Ife's voice is almost a purr when she responds. "If that's what you can do with one hand, we definitely need to meet again... cowboy." She wrinkles her pretty brow, knowing that 'cowboy' wasn't quite right, but not having a good alternative to offer. "Now, if you're not going to fuck me or..."
There's a discreet cough from the other side of the curtain that cuts her off. Without modesty (false or real), she recognizes the signal and calls out, "Yes?"
A hand appears, holding a piece of paper."For Jubilex?"
I'm assuming you take and read it.
J - assuming you're grateful for the
'easy entry' to Dante's, and still want to
meet up... I'm in Purgatory.
If you can get to me, I'm yours.
Well, for a few minutes, at least.</p>
<p>PS I went to school with the head of security.
As she lies there, I raise my hand to my nose, inhale her scent, then lick my fingers clean, like a cat. Her taste is a wonderful mixture of tangy with a hint of the deep spices she must eat. I would love to feed her honey and go down on her sometime.
I hold the note for a moment, still looking down at Ife, "I am saving myself for someone else tonight, Better-Than-Ife. I have to say, I'm quite intrigued with another meeting. Can we share digits?" I smile, looking at the fingers I so recently shared with her, and chuckle.
Then I scan the note, which is perfect. Emma. I bend down to kiss Ife's forehead, then dawdle at her lips for a moment, gentle kisses, unhurried. When we part, I tell her, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
I'm heading to Purgatory.
As I walk down the stairs, I comm Malin, "Are you able to finagle me an invite to Purgatory, Malin?"
Malin comes back quickly, her voice husky over the comms, and no visual to go with it. "Are we on the clock, boss? Because if we're not, you're... ohhh... then figure it out yoursel..." She disengages.
I do have this new toy. Wouldn't Malin be shocked if I could spoof an invite? I think I'll do that. I'll hang near the entrance and spy a person or two going in, see if I can pick up their PAN and copy one for myself.
You find a spot to loiter unobtrusively near the way down to Purgatory and watch for a bit. Lots of glamor and money wandering past, along the edge of Lust, and some coming out of the feast of flesh and sex itself. There's no shortage of possible targets for your wireless attention, Jube. What sort of person's PAN are you looking to "clone" for your nefarious purposes?
I'm looking for a human male, someone with enough particulars that cloning it and tweaking a few strands should be "easier". I say this because I read it in a Nigel Finldley novel once, not that I have a great deal of experience with it.
I think this is a Notice roll to Create an Advantage. Here's the way it will work: on a tie or success, you'll find someone suitable, but if you succeed with style (+3 or more), there's a distinct benefit to choosing whoever it is you wind up picking out, which we'll work out together. There are plenty of folks to choose from, so the difficulty is only +2.
OOC: Realized I described mechanics wrong. A success gives you an Aspect on the situation (one that sticks around, not a Boost) that you can invoke for free once.
You find a perfect target. Corp type on an expense account, on travel from Baltimore, from what you can pick up with a quick scan. He works for the UCAS branch of Suntory-Diageo, the biggest maker and distributor of liquor in the world, which likely explains his invite to Purgatory. He's close enough to your size and build, and bald. Also, pretty drunk.
I'll use my new little device to clone his PAN, then tweak a few details to pose as his... cousin, more or less. Not related, but there's a Just Noticeable Difference between him and me now. It's close enough to pass a sniff test.
You make your way to the door. A huge troll stands next to it, with a handheld device in her ham-sized (almost literally) fist, ready to scan you for clearance to proceed.
Let's see that Tech roll, Jube. Here's the thing... it's not that hard to get past this hurdle, but the consequences of failure are, shall we say, not insignificant. Target is Good (+3) to Overcome.
The door-troll gives you a rather discomfiting grin and lets you through into Purgatory. Pretty good work for someone that was relying on an ancient pocket secretary twelve hours ago!
Purgatory is... well, if the Seven Deadly Sins have been impressive, each in their own way, Purgatory is another level entirely. Less extreme, really, but far more... something. The crowd practically screams wealth and power, with a smattering of glitterati for highlights and a selection of people like your liquor company exec to provide an audience.
You see at least three major UCAS politicians, four CEOs, a selection of celebrities, and one person you know for sure is on the most-wanted list in multiple countries. About that, who is it, and why do you know who they are?
Nikolai Gredenko is here. He's the undisputed mob boss of Denver, runs the Vory Crew, which is multi-national. He hands fingers in lots of pies: smuggling and black market operations are his most known, but he also has several top notch hackers. He's a vicious thug, and if he's here, he's giving one of these powerful people some very expensive information or setting up a deal.
I know him because Circe worked for him for a while. Hell, he trained under the guy. Well, one of his lieutenants. The stories he told about Nikolai's cruelty was scary. And I worked for Renraku.
Leaving Gredenko aside, the crowd (and it is a crowd... Dante is very good at what he does) is much as described. Emma isn't immediately in evidence, but this level is significantly more expansive than the previous. Where do you start the search? Bar, dance floor, lounge, the more secluded and private booths in the distance? Somewhere else?
You hit the dance floor and immediately find a partner that's wearing a dress and jewelry that would buy Mac's three times over, at least, who seems bored with whoever she's supposed to be here with. Not necessarily pretty, but with a certain sheen of wealth and privilege that has its own sort of appeal. Good dancer, though. She's light on her feet and reacts quickly when Emma taps her on the shoulder and whispers in her ear. There might be a look of fear on Momma Warbucks' face when she moves away, but there's only a grin on Emma's.
"So, you made it. Did you get here on your own, or did your little friends help?"
I give Emma a grin when she comes up to me, and step close enough to dance with her. If she doesn't object, I'll dance closer, and better than I did with the cougar from earlier. "This... is all me, Emma. My crew is busy entertaining themselves. I am currently unattached for the evening."
Emma hears "unattached," and gives a wolfish grin. "For the rest of tonight, you are not unattached, cowboy." You get the sense that she's using 'code for UCAS' when she says 'cowboy.' She moves easily into your rhythm, matching you step for step, hip for hip, even better than 'Ife' did, so recently. "Can you handle that?"
"As long as I am attached to you," I say as I place a hand on her hip and enjoy the sensations of her lithe body against me, "Then most definitely yes."
Emma's smile widens as she moves with you, following the light pressure of your hand on her hip, your thigh gently pushing hers back or retreating so she can take a step forward. Her dress covers without hiding—you can see clearly that she isn't wearing a bra. Her lips part slightly as the dance continues.
"It's good that you found me. I hate being bored. You're not boring, are you?"
"Emma," I speak into her ear, lips brushing the lobe briefly. "I'm as boring as you are safe." I am so close to that lovely and beautiful throat of hers, I am tempted to bend down and nuzzle it, but I resist for now. Instead, I'll dance close with her, letting the music do my work for me. I slide a hand to her lower back, and enjoy her.
Emma keeps dancing, her thigh slipping between your legs occasionally to "accidentally" brush against your crotch. She leans her mouth in to rake your earlobe with her teeth, then whispers, making sure that her breath tickles your ear, "Prove it, then. Show me something not boring, cowboy." She twirls away with a final bit of friction in an area that certainly grabs attention, then moves off to the bar.
I watch her leave, and it is a delicious sight. She doesn't want me to just follow her right now, I can tell. I need to be interesting.
I'm looking for someone, someone gorgeous, that I can cut in on. I want a skilled dance partner, someone with rhythm and energy. An elf, probably, but I'm not worried on the particulars. I'm going to dance with her and make Emma see how not-boring I am.
There are a few "targets" for your ruse. The most attractive and most vivacious is a young elf letting her freak flag fly with an ork and a human. She's clearly intoxicated, but she's got some moves, and is gorgeous, to boot. There's also a human woman, about your age or maybe a bit older, dancing more sedately but more elegantly with an older man you recognize as a UCAS Senator. She's equally lovely in her own way, but maybe a little... how shall we say, upscale? She has no wedding ring, but he does.
The elf sounds fun for what I "need". I'll strip off my shirt and dance my way over, then look to the ork and human, give them each a nod. I'll ask her, more like mouth the words, "Mind if I cut in?" I give her my most winning smile.
