Rotten Paradise

Rotten Paradise er det første RP i Liberty City, og er et technopunk inspireret spil.

Verdensbeskrivelsen er til at finde her.

I dette scenarie kan i vælge mellem 3 seperate "classes" som hver giver adgang til forskellige evner og har en betydning for hvordan samfundet ser dig.

1. Technofreaks eller bare freaks i folkemunde, er mennesker med cybergenetiske implanteringer som gør den i stand til at bruge et væld af super avancerede våben, køretøjer og andre teknologier.Skjoldteknologi, laservåben, chrono-teknologi, reflektionsteknologi og avanceret hacking er alle eksempler der høre til denne "class"

2. Anomalier med resistens i bestrålingskade DNA-strenge eller mutanter i folkemunde. Mutanter er mennesker der er inkompatible med moderne medicin og DNA-kodet teknologi( de fleste våben og køretøjer) men som tilgengæld er blevet velsignet med enorm høj resistanse overfor radioaktivitet, og som i nogle tilfælde endda udvikler gavnlige mutationer. Regenerering, transformering, lycantropi, telekinese, pyrokinese, er alle eksempler der høre til denne ”class”

3. Normale mennesker. Er i stand til at bruge normal teknologi og våben.

Start med at lave en karakter ud fra Ricko's skabelon

Jeg starter med at lave en intro og når i har lavet jerers karakter så poster vi så i tur derfra. Jeg blander nok engelsk og dansk en del, så i er selvfølgelig velkommne til at gøre det samme.

I kan som udgangspunkt selv skabe, agere og styre NPC'er medmindre jeg har specifeceret andet.

Sig hvis i har spørgsmål og jeg vil prøve at besvare dem. Bare lad være med at stille dem i denne tråd, men skab en ny, eller skriv i har mit nummer..

Han var egentlig langt væk fra sit normale territorium.

Han var ikke tryg ved sin anonyme kontrakt, men den lød egentlig lovende. Han var også sikker på han ikke var blevet forfulgt. Giro havde mange års træning med at dække sine spor og lave ruter der snød forfølgere.

Et lokalt vandhul som han kaldte det... En kro.. Han kom der sjældent. For få udgange..

Men nu var han der... "Rolig Giro der sker ikke noget" -tænkte han for sig selv.

Han tager en dyb vejrtrækning og går indenfor.

Lokalet var lysdæmpet og der var en underlig lugt. Ikke ligesom det var tilbage i slummen, det var anderledes, for pænt.

Giro kigger sig efter en afsides krog hvor han kan side med ryggen mod muren og øjnene kan se de forskellige vinduer og døre.


The only thing missing now is his employer.. This assignment was out of the ordinary, but he wanted to hear it out. If he somehow could get payback for what they had done to him...

He knew it could be a trap, but he was tired of waiting. He was scouting the room for personalities. Trying to figure out why it was here the meeting should be held. He was a dark shadow in here. He prepare his blade, loosen it for a quick strike if need be.

The pestling watering-hole was far to classy for him. Even though it wasn't a hierarchy zone it was still for those that looked down on his kind. It was almost empty. Giro thought it might have something to do with this time of the day.

Guess it was time, no more hiding, no more running.. Time to make the hierarchy pay.

Et seriøst andsigtsudtryk, og et køligt og beregnene blik øjne.
Mørke gråsorte bukser, brun langærmet trøje og en sort jakke uden over, altid åben. uden på trøjen under jakken går en læderrem skråt hen over brystet, sandsynligvis en våbenholder af en art. På hans venstre side under jakken, fastgjort til remmen sidder et tungt håndvåben. En tilsyneladene normal pistol, ændret til kun at have plads til et stort patron ad gangen. på hver side af pistolen, også fastgjort til bæltet, sidder 3 store patrone. 3 eksplosive, og 3 panserbrydende. I en normal holder sidder et andet tungt håndvåben, en normal pistol dog, med 2 ekstra magasiner ud over det der sidder i.

-Stadig i gang med 2 fase i planen. stadig i gang med at samle sig de nødvendige resourser for at kunne fortsætte til næste trin. stadig nødt til at tage usle og risikable jobs.

Jared fortsatte mod det angivne mødested i sin normale fart, ca 5.5 km i timen. optimal fart, der giver godt tempo og samtidig ikke tærer den mere end acceptabelt på krafterne i forhold til omstændighederne.
Puppen var nu kun nogle hundrede meter væk, og Jared sæknede farten en anelse for at få lidt mere tid til at danne sig et overblik og lægge mærke til omgivelserne og de typer der hang ud i området.
De dybeste kvarterer var aldrig et sted man følte sig velkommen, især ikke når man som han selv ikke lignede en der dybest set intet havde tilbage at leve for, men derimod lignede en med et formål med livet og med at være hvor han var.
Jared var ikke en mand der gjorde ting halvt, eller uden at være besluttet. Han havde læst den givne information, overvejet belønning, og opvejet den mod hvor farlig og mistænkeligt det virkede.
Han havde valgt at tage opgaven. Beslutningen var taget.

Umiddelbart ingen alt for mistænksom aktivitet omkring puppen. Jared fortsatte hend mod puppen, satten farten lidt op igen, og gik de sidste 50 meter hend til døren, og trådte ind i krostuen. Efter hurtigt at kigge sig omkring og fornemme det halvtomme rum, satte han sig ved et af bordende ved væggen bag døren, og kiggede kort over på den mørke skikkelse i det mørkeste hjørne af rummet, mens han overvejdede om det var kontakten han skulle mødes med.

Case var igen i forklædning som The Gunsmith. Hans ansigtstræk, øjenfarve, hårlængde, hårfarve og hudfarve var alt sammen ændret fra Cases udseende til at være en af underverdenens mere genkendelige personers. Hvor Case havde grønt strittende hår havde The Gunsmith halvlangt sort fladt hår. Ligeledes var The Gunsmiths udseende mere beskidt og huden var en mørkere nuance, hans næse så ud som om den havde været brækket et par gange, nogle mindre ar prydede hans ansigt og hans øjne var nu grønne i stedet for den lilla farve de plejede at have. Alt sammen var så hans forklædning som sit alter-ego var så god at ikke engang hans mor ville kunne genkende ham. Og dette var blot en af mange sikkerhedsforanstaltninger ham og hans broder måtte tage for ikke at blive opdaget og fanget af The Hierarchy.

Men nu var de her også, ved mødestedet de havde fået. Case vidste næsten intet om jobbet endnu, da hans bror ikke havde fortalt ham meget andet end hvor og hvornår de skulle møde kontakten. Men da han havde set hans brors ansigt da han kom for at fortælle de havde fået et nyt job havde han ikke behøvet at spørge for at vide det her kunne være jobbet de havde håbet og ventet på at få.

Han følte for første gang i længere tid en større spænding da han åbnede døren til kroen og gik ind. Han så sig hurtigt omkring i kroen inden han satte sit ved baren. Her bestilte han en øl, og efter at have sikret sig den ikke var forgiftet satte hans sig med ryggen til baren og betragtede folkene i kroen nøjere. Et par af ansigterne virkede bekendte og han prøvede ihærdigt at komme i tanke hvem disse personer var og hvad han vidste om dem.

The Broker sad i sin "sædvanlige" stol og skuede ud over rummet. Hans isblå øjne næsten lyste i skæret fra lamperne og huen dækkede over det korte grå hår som dækkede hans hoved. Den store brune læder-coat hængte over stolens sider og skjulte de mange gadgets han gemte på sig, samt den halv store pistol ved hans hofte. Den store hånd-kuffert ved siden af ham viste dog at han var klar til at arbejde. The Broker var en man gik til for at få, eller videre formindle information. Han var også manden man kom til hvis man skulle have ting ordnet, eller i kontakt med den sky Gunsmith.

"Damn, I really need ta find a better meetin' place."

mumlede Broker for sig selv. Hans ru stemme lød som om den havde været igennem alt for meget allerede. Rynkerne man kunne se omkring hans hærgede øjne fortalte også om et liv i nød. Igen skannede hans blik igennem rummet og faldt på samtlige personer der kom ind og ud. Hvad de ikke vidste var at en række databaser svirrede i genkendelse til deres ansigter og kropsbygning og et væld af information fandt vej ind i Brokers sind. Endelig kom personen han ventede på. Med en rejst arm vinkede han Gunsmith henimod sig ved det lille bord hvor der kun lige ville være plads til 6 personer.

"Damn Gunny.. I could ha' sworn i told ya ta com' earlier eh?"

sagde Broker halvhøjt fremfor sig med den gebrokne accent. Nu var der faktisk kun resten af crewet han ventede på, så kunne opgaven forhåbentligt starte. Et lille smil listede sig ind over hans læber som han så frem til "thrillet" ved opgaven.

The lady was annoyed, increasingly so as the night matured.

'Not that there's much that doesn't annoy me these days though. But why shouldn't I be annoyed!? Who is the jerkball who gets his kicks by setting up meetings in damp and clammy pups!? If I ever find out who decided I'd have to meet the team of contractors in this thrash-pit... '

The annoyed and angry lady, who resided in a dark and clammy alcove of the pup, were a young stunning woman with long raven hair and cold dark eyes. She had been here hours in advance so she could scout her potentially new teammates, in retrospect that had not been a wise decision. Unsurprisingly, spending hours in an unsanitary and reeking pup had done noting to alleviate her dark mood.

But finally something were about to happened. As she observed her contractors trickle into the pup, she felt a growing annoyance but a grudging admiration. They were not unlike natural disasters; massive potential for destruction, but very short estimated life expectancy.

'So yeah natural disasters, except the walking and talking part of course. And that is just great because, as we all know, random acts of mass destruction really need that personal touch to make it relatable to the everyday consumer. Damn should've chosen a career in professional lying, seems like I have a knack for it. I could even get one of those fancy business cards the suits are so fond of. I can see it already:Faceless, Marketing Guru. Disposer of all your closet skeletons!
...on second thought, maybe marketing and PR is not such a good idea.'

The first reason for her growing annoyance was, the first contractor to enter the pup; The Bloody Broker. The Fucking Bloody Broker!
The stories she had heard about this infamous bastard. He was the kind of guy who would look at you like you killed his puppy if you didn't pay him a satisfactory amount of creds for services rendered, and smile gleefully when he carved out your guts as compensation.

But by far the worst about this smiling butcher was his cunning and near-omniscient ability to read people. She had chosen to use her beautiful and accommodating body to make a good first expression and give her and edge if needed be. But that plan seemed naive and incompetent with the dark puppeteer present. Instead she opted to switch to her harmless and disarming body/masque.

She began using her mutant ability of body-shifting. She could absorb fresh corpses and at all time shift between her absorbed bodies and even used the accumulated strength of all the bodies she had absorbed. Unfortunately she could not posses more than 5 bodies at any time.

Bone broke, flesh ripped, skin tore, tendons snapped, guts and innards shifted, the whole body rearranged itself. The fay-like lady was now replaced with and old, wrinkled, wizened, and greatly annoyed hag.

'Uggh...'

The reason she was not discovered using this macabre body-shifting was that Faceless was hidden by more than just shadows. Though she was not what anybody would call tech-savvy, she had procured a couple of valuable artifacts over her long career, among them was a piece of ancient-tech. Ancient-tech dates back to the lost empire and the technological pinnacle of man, and this piece of ancient cloaking-technology could give a person total invisibility, and was virtually immune to hacking attempts. Her cloaking device was protected by an Eternity Encryption, which would take an eternity to decrypt in theory, hence the name Eternity Encryption.

Apparently nobody had bothered to explain this to the creepy, double-faced, so-called Gunsmith hacker-kid. He was almost through the encryptions already, and the worst part was that he didn't even seemed to be conscious of it. Apparently he just hacked everything in vicinity with terrifying efficiency, for the fun of it.
Faceless hastily de-powered the cloaking-field, lest a kid with to much brain for his own good destroyed a priceless artifact, just because he was bored.

She started to move, with a noticeable limp, to the table were the 4 contractors had gathered, they seemed a bit wary of each other, but they hadn't blown the pup to smithereens, so as far as Faceless was concerned this was the best possible start to the meeting. She sat down at an empty chair without a word and slid 4 sealed envelopes across the table, one to each of the contractors. They all opened the letters and read the assignment.

(GM note: Tjek jeres inbox for at læse jeres brev.)
(GM note 2: Jeg har godmoded forbi jeres introduktioner til hinanden, men i er velkomne til at inkorporere dem retrospektivt)

Efter Giro havde læst sit brev igennem foldede han det sammen og lagde det ind i jakkelommen.

"I Agree to this.. under the condition that if I die that named list will be copied and distributed to at least a 100 other mutants in slums around liberty city, and the money will go to families in need."
Giro snakkede med en rolig og kølig stemme

Giro looked around at the party gathered at the table. He shivered at the thought of what reward they could get out of this... further more... it didn't feel right that his employer could do this.. and with so much confidence... 'What would they do with this?'

He didn't want to think about it. It just had to be done.

Jared read the letter, revealing a small smile for a few moments. He couldn't hide the fact the he was proud of having escaped the system.
he felt free, having erased every written trace of his existance.

He wasnt excactly sure how he felt about having a apparently old and worn woman from the under-districts be the middleman. could she even be trusted. how did he know that she was not just some random person who had been offered some money to deliver a message.. In that case, she could have been careless and other authorities or groups could have been able to follow her, or read the massages on the letters, had she been careless with them. But the dices were cast, and he trusted that the contractors were cabable of finding able middlemen.

He took out a pen, and wrote a small message on the inside of the letter. Wrote the price for wich his God-like powers could be hired.

But like always, for a high payment comes a high risk. Dangerous crowd he was working with, and the job description were a second proof, if he needed one. He had some remnants of loose information in his data storage systems in his brain about many random things, relevent and seemingly useless both. And also about the two of them. The few shattered pieces of information indicated that they were close friends, or perhaps even relatives, and he certainly knew who they were, the Gunsmith and his buisness partner...
It was enough to give him a rough idea of the mess he was getting himself into this time.

This last one was unknown to him, no records of his face in the databanks of his mind. But he would get to know him soon enough, he was sure.



(note to GM: check inbox for svar på Jareds pris)

Efter hurtigt at have læst brævet, tænkte Case sig lidt om. Han fornemmede at det her job kunne blive et af de bedste adrenalinrus deres arbejde nogensinde havde givet. Der var så mange faldgrupper, risikofyldte omstændigheder og muligheder for tingene kunne gå galt at det her kun kunne blive spændende.

Først var der de folk der var samlet. Ham selv, en i underverdenen berygtet våbenproducent, en af de få der kunne lave våben der næsten var ligeså gode som skyborns våben, og en af dem Guildet oftest kontaktede når de manglede kvalitetsvåben.

Der var hans bror, der var kendt som en af de mest effektive og grusomme forhandlere i underverdenen. Hans netværk af kontakter var et af de største og nok et af de mest grundigt udbyggede, og han kunne få fat i flere sky personligheder som ingen andre kunne få fat i, heriblandt the gunsmith. Og havde derudover et blodigt ry der sagde han aldrig efterlod sig løse ender, eller fandt sig i folk der prøvede at snyde ham eller give dårlig betaling.

Og så var der de to andre lyssky personligheder, som ud fra den meget sparsomme information han så småt havde fundet frem fra hans hukommelse, absolut også var professionelle.

Den ene var helt sikkert techmodificeret, og med en ret høj kvalitet tech, men ud fra alle tilgængelige og utilgængelige databaser eksisterede han ikke. Han havde måske engang stået i nogle af underverdenens hemmelige databaser, men selv der var der kun få spor tilbage der vidste at data var blevet effektivt slettet. At være så techmodificeret og bare få ens eksistens til at forsvinde fuldstændig var ikke noget man bare gjorde, så denne robuste fyr vidste absolut hvad han lavede.

Og den anden havde han umiddelbart kun hørt rygter om. Han måtte være mutant, og ud fra rygterne der gik en hærdet smugler med særlige evner. Og ud fra hvad Case vidste så skulle man vide hvad man gjorde hvis man skulle leve længe nok som smugler til der kom rygter om ens evner, især hvis disse rygter blev hvisket med en blanding af frygt og lovprisning.

Og det bragte ham tilbage til arbejdsgiveren. Hvem var det, som ville samle sådan et hold her for at udføre en opgave? Og hvorfor ville de have så farlig en opgave udført?

Case huskede stadig da Mutagenet blev stjålet. Han arbejde dengang i en afdeling der lå ikke så langt fra der hvor det blev stjålet fra, og han huskede stadig hvordan de faciliteter man havde udsigt til fra de bygninger han arbejdede i, i løbet af kort tid var blevet "fjernet". Det blev gjort med en "officiel" forklaring med biokemisk udslip og at man ville flytte forskningen til andre faciliteter. Den eneste grund til han vidste der var sket et tyveri, var at han noget senere havde opsnappet en smule information fra nogen der havde kendt nogen, der arbejdede med en der havde talt over sig inden han forsvandt. Og han havde fortalt om at mutagenet DEUS var blevet stjålet dengang. Hvad det indebar havde Case aldrig fundet ud af, og heller ikke hvad formålet med og egenskaberne for mutagenet havde været, men det fandt han måske ud af nu.

Og som hacker havde han hørt rygterne omkring folk der havde prøvet at ”indfange” Icarus igen, enten til the Hierarchy eller bare til højestbydende. Og endnu var ingen lykkedes. Og ud fra den info han ellers havde var det måske den mest intelligente AI til nogensinde at gå rogue. Derudover var der rygter og info omkring hvad den var blevet brugt til inden, og hvem der havde skabt den og lignende ting. Og Case glædede sig til at se om rygterne var sande.

Sidst men ikke mindst følte han også en kulde langs hans rygrad ved tanken om de skulle stjæle fra The Hierarchy of Dialogue. Hans bror havde haft noget af sin militærtræning hos dem, samt haft et par opgaver for dem siden, selvom de arbejdede for et andet Hierarchy. Og ud fra hvad han fortalte, så var det ikke rare ting de gjorde ved folk der gik imod dem.

Men Case trak sit fokus tilbage på virkeligheden, for endnu engang at realisere hvor hurtigt hans tanker gik efter han havde ændret sin hjerne. Hele hans interne spekulation, havde højst taget et par sekunder. Men nok med spekulationerne, de havde en opgave, og Case ville sikre sig så meget information, og så stor sikkerhed på sin betaling som muligt.
Så han kiggede på den gamle dame med et afventende blik og sagde så:

"I am intrigued by this assignment, but i do have a couple of questions before I accept it. First, can you as representative of The Organization, guarantee the quality of my payment? Second, what is the purpose of The Organization? And third, what do you need those rather-hard-to-get-items for?"

Case lænede sig afventende tilbage i sædet og så på kontakten. Han håbede hun ville svare på det hele, og med et blik til hans broder, vidste han at The Broker i hvert fald havde gennemskuet ham. Han ville sige ja lige meget hvad kontakten fortalte så længe han var garanteret sin betaling. Lovningen på så imponerende en betaling, samt så stort et adrenalinrus ville han ikke gå glip af, af nogen grund.

(De få karakter kontrolleringer her er lavet med Gm's tilladelse.)

Broker nikkede kort til Gunsmith som han kom over til bordet.

"Ya know Gunny, we really should 'ave gathered 'he ot'ers first.. So i'll wave 'em over."

sagde han igen med den gebrokne accent. Som det mest naturlige i verden vinkede han først den unge knægt over. Knægt var et relativt term da den eftersøgt terrorist var mutant og sikkert kunne rive hovedet af de fleste andre i den snuskede pup. Dernæst vinkede han imod det omvandrende atomkraftværk. En enkelt kortslutning og den mand ville jævne halvdelen af byen med jorden. Energien summede i hvert af hans lemmer så selv Broker, med hans få modifikationer, bemærkede det.

"Over 'ere lads.. Ya don' need ta hide.. We are all friends ya kno'.." sagde han halvhøjt. Nogle få af de andre gæster kiggede sig kort over skulderen, før de sank tilbage i deres samtaler og koncentrerede sig om deres drikke. Folk i puppen virkede generelt utroligt uinteresserede i det mystiske selskab der nu samlede sig ved det samme bord.

Introduktioner blev lavet, alle med hemmelige identiter.. Det meste af det meningsløst overfor en mand med næsten samtlige databaser, både lovlige og ulovlige kørende i sit hoved, og en techno-freak af sådan dimensioner at selv Broker engang imellem blev bange for ham. Alt i alt gik det som forventet.. Indtil kvinden trådte frem. Alle de andre kunne han sidde og læse, følge med i deres ansigtstræk, gennemskue hvad de tænkte og følte.. Næsten.. Men denne kvinde. Broker vidste med det samme at kvinden her var speciel. Hun stemte for meget overens.. Hun passede for perfekt sammen.. Han fornemmede en fare ved den gamle kvinde, en fare han ikke helt kunne fastsætte. Men ikke destomindre fik de deres breve og han læste hurtigt sit, lagrede det i sin hukommelse og fjernede de fysiske beviser.

"Well now lads and lass.. I 'ave a small t'ing I need ta confess.. First o' all.. All ta ot'ers in t'is place are 'ired by me.. I 'ave paid 'em all."

sagde Broker med et smil på læben. Han havde forberedt sig meget på denne opgave.

"They won't say a t'ing o' t'is meeting.. Cause i kno' to much about t'em.. And since we are all gonna work tagether.. I need ya ta lay some stuff on ta table.. Information or other t'ings tha' can be lethal to ya.. So we can all trust eachother eh?"

Han kiggede på dem hver især. hans isblå øjne nærmest selvlysende i det dunkle lys. Dette var ikke en forspørgsel. Det var en ordre. Hvis de ville ud herfra måtte han være sikker på deres vilje til at samarbejde. Og hvis de prøvede at snyde ham.. Han havde midler imod det.

While the contractors started to read their letters, Faceless observed them carefully trying to predict their reactions.

'First of, if any of them actually accept this job they must be cracked in the skull, or the many implants in their heads have messed up their sanity'

She briefly eyed her dark haired menace. The Gunsmith.

'Sane is not the word I’d use to describe him. Oblivious maybe, or careless, the most adequate description would properly be; The Green-eyed Security Risk. I could think of a lot of words to describe him, but sane is not among them.'

Her attention returned to the present as the mutant (she was certain she knew his face from somewhere) started speaking.

The mutant looked straight at her, his eyes revealing barely contained power and massive determination. "I Agree to this.. under the condition that if I die that named list will be copied and distributed to at least a 100 other mutants in slums around liberty city, and the money will go to families in need." he stated.

Faceless tried to suppress her surprise at this open admission of altruism and still keep her voice calm and placating. “It will be as you wish,” she replied in her best old-woman-voice

'Funny how good can triumph in the most unlikely places. This boy probably has more than enough reasons to be consumed by hatred, and yet he is not. One bright spot in this entire city, and now I hired him to a near-suicide mission. Great job Faceless, if you get one of the few good men of Liberty City killed, surely you will still be able to live with yourself. Well no way around it, I'll just have to make sure he don't get himself dead.'

When Giro, as the mutant was called, seemed satisfied, the unknown contractor slid a piece of paper towards her with his conditions. Her eyes widened slightly as she read the paper.

'So he just want access to one of the most secure facilities in the world and he probably also want to get there in one piece. Shame because it would be much easier and a lot less dangerous to just chop him to bits and mail him. But somehow I don't think he would appreciate it.'

“We can accommodate your wishes, but if you also want pass-codes, guard schedules, location of the DNA-sensors, and other essential information critical to a successful infiltration, we will need time.” Faceless said

He looked thoughtful at that, but if he had any objections to the time frame he didn't make it know immediately.

The unnerving hacker-kid eyed her with a long calculating look and as he caught her eyes he started talking. "I am intrigued by this assignment, but i do have a couple of questions before I accept it. First, can you as representative of The Organization, guarantee the quality of my payment? Second, what is the purpose of The Organization? And third, what do you need those rather-hard-to-get-items for?" he said without blinking even once.

'Well shit mate, is that all you want to know. Sure you don't want swift kick to the balls? Because that I can give you, satisfying answers on the other hand that I'm not so sure about.'

Quelling her escalating annoyance and trying to give a convincing smile. “I can absolutely guarantee your payment. As for the purpose of my dark patrons and the items they need procured, that is not made completely clear even for me. But seen as the items are of spectacular difficulty to get, I propose that I reveal what I know if you survive the mission.” She said

She was painfully aware that all her interaction had been observed, weighed and measured by the piercing blue eyes of the last remaining contractor. He may have seemed non-threatening or casual to the untrained eye, but not for someone who had observed countless human predators. He was the warrior that wielded words as weapons.

When he started talking all pretense she could have harbored about him disappeared. "Well now lads and lass.. I 'ave a small t'ing I need ta confess.. First o' all.. All ta ot'ers in t'is place are 'ired by me.. I 'ave paid 'em all." He said with a deceivingly warm smile.

'Wait. What!?'

"They won't say a t'ing o' t'is meeting.. Cause i kno' to much about t'em.. And since we are all gonna work tagether.. I need ya ta lay some stuff on ta table.. Information or other t'ings tha' can be lethal to ya.. So we can all trust eachother eh?" The Broker continued

'Well that seems reasonable enough. Not the bribe the entire clientele-of-the pup part, that's just messed up. But the part about forcing a trust between the contractors is pretty logical, after all trust is expensive.'

Trying to cover her annoyance at being outwitted, she started to cackle with laughter like an insane old witch.

'Which is disturbingly easy nowadays...'

Without uttering a decipherable word and still cackling, she sprayed a couple of blood drops on a napkin and tossed it into the center of the table.

Giro looked a little nervous at the old lady as she threw the napkin on the table... Something was not right about that woman, she wasn't as she seemed.. and that she just nearly without a thought threw her Dna out in the open like that.. But what did he knew.

He looked at the Ice-blue-eyed man.

" I am sorry.. But I don't know what to tell you? I guess you know all about me, I don't have anything to give. My identity is no secret. I call myself Giro and I am a mutant... I was experimented on by the Hierarchy and I poses no love for them, only hate. I want their oppression to stop. I am afraid that I lack secrets.. But if you insists om something, you can know what the bastards called me... They called me Subject TE8559."

Giro talked confident and cool, But he had to get his act together when he said his number... It weighed heavily on him... A quick Flash of a far distant memory, reminded him briefly of a memory he would rather forget.

He looked back at the Ice-blue-eyed man.

Mens den gamle dame snakkede med de andre om Betaling og bevis på indbyrdes tillid, tænkte Jared over sin betaling, og den måde den ville foregå på. Der var mere til det end han først havde troet, en hel masse ting der skulle bruges. Men det burde egentlig ikke havde kommet som en overraskelse. Det var dog interessant at vide at disse udbydere, var i stand til at levere en sådan betaling, hvilket i sig selv også var skræmmende..

Mens de snakkede lagrede han alle informationer han fik i sine interne harddiske:
...My identity is no secret. I call myself Giro and I am a mutant... I was experimented on by the Hierarchy and I poses no love for them, only hate. I want their oppression to stop. I am afraid that I lack secrets.. But if you insists om something, you can know what the bastards called me... They called me Subject TE8559."

Jared blev meget overrasket over dette. Han havde aldrig før arbejdet med en der ikke havde, eller i hvert fald prøvede på at skjule sin sande identitet. Det var normalt dem der var dårligst gemt der røg først, men denne mand var tilsyneladende anderledes, siden han var åbenlyst imod the hierachy, ikke skjulte hvem han var, og stadig levede. Og siden han var blevet valgt til en opgave som denne.

det var både foruroligende og ubehageligt at skulle 'give af sig selv' på denne måde, men samtidig en god tryghed og sikkerhed at vide at man havde noget på hinanden, og derfor var tvunget til at samarbejde og få opgaven gennemført, så ingen bakkede ud.

Jared lænte sig frem i stolen, og rev et blodplettet hjørne af kluden.

"My name is Jared Evangiel".

The Gunsmith følte nervøsiteten stige som situationen blev mere og mere interessant.
Han glædede sig over det var lykkedes at få garanti på betalingen og lovning på mere information når jobbet var gjort.

Og han glædede sig over at hans bror lige umiddelbart havde situationen under kontrol. Men han kunne ikke se sin broders plan. Det var deres paranoia og forsigtighed der havde holdt dem i live indtil nu, og de havde gjort meget, og dræbt mange for at holde deres informationer om deres identitet og relation skjult, og nu ville han dele farlig information med en gruppe hvor mindst en af dem repræsenterede en stor, farlig og rig organisation, nej The Gunsmith kunne ikke se planen.

Men efter at have arbejdet så mange år med sin broder, vidste han også at han kunne stole på ham, så der var ikke andet at gøre end at holde hovedet koldt og sørge for de klarede opgaverne.

Han begyndte at søge al tilgængelig information om Jared og Giro så snart de havde givet ham den smule mere information, så han havde noget at gå efter. Derefter tog han et stykke af den blodige serviet, og gemte den forsvarligt væk, så han havde den klar til analyse så snart han kom tilbage til deres lab.

Derefter rettede han sig op, kiggede rundt på gruppen og sagde:

"Well, since i am guaranteed the quality of my payment and is promised more information when the job is done, i guess it is my turn to share. As you all know i am known in the underworld as The Gunsmith. I am known for producing and selling some of the most high-tech implants in the underworld for individuals, in particulary weapon-implants.
Some also know me for being a.... fairly.... skilled hacker.
But one of the most important things people think they know about me, is I am also known for guarding my privacy and i am therefor only reachable through my dealer The Broker."

Her nikkede han imod sin bror inden han fortsatte,

"But, the truth is i am not just another techfreak with paranoia hiding in the slums only talking to one person. The reason he is the only one able to contact me is that we work as a team and ... that he is my brother."

"Furthermore, i guess we should tell you that...."

Her gjorde Case en naturlig kunstpause, som han vidste havde den helt rigtige længde til hans bror kunne fortsætte sætningen.

The Broker fulgte med i samtlige svar der blev givet, i samtlige ansigtstræk, bevægelser, i alt.. Han ville vide hvor han havde disse mennsker.. væsner var måske et bedre term at bruge. Da den gamle kvinde lagde sit blod på bordet var det ligefør han havde savlet af grådighed. Kun med sin jern-vilje unlod han at lade fryden og grådigheden lyse ud af sig.

Da mutanten svarede begyndte en række databaser at alarmere ham om faren ved individet foran sig.

"Do not approach" eh? That's an understatement.. I just unlocked several new databases on this fellow and it seems he's more trouble than i thought.. better make sure I have a counter measure pointed at him at all times.. tænkte Broker for sig selv imens han betragtede Giro og gav endnu et smil fra sig. Stemmen der forlod hans læber var ligeså dræven og slesk.

"O' I kno' ya lad.. I kno' all about ya.. Like 'ow ya slaughtered a team o' some o' da finest researchers.. Just ta get out. I like dat.."

Han grinede let. Smilet svandt dog en smule ind, uendeligt lidt som kraftværket sagde hans navn. Her poppede der kun nogle få svar op, hvilket var intimiderende nok i sig selv. Men tingene der stod her. Hurtigt fik Broker sat sin maske på plads igen og nikkede imod Jared.

"I see.. We 'ave a real celebraty wit' us tanight eh? Better understanding da buzzin' I get from ya.. Good job on deleting da files on ya name.. Ya just didn't get all o' dem."

Brokers smil til Jared var et kunstværk. Lige langt nok til at man fattede mistanke til ham, lige bredt nok til at man kunne mistænke ham for at vide mere end han burde.. Lige faretruende nok til at vise at han var The Broker.. og at ingen gemte sig fra ham.

Han kunne næsten se forvirringen i hans bror som han gav sine svar videre. Til drengens forsvar var det ikke nemt at følge med i. Han havde aldrig haft brug for sådan sikkerhedsforanstaltninger før, men dette var ikke normale individer han handlede med. For det første var det igennem The Organisation at han havde fået jobbet. Det fik nakke hårene til at rejse sig ved tanken om den uhyggelige organisation der havde et job til alle.. Og midlerne til det. For det andet, som det lige var blevet bevist i hans databaser, var dette farlige individer. Medmindre han havde noget på dem, ville han ikke betro sig til dem.. Selv ikke med hans omfattende ressourcer.. Mutanten var skabt til at dræbe.. Og kraftværket var en omvandrende bombe, gal nok til at eksperimentere på sig selv, og kraftfuld nok til at kunne lave omfattende skade på byen.. og ikke mindst ham.

"We bot' be Skyborn. So dere ya 'ave it, we be brot'ers and Skyborn all in one eh.." svarede han på Gunny's kunstneriske pause.

Fanden tage ham.. Altid så melodramatisk. tænkte Broker for sig selv og skulede let til sin bror. Alt sammen mentalt selvfølgeligt. Udaftil vidste han ikke andet end et selvsikkert smil som han lænede sig frem og tog det sidste af kluden med dna. Uden tøven tog han en lille beholder fra sin kuffert og proppede testobjektet derned. Beholderen var tydeligvis beregnet til at holde sådan prøver. En smule underligt at en informatør gik rundt med sådan dog.

"Well seein' as we 'ave all intradused ourselves, I say we move t'is on.. I suggest we go fer dis first."

med disse ord skrev han et enkelt ord på en seddel imens han betragtede de andre ingående. "Icarus."

Giro skrev:

" I am sorry.. But I don't know what to tell you? I guess you know all about me, I don't have anything to give. My identity is no secret. I call myself Giro and I am a mutant... I was experimented on by the Hierarchy and I poses no love for them, only hate. I want their oppression to stop. I am afraid that I lack secrets..”

'By the Black Lords! I can't determine if the fact that he doesn't have anybody or anything worth protecting anymore makes him extremely powerful or pitiful!'

Giro skrev:

"But if you insists om something, you can know what the bastards called me... They called me Subject TE8559."

'TE8559. Hmm I've heard that name before!? I'm pretty certain that it was all the rave when I ran with the Blue Angels, but by the Wastelords I can't remember what it was. It's probably nothing important anyway.'

The Obsidian Masque skrev:

"O' I kno' ya lad.. I kno' all about ya.. Like 'ow ya slaughtered a team o' some o' da finest researchers.. Just ta get out. I like dat.."

'Like you haven't done worse you blasted sewer-spewing manipulating self-centered scaring hypocrite.'

Cold Eyes skrev:

"My name is Jared Evangiel".

'Damn.. How lonely, hunted and cynic is your life, when your true name is the noose around your neck? And how dangerous, lethal and enduring are you to have survived? Guess we're going to find out.'

The Sewer-spewing Hypocrite skrev:

"I see.. We 'ave a real celebraty wit' us tanight eh? Better understanding da buzzin' I get from ya.. Good job on deleting da files on ya name.. Ya just didn't get all o' dem."

'Yeah he knew that, that's why he's keeping his name a secret, you lowborn nightmarish cretin.'

Antagonist of privacy skrev:

"Well, since I am guaranteed the quality of my payment and is promised more information when the job is done, I guess it is my turn to share. As you all know I am known in the underworld as The Gunsmith. I am known for producing and selling some of the most high-tech implants in the underworld for individuals, in particulary weapon-implants.
Some also know me for being a.... fairly.... skilled hacker.”

'Ha. Ha. Ha.'

Antagonist of privacy skrev:

”But one of the most important things people think they know about me, is I am also known for guarding my privacy and I am therefor only reachable through my dealer The Broker.“
“But, the truth is I am not just another techfreak with paranoia hiding in the slums only talking to one person. The reason he is the only one able to contact me is that we work as a team and ... that he is my brother."

'He's your brother!? You have my sympathy.'

'But somethings wrong here. Between the two of you my something is... unhinged about you. If you brother is dangerous, it's in part because of is demonstrations of power and control, like how he has maneuvered us all since we met him. He doesn't care that we know of his control of the situation because his power and influence in part relies on showmanship and intimidation, but you, you are a completely different beast aren't you?
I sense something savage about you, something reckless, something that can create chaos were there shouldn't be any.'

Antagonist of privacy skrev:

“Furthermore, i guess we should tell you that...."

Herald of the Black Lords skrev:

..."We bot' be Skyborn. So dere ya 'ave it, we be brot'ers and Skyborn all in one eh.."

'You slippery little.... So you think revealing that you're skyborns and not giving us your names is good enough, after I have given my blood. My BLOOD!'

'You already tricked me once, but this time you'll be the fool! I've examined the faces of you two intensely since you stepped into the pup, and nobody knows more about molding faces than me! I have spotted all your facial and cranial reconstructions points, so given enough time and with video footage from the skytowers I can uncover your real identity. Hopefully that won's be necessary though, because it would be a pain in the ass and would take eons to uncover. But then again no need to inform you two psychopaths about this before it's strictly necessary.'

Faceless desperately tried to keep her face from grinning from ear to ear. Figurally.

The Skyborn Broker skrev:

"Well seein' as we 'ave all intradused ourselves, I say we move t'is on.. I suggest we go fer dis first."

Faceless plastered her face in her most revolting toothless smile and nodded in agreement when she read the note.


[GM note: Jeg har prøvet at eksperimentere lidt med inkopereringen af citater, så undskylder hvis det ligner lort.]

Giro kiggede rundt... også derefter med et intens blik på den fine mand der åbenbart var leder af denne spændene ekspedition..

"Soo? that can't possibly be it? Well if this stupid charade is over I would like to get along with the mission.. but don't think you have fooled anyone in here.. Those pretty information's about you and your brother, are worth shit I would believe. If we ever should be in need of backstabbing our contractor, everything we know about you would be covered and gone... and we would be the ones screwed. You got what you wanted, don't fear anything from me, you are not my enemy, and don't make me. No one here have given you anything dangerous anyway, except the old one though.. She has given you more then enough"

Giro's gemte knive bliver vist og sat på plads rundt omkring i hans udstyr.

"This mission is to big for us not to trust each other, so lets not start on the wrong foot, you lead and I follow orders.. Just as long as the hierarchy is to pay"

Giro tager det sidste stykke stof med blod på og rækker det til den gamle dame.

"Guess you want it back? or shall I keep it for you?"

Jared kiggede sig først nu imponeret omkring, overrasket, imponeret og lidt skræmt over at en mand havde så mange kontakter at trække på, så mange folk at kunne hente tjenester ind fra, at han havde orkestreret hele denne scene selv. Man kunne nemt tro på at de var Skyborns. Han tog note af hvem de hver især var, disse folk der var i lommen på The Broker, så han ville kunne kende i hvert fald disse folk igen en anden gang.

"True indeed, Broker. If i were to die, so would most people within a fairely big radius. But dont worry, dieing is not something i'm good at, wich I think is true for you, your brother and Giro too".
Jared kiggede roligt på The Broker medens han talte, selvom han ikke kunne lade være med at være meget begejstret over denne nye information. Denne opgave virkede til at give ham flere muligheder og kontakter han ville kunne have nytte af fremover end han havde regnet med til at starte med, hvor farlige, sleske eller uigennemskuelige de nu end virkede til at være. Hvis han da overlevede. Ikke at han regnede med at dø. Havde han ikke troet at han ville overleve, havde han ikke taget missionen. Men han var samtidig også klar over hvor farligt denne kontrakt var. Nok den farligste han endu havde vurderet til at være ricikoen værd.
"Skyborns... Interesting indeed". Tilføjede han, og kiggede fra The Broker til The Gunsmith.. "Glad to make your acquaintence, I hope we'll come to be of use to each other in the future" sagde han med oprigtige intentioner.

"And you, Giro.. I have to admire you seemingly pure heart. Either that, or your extremely convincing act" sagde Jared, uden undertoner af hverken foragt, mistillid eller sand beundring. Han skulle se mere for at være overbevist om at en person virkelig var lige så oprigtig som hans intentioner, men denne mand kunne vel være en af de meget få individer der var stærke nok til at overleve at have medfølelse i en verden så Hård som denne.

Jared kiggede så hen på den gamle dame. "Are you comming with us on this job, or are you simply our contact?" spurgte han, selvom han kraftigt regnede med at den gamle dame trods alt ikke var en agent der skulle i felten. Men kunne aldrig vide, selv ikke når hun så så skrøbelig ud.
Så var der også det at hun havde givet sin egen DNA som bidrag til den fælles tillids-konto. For Jared, en videnskabsmand der havde arbejdet meget inde over genteknologi og bioteknologi for at forstå nok til at kunne bygge sin maskine som han havde gjort, var det at give sin DNA det mest afslørende og værdifulde at oplyse, ud over lige i hans eget tilfælde måske, hvor det var det næst mest private. Han kunne ikke helt tro på at hun virkelig havde givet DNA, selvom han godt vidste at det ikke var lige værdigfuldt i alles øjne. Han tilføjede:
"Also.. I admire your "contribution" to our trust-pool. But to give your own DNA is a very rare thing to do. I will trust this is really yours, but know that you will not exist to apologise, should it be a trick".
Han talte meget 'matter of fact'-ligt. Ikke sagt som en trussel, men heller ikke forsøge at foregive at han ikke kunne finde på at gøre det.. At han endnu langtfra vidste nok om nogen ved bordet, ud over måske lige mutanten der havde givet meget at søge informationer om ham på, til faktisk at kunne føre den slags trusler ud i livet endnu, behøvede de ikke at vide.

"And I am fine with going for that objective first", tilføjede han.

The Gunsmith forholdt sig neutral under den næste del af samtalen, dog lavede han en mental note om at efter jobbet var fuldført kunne det være man kunne fortsætte med at arbejde sammen med Jared.
Og efter Giros udbrud følte The Gunsmith sig faktisk mere tryg ved at arbejde sammen med ham, for det virkede til at Giro var en type man kunne stole på ikke stak dig i ryggen, så længe han vidste de havde et fælles mål.

Han kiggede på den note hans bror havde skrevet og begyndte mentalt at forberede sig på opgaven, og begyndte at planlægge hvilket udstyr han nok ville få brug for.

imens begyndte han at nikke langsomt og sagde: "well... lets get moving"

Broker lagde mærke til at Gunny begyndte at slappe af. Han lagde mærke til et par rynker i den ellers fejlfrie hud der glattede sig ud, skuldrende der sank en lille smule som de blev mere afslappede og kæbepartiet der ikke var nær så anspændt og skarpt.

Damn Gunny, don't trust him yet kid.. I swear by the Skylords if you fall for such a pathetic display of acting skills..

The Brokers tanker kredsede omkring forræderi, sikkerhedsmidler, procedurer for at sikre sig tavsheden af alt og alle omkring sig, samt en række foranstaltning der skulle ordnes inden jobbet gik igang. Alt sammen bag en maske af intense blå øjne og et afvæbnende smil.

"Worry not my friends, we're all in dis tagether.. I'll say, let's meet at da EX269... It's a popular bar in the better end o' the Slums.. I'll make sure ta get ya in, so let's say we meet t'ere at midnight tamorrow."

sagde han med et smil i stemmen. Hans isblå gled en sidste gang over ansigterne på de andre, studerede dem nøje, låste deres profiler i hans hukommelse. Hele seances her var blevet lagret og gemt iblandt de utallige informationer der var gemt i hans modificerede hjerne. Der var intet han hellere ville en at skaffe sig af med dem alle sammen og tage belønning for sig selv, inden de stak ham i ryggen. Men det gik ikke. De var nødvendige for hans opgave, for hans rus.. for hans omdømme. Han kunne allerede se hvordan han ville ofre dem, en for en, hvis det kom til det.. Selvom de bedste rygter ville være hvis de alle overlevede disse sindssyge foretagender..

Broker rejste sig fra bordet, tog sin taske og gik til bartenderen som de andre forlod etablisementet. Han smil holdt i nøjagtigt to sekunