of Tink? I don't frag teammates, but Tink isn't one. She's easy on the eyes, if a bit flighty.
So, there's eating and chatting. Lindo is the first one to break the party mood. In his resonant, musical voice, he says, "So, tomorrow. Part of this we could do tonight, and it might be better with everyone happy and feeling... together... not saying we should stop eating. Actually, let's all dance, get into the celebration. Papa Legba loves that moment when a party turns into a ritual."
Oh wow. Lindo just made me almost giggle. The idea of this team dancing and partying down as part of a ritual. I'll hop up, dancing with Tink, then Mat. Mat's light on his feet. Niz, too, because why not?
Lindo dances along with you and the rest of the crew, feeling the beatz of Delphine's deep tracks that you've dredged up for your playlist. He grabs the bottle of rum, takes a mouthful, looks to you for permission. You know that everyone's about to get sprayed if you give the nod. What do you do, Jubilex?
Lindo begins to spin in a circle, in time to the beat, but moving faster and faster. The catch in his right hip is obvious as he spins, but he soldiers on. As Delphine's under-appreciated dance anthem "In it for this Minute" starts to play, he spews rum out in a circle that catches all of you, then starts to chant. His words echo in your head, not your ears."Papa Legba, open the gate for me, ago ei!"
The air shivers around you, and all the bits and pieces you've tasted while cooking seem to gather in a knot around your upper intestines.
I don't know if food moving in my stomach is a good thing or not, but the air pulse, that's interesting. I take Niz's hand as Lindo does his magic. Partly for solidarity, partly to give her some comfort, in case magic bothers her. I seem to recall her not liking it too much.
Nizoni's hand is cold to the touch. She does not like magic. She'll use talismans when needed, but being in the middle of a ritual like this? Not her thing.
Lindo
As Lindo continues to spin, the vaguest hint of a figure appears with him in the center of the circle. Skin dark as mahogany, wearing a night-black tophat with a band made of tiny skulls and a dark suit with a white shirt and black tie. Holding a cane that seems to glow darkly with some inner light. This is Papa Legba, shimmering in the air before you. He steps toward Lindo and vanishes into the shaman, who shudders and raises his own cane. The rich smell of cigar tobacco fills the air as Lindo begins to shout in a language you don't know, with hints of France and Africa.
Lindo's dance becomes more and more frenetic until with a final shout, he collapses to the ground. Silence falls, dampening everything but the drum-beat of the song that is still playing. You feel a touch on your shoulder and then the air settles and the world returns to "normal."
I reflexively look over my shoulder, nothing is there, of course. Papa Legba blessed us. I'm not as shy about magic as Nizoni, but it does make me a little tense when it is flying hard and heavy. That said, I'm thankful for folks like Lindo and Variska.
"Wow." I say simply as I move over to help up Lindo.
Lindo takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet. For a few seconds, he seems deeply tired, but after a few breaths he perks up. His eyes begin to sparkle.
Nizoni sits, shaken, and takes a big gulp of her Corona. Tink moves up to congratulate Lindo, herself.
Mat
Mat seems to take it in stride. After a minute, he holds up a finger and clearly engages his "working" AR overlay. "Drones are up. We'll have a full current map in fifteen, and it looks like the Matrix repeaters are online and working, so Tink will have what she needs."
The team will hang for a little longer, before Lindo excuses himself to go back to the Wellby-Cave and finish the rest of his prep. Anything else before the party breaks up?
"Good work, Mat. We'll need that data. Most of what I've heard is rumors and old."
As for what else? Not much. I think I'll drag out a few games, mostly light stuff. Old board games, maybe a dance game. Dance off with Nizoni and Tink sounds wiz.
You go on for another hour after Lindo leaves. Your dance-off with Tink and Nizoni (judged by Mat) seems to have taken some of the edge off of Niz's antagonism. Who won that contest, anyway?
Everyone leaves, eventually, and you're alone with about six hours before you need to meet the team to start the run. The theater downstairs is playing something ancient tonight, from the sound of it. You hear a man's voice, faintly accented, coming through the floor. "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time... like tears in rain... Time to die."
Tink won the overall because she took the first three dances. By the time Nizoni was drunk enough or annoyed enough to actually participate, it was over, but those last two... damn, Niz. She was amazing. So aware of her body, so graceful. Tink won earlier on bubbly enthusiasm. If Niz had her head in the game the whole time, would've been no contest.
That movie sounds sad and amazing. I should watch it. As for sleeping, I don't get any, really. Constantly playing over scenarios in my head. We could very well die in the morning.
Everyone's at the "office" on time and ready to go. In fact, you're a little early but the last to arrive. Lindo distributes a mojo bag to each of you, a small pouch of decidedly smelly herbs and such strung on a strip of rawhide to go around your neck. Mat's in black BDUs, pockets bulging with controllers and weapons. Nizoni is cool as a cucumber in a skintight black bodysuit. Tink is... well, she's wearing pink, for one thing. For another, she's got earrings on that are little tiny versions of those troll dolls. Not troll-trolls, but rather the cute little figurines cat ladies collect and put on their desks.
Lindo
"The boundary spell was a devil to crack, but I've got its number now. Mat, I drew a veve on Maisie's hood. Hope you don't mind."
Mat looks a little disgruntled but doesn't say anything.
I pull out a nice bottle of Jack Daniels from the stash, pour them each half a glass. "Alright, team. This is a big mission, with a sweet payoff. We're headed into dangerous territory, with nobody to count on but each other. Last night was really special, and it reminded me why Circe and I built Marcus Wellby. Because we know the right people working together as a team can accomplish amazing things." I think about saying more, but instead, I just hold the glass up, wait for them to join me, then say, "Stay frosty, Marcus Wellby."
Your team salutes with their glasses and downs the Jack. Less than twenty minutes later, you're at the border of Corktown. Lindo climbs out, says some words you can't hear and thumps his cane on the ground. The abstract design he drew on the hood begins to glow, and he climbs back in with a nod to Mat.
Just as Maisie crosses into Corktown, rain starts falling in big, fat drops, making a drumbeat on the roof.
Mat
Mat stops about ten feet in. "Well, drek." The pavement's basically impassable, cracked and pitted with seven years of hot summers, freezing winters, and who-knows what else. There's a sinkhole another ten yards beyond the van. "Guess it's on foot, chummers. You've all got the maps and you should be linked to the Matrix and the drone net. They'll be our eyes in the sky."
"Alright, just a little rain. We can bitch about it later when we're drinking to our success." I step out, putting on a wide-brimmed hat, a "Boonie hat", I think it's called. Niz will scout ahead, and I'll keep an eye on Tink while Lindo and Mat fend for themselves.
"Tink, are those fugly earrings fetiches or something?" I ask low while we move.
Tink rolls her eyes at you. "They're a statement, you cretin. Also, they're super-dense external storage devices carrying backup copies of all my scripts, warez and other tricks. But mostly a fashion statement."
The morning light filtering through the clouds does little to cheer the scene before you. A dead dog lies bloated in front of what used to be a breakfast joint, flies buzzing, and the shadows cast by the cracked pavement and broken buildings seem too dark, almost purposeful. Almost hungry. You're at the entry point (marked "A" on the map") and a scan of your eyes in the sky shows some sort of animal activity on the Rosa Parks Boulevard between you and your target.
I clam up when we come up on the dog carcass. "Animals at Rosa Parks, let's stay tight. Well, except for Niz. Niz, you see anything yet?" I've got my CMDT Combat shotgun out right now, but if I need to spray and pray, my Ingram is slung around my shoulder and in front for easy access. And my Area Predator is on my belt, like always.
Nizoni is a couple blocks ahead, at Bagley and Vermont. "Nothing so far. So, do we avoid Rosa Parks? Cut left here and cross Rosa Parks instead of travelling down it?"
"Take a look." Your composite aerial view narrows down to the segment where you saw movement previously. A large group of rats. Ten of them are nearly three feet long, with tails that match their body length, while the rest are merely really big rats. The larger ones have eyes that glow red in the overcast and shadows. The whole group is feeding on something dead, significantly larger than they. It's hard to tell what it once was, but right now it's apparently breakfast. (This is at the location marked "D" on the map.)
"They're eating, at least." I say with relief. Those things are nasty. "Let's stick on Bagley, sneak underneath them, then turn on 10th and double back a little to Delphine's."
Nizoni continues on point, about a block and a half ahead. You make it across Rosa Parks no problem, but just as she's pausing before the turn on Tenth to regroup, you see something swoop down off the top of a building and make an aerial attack. She dodges, rolls, and comes up with a gun, as the thing pushes off another one-story former store front and comes back for another attack.
She fires and dodges again, but it lands and begins moving toward her.
Apparently it's dark enough today to confuse supposedly-nocturnal gargoyles, Jubilex. What do you do?
"Oh great, the gargoyle thing wasn't drek." I mutter as I pick up to a jog. I'll move up to cover Niz, try to keep the gargoyle in an arc that my shotty won't hit her.
As you take off, Tink's voice in your ear says, "Iron. You can hurt gargoyles with regular bullets, but they're Vulnerable to Iron." You continue the run, make it up to where Nizoni is doing her thing, twirling round and round in what looks almost like her final dance from last night. The creature isn't landing blows, but neither is she, and even Nizoni will find it hard to keep this up for long. Between her movement and the gargoyle's occasional wing-assisted hop, it's really Hard to Get a Bead here.
"Thanks, Tink." I say as I sling my shotty and reach for my cold iron spike. It's about the length of my arm, and useful against fey and other nasties, including gargoyles. I'll charge in.
This looks like a straight up Fight roll to me, Jubilex. So you have some sense of things, the gargoyle has 1-armor (so hits are reduced by one shift), 4 stress boxes (so you'll need a total of four shifts of success to take it out), and no consequences (everything goes to stress). The first invoke on Vulnerable to Iron will be free, so keep in mind that you've got a free after-the-fact +2 to add whenever you like. We can call that Tink's contribution. We'll figure out Nizoni and the rest of the gang as things go. The gargoyle WILL be rolling to defend after your attack.
I let Nizoni distract it with one of her swipes at its massive head while I slip up behind it. I don't feel the need to face it honorably, it's a frickin gargoyle. I jam the spike in at the gap between it's shoulder and head, up towards its brain, as hard as I can. Ooze seeps out of the wound and it twitches once, then falls.
I give Nizoni a grin, "You good?" I feel so badass right now.
Nizoni returns your grin with her own feral smile. "Coulda taken him, but that was pretty good." You wait for the rest of the group to catch up, then Nizoni heads down 10th street. Only a few more blocks to Delphine's, and then you suspect it will get really interesting.
Mat
"Nice work there, Jubilex. One gargoyle, one hit. Glad you packed heavy."
"Drek, I forgot." I admit. So focused on getting in and out. Still, I did make a cocky boast. Dammit all. "Yeah, let's do that thing on the way back. I don't think they're short of them."
Mat's about to say something else, then "Drek. Company." Your eye-in-the-sky shows you a group of four entering the neighborhood from the east, on Michigan Avenue (point marked E on the map). Zooming in, it looks to be two humans, a troll, and an elf. You recognize the troll. Who is it, Jubilex, and how bad does that make the situation?
Fraggin' Zebajin! It had to be that guy, of course. Lickspittle to Aztechnology, we've run into each other a few times. If he sees me, there will probably be a fight. That elf looks a little familiar, but I can't say I know him for sure.
"Team, we've got company coming east. Let's pick up the pace. I want to have the goods before we meet them." I'm pushing them to rush this.
Mat and Tink agree that the new team is flying at least a little blind. No other drones in the airspace, and Mat and Tink have encrypted your signals every which way, so if they've got eyes, they're astral ones, which is more than a little extra risk, here. Niz scouts a quick, safe route, and you're soon outside what used to be Delphine's modest "city" house. Apparently she had a mansion in the country somewhere for appearances, but preferred this place.
It's a single-story house with a patio. The original floor plan is below, but you can see that it's a burned-out husk, at least up on ground level. The studio was in the basement, and took up quite a bit more space (it goes under two lots) than the "house" part of the house.
I have Mat cover our ass and direct Tink to keep an eagle eye while I move up to Niz so Lindo and I can both enter the house. I'm swapping back to shotty for this, putting spike back in his sheathe.
"Let's get in, grab it, get out." I say, mostly to break the silence, to break up the knot in my stomach.
Mat reaches into one of the big pouches in his harness and pulls out two metallic devices, about the size of a tennis ball. "Peek-a-boos. Toss one ahead, and it'll give you a layout of where you're going. Several spectra, but they can't see into the astral, of course. Careful in there."
So, it's you, Lindo and Nizoni heading in to this burnt-out shell of a building, trying to find your way into the basement. Who goes first?
This is Niz's specialty. It bothers me, not going first. But I tell myself that I've got to play the game, and this is a team. Also, I realize Niz would be pissed if I admitted being chivalric about her.
...and Nizoni pissed off would not be a good thing. So, she takes the peek-a-boo drones and steps into the rubble, expecting you and Lindo to follow several steps behind. She leads expertly, indicating weak spots and danger zones, until you get to the stairs down to the studio/basement, which the construction plan indicated should be concrete.
Instead, the staircase appears to be marble, gleaming pinkish-white, glowing slightly even to your very mundane sight.
Lindo
"That's not normal. Know you can see that, but had to say it." Nizoni pauses, waiting for you to give some indication of how to proceed.
No time to play around here. I'm moving in front, saying low for the whole team over subvocal mic, "This is some arcane shit. Marble staircase, it's glowing. I'm leading the way. Niz watch our six, Lindo, stick close."
It goes as you say. You lead with your shotgun up-front, Lindo a step behind and to your right. Nizoni follows a few stair-treads behind as you descend, and six steps down throws the first of your two peek-a-boos over your head, down to the bottom of the stairs.
As it rolls down, you get visual. Nothing. Darkness. Swapping to infrared, you see that the Control Room is significantly colder than the rest of the ambient temperature in the studio. As in, it's 80+ degrees where you are right now, and the Control Room is 35.
"Temp reads are weird. Eighty degrees here, thirty five in the control room. Careful." I call it out, in case either of them is too focused to pick up details that might be important later. I call up the schematics in my head, in case infrared is spoofed. I'm heading for the control room.
So, looks like three ways to get to the control room. Foyer, Live Room, west ISO Booth, Control Room. Or... Foyer, hallway, hallway, ISO Booth, Control Room. Or... Foyer, Live Room, shotgun through the window. What's your call here? All the doors are closed, but there aren't any locks or anything that you pick up from the sensors on the peek-a-boo.
You see traces of fire down here, as well. The equipment you see as you enter the live room is slagged, surreally melted by something more than heat into obscene, unnatural shapes. Slumped on the floor by the burnt-out skeleton of a piano, a pile of charred bones lies mingled with melted brass from the instrument's sounding board.
Once you're about halfway across the room toward the door to the ISO booth, you hear a voice coming from the direction of the piano, crooning a wordless tune, low and sultry. When you turn to look, a near-translucent figure hovers there as if seated on a long-gone piano bench.
Lindo
Lindo subvocalizes, "Ignore it. Shouldn't be able to see us in the astral, and shouldn't be able to affect us in the physical. Doesn't seem strong."
The isolation booth is empty, and somehow feels even emptier than it is, like it wants to absorb not just the sound of your footsteps, but even the breath from your lungs. The door to the control room is covered in frost, and you feel a wave of cold coming from that direction. Nizoni seems unnerved, but Lindo pauses in the middle of the room, holding his cane out parallel to the ground. He squares his shoulders and begins to walk toward the door slowly, the slight hitch in his step seeming to add strength to his gait, rather than detract from it.
Lindo
You barely hear him as he speaks to you. "Jubilex, there's a silk handkerchief in my breast pocket. Pull it out and use that to turn the doorknob." Hinges are on this side, the door opens into this room. Lindo stops moving so there's room for you to open the door all the way.
You pull the blood-red handkerchief from the breast pocket of Lindo's black suit jacket and approach the doorknob. You feel the cold as you wrap the fabric around the metal and turn, pull the door toward you. It opens into a room so dark that it seems that your full-spectrum head light barely penetrates. Banks of equipment, some slagged, some nearly whole, gleam dully in the beams of your three lights.
You feel Lindo behind you like a solid stone wall, and Nizoni, focussed despite her jitters, like a burst of needles from a flechette gun, ready to fire. You cross the threshold, and...
Two men are in the room, watching Delphine through the wide glass window. The engineer, adjusting knobs and levers like a virtuoso pianist, making fine adjustments with big wired headphones over his ears. The producer, standing back, listening through the speakers in the booth, but jacked in to the "old" Matrix. Delphine is singing a sad, sad song. Loss echoes through the room like wind between ruined skyscrapers, and the spare accompaniment she gives herself on the piano is like the punctuation in a suicide note.
Even you, even in this situation, realize that something is going on beyond just recording a song. Delphine takes on a certain sharpness through the window, a clarity beyond vision, and the simple silver pendant at her throat, an abstract design like an Arabic character, starts to glow.
There's magic afoot, Jubilex, and you know from history that it's all about to go awry. What you don't know is how it will affect you, as an observer. What do you do?
I trust in my team. I trust in Lindo. He's got my back.
I'm looking for that pendant. I'm moving towards whatever un-slagged part of the studio looks promising. Over subvocal, "Tink, can you see my feed? If you've got suggestions on where to look first, some chatter would be nice." I just asked for Tink's chatter. Niz would punch me if she could.
For you, the past still overlays the present, with the present like a shadow. The session continues, and you have the sinking feeling that the precise moment that whatever ritual Delphine is pushing into this recording will correspond with the moment when the Crash hits this part of Detroit. May even be responsible for what happened to Corktown, after.
For Tink, however, all she sees is the "real" world that your camera picks up. "Looks like a mastering console in the far corner might be a good choice. Seems almost intact, and they might have been mixing on the fly? Also, there's a bank of drives along the back wall. You might see if you can pull any media from there. Need me to come down?"
The recording/ritual continues, and even with your mostly muggle perspective it's easy to tell when things start to go wrong. As Delphine croons her anthem to sorrow, something begins taking shape behind her. Purposefully or not, she is summoning some spirit, an embodiment of the pain pouring out from her mouth. The tempo picks up, sadness becoming anger, and the form grows more solid, taking on a flickering, flame-like appearance around the edges.
The engineer is focused on his knobs and dials, but the producer begins to notice the same thing that you are seeing. Just as he starts to key a mic to talk into Delphine's monitors, two things happen so close together that they might as well be simultaneous. One, the pendant around the singer's neck glows even brighter, almost blindingly so. Two, the lights flicker once, twice, then go out. When they do, producer, engineer, and artist all scream as the Crash hits their jacked-in minds like an icepick driven by a tornado. The engineer manages to yank his cord and slumps over the board, twitching. The producer collapses. In the live room, Delphine just keeps screaming and the pendant keeps glowing. The spirit behind her becomes more and more a thing of fire and suddenly her clothes and the piano burst into flames.
Nizoni
A voice in your ear. "Uh, Jubilex? Why are you just fragging standing there?"
When I see the fire overwhelm poor Delphine, I answer in the sub-vocal, "Tink, stay up, keep overwatch." I look back at Nizoni, "Poor kid. I saw what happened. Her song brought something in." I look to Lindo, just to see if he saw it, too.
Then I'm looking for the pendant, first. Followed by mastering console.
"I only saw you standing there, just inside the room. Anything in particular we need to know?"
The pendant will likely be with the body, back in the live room, if it hasn't melted.
Mat
"Visitors incoming, Jubilex. They hit some trouble with one of those demon rat packs, but cleared through it. Five minutes, maybe."
Nizoni heard what Tink said, and she heads to the bank of drives, pulls out a screwdriver, and quickly starts removing them, where the casing isn't too warped for her to do so.
I move to help Niz, telling Lindo, "I saw the moment she died, a reflection of it. It came as she was singing, she brought something in, I think. Happened right when the Crash hit, it went pear-shaped. She had some kind of pendant, by her body. Can you get it while we grab the drives. Mat. Film what you can with the drones."
Comments
I sigh, "Fragging acid rain. Alright, this is good stuff, Grbek. I really appreciate it. Any souvenirs you want me to bring back for ya?"
With a chuckle and a nod, I slap the table, "You bet, chummer. Thanks again for the intel." I stand up, ready to go as long as Mat's done and Grbek's got nothing more for me.
You and Mat split up after leaving The Hum. He's headed back to tinker with his drones, and you've got a stop to make, at Madre Teresa's" Botanica. Of course, it's not just a Santeria supply store any more, and Madre Teresa is long gone, if she ever ran the joint. An aged female troll named Variska greets you when you when you jingle the bell, walking through the door.
"Hoi. Haven't seen you in my shop for an age or two. Watchoo need, chummer?"
Variska is good people. I look around, "Wow, the place looks great, Variska." I pull out my pocket secretary with Lindo's list, show it to her, "The great and powerful Lindo sent me on some errands. We're going to summon... Cthulhu. I think." I grin.
Variska shakes her head, horns scraping the ceiling, reinforcing grooves that are already there. "Don't even joke about that drek, Jubilex. What's going on, really?" She reaches out a hand to grab the AR representation of Lindo's shopping list.
When Variska admonishes me, I hold up a hand, not wanting to make her mad. "We're going into Corktown, Lindo's cooking up some protection and the like." I pause, then ask, "Any fetishes or the like that I should grab? Anything you'd suggest?"
"Aside from not going?" She looks at the list. "That's standard protection stuff, but if you run into a spectre or worse, it will just buy you time." Variska roots around, pulls out some craggly roots and a few vials of powder. "That's the list, but if I was going in, I'd want to be invisible, on the astral. Of course, that will cost."
I give Variska a sly grin, "Of course it will cost. We aren't going in for nothing." I'll pay her some extra for that, but how much is the question.
"C'mon pretty lady. Cut your old friend a deal here. Don't forget the time I found Mr. Whiskers when he ran off." Mr. Whiskers is Variska's pet tiger. He caused a hell of a lot of trouble when people saw her around the neighborhood. Almost got me shot.
The old troll gives you a look of affectionate exasperation. "You know you always get a deal from me, Jubilex. Let me grab Lindo's stuff and I'll throw in a few extra things to up the juice on his protection talismans."
She putters around and returns with a plastic bag full of herbs, raw materials and arcane bits and bobs. "Anybody else, this'd be ¥ 350, but you get the friends-and-family discount, so I'll make it 250." Mr. Whiskers emerges from the back room to walk over and butt your hand with his head.
"Thanks, Variska." I say as I key over 300. I give her a grin. "You're a peach." I pat the tiger's side. It's not a bad pet, all things considered. I'll chat with her for a bit about her shop and the barrio, then head out. I think I'll head over to Mac's to pick up some wine and a few nice bits. I want to cook tonight. Starting to feel like tomorrow's job is going to be a small hell, and I'd like to die with a happy tummy. I'll message the team, invite them over for an early dinner. I doubt Lindo will make it, but the others might.
Variska chats easily with you. Business is pretty good, she says, and she doesn't mention anything about any new gang activity. After a few minutes, you head out the door with the bag of supplies for Lindo. Do you drop off Lindo's stuff first, or head to Mac's Market?
I drop off the stuff, of course. Lindo needed it, and he'll need to add in the extra bits I got for him. Plus, I can invite him face-to-face, then head over to Mac's.
You head back to the "office." Lindo comes out of his workspace and takes the bag with a raised eyebrow. "I see that crafty old Variska did a bit of back-seat driving. Well, her ideas are always good. I'll see about this. Thanks for making the shopping run."
Mat's here, too, working on retrofitting a few dozen small generic drones for surveillance and Matrix access. You'd guess some other things, too, but don't know quite what.
"You two want to take a break in a few hours?" I ask out loud. "I'm heading to Mac's to pick up some food and cooking. Think of it as a Last Supper, if you want." I grin. This is going to be hard, I realize that now.
Mat nods. "Sounds good. Ramen only sticks with you for so long, and tomorrow is going to be a fair piece of work. As long as I deploy these tonight, it's good on my end." He looks at Lindo.
To your surprise, Lindo seems to be considering it. "Yes, I think that would be a fine idea. The last part of preparing the talismans has to happen at midnight, anyway, and I can let some of the potion simmer down while we eat."
Well. Wonders never cease. I guess looking death in the face will do that to you. "Only a few drinks, and it will be early so most of us can get a few hours sleep, but yeah... some time as a team. That'll be excellent. Any requests? I'm doing my normal tacos and quesadillas otherwise."
"Sounds tasty to me." Lindo nods and wanders back into his workroom, while Mat looks back down to the drones and bits spread out in front of him.
When you get to Mac's, Diego gives you a surly nod. "'Lo, J." Apparently he's in a good mood today.
I like good moods. "Hola Diego! How's tricks?" I'm moving through the aisles that I know by heart, grabbing supplies and putting them into a canvas bag I always use when I come here. I've been to Mac's so many times. I like this place, from the little old TV behind the plexiglass to the tinny music playing to the neighborhood kids outside. I'll pick up some bottles of water to give them on the way out.
Diego responds. "Got some fresh o' that queso blanco you like from the Greenzone, and some actual meat that probably ain't somebody's pet cat." You load up your sack with tortillas and meat and cheese, grab a few bottles of the good hot sauce (running low at home—how much of that stuff do you use, anyways?) and a few bottles of wine that'll get the job done. You've got whiskey and beer at home.
Hey Jubilex, Nizoni's in. You calling Tink as well?
Jess once said I used "an insane amount of hot sauce". She then asked if I actually had taste buds left.
Of course I invite Tink. She's a teammate for this run.
To: Tink Yo, eats and drinks at my place. You know where it is, right? If not, here's the deets. Show up before six. - JFrom: Tinkerbell To: Jubilex Yummy. See you then.Anything between now and then except getting food ready? What's your favorite part of preparing this meal, Jubilex?
I'll cue up The Ocho and watch some sports on the vidscreen wall while I cook up the food. Best part is the tasting, watching the meal come into shape. I usually eat most of my meal while it's getting ready. I'm not getting sauced tonight, need to keep things sharp. So, a little dancing, a little cooking, a tiny bit of drinking. It's a great night.
So, the food's done, the house smells like a fiesta. You've got booze and ice sitting out, ready for the crew, and some ElectroSalsa pumping its beat through the speakers. You said six o'clock, right? Who shows up first, Jubilex, and when do they get there?
Free food and booze? It's Tink. She's a total mooch. She shows up as I'm getting things out of the oven, just a few baked chips, nothing special. I dice up the salsa while she comes in.
I huff a laugh. "Yeah, been a few times, back in my CorpSec days. Don't want to go back." I keep working on the salsa, thankful for some conversation. "Glad you were free for this run, Tink." I'm pretty sure that will get her talking. Doesn't take much.
Nizoni lets herself in. Was the door locked? Does she have a key?
It was locked. She doesn't have a key. I offered her one, she refused. She doesn't need it evidently.
Guess a quickie with Tink's off the agenda.
"Sounds fun, Tink." I reply. When I see Nizoni, I grab a Corona from the cooler, open it up for her. "Hoi, Niz. Come in. Drink. Dance." Dance sounds good. Need to keep cooking, though.
Nizoni takes a sip of her beer and gives you a toothy grin, then gives a sidelong glance at Tink, shrugs, and snags a jalapeño that you haven't sliced yet, takes a bite. "Dinner's a good idea. Mat and Lindo coming?"
Tink moves to the "bar" and pours herself a glass of red wine.
"Both, actually." I answer. Niz and that pepper, that's a hot one. Speaking of hot. "Didn't know you liked red, Tink. Let me know what you think of that one." I head over to the blender for the guacamole.
Nizoni gives you a look, like 'this is your fault, and you'll pay for it.' (Her looks are very expressive.) "Just picked up the new edition of the Anarchist's Cookbook. I love romance."
Niz is a peach. I love how much she despises Tink. To be honest, I'd like having Tink on the team, but I don't want to piss Niz off. Angry Niz is no bueno. I let them chatter while I finish off the appetizers, then start putting out some large, colorful dishes. "Eat up, ladies!" Then, I'm back to the meat and cutting vegetables.
Nizoni continues trying to ignore Tink, with varying degrees of success, until Mat and Lindo arrive at the same time, ringing the bell like a normal person. Niz goes to let them in as you finish up the main event. Mat pours himself a scotch and noshes on chips and guac, while Lindo seems to be abstaining for the moment. He roots around in the fridge and finds whatever fruit juice or energy drink you have in there, looking a little drained.
Lindo can have some of the soycaf or the Buzz cola. I have some AJ in there, not sure how old it is. As we're hanging and chatting, I punch in the station I programmed earlier for Delphine. I figure she can be our spirit animal for the run, or something.
"I hope you are all hungry. I went a little overboard." I say as I pull the grill out for the quesadillas.
Lindo sips on some Buzz Cola, which is an odd sight. "Not sure it's overboard, here. I'm starving. I've been sitting still for two hours, you wouldn't think it would burn calories. But the astral..." He shakes his head and shovels in three chips. Guac, salsa, guac.
Mat shrugs. "I can always eat, especially when someone else is cooking." You notice he's a little pickier, though, trying not to get too much diced chile on his chip when he scoops out the salsa. "I'll take my quesadilla mild. The hormones mess with my digestion." He looks around, realizing Tink's in the room, then shrugs again.
Tink's mouth is too full to respond (for once), but Nizoni gives you a wink that would probably send most troll gangers scuttling for cover. "I could eat. Hey, don't forget you have that bottle of sriracha in the back of the fridge. I like that stuff." She hasn't gone in the fridge since she showed up, for sure.
How the frag does she know about that bottle? I hide it from Jess because she hates the stuff! Spooky Niz is spooky.
I glance back at the fridge, "Mi casa es su casa, chica." I start putting some of the tacos together, check on the quesadillas.
Niz grins contentedly as she fumbles around in the fridge for the sriracha, then comes back around the table as you put out all the food. Taco bar, customized quesadillas, it's like heaven in here.
For a few minutes, everyone's involved in customizing their tasty food, then they spend another minute or two in the first steps of the feeding frenzy. Apparently, your crew was hungry.
You all make idle chit-chat once folks come up for air. Who's the first one to bring up tomorrow's job, Jubilex?
Lindo, of course. He's the most focused one on the team. One of the reasons I like having him aboard.
I'm content to enjoy the food. Over the last day, I've gotten such weird intel from folks, I don't know what's real. Once he starts in, I relay what Grbek said, share tips from Variska, too. We're going to need all the rumors and tibdits we can get.
I wonder what Jess would think of Tink? I don't frag teammates, but Tink isn't one. She's easy on the eyes, if a bit flighty.
So, there's eating and chatting. Lindo is the first one to break the party mood. In his resonant, musical voice, he says, "So, tomorrow. Part of this we could do tonight, and it might be better with everyone happy and feeling... together... not saying we should stop eating. Actually, let's all dance, get into the celebration. Papa Legba loves that moment when a party turns into a ritual."
Oh wow. Lindo just made me almost giggle. The idea of this team dancing and partying down as part of a ritual. I'll hop up, dancing with Tink, then Mat. Mat's light on his feet. Niz, too, because why not?
Lindo dances along with you and the rest of the crew, feeling the beatz of Delphine's deep tracks that you've dredged up for your playlist. He grabs the bottle of rum, takes a mouthful, looks to you for permission. You know that everyone's about to get sprayed if you give the nod. What do you do, Jubilex?
I chuckle, then call out, "Make it rain, my wicked shaman!" I love wooden floors.
Lindo begins to spin in a circle, in time to the beat, but moving faster and faster. The catch in his right hip is obvious as he spins, but he soldiers on. As Delphine's under-appreciated dance anthem "In it for this Minute" starts to play, he spews rum out in a circle that catches all of you, then starts to chant. His words echo in your head, not your ears."Papa Legba, open the gate for me, ago ei!"
The air shivers around you, and all the bits and pieces you've tasted while cooking seem to gather in a knot around your upper intestines.
I don't know if food moving in my stomach is a good thing or not, but the air pulse, that's interesting. I take Niz's hand as Lindo does his magic. Partly for solidarity, partly to give her some comfort, in case magic bothers her. I seem to recall her not liking it too much.
Nizoni's hand is cold to the touch. She does not like magic. She'll use talismans when needed, but being in the middle of a ritual like this? Not her thing.
As Lindo continues to spin, the vaguest hint of a figure appears with him in the center of the circle. Skin dark as mahogany, wearing a night-black tophat with a band made of tiny skulls and a dark suit with a white shirt and black tie. Holding a cane that seems to glow darkly with some inner light. This is Papa Legba, shimmering in the air before you. He steps toward Lindo and vanishes into the shaman, who shudders and raises his own cane. The rich smell of cigar tobacco fills the air as Lindo begins to shout in a language you don't know, with hints of France and Africa.
Lindo's dance becomes more and more frenetic until with a final shout, he collapses to the ground. Silence falls, dampening everything but the drum-beat of the song that is still playing. You feel a touch on your shoulder and then the air settles and the world returns to "normal."
I reflexively look over my shoulder, nothing is there, of course. Papa Legba blessed us. I'm not as shy about magic as Nizoni, but it does make me a little tense when it is flying hard and heavy. That said, I'm thankful for folks like Lindo and Variska.
"Wow." I say simply as I move over to help up Lindo.
Lindo takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet. For a few seconds, he seems deeply tired, but after a few breaths he perks up. His eyes begin to sparkle.
"Son, that is a rush. Everyone okay?"
"Thank you, Lindo." I say as I clap him on the back. "That was pretty amazing.":
Nizoni sits, shaken, and takes a big gulp of her Corona. Tink moves up to congratulate Lindo, herself.
Mat seems to take it in stride. After a minute, he holds up a finger and clearly engages his "working" AR overlay. "Drones are up. We'll have a full current map in fifteen, and it looks like the Matrix repeaters are online and working, so Tink will have what she needs."
The team will hang for a little longer, before Lindo excuses himself to go back to the Wellby-Cave and finish the rest of his prep. Anything else before the party breaks up?
"Good work, Mat. We'll need that data. Most of what I've heard is rumors and old."
As for what else? Not much. I think I'll drag out a few games, mostly light stuff. Old board games, maybe a dance game. Dance off with Nizoni and Tink sounds wiz.
You go on for another hour after Lindo leaves. Your dance-off with Tink and Nizoni (judged by Mat) seems to have taken some of the edge off of Niz's antagonism. Who won that contest, anyway?
Everyone leaves, eventually, and you're alone with about six hours before you need to meet the team to start the run. The theater downstairs is playing something ancient tonight, from the sound of it. You hear a man's voice, faintly accented, coming through the floor. "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time... like tears in rain... Time to die."
How do you sleep?
Tink won the overall because she took the first three dances. By the time Nizoni was drunk enough or annoyed enough to actually participate, it was over, but those last two... damn, Niz. She was amazing. So aware of her body, so graceful. Tink won earlier on bubbly enthusiasm. If Niz had her head in the game the whole time, would've been no contest.
That movie sounds sad and amazing. I should watch it. As for sleeping, I don't get any, really. Constantly playing over scenarios in my head. We could very well die in the morning.
Everyone's at the "office" on time and ready to go. In fact, you're a little early but the last to arrive. Lindo distributes a mojo bag to each of you, a small pouch of decidedly smelly herbs and such strung on a strip of rawhide to go around your neck. Mat's in black BDUs, pockets bulging with controllers and weapons. Nizoni is cool as a cucumber in a skintight black bodysuit. Tink is... well, she's wearing pink, for one thing. For another, she's got earrings on that are little tiny versions of those troll dolls. Not troll-trolls, but rather the cute little figurines cat ladies collect and put on their desks.
"The boundary spell was a devil to crack, but I've got its number now. Mat, I drew a veve on Maisie's hood. Hope you don't mind."
Mat looks a little disgruntled but doesn't say anything.
Any words to the team before you go?
I pull out a nice bottle of Jack Daniels from the stash, pour them each half a glass. "Alright, team. This is a big mission, with a sweet payoff. We're headed into dangerous territory, with nobody to count on but each other. Last night was really special, and it reminded me why Circe and I built Marcus Wellby. Because we know the right people working together as a team can accomplish amazing things." I think about saying more, but instead, I just hold the glass up, wait for them to join me, then say, "Stay frosty, Marcus Wellby."
Your team salutes with their glasses and downs the Jack. Less than twenty minutes later, you're at the border of Corktown. Lindo climbs out, says some words you can't hear and thumps his cane on the ground. The abstract design he drew on the hood begins to glow, and he climbs back in with a nod to Mat.
Just as Maisie crosses into Corktown, rain starts falling in big, fat drops, making a drumbeat on the roof.
Mat stops about ten feet in. "Well, drek." The pavement's basically impassable, cracked and pitted with seven years of hot summers, freezing winters, and who-knows what else. There's a sinkhole another ten yards beyond the van. "Guess it's on foot, chummers. You've all got the maps and you should be linked to the Matrix and the drone net. They'll be our eyes in the sky."
"Alright, just a little rain. We can bitch about it later when we're drinking to our success." I step out, putting on a wide-brimmed hat, a "Boonie hat", I think it's called. Niz will scout ahead, and I'll keep an eye on Tink while Lindo and Mat fend for themselves.
"Tink, are those fugly earrings fetiches or something?" I ask low while we move.
The morning light filtering through the clouds does little to cheer the scene before you. A dead dog lies bloated in front of what used to be a breakfast joint, flies buzzing, and the shadows cast by the cracked pavement and broken buildings seem too dark, almost purposeful. Almost hungry. You're at the entry point (marked "A" on the map") and a scan of your eyes in the sky shows some sort of animal activity on the Rosa Parks Boulevard between you and your target.
What do you do?
I'm a cretin? heh, that's new.
I clam up when we come up on the dog carcass. "Animals at Rosa Parks, let's stay tight. Well, except for Niz. Niz, you see anything yet?" I've got my CMDT Combat shotgun out right now, but if I need to spray and pray, my Ingram is slung around my shoulder and in front for easy access. And my Area Predator is on my belt, like always.
Nizoni is a couple blocks ahead, at Bagley and Vermont. "Nothing so far. So, do we avoid Rosa Parks? Cut left here and cross Rosa Parks instead of travelling down it?"
"Mat, what do you see across Rosa Parks?" I'm tempted to take Rosa Parks. Better the devil you know.
"Take a look." Your composite aerial view narrows down to the segment where you saw movement previously. A large group of rats. Ten of them are nearly three feet long, with tails that match their body length, while the rest are merely really big rats. The larger ones have eyes that glow red in the overcast and shadows. The whole group is feeding on something dead, significantly larger than they. It's hard to tell what it once was, but right now it's apparently breakfast. (This is at the location marked "D" on the map.)
"They're eating, at least." I say with relief. Those things are nasty. "Let's stick on Bagley, sneak underneath them, then turn on 10th and double back a little to Delphine's."
Nizoni continues on point, about a block and a half ahead. You make it across Rosa Parks no problem, but just as she's pausing before the turn on Tenth to regroup, you see something swoop down off the top of a building and make an aerial attack. She dodges, rolls, and comes up with a gun, as the thing pushes off another one-story former store front and comes back for another attack.
She fires and dodges again, but it lands and begins moving toward her.
Apparently it's dark enough today to confuse supposedly-nocturnal gargoyles, Jubilex. What do you do?
"Oh great, the gargoyle thing wasn't drek." I mutter as I pick up to a jog. I'll move up to cover Niz, try to keep the gargoyle in an arc that my shotty won't hit her.
"Thanks, Tink." I say as I sling my shotty and reach for my cold iron spike. It's about the length of my arm, and useful against fey and other nasties, including gargoyles. I'll charge in.
This looks like a straight up Fight roll to me, Jubilex. So you have some sense of things, the gargoyle has 1-armor (so hits are reduced by one shift), 4 stress boxes (so you'll need a total of four shifts of success to take it out), and no consequences (everything goes to stress). The first invoke on Vulnerable to Iron will be free, so keep in mind that you've got a free after-the-fact +2 to add whenever you like. We can call that Tink's contribution. We'll figure out Nizoni and the rest of the gang as things go. The gargoyle WILL be rolling to defend after your attack.
Fight roll:
(Rolled: 4df+3. Total: 2. Rolls: 0, -, -, +)
(Rolled: 4df+2. Total: 0. Rolls: 0, 0, -, -)
I'l burn that +2 here and finish it off
I let Nizoni distract it with one of her swipes at its massive head while I slip up behind it. I don't feel the need to face it honorably, it's a frickin gargoyle. I jam the spike in at the gap between it's shoulder and head, up towards its brain, as hard as I can. Ooze seeps out of the wound and it twitches once, then falls.
I give Nizoni a grin, "You good?" I feel so badass right now.
Nizoni returns your grin with her own feral smile. "Coulda taken him, but that was pretty good." You wait for the rest of the group to catch up, then Nizoni heads down 10th street. Only a few more blocks to Delphine's, and then you suspect it will get really interesting.
"Nice work there, Jubilex. One gargoyle, one hit. Glad you packed heavy."
I give Nizoni a sly wink when she compliments me, say nothing more. I watch her take off again, keeping a watchful eye.
To Mat, I nod my thanks. "Grbek's warning paid off. Glad we went to see him."
Mat nods. "You gonna go for a demon rat tail, like the old cuss asked for?"
"Drek, I forgot." I admit. So focused on getting in and out. Still, I did make a cocky boast. Dammit all. "Yeah, let's do that thing on the way back. I don't think they're short of them."
Mat's about to say something else, then "Drek. Company." Your eye-in-the-sky shows you a group of four entering the neighborhood from the east, on Michigan Avenue (point marked E on the map). Zooming in, it looks to be two humans, a troll, and an elf. You recognize the troll. Who is it, Jubilex, and how bad does that make the situation?
Fraggin' Zebajin! It had to be that guy, of course. Lickspittle to Aztechnology, we've run into each other a few times. If he sees me, there will probably be a fight. That elf looks a little familiar, but I can't say I know him for sure.
"Team, we've got company coming east. Let's pick up the pace. I want to have the goods before we meet them." I'm pushing them to rush this.
Mat and Tink agree that the new team is flying at least a little blind. No other drones in the airspace, and Mat and Tink have encrypted your signals every which way, so if they've got eyes, they're astral ones, which is more than a little extra risk, here. Niz scouts a quick, safe route, and you're soon outside what used to be Delphine's modest "city" house. Apparently she had a mansion in the country somewhere for appearances, but preferred this place.
It's a single-story house with a patio. The original floor plan is below, but you can see that it's a burned-out husk, at least up on ground level. The studio was in the basement, and took up quite a bit more space (it goes under two lots) than the "house" part of the house.
I have Mat cover our ass and direct Tink to keep an eagle eye while I move up to Niz so Lindo and I can both enter the house. I'm swapping back to shotty for this, putting spike back in his sheathe.
"Let's get in, grab it, get out." I say, mostly to break the silence, to break up the knot in my stomach.
Mat reaches into one of the big pouches in his harness and pulls out two metallic devices, about the size of a tennis ball. "Peek-a-boos. Toss one ahead, and it'll give you a layout of where you're going. Several spectra, but they can't see into the astral, of course. Careful in there."
So, it's you, Lindo and Nizoni heading in to this burnt-out shell of a building, trying to find your way into the basement. Who goes first?
This is Niz's specialty. It bothers me, not going first. But I tell myself that I've got to play the game, and this is a team. Also, I realize Niz would be pissed if I admitted being chivalric about her.
...and Nizoni pissed off would not be a good thing. So, she takes the peek-a-boo drones and steps into the rubble, expecting you and Lindo to follow several steps behind. She leads expertly, indicating weak spots and danger zones, until you get to the stairs down to the studio/basement, which the construction plan indicated should be concrete.
Instead, the staircase appears to be marble, gleaming pinkish-white, glowing slightly even to your very mundane sight.
"That's not normal. Know you can see that, but had to say it." Nizoni pauses, waiting for you to give some indication of how to proceed.
No time to play around here. I'm moving in front, saying low for the whole team over subvocal mic, "This is some arcane shit. Marble staircase, it's glowing. I'm leading the way. Niz watch our six, Lindo, stick close."
It goes as you say. You lead with your shotgun up-front, Lindo a step behind and to your right. Nizoni follows a few stair-treads behind as you descend, and six steps down throws the first of your two peek-a-boos over your head, down to the bottom of the stairs.
As it rolls down, you get visual. Nothing. Darkness. Swapping to infrared, you see that the Control Room is significantly colder than the rest of the ambient temperature in the studio. As in, it's 80+ degrees where you are right now, and the Control Room is 35.
"Temp reads are weird. Eighty degrees here, thirty five in the control room. Careful." I call it out, in case either of them is too focused to pick up details that might be important later. I call up the schematics in my head, in case infrared is spoofed. I'm heading for the control room.
So, looks like three ways to get to the control room. Foyer, Live Room, west ISO Booth, Control Room. Or... Foyer, hallway, hallway, ISO Booth, Control Room. Or... Foyer, Live Room, shotgun through the window. What's your call here? All the doors are closed, but there aren't any locks or anything that you pick up from the sensors on the peek-a-boo.
Foyer, Live Room, West ISO Booth, Control Room.
It is the most wide open and direct. I should get a wide field of vision.
You see traces of fire down here, as well. The equipment you see as you enter the live room is slagged, surreally melted by something more than heat into obscene, unnatural shapes. Slumped on the floor by the burnt-out skeleton of a piano, a pile of charred bones lies mingled with melted brass from the instrument's sounding board.
Once you're about halfway across the room toward the door to the ISO booth, you hear a voice coming from the direction of the piano, crooning a wordless tune, low and sultry. When you turn to look, a near-translucent figure hovers there as if seated on a long-gone piano bench.
Lindo subvocalizes, "Ignore it. Shouldn't be able to see us in the astral, and shouldn't be able to affect us in the physical. Doesn't seem strong."
Lindo's wheelhouse, I ignore the crooner. Nice song, though.
We move to the ISO Booth and I open the door first, my shotty in my right hand.
The isolation booth is empty, and somehow feels even emptier than it is, like it wants to absorb not just the sound of your footsteps, but even the breath from your lungs. The door to the control room is covered in frost, and you feel a wave of cold coming from that direction. Nizoni seems unnerved, but Lindo pauses in the middle of the room, holding his cane out parallel to the ground. He squares his shoulders and begins to walk toward the door slowly, the slight hitch in his step seeming to add strength to his gait, rather than detract from it.
You barely hear him as he speaks to you. "Jubilex, there's a silk handkerchief in my breast pocket. Pull it out and use that to turn the doorknob." Hinges are on this side, the door opens into this room. Lindo stops moving so there's room for you to open the door all the way.
I reach for the napkin, nice and slow, do as the man says. I'm keeping it calm and collected, as much to keep Nizoni cool as myself.
You pull the blood-red handkerchief from the breast pocket of Lindo's black suit jacket and approach the doorknob. You feel the cold as you wrap the fabric around the metal and turn, pull the door toward you. It opens into a room so dark that it seems that your full-spectrum head light barely penetrates. Banks of equipment, some slagged, some nearly whole, gleam dully in the beams of your three lights.
You feel Lindo behind you like a solid stone wall, and Nizoni, focussed despite her jitters, like a burst of needles from a flechette gun, ready to fire. You cross the threshold, and...
Two men are in the room, watching Delphine through the wide glass window. The engineer, adjusting knobs and levers like a virtuoso pianist, making fine adjustments with big wired headphones over his ears. The producer, standing back, listening through the speakers in the booth, but jacked in to the "old" Matrix. Delphine is singing a sad, sad song. Loss echoes through the room like wind between ruined skyscrapers, and the spare accompaniment she gives herself on the piano is like the punctuation in a suicide note.
Even you, even in this situation, realize that something is going on beyond just recording a song. Delphine takes on a certain sharpness through the window, a clarity beyond vision, and the simple silver pendant at her throat, an abstract design like an Arabic character, starts to glow.
There's magic afoot, Jubilex, and you know from history that it's all about to go awry. What you don't know is how it will affect you, as an observer. What do you do?
I trust in my team. I trust in Lindo. He's got my back.
I'm looking for that pendant. I'm moving towards whatever un-slagged part of the studio looks promising. Over subvocal, "Tink, can you see my feed? If you've got suggestions on where to look first, some chatter would be nice." I just asked for Tink's chatter. Niz would punch me if she could.
For you, the past still overlays the present, with the present like a shadow. The session continues, and you have the sinking feeling that the precise moment that whatever ritual Delphine is pushing into this recording will correspond with the moment when the Crash hits this part of Detroit. May even be responsible for what happened to Corktown, after.
I wait. I watch. I want to see this moment. Get it on whatever camera I can.
The recording/ritual continues, and even with your mostly muggle perspective it's easy to tell when things start to go wrong. As Delphine croons her anthem to sorrow, something begins taking shape behind her. Purposefully or not, she is summoning some spirit, an embodiment of the pain pouring out from her mouth. The tempo picks up, sadness becoming anger, and the form grows more solid, taking on a flickering, flame-like appearance around the edges.
The engineer is focused on his knobs and dials, but the producer begins to notice the same thing that you are seeing. Just as he starts to key a mic to talk into Delphine's monitors, two things happen so close together that they might as well be simultaneous. One, the pendant around the singer's neck glows even brighter, almost blindingly so. Two, the lights flicker once, twice, then go out. When they do, producer, engineer, and artist all scream as the Crash hits their jacked-in minds like an icepick driven by a tornado. The engineer manages to yank his cord and slumps over the board, twitching. The producer collapses. In the live room, Delphine just keeps screaming and the pendant keeps glowing. The spirit behind her becomes more and more a thing of fire and suddenly her clothes and the piano burst into flames.
A voice in your ear. "Uh, Jubilex? Why are you just fragging standing there?"
When I see the fire overwhelm poor Delphine, I answer in the sub-vocal, "Tink, stay up, keep overwatch." I look back at Nizoni, "Poor kid. I saw what happened. Her song brought something in." I look to Lindo, just to see if he saw it, too.
Then I'm looking for the pendant, first. Followed by mastering console.
"I only saw you standing there, just inside the room. Anything in particular we need to know?"
The pendant will likely be with the body, back in the live room, if it hasn't melted.
"Visitors incoming, Jubilex. They hit some trouble with one of those demon rat packs, but cleared through it. Five minutes, maybe."
Nizoni heard what Tink said, and she heads to the bank of drives, pulls out a screwdriver, and quickly starts removing them, where the casing isn't too warped for her to do so.
I move to help Niz, telling Lindo, "I saw the moment she died, a reflection of it. It came as she was singing, she brought something in, I think. Happened right when the Crash hit, it went pear-shaped. She had some kind of pendant, by her body. Can you get it while we grab the drives. Mat. Film what you can with the drones."