Elf or no, she's a "woo" girl, Jube. As in, she gives a high-pitch shouted "Woo!" before she shimmies her way over to you and starts to get down. Just about the first thing she does is reach out with her exquisitely manicured fingers to tweak both your nipples. Hard. Suddenly, you recognize her. She was an icon a (very) few years ago, on a reality simsense called "The Manarlals." Her step-father recently had cosmetic surgery to trim his ears and came out as being "trans-species" on all the networks and news vids. Rosarladria, that's her name, but she goes by "Rosie."
I smile and let it wash over me. Woo girl indeed. I ignore the pain in my nipples and move close to dance with her, hands on her body, moving against her in as anti-boring a way as I can imagine. I'm not trying to get with Rosie, she's just a means to an end. A very, very hot end.
Rosie's totally into it, but you shortly get a ping on your semi-cloned PAN from Emma, who is apparently at least as good as you are at that sort of thing.
Fine. She has a point. I could start a fight with the two guys she left for me, but I'm not convinced that's impressive either. I spin her a bit, then put her in the orbit of her former dance partners, then I head back to the bar, or wherever Emma went, fetching my shirt off the floor but not putting it back on.
Emma's still at the bar, drinking something bright blue and giving you that look, tempered by appreciation of the muscles in your scarred chest as you stalk toward her. She hands you a second rocks glass of the same neon liquid and raises her glass. "Not bad, but I always preferred her sister, you know? The one that's married to the nu-hop guy." Emma winks.
"Oh?" I ask as I take the drink, then clink it to hers. "I didn't recognize her until it was too late. I actually thought it would end up in a fight with her partners. Let's say I was doubly disappointed, they were happy to be rid of her."
There is something about this woman's whole being that challenges me, puts me on edge, entices me. "I've done some HALOs, did VR sims of wingsuit work, for fun and profit. Never the real thing. You?" I peer at her, sure she has since she asked, but interested in what or how much she's done.
An evil-sounding chuckle issues from the blonde, and she raises an eyebrow. "There are still three Jane Doe warrants out for someone who did a little urban wingsuit base jumping in Jo'burg. Shame they never caught her. I packed mine, and this is Seattle, we've got to be able to find one you can rent."
I use my little device to search for wingsuit rentals while grinning, "I'd love to meet such a dangerous young lady, Emma. I'm sure we can find a wingsuit for me. What say we cut out of here and go find some fun?"
The crowd-sourced graynet guide to Seattle that's always been your go-to renders much faster than it did yesterday. There's an active night market nearby in the Capitol Hill neighborhood that looks like a good bet, if you don't mind mixing with the more "avant-garde" crowd to do your shopping. One of the stalls, "XXXTreme SSSPorts," reports a high-tech carbon fiber composite suit in your size available for rent or purchase.
Within minutes, you're in an Uber, shooting off toward the outskirts of the market which is a pedestrian zone itself. When the driver lets you off, it's a sense riot. Lights, AR overlays, competing beats booming through speakers. Smells of street-food: grilled meat and soy, spicy broth, a hint of yeast from stale beer and fresh bread, the funkiness of pickled vegetables and fish sauce. People in all varieties of metahumanity and sexual identity, in costumes ranging from Neo-Retro-Victorian to Post-Ironic Grunge. Your HUD tells you that you're heading deep into the market to get to your target.
I'm leading the way, a half step ahead moving down the street when I turn to ask Emma, "Have you worked for DeBeers-Omnitech. only, or bounced around? The best way up the corporate ladder is staggers." I had peers who got themselves promoted by hopping for mega-corp to mega-corp. I didn't. Until I was fired, I was a Renraku man through and through. I'm loyal, to a fault.
Well, except when it comes to relationships. Then, I'm honest. Mostly.
Emma lets her accent thicken as she follows you through the... is diverse a sufficient word?... crowd. "I never left South Africa before DeBeers-Omnitech sent me. I'll be honest—grew up on the streets of Jo'burg, muling drugs and illegal simsense for gangs by the time I was eight. Made a life the hard way. You? Freelance, I guess?"
You've taken a wrong turn somewhere, and wind up in the midst of a "neighborhood" of the market dedicated to, well... your great-grandparents might've called them marital aids, if they mentioned them at all. All manner of toys with various levels of expert systems to enhance the experience; old and new lubricants in various flavors and levels of (possibly legal) nanotech; porn porn PORN, in all its glorious permutations and surprises. Also, outfits. The outfits...
Anything catch your eye, Jube? Anything make you (of all people) blush?
"Freelance now, yeah. We're not so different, Emma," I say as I move us around a sex cart. As in, a cart with sex toys for sale by a chubby little, beady-eyed man, not a cart where people are having sex. That wouldn't surprise me here, though.
I think it's the robot frag-dog that gets me. A robot dog, just for having sex with... people. The cat-girls are pretty interesting. Facial mods and implanted prehensile tails. Circe was really into Heathcliffa, some sinsense cat-girl star. I mean really into her. It was a phase, he was fourteen.
"I grew up in the barrio of the PRD. Did whatever I had to do to survive until I was old enough to sign up to work for Renraku. Thought I'd be a lifer, but then something went pear-shaped and I was canned. Freelance by circumstance, not choice. But now that I am?" I look over at her, grin and wink, "I would never go back. C'mon, it's over here." I reach out to take her hand, as if I'm leading her. I just want to touch her.
Emma lets you take her hand and the lead, but there's a slightly ironic glint in her eye. She's clearly letting you. Conversation continues as you make your way across the market to the stall you're looking for. The proprietor is an ork wearing classic skater gear and an ugly trucker's cap with something (probably obscene) printed on it in Or'zet.
I let go of Emma's hand, since we're here and she didn't seem interested in the gesture, walk up to the Ork. "Hoi, chummer. Looking for a wingsuit, rental." I glance at Emma, add, "Maybe to own." I hold up a credstik.
The ork gives you a crooked grin, showing his discolored tusks fully. "Gonna catch some sweet air, eh?" His eyes fully take in Emma and widen. "For you or the lady?" He's already rummaging through a tall portable wardrobe set up at the rear of the stall.
"Me. She already has access to one." I answer, noticing that maybe he recognizes her? I watch him rummage, glance over at Emma, gesturing like "do you know this guy?"
Emma shrugs as the ork turns to pull out a suit for you, then turns back to the counter. "Here you are. Carbon fiber interweave, top of the line, but been used a couple times, so if you want to buy it I can cut you a good deal." He quotes you a figure, and Emma gives a subtle nod, indicating that it's fair. Once you pay him, she jumps in to ask a question.
"Anyplace good for a night jump, choombata? I guess the Needle might work, but if you've got suggestions..." She shrugs again.
He thinks. "Depends on the risks you're willing to take getting there. Space Needle would work fine, but if you've got the stones to get past the UCAS security people, think of how rad it would be to ride that air all the way down from the top of the Arcology." He looks dreamy. It's clear he's never done it himself, but equally clear that it would be legen... wait for it... dary.
The ork gives me a grin as I pay for my suit and whatever add-ons Emma suggests. As we leave his shop, I look at her, "Arcology then?" I waggle my brows suggestively.
The former Renraku Arcology, nearly a kilometer tall, constitutes the entire "neighborhood" now known as ACHE, the Arcology Commercial and Housing Enclave. Former? Yeah. In 2059, a rogue AI known as Deus emerged in Renraku's systems and took over the whole Arcology, sealing it off. It was eventually "liberated" by UCAS military forces and seized by the government, which now uses the building as "low-income housing" for about 150,000 people, who must sign a contract that essentially involves voluntarily giving up their rights and agreeing never to leave the self-contained living areas.
The bottom five floors are a mall space, open to the public, and the upper floors, formerly offices for Renraku's top brass, are still occupied by UCAS troops, many of whom are occupied with sifting through what remains for anything useful left behind by Renraku or Deus. In between? A hundred or more floors of no-man's-land, occupied by the poor and the desperate.
Still, it would be an awesome jump, right? And Nizoni will be so jealous.
Emma stands next to you outside the Arcology, looking up and up to the top with a grin. Without saying anything, pulls herself into you and gives you an aggressive, fierce kiss, while her right hand grabs your ass to pull you into her.
After my encounter with Better-Than-Ife, I am far too weak to consider resisting this kiss, even if I'd wanted to in the first place. I move tight against her, hand caressing her back as our tongues dance. The feel of her piercings is exciting, and she's dangerous, which multiplies the excitement.
I'd like to create an Advantage here, based on my Rapport I've been building with her on this excursion.
I can go with that. You've been doing well at reading the book of Emma, with questions and attention, and she's unusually open for a corpsec type, so the difficulty is just Good (+3).
Great! Looks like you all are In Sync This lasts for the whole scene, and can be invoked once for free. After that, it costs like any other Aspect.
The two of you kiss and touch each other for another minute or two, and the promise of things to come is very satisfying. When you finally break off, Emma looks back at the almost impossibly large Arcology. "How do you want to play this?" She seems supremely confident that you will be jumping off this building tonight, just working out the details.
"The old maintenance trick comes to mind." I muse as we look on it. "I don't want to fight my way in, and I doubt you do either. More than even we can handle." I think on the sitrep and suggest, "We walk right into the lower five floors, work our way up to the top where UCAS has it secured, and climb the outside."
Emma nods thoughtfully. "You're right about fighting our way in, and even I won't kill anyone for a thrill-ride. I worry about trying to scale the top floors on the outside, though. The wind will be fierce that far up. I wonder, though... do you still have any friends inside Renraku that might be able to access the building plans? Utilities access, ventilation shafts, that sort of thing. It's what I would do for a real job."
I'm glad to hear the woman I'm with isn't into thrillkills, that's good. Didn't suspect it of her, nice to have it confirmed. I consider some macho drek about climbing the outside, but think better of it. She's pretty crazy, but she's also done things like this before.
"I'll see if I can roust up someone. We might pull a Nakatomi Gambit." I use my new widget to reach out to a few I still have on speed dial.
"Sticks!" I day brightly when he answers the call. "I'm in town, man. Want to meet up, but I need to settle a bet first. Can you do me a solid?"
Sticks the Troll is the toughest summabitch I know. He's also the hardest drinker, and this solid is going to cost me a few kegs. Probably a bar fight. Maybe two.
Sticks answers in his low rumble. "Benicio, what's cooking, chummer? You know I'll help if you need it, man. You need some heads knocked together?"
When you explain what you're looking for, he chuckles with a sound like tectonic plates rubbing together. "So happens that Lily, in Records? Remember her? She's got a thing for the horns, if you know what I mean..." Lily, if you recall, is human and maybe five feet two at most. You'd never have guessed. "I'll get back to you in a few, chummer."
What do you do to pass the five minutes or so before he pings back?
I give Emma a smirk, "Sticks is chatting up Lily from Records. We have some time to kill. Want to go shopping?" I'll head in to the mall and see what there is to see. Spread some nuyen around, get a lay of the land, flirt with Emma. "I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed we didn't dance more, chica."
You pick up a few trinkets. Not much here you need. What is notable, however, is really good at keeping your, shall we say attention engaged? Little touches and teases, nothing that a casual observer would notice as you pass through the mall, but the cumulative effect is to bring you almost all the way back to the state you were in not long ago with Ife. All without being obvious.
When Sticks gets back to you, his voice is a little more serious at first. "Benny, this was a bigger favor than I thought." After a pause, though, his tone lightens. "Had to promise Lily a weekend trip. I think I can live with it." He sends through a decent-sized data packet containing floorplans and diagrams from before the UCAS takeover of the building. It's so massive that you would assume that not much has changed.
Between you and Emma, you come up with a reasonable plan for breaching the UCAS levels, which, yes, involves ventilation shafts. You manage to pick up most of the gear you'll need right in the mall, including gecko gloves and patches for your shoes, rope, and a few bits of "home hardware" that will stand in for the rest of the bits and bobs you need.
The real unknown is the 100+ residential floors. You have to assume you'll need to traverse some of them on foot: surely the elevators won't have been diligently maintained.
"Thanks much, Sticks. It won't blow-back on either of you, and I'll kick in for your trip, chummer." I'd offer to pay for it, but I don't want him to go loco on me.
Emma's teasing is interesting. I bet... no hell, I'll ask. "You were a pickpocket, weren't you? Or should I still use past tense?" I do not check for my wallet. I do not check.
With a wink that's also somehow a promise, Emma holds out her hands as if to accept cuffs, then turns them over to show your wallet in the right one. "Got it in one, cowboy. You ready to do this?" She nods toward the "Authorized Personnel" sign leading to the residential levels. You should be able to manage that easily... it's getting out of the Arcology that's a problem, and you've already got an exit strategy.
Emma gives you a quizzical look. "Marcus Wellby?" But she follows along to the door nonetheless. As predicted, the first hurdle is trivial. Despite the fact that the two of you are dressed for a night on the town and you have no legit ID to present, you manage to convince the one bored security guard standing between you and access to the residential floors that you're from the Department of Public Health (Emma's idea) investigating a possible outbreak of H4N7D3.1415 (totally made up, and, I assume, your idea).
The first bit isn't bad. You get thirty floors up on the first elevator before it ignores your command to go to the top of where it's allowed to go. Then the doors open.
H4N7D3.1415 is a legit thing, I read about it on the Time blog.
When we see the thugs, I give them a look and a nod, "Hoi chummers. I guess you're the welcoming committee?" I'm moving forward casual and calm, trying to get close enough to snatch a gun out of their hands and do some damage.
I assume this is a local gang, which means they're deadly, but not well trained or cohesive.
Emma does some sort of acrobatic whatever to take out the three thugs in the back, grabbing the contraband weapons and dropping the ammo. That leaves you with the girl with the two Predators aimed at your face. Emma's watching.
This isn't even really a contest, Jubilex. Why don't you give me a Fight roll to Overcome, with a target of +2. You disarm her, either way, but she's going to be pretty injured if you fail.
Just like she's a practice dummy, I swat my hand from the side to knock both barrels aside, then step in tight, grab her wrists, and twist her into a throw. As she falls away, I grab onto the Predators and snatch them away from her. As soon as she hits the ground, on her back, my boot is on her chest, close to her neck. I'm not crushing her windpipe, not hurting her at all, just holding her down.
"Would you like to lead us upstairs? Please?" I give her a wicked smile. Then yeah, I glance at Emma to see if she liked that.
The girl glares at you through narrowed eyes while Emma looks on with a single raised eyebrow, impressed by your speed and amused along with is. The girl spits out a stream of curses, but nods her head when you ask your question. "Lemme up and I'll getcha to the next working elevator. It's seven floors up."
I holster one of her Predators in my pants and offer her a hand up. "Play nice and you get your guns back." Then I'll follow her with one gun out, near Emma, watching out for backup or trouble.
She nods, sullen but compliant. "Name's Stumpy." She waves a hand before you can comment (there's nothing particularly stumpy about her). "Don't ask, okay? I'm the Captain of the fraggin' neighborhood watch, and I'll get you to the elevator. Watchoo doin' here, anyways? No one tell you it's a hell-hole?" She's moving forward, and not in a straight line. It's clear she's skirting what she sees as "bad" areas, but it seems like she's not trying to lead you into any sort of trap.
Neighborhood Watch? That's rather interesting. My impression of this skinny girl has stepped up. "Well, Stumpy," I answer casually. "My friend and I want to jump off the top of the arcology.... for fun. Sort of a dare thing." I offer a smirk.
"Kind of a first date thing." I add, winking at Emma.
Stumpy stops and turns to look at you both. "Are you just fragging crazy? You know people have to live here, and you're swanning through for thrills and sex? You wanna see what it's really like? I can show you..." Her jaw's set, pugnacious and angry at your glib tone.
I give Stumpy a look, serious, like I'm not in for a pity party, but I heard her. "Stumpy, if you want to show me, I'll look." I check in with Emma, how's she feel about this?
Emma raises an eyebrow, but not an objection. Stumpy shrugs and shifts course a little to take you through one of the larger common areas, filled with men, women and children of every flavor of humanity and metahumanity, provided that flavor is seasoned with dirt. A listless, skinny mother breast feeds her child while the man next to her fondles the other breast, equally listlessly. The smell of urine and cheap soy-based "food" cooked in old grease permeates the air. Somehow, the worst of it is the near-silence, aside from the occasional whimper or whine of a child. The people either stare or ignore you, but no one speaks.
Stumpy leads you back to a passageway and only then says, "Home fraggin' sweet home." Seems like she's not interested in much more of a "tour," because the next door she takes you through leads to a stairwell. "This is where I stop. You wanna go up seven floors, then hang three rights, and you'll get to the elevator. Keep your safeties off. Can I have my guns?"
The vacant stares and sorrow is oppressive. It's like a prison here. Definitely takes my mood down a few notches. I look at the stairwell for a moment before I answer Stumpy. "Yeah, sure. Listen, you need to clean these guns. They're likely to backfire on you if you don't keep the action clean. I had this model back in the day, reliable if you treat them well." I hand them to her, then reach into my pocket, pull out my old pocket secretary and one of my cheapie credsticks, has a few hundred on it, I think. Mostly for tips and drinks. I hand her the credstick, "Here, the gun rental and tour fee." Then, I wipe my pocket secretary's data, then punch in my number, "Take this, too. Sell it if you want, or if you're in trouble and need somebody outside to run a job, that's my number. Call me. I'll help if I can." I hand her the pocket secretary.
Stumpy opens and closes her mouth a few times, about to say something, but in the end she takes what you offer and turns away, almost quickly enough to hide the tear running down her cheek. Once she leaves, you head into the stairwell. When the door closes behind you, Emma puts a hand on your shoulder to turn you around and gives you a deep kiss, much different from the previous ones. Somehow more serious.
I'm half up a step when she pulls me around. I didn't expect that, but I'm certainly not turning it down. I'll take my time with it, enjoying the sensations. For a flash, I think to Aoife's enhancements, but this is thrilling in a very different way. Like maybe Emma and I have a little bit of a connection, she feels vulnerable right now. One hand on her back, the other gently caressing her face, I finally pull back. "Hey... that was nice." I can't help the little grin on my face. I like this side of Emma.
Emma smiles, then says, "Race you up the seven flights?" She immediately launches off, taking two steps at a time. Who gets there first, Jube?
The rest of the ascent through the residential floors is much the same. About half of it you manage in various smelly elevators, and half is covered through various levels of depression, anger, violence and out-right strangeness. You're offered questionable intoxicants, even more questionable sex, and some things that you leave you scratching your head in puzzlement.
In the end, though, you reach your insertion point, a maintenance shaft leading from a mechanical room on the highest residential floor. In theory, there's no access to higher floors from here, but the only thing keeping you from getting through is a locked grate, according to the plans, and the grate isn't within the security perimeter of the military-controlled floors.
"I can take the lock," she says, and moves into the narrow space. You have to crouch, but not crawl, to get to the blocked junction, where Emma removes a small minitool-looking item from her purse. It turns out to be a set of lockpicks, and she fiddles for a few seconds before giving a satisfied grunt and swinging the grate down so the two of you can get up into the next level. She quickly grabs the rim of the opening and pulls herself up, scooting to the left so you can follow.
From there, it takes most of the equipment you purchased, a great deal of flexibility, and not insignificant amounts of upper-body strength before you finally get to the top floor. Here you have a decision to make. Do you enter the 'working' area of the building and proceed to the stairwell (risks encountering soldiers or other staff), or do you make the very dangerous final traverse through the shafts, which will take you past equipment that's in operation and could potentially take off an arm or a leg?
We're both sweating now, and I'm feeling good, not tired. "Let's head for the shafts, chica." I'd rather take my chances with moving fast and smart over a bunch of soldiers with nothing better to do than chase us all over the arcology.
The goal is a big air intake on the roof itself, one of several dozen. After crawling horizontally for a few dozen feet, you reach the first obstacle: you have to travel up a vertical shaft (about one-and-a-half times as wide as your shoulders) nearly twenty feet before you can jig out to the next horizontal leg of the trip.
Just in case, I'll ask again: who's going first?
This is pure Athletics, Jube. An Overcome roll against a Great (+4) difficulty.
My foot starts to slip once when I misjudge a bracket. Luckily, Emma and I are In Sync (free invoke for +2), and she throws a hand up to catch my heel before I lose balance.
The rest of the way up is pure muscle and grit, and I push through because I'm a professional street samurai, used to this kind of work (spending FP to add +2).
Pretty gruelling stuff, but this is right in your wheelhouse.
Emma chuckles when the two of you reach the next horizontal shaft and pause for breath. "I have to admit, that was a workout... and, well, the view was a little distracting." She gives your butt a light smack.
From there, it's work, but it's really the last step that's the kicker. Below the air intake, there's a large fan blade. Since it's night time, it cycles on and off in a fairly predictable pattern. Thirty seconds on, fifty-five seconds off. Lather, rinse, repeat. When it is on, the downdraft is massive, and it will be a challenge to climb against it.
Emma asks, "Think we should try to slide through the blades when it stops, or block it somehow?"
I watch the intake for a bit. "We could block it, but the toque on that engine driving it is driving so much force that it's a good chance we'll break it. I don't want those poor folks down there to burn up along with all the other drek they have to deal with." I look at her for a few seconds, "I can make it through. What about you?" It's not a dare. It's a serious question.
Emma doesn't take the question lightly. She observes through two cycles, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder and her eyes narrowed. Then she gives a sharp nod and hops into the shaft, bracing her back against one wall and her feet against the other to scoot up. During the next "on" cycle, she stops moving, bracing herself against the strong draft while the loud roar rumbles in your eardrums and the pit of your stomach. Finally, she reaches the fan, waits for it to top, and pulls herself through the gap between two of the blades and up to pop the grate and hop out.
Another Great(+4) challenge, using Athletics to Overcome.
"Great job, Emma!" I call as I watch her slip through. I crawl up to the edge of the safe space with the remaining free time and wait. I try to anticipate the moment when it stops and kick in my wired reflexes to get a jump.
...and you're out. On the roof of a building one kilometer high, with the wind whipping around you.
Emma wastes no time, pulling both wingsuits out of the duffel. She has to shuck out of her dress in order to put hers on, and she does so without a nod to modesty, giving you something of a preview of coming attractions, which are significant. You can put yours on over your pants, but the shirt and jacket will have to go. There's no modesty in the way she checks you out, either.
Once you're suited up and have checked each other's BASE parachutes, Emma bundles up the clothes and puts them in a belly pouch around her waist, then gives you a deep kiss. "Ready?"
I definitely pause to watch her. This is the best trailer for a movie I've been wanting to see. The best. When she watches me, I don't dance around or anything, but I do make sure she enjoys the show.
My right hand snakes behind her neck to enjoy that kiss, and I'm inches away when she asks if I'm ready. I'm filled with nervous energy and excitement when I nod vigorously. "Yes, I'm ready. In every single way."
Emma grabs your hand and pulls you along as she takes off at a sprint for the edge of the building, some thirty yards away. With an exuberant scream, you launch yourselves into the night, seeing the Emerald City from a vantage point you can only imagine few have shared.
Arms and legs spread, you're a head-first missile, a cloud, an eagle buoyed on updrafts you cannot see. The wind whips past your face and without the goggles that came with the suit, you would be completely blind. Voices are ripped away by the wind of your passage, but it's obvious that Emma is hollering to beat the band as she squeezes your hand, then releases it to make a graceful turn toward the Space Needle.
This is the most amazing feeling! I squeeze Emma's hand back, then watch her zip away. I'm going to angle my arm like she did, try to turn towards the Needle. If I can keep up, I will.
Let's see one last Athletics roll. I'm pretty sure you're not going to die, but we'll see how close you end up to Emma, in the end (don't forget, you are In Sync, and you'll refresh FP soon). Let's call it a +3, because adrenalin and sex in the offing are powerful motivators.
Comments
Ife's voice is almost a purr when she responds. "If that's what you can do with one hand, we definitely need to meet again... cowboy." She wrinkles her pretty brow, knowing that 'cowboy' wasn't quite right, but not having a good alternative to offer. "Now, if you're not going to fuck me or..."
There's a discreet cough from the other side of the curtain that cuts her off. Without modesty (false or real), she recognizes the signal and calls out, "Yes?"
A hand appears, holding a piece of paper. "For Jubilex?"
I'm assuming you take and read it.
J - assuming you're grateful for the 'easy entry' to Dante's, and still want to meet up... I'm in Purgatory. If you can get to me, I'm yours. Well, for a few minutes, at least.</p> <p>PS I went to school with the head of security.As she lies there, I raise my hand to my nose, inhale her scent, then lick my fingers clean, like a cat. Her taste is a wonderful mixture of tangy with a hint of the deep spices she must eat. I would love to feed her honey and go down on her sometime.
I hold the note for a moment, still looking down at Ife, "I am saving myself for someone else tonight, Better-Than-Ife. I have to say, I'm quite intrigued with another meeting. Can we share digits?" I smile, looking at the fingers I so recently shared with her, and chuckle.
Then I scan the note, which is perfect. Emma. I bend down to kiss Ife's forehead, then dawdle at her lips for a moment, gentle kisses, unhurried. When we part, I tell her, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
I'm heading to Purgatory.
As I walk down the stairs, I comm Malin, "Are you able to finagle me an invite to Purgatory, Malin?"
Malin comes back quickly, her voice husky over the comms, and no visual to go with it. "Are we on the clock, boss? Because if we're not, you're... ohhh... then figure it out yoursel..." She disengages.
Drek. I guess she didn't need a wingman after all. I'll scope out Purgatory/ What does it take to get an invite? What does my new device say?
The way I see it, you've got three options.
Of course, those aren't the ONLY options. If you come up with something else, I'm listening.
I do have this new toy. Wouldn't Malin be shocked if I could spoof an invite? I think I'll do that. I'll hang near the entrance and spy a person or two going in, see if I can pick up their PAN and copy one for myself.
You find a spot to loiter unobtrusively near the way down to Purgatory and watch for a bit. Lots of glamor and money wandering past, along the edge of Lust, and some coming out of the feast of flesh and sex itself. There's no shortage of possible targets for your wireless attention, Jube. What sort of person's PAN are you looking to "clone" for your nefarious purposes?
I'm looking for a human male, someone with enough particulars that cloning it and tweaking a few strands should be "easier". I say this because I read it in a Nigel Finldley novel once, not that I have a great deal of experience with it.
I think this is a Notice roll to Create an Advantage. Here's the way it will work: on a tie or success, you'll find someone suitable, but if you succeed with style (+3 or more), there's a distinct benefit to choosing whoever it is you wind up picking out, which we'll work out together. There are plenty of folks to choose from, so the difficulty is only +2.
Notice:
(Rolled: 4df+3. Total: 4. Rolls: +, +, -, 0)
OOC: Realized I described mechanics wrong. A success gives you an Aspect on the situation (one that sticks around, not a Boost) that you can invoke for free once.
You find a perfect target. Corp type on an expense account, on travel from Baltimore, from what you can pick up with a quick scan. He works for the UCAS branch of Suntory-Diageo, the biggest maker and distributor of liquor in the world, which likely explains his invite to Purgatory. He's close enough to your size and build, and bald. Also, pretty drunk.
I'll use my new little device to clone his PAN, then tweak a few details to pose as his... cousin, more or less. Not related, but there's a Just Noticeable Difference between him and me now. It's close enough to pass a sniff test.
Or it should be.
You make your way to the door. A huge troll stands next to it, with a handheld device in her ham-sized (almost literally) fist, ready to scan you for clearance to proceed.
Let's see that Tech roll, Jube. Here's the thing... it's not that hard to get past this hurdle, but the consequences of failure are, shall we say, not insignificant. Target is Good (+3) to Overcome.
Tech don't fail me now! I've got a booty call to make here.
(Rolled: 4df+1. Total: 2. Rolls: 0, +, +, -)
Woo! That's a nice roll, and if I tag that new Aspect, I bring it up to a 4. Success!
The door-troll gives you a rather discomfiting grin and lets you through into Purgatory. Pretty good work for someone that was relying on an ancient pocket secretary twelve hours ago!
Purgatory is... well, if the Seven Deadly Sins have been impressive, each in their own way, Purgatory is another level entirely. Less extreme, really, but far more... something. The crowd practically screams wealth and power, with a smattering of glitterati for highlights and a selection of people like your liquor company exec to provide an audience.
You see at least three major UCAS politicians, four CEOs, a selection of celebrities, and one person you know for sure is on the most-wanted list in multiple countries. About that, who is it, and why do you know who they are?
I know him because Circe worked for him for a while. Hell, he trained under the guy. Well, one of his lieutenants. The stories he told about Nikolai's cruelty was scary. And I worked for Renraku.
Leaving Gredenko aside, the crowd (and it is a crowd... Dante is very good at what he does) is much as described. Emma isn't immediately in evidence, but this level is significantly more expansive than the previous. Where do you start the search? Bar, dance floor, lounge, the more secluded and private booths in the distance? Somewhere else?
I'm not jist here to find Emma, so I'll hit the dance floor first. She can see me if I don't see her. I'm sure she'll make herself easier to find.
Then the bar next. Lounge third. I'm not in a rush. This is a true spectacle.
You hit the dance floor and immediately find a partner that's wearing a dress and jewelry that would buy Mac's three times over, at least, who seems bored with whoever she's supposed to be here with. Not necessarily pretty, but with a certain sheen of wealth and privilege that has its own sort of appeal. Good dancer, though. She's light on her feet and reacts quickly when Emma taps her on the shoulder and whispers in her ear. There might be a look of fear on Momma Warbucks' face when she moves away, but there's only a grin on Emma's.
"So, you made it. Did you get here on your own, or did your little friends help?"
I give Emma a grin when she comes up to me, and step close enough to dance with her. If she doesn't object, I'll dance closer, and better than I did with the cougar from earlier. "This... is all me, Emma. My crew is busy entertaining themselves. I am currently unattached for the evening."
Emma hears "unattached," and gives a wolfish grin. "For the rest of tonight, you are not unattached, cowboy." You get the sense that she's using 'code for UCAS' when she says 'cowboy.' She moves easily into your rhythm, matching you step for step, hip for hip, even better than 'Ife' did, so recently. "Can you handle that?"
"As long as I am attached to you," I say as I place a hand on her hip and enjoy the sensations of her lithe body against me, "Then most definitely yes."
"It's good that you found me. I hate being bored. You're not boring, are you?"
"Emma," I speak into her ear, lips brushing the lobe briefly. "I'm as boring as you are safe." I am so close to that lovely and beautiful throat of hers, I am tempted to bend down and nuzzle it, but I resist for now. Instead, I'll dance close with her, letting the music do my work for me. I slide a hand to her lower back, and enjoy her.
Emma keeps dancing, her thigh slipping between your legs occasionally to "accidentally" brush against your crotch. She leans her mouth in to rake your earlobe with her teeth, then whispers, making sure that her breath tickles your ear, "Prove it, then. Show me something not boring, cowboy." She twirls away with a final bit of friction in an area that certainly grabs attention, then moves off to the bar.
I watch her leave, and it is a delicious sight. She doesn't want me to just follow her right now, I can tell. I need to be interesting.
I'm looking for someone, someone gorgeous, that I can cut in on. I want a skilled dance partner, someone with rhythm and energy. An elf, probably, but I'm not worried on the particulars. I'm going to dance with her and make Emma see how not-boring I am.
There are a few "targets" for your ruse. The most attractive and most vivacious is a young elf letting her freak flag fly with an ork and a human. She's clearly intoxicated, but she's got some moves, and is gorgeous, to boot. There's also a human woman, about your age or maybe a bit older, dancing more sedately but more elegantly with an older man you recognize as a UCAS Senator. She's equally lovely in her own way, but maybe a little... how shall we say, upscale? She has no wedding ring, but he does.
The elf sounds fun for what I "need". I'll strip off my shirt and dance my way over, then look to the ork and human, give them each a nod. I'll ask her, more like mouth the words, "Mind if I cut in?" I give her my most winning smile.
Elf or no, she's a "woo" girl, Jube. As in, she gives a high-pitch shouted "Woo!" before she shimmies her way over to you and starts to get down. Just about the first thing she does is reach out with her exquisitely manicured fingers to tweak both your nipples. Hard. Suddenly, you recognize her. She was an icon a (very) few years ago, on a reality simsense called "The Manarlals." Her step-father recently had cosmetic surgery to trim his ears and came out as being "trans-species" on all the networks and news vids. Rosarladria, that's her name, but she goes by "Rosie."
Drek.
I smile and let it wash over me. Woo girl indeed. I ignore the pain in my nipples and move close to dance with her, hands on her body, moving against her in as anti-boring a way as I can imagine. I'm not trying to get with Rosie, she's just a means to an end. A very, very hot end.
Rosie's totally into it, but you shortly get a ping on your semi-cloned PAN from Emma, who is apparently at least as good as you are at that sort of thing.
I know you can dance, cowboy. Sofa king bored.Double drek.
Fine. She has a point. I could start a fight with the two guys she left for me, but I'm not convinced that's impressive either. I spin her a bit, then put her in the orbit of her former dance partners, then I head back to the bar, or wherever Emma went, fetching my shirt off the floor but not putting it back on.
Emma's still at the bar, drinking something bright blue and giving you that look, tempered by appreciation of the muscles in your scarred chest as you stalk toward her. She hands you a second rocks glass of the same neon liquid and raises her glass. "Not bad, but I always preferred her sister, you know? The one that's married to the nu-hop guy." Emma winks.
"Oh?" I ask as I take the drink, then clink it to hers. "I didn't recognize her until it was too late. I actually thought it would end up in a fight with her partners. Let's say I was doubly disappointed, they were happy to be rid of her."
Emma give you an appraising look, Jubilex. She asks 'innocently,' "Have you ever done a wingsuit jump?"
There is something about this woman's whole being that challenges me, puts me on edge, entices me. "I've done some HALOs, did VR sims of wingsuit work, for fun and profit. Never the real thing. You?" I peer at her, sure she has since she asked, but interested in what or how much she's done.
An evil-sounding chuckle issues from the blonde, and she raises an eyebrow. "There are still three Jane Doe warrants out for someone who did a little urban wingsuit base jumping in Jo'burg. Shame they never caught her. I packed mine, and this is Seattle, we've got to be able to find one you can rent."
I use my little device to search for wingsuit rentals while grinning, "I'd love to meet such a dangerous young lady, Emma. I'm sure we can find a wingsuit for me. What say we cut out of here and go find some fun?"
The crowd-sourced graynet guide to Seattle that's always been your go-to renders much faster than it did yesterday. There's an active night market nearby in the Capitol Hill neighborhood that looks like a good bet, if you don't mind mixing with the more "avant-garde" crowd to do your shopping. One of the stalls, "XXXTreme SSSPorts," reports a high-tech carbon fiber composite suit in your size available for rent or purchase.
Within minutes, you're in an Uber, shooting off toward the outskirts of the market which is a pedestrian zone itself. When the driver lets you off, it's a sense riot. Lights, AR overlays, competing beats booming through speakers. Smells of street-food: grilled meat and soy, spicy broth, a hint of yeast from stale beer and fresh bread, the funkiness of pickled vegetables and fish sauce. People in all varieties of metahumanity and sexual identity, in costumes ranging from Neo-Retro-Victorian to Post-Ironic Grunge. Your HUD tells you that you're heading deep into the market to get to your target.
What do you do?
I'm leading the way, a half step ahead moving down the street when I turn to ask Emma, "Have you worked for DeBeers-Omnitech. only, or bounced around? The best way up the corporate ladder is staggers." I had peers who got themselves promoted by hopping for mega-corp to mega-corp. I didn't. Until I was fired, I was a Renraku man through and through. I'm loyal, to a fault.
Well, except when it comes to relationships. Then, I'm honest. Mostly.
Emma lets her accent thicken as she follows you through the... is diverse a sufficient word?... crowd. "I never left South Africa before DeBeers-Omnitech sent me. I'll be honest—grew up on the streets of Jo'burg, muling drugs and illegal simsense for gangs by the time I was eight. Made a life the hard way. You? Freelance, I guess?"
You've taken a wrong turn somewhere, and wind up in the midst of a "neighborhood" of the market dedicated to, well... your great-grandparents might've called them marital aids, if they mentioned them at all. All manner of toys with various levels of expert systems to enhance the experience; old and new lubricants in various flavors and levels of (possibly legal) nanotech; porn porn PORN, in all its glorious permutations and surprises. Also, outfits. The outfits...
Anything catch your eye, Jube? Anything make you (of all people) blush?
"Freelance now, yeah. We're not so different, Emma," I say as I move us around a sex cart. As in, a cart with sex toys for sale by a chubby little, beady-eyed man, not a cart where people are having sex. That wouldn't surprise me here, though.
I think it's the robot frag-dog that gets me. A robot dog, just for having sex with... people. The cat-girls are pretty interesting. Facial mods and implanted prehensile tails. Circe was really into Heathcliffa, some sinsense cat-girl star. I mean really into her. It was a phase, he was fourteen.
"I grew up in the barrio of the PRD. Did whatever I had to do to survive until I was old enough to sign up to work for Renraku. Thought I'd be a lifer, but then something went pear-shaped and I was canned. Freelance by circumstance, not choice. But now that I am?" I look over at her, grin and wink, "I would never go back. C'mon, it's over here." I reach out to take her hand, as if I'm leading her. I just want to touch her.
Emma lets you take her hand and the lead, but there's a slightly ironic glint in her eye. She's clearly letting you. Conversation continues as you make your way across the market to the stall you're looking for. The proprietor is an ork wearing classic skater gear and an ugly trucker's cap with something (probably obscene) printed on it in Or'zet.
"Help you, chummer?"
I let go of Emma's hand, since we're here and she didn't seem interested in the gesture, walk up to the Ork. "Hoi, chummer. Looking for a wingsuit, rental." I glance at Emma, add, "Maybe to own." I hold up a credstik.
The ork gives you a crooked grin, showing his discolored tusks fully. "Gonna catch some sweet air, eh?" His eyes fully take in Emma and widen. "For you or the lady?" He's already rummaging through a tall portable wardrobe set up at the rear of the stall.
"Me. She already has access to one." I answer, noticing that maybe he recognizes her? I watch him rummage, glance over at Emma, gesturing like "do you know this guy?"
Emma shrugs as the ork turns to pull out a suit for you, then turns back to the counter. "Here you are. Carbon fiber interweave, top of the line, but been used a couple times, so if you want to buy it I can cut you a good deal." He quotes you a figure, and Emma gives a subtle nod, indicating that it's fair. Once you pay him, she jumps in to ask a question.
"Anyplace good for a night jump, choombata? I guess the Needle might work, but if you've got suggestions..." She shrugs again.
He thinks. "Depends on the risks you're willing to take getting there. Space Needle would work fine, but if you've got the stones to get past the UCAS security people, think of how rad it would be to ride that air all the way down from the top of the Arcology." He looks dreamy. It's clear he's never done it himself, but equally clear that it would be legen... wait for it... dary.
The ork gives me a grin as I pay for my suit and whatever add-ons Emma suggests. As we leave his shop, I look at her, "Arcology then?" I waggle my brows suggestively.
The former Renraku Arcology, nearly a kilometer tall, constitutes the entire "neighborhood" now known as ACHE, the Arcology Commercial and Housing Enclave. Former? Yeah. In 2059, a rogue AI known as Deus emerged in Renraku's systems and took over the whole Arcology, sealing it off. It was eventually "liberated" by UCAS military forces and seized by the government, which now uses the building as "low-income housing" for about 150,000 people, who must sign a contract that essentially involves voluntarily giving up their rights and agreeing never to leave the self-contained living areas.
The bottom five floors are a mall space, open to the public, and the upper floors, formerly offices for Renraku's top brass, are still occupied by UCAS troops, many of whom are occupied with sifting through what remains for anything useful left behind by Renraku or Deus. In between? A hundred or more floors of no-man's-land, occupied by the poor and the desperate.
Still, it would be an awesome jump, right? And Nizoni will be so jealous.
Emma stands next to you outside the Arcology, looking up and up to the top with a grin. Without saying anything, pulls herself into you and gives you an aggressive, fierce kiss, while her right hand grabs your ass to pull you into her.
After my encounter with Better-Than-Ife, I am far too weak to consider resisting this kiss, even if I'd wanted to in the first place. I move tight against her, hand caressing her back as our tongues dance. The feel of her piercings is exciting, and she's dangerous, which multiplies the excitement.
I'd like to create an Advantage here, based on my Rapport I've been building with her on this excursion.
Rapport-inate! with my Always has an Angle Stunt for a +2
(Rolled: 4df+6. Total: 4. Rolls: -, 0, 0, -)
Great! Looks like you all are In Sync This lasts for the whole scene, and can be invoked once for free. After that, it costs like any other Aspect.
The two of you kiss and touch each other for another minute or two, and the promise of things to come is very satisfying. When you finally break off, Emma looks back at the almost impossibly large Arcology. "How do you want to play this?" She seems supremely confident that you will be jumping off this building tonight, just working out the details.
"The old maintenance trick comes to mind." I muse as we look on it. "I don't want to fight my way in, and I doubt you do either. More than even we can handle." I think on the sitrep and suggest, "We walk right into the lower five floors, work our way up to the top where UCAS has it secured, and climb the outside."
Emma nods thoughtfully. "You're right about fighting our way in, and even I won't kill anyone for a thrill-ride. I worry about trying to scale the top floors on the outside, though. The wind will be fierce that far up. I wonder, though... do you still have any friends inside Renraku that might be able to access the building plans? Utilities access, ventilation shafts, that sort of thing. It's what I would do for a real job."
I'm glad to hear the woman I'm with isn't into thrillkills, that's good. Didn't suspect it of her, nice to have it confirmed. I consider some macho drek about climbing the outside, but think better of it. She's pretty crazy, but she's also done things like this before.
"I'll see if I can roust up someone. We might pull a Nakatomi Gambit." I use my new widget to reach out to a few I still have on speed dial.
Jubilex, the very last person on your list is the only one to answer. Who is it, and why is this both a good and a bad thing?
"Sticks!" I day brightly when he answers the call. "I'm in town, man. Want to meet up, but I need to settle a bet first. Can you do me a solid?"
Sticks the Troll is the toughest summabitch I know. He's also the hardest drinker, and this solid is going to cost me a few kegs. Probably a bar fight. Maybe two.
Sticks answers in his low rumble. "Benicio, what's cooking, chummer? You know I'll help if you need it, man. You need some heads knocked together?"
When you explain what you're looking for, he chuckles with a sound like tectonic plates rubbing together. "So happens that Lily, in Records? Remember her? She's got a thing for the horns, if you know what I mean..." Lily, if you recall, is human and maybe five feet two at most. You'd never have guessed. "I'll get back to you in a few, chummer."
What do you do to pass the five minutes or so before he pings back?
I give Emma a smirk, "Sticks is chatting up Lily from Records. We have some time to kill. Want to go shopping?" I'll head in to the mall and see what there is to see. Spread some nuyen around, get a lay of the land, flirt with Emma. "I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed we didn't dance more, chica."
You pick up a few trinkets. Not much here you need. What is notable, however, is really good at keeping your, shall we say attention engaged? Little touches and teases, nothing that a casual observer would notice as you pass through the mall, but the cumulative effect is to bring you almost all the way back to the state you were in not long ago with Ife. All without being obvious.
When Sticks gets back to you, his voice is a little more serious at first. "Benny, this was a bigger favor than I thought." After a pause, though, his tone lightens. "Had to promise Lily a weekend trip. I think I can live with it." He sends through a decent-sized data packet containing floorplans and diagrams from before the UCAS takeover of the building. It's so massive that you would assume that not much has changed.
Between you and Emma, you come up with a reasonable plan for breaching the UCAS levels, which, yes, involves ventilation shafts. You manage to pick up most of the gear you'll need right in the mall, including gecko gloves and patches for your shoes, rope, and a few bits of "home hardware" that will stand in for the rest of the bits and bobs you need.
The real unknown is the 100+ residential floors. You have to assume you'll need to traverse some of them on foot: surely the elevators won't have been diligently maintained.
"Thanks much, Sticks. It won't blow-back on either of you, and I'll kick in for your trip, chummer." I'd offer to pay for it, but I don't want him to go loco on me.
Emma's teasing is interesting. I bet... no hell, I'll ask. "You were a pickpocket, weren't you? Or should I still use past tense?" I do not check for my wallet. I do not check.
I want to check.
With a wink that's also somehow a promise, Emma holds out her hands as if to accept cuffs, then turns them over to show your wallet in the right one. "Got it in one, cowboy. You ready to do this?" She nods toward the "Authorized Personnel" sign leading to the residential levels. You should be able to manage that easily... it's getting out of the Arcology that's a problem, and you've already got an exit strategy.
"Yes, I'm ready. I mean... we Marcus Wellby, right?" I grin, then head out with her on our whacked-out plan.
Emma gives you a quizzical look. "Marcus Wellby?" But she follows along to the door nonetheless. As predicted, the first hurdle is trivial. Despite the fact that the two of you are dressed for a night on the town and you have no legit ID to present, you manage to convince the one bored security guard standing between you and access to the residential floors that you're from the Department of Public Health (Emma's idea) investigating a possible outbreak of H4N7D3.1415 (totally made up, and, I assume, your idea).
The first bit isn't bad. You get thirty floors up on the first elevator before it ignores your command to go to the top of where it's allowed to go. Then the doors open.
What do you do?
H4N7D3.1415 is a legit thing, I read about it on the Time blog.
When we see the thugs, I give them a look and a nod, "Hoi chummers. I guess you're the welcoming committee?" I'm moving forward casual and calm, trying to get close enough to snatch a gun out of their hands and do some damage.
I assume this is a local gang, which means they're deadly, but not well trained or cohesive.
Emma does some sort of acrobatic whatever to take out the three thugs in the back, grabbing the contraband weapons and dropping the ammo. That leaves you with the girl with the two Predators aimed at your face. Emma's watching.
What do you do?
I consider talking Predator girl down, but I'll just disarm her instead.
This isn't even really a contest, Jubilex. Why don't you give me a Fight roll to Overcome, with a target of +2. You disarm her, either way, but she's going to be pretty injured if you fail.
Fightin'!
(Rolled: 4df+5. Total: 7. Rolls: +, +, 0, 0)
Just like she's a practice dummy, I swat my hand from the side to knock both barrels aside, then step in tight, grab her wrists, and twist her into a throw. As she falls away, I grab onto the Predators and snatch them away from her. As soon as she hits the ground, on her back, my boot is on her chest, close to her neck. I'm not crushing her windpipe, not hurting her at all, just holding her down.
"Would you like to lead us upstairs? Please?" I give her a wicked smile. Then yeah, I glance at Emma to see if she liked that.
The girl glares at you through narrowed eyes while Emma looks on with a single raised eyebrow, impressed by your speed and amused along with is. The girl spits out a stream of curses, but nods her head when you ask your question. "Lemme up and I'll getcha to the next working elevator. It's seven floors up."
I holster one of her Predators in my pants and offer her a hand up. "Play nice and you get your guns back." Then I'll follow her with one gun out, near Emma, watching out for backup or trouble.
She nods, sullen but compliant. "Name's Stumpy." She waves a hand before you can comment (there's nothing particularly stumpy about her). "Don't ask, okay? I'm the Captain of the fraggin' neighborhood watch, and I'll get you to the elevator. Watchoo doin' here, anyways? No one tell you it's a hell-hole?" She's moving forward, and not in a straight line. It's clear she's skirting what she sees as "bad" areas, but it seems like she's not trying to lead you into any sort of trap.
Neighborhood Watch? That's rather interesting. My impression of this skinny girl has stepped up. "Well, Stumpy," I answer casually. "My friend and I want to jump off the top of the arcology.... for fun. Sort of a dare thing." I offer a smirk.
"Kind of a first date thing." I add, winking at Emma.
Stumpy stops and turns to look at you both. "Are you just fragging crazy? You know people have to live here, and you're swanning through for thrills and sex? You wanna see what it's really like? I can show you..." Her jaw's set, pugnacious and angry at your glib tone.
I give Stumpy a look, serious, like I'm not in for a pity party, but I heard her. "Stumpy, if you want to show me, I'll look." I check in with Emma, how's she feel about this?
Emma raises an eyebrow, but not an objection. Stumpy shrugs and shifts course a little to take you through one of the larger common areas, filled with men, women and children of every flavor of humanity and metahumanity, provided that flavor is seasoned with dirt. A listless, skinny mother breast feeds her child while the man next to her fondles the other breast, equally listlessly. The smell of urine and cheap soy-based "food" cooked in old grease permeates the air. Somehow, the worst of it is the near-silence, aside from the occasional whimper or whine of a child. The people either stare or ignore you, but no one speaks.
Stumpy leads you back to a passageway and only then says, "Home fraggin' sweet home." Seems like she's not interested in much more of a "tour," because the next door she takes you through leads to a stairwell. "This is where I stop. You wanna go up seven floors, then hang three rights, and you'll get to the elevator. Keep your safeties off. Can I have my guns?"
The vacant stares and sorrow is oppressive. It's like a prison here. Definitely takes my mood down a few notches. I look at the stairwell for a moment before I answer Stumpy. "Yeah, sure. Listen, you need to clean these guns. They're likely to backfire on you if you don't keep the action clean. I had this model back in the day, reliable if you treat them well." I hand them to her, then reach into my pocket, pull out my old pocket secretary and one of my cheapie credsticks, has a few hundred on it, I think. Mostly for tips and drinks. I hand her the credstick, "Here, the gun rental and tour fee." Then, I wipe my pocket secretary's data, then punch in my number, "Take this, too. Sell it if you want, or if you're in trouble and need somebody outside to run a job, that's my number. Call me. I'll help if I can." I hand her the pocket secretary.
Stumpy opens and closes her mouth a few times, about to say something, but in the end she takes what you offer and turns away, almost quickly enough to hide the tear running down her cheek. Once she leaves, you head into the stairwell. When the door closes behind you, Emma puts a hand on your shoulder to turn you around and gives you a deep kiss, much different from the previous ones. Somehow more serious.
I'm half up a step when she pulls me around. I didn't expect that, but I'm certainly not turning it down. I'll take my time with it, enjoying the sensations. For a flash, I think to Aoife's enhancements, but this is thrilling in a very different way. Like maybe Emma and I have a little bit of a connection, she feels vulnerable right now. One hand on her back, the other gently caressing her face, I finally pull back. "Hey... that was nice." I can't help the little grin on my face. I like this side of Emma.
Emma smiles, then says, "Race you up the seven flights?" She immediately launches off, taking two steps at a time. Who gets there first, Jube?
The rest of the ascent through the residential floors is much the same. About half of it you manage in various smelly elevators, and half is covered through various levels of depression, anger, violence and out-right strangeness. You're offered questionable intoxicants, even more questionable sex, and some things that you leave you scratching your head in puzzlement.
In the end, though, you reach your insertion point, a maintenance shaft leading from a mechanical room on the highest residential floor. In theory, there's no access to higher floors from here, but the only thing keeping you from getting through is a locked grate, according to the plans, and the grate isn't within the security perimeter of the military-controlled floors.
Who goes first?
Emma gets there first. She's quick as a cat, and I don't mind the view. I refuse everything offered, and use my big city "keeping walking" instincts.
Heh heh, "insertion point".
"Emma, how are you with gates?" I ask, giving her first choice.
"I can take the lock," she says, and moves into the narrow space. You have to crouch, but not crawl, to get to the blocked junction, where Emma removes a small minitool-looking item from her purse. It turns out to be a set of lockpicks, and she fiddles for a few seconds before giving a satisfied grunt and swinging the grate down so the two of you can get up into the next level. She quickly grabs the rim of the opening and pulls herself up, scooting to the left so you can follow.
From there, it takes most of the equipment you purchased, a great deal of flexibility, and not insignificant amounts of upper-body strength before you finally get to the top floor. Here you have a decision to make. Do you enter the 'working' area of the building and proceed to the stairwell (risks encountering soldiers or other staff), or do you make the very dangerous final traverse through the shafts, which will take you past equipment that's in operation and could potentially take off an arm or a leg?
We're both sweating now, and I'm feeling good, not tired. "Let's head for the shafts, chica." I'd rather take my chances with moving fast and smart over a bunch of soldiers with nothing better to do than chase us all over the arcology.
The goal is a big air intake on the roof itself, one of several dozen. After crawling horizontally for a few dozen feet, you reach the first obstacle: you have to travel up a vertical shaft (about one-and-a-half times as wide as your shoulders) nearly twenty feet before you can jig out to the next horizontal leg of the trip.
Just in case, I'll ask again: who's going first?
This is pure Athletics, Jube. An Overcome roll against a Great (+4) difficulty.
I'm going first. It seems like I'm more accomplished at climbing, and I can't concentrate while looking at her nice butt.
Athletics!
(Rolled: 4df+3. Total: 2. Rolls: 0, -, 0, 0)
My foot starts to slip once when I misjudge a bracket. Luckily, Emma and I are In Sync (free invoke for +2), and she throws a hand up to catch my heel before I lose balance.
The rest of the way up is pure muscle and grit, and I push through because I'm a professional street samurai, used to this kind of work (spending FP to add +2).
That's a 6.
Pretty gruelling stuff, but this is right in your wheelhouse.
Emma chuckles when the two of you reach the next horizontal shaft and pause for breath. "I have to admit, that was a workout... and, well, the view was a little distracting." She gives your butt a light smack.
From there, it's work, but it's really the last step that's the kicker. Below the air intake, there's a large fan blade. Since it's night time, it cycles on and off in a fairly predictable pattern. Thirty seconds on, fifty-five seconds off. Lather, rinse, repeat. When it is on, the downdraft is massive, and it will be a challenge to climb against it.
Emma asks, "Think we should try to slide through the blades when it stops, or block it somehow?"
What's the plan?
I watch the intake for a bit. "We could block it, but the toque on that engine driving it is driving so much force that it's a good chance we'll break it. I don't want those poor folks down there to burn up along with all the other drek they have to deal with." I look at her for a few seconds, "I can make it through. What about you?" It's not a dare. It's a serious question.
Emma doesn't take the question lightly. She observes through two cycles, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder and her eyes narrowed. Then she gives a sharp nod and hops into the shaft, bracing her back against one wall and her feet against the other to scoot up. During the next "on" cycle, she stops moving, bracing herself against the strong draft while the loud roar rumbles in your eardrums and the pit of your stomach. Finally, she reaches the fan, waits for it to top, and pulls herself through the gap between two of the blades and up to pop the grate and hop out.
Another Great(+4) challenge, using Athletics to Overcome.
"Great job, Emma!" I call as I watch her slip through. I crawl up to the edge of the safe space with the remaining free time and wait. I try to anticipate the moment when it stops and kick in my wired reflexes to get a jump.
Athletics!
(Rolled: 4df+3. Total: 3. Rolls: 0, 0, -, +)
I'll spend a FP to use our In Sync Aspect again, since I'm following her lead, and she's there in case I stumble. That's a 5.
...and you're out. On the roof of a building one kilometer high, with the wind whipping around you.
Emma wastes no time, pulling both wingsuits out of the duffel. She has to shuck out of her dress in order to put hers on, and she does so without a nod to modesty, giving you something of a preview of coming attractions, which are significant. You can put yours on over your pants, but the shirt and jacket will have to go. There's no modesty in the way she checks you out, either.
Once you're suited up and have checked each other's BASE parachutes, Emma bundles up the clothes and puts them in a belly pouch around her waist, then gives you a deep kiss. "Ready?"
I definitely pause to watch her. This is the best trailer for a movie I've been wanting to see. The best. When she watches me, I don't dance around or anything, but I do make sure she enjoys the show.
My right hand snakes behind her neck to enjoy that kiss, and I'm inches away when she asks if I'm ready. I'm filled with nervous energy and excitement when I nod vigorously. "Yes, I'm ready. In every single way."
I'm going to jump off the fraggin' arcology!
Emma grabs your hand and pulls you along as she takes off at a sprint for the edge of the building, some thirty yards away. With an exuberant scream, you launch yourselves into the night, seeing the Emerald City from a vantage point you can only imagine few have shared.
Arms and legs spread, you're a head-first missile, a cloud, an eagle buoyed on updrafts you cannot see. The wind whips past your face and without the goggles that came with the suit, you would be completely blind. Voices are ripped away by the wind of your passage, but it's obvious that Emma is hollering to beat the band as she squeezes your hand, then releases it to make a graceful turn toward the Space Needle.
This is the most amazing feeling! I squeeze Emma's hand back, then watch her zip away. I'm going to angle my arm like she did, try to turn towards the Needle. If I can keep up, I will.
If not, I'll just try and not die.
Let's see one last Athletics roll. I'm pretty sure you're not going to die, but we'll see how close you end up to Emma, in the end (don't forget, you are In Sync, and you'll refresh FP soon). Let's call it a +3, because adrenalin and sex in the offing are powerful motivators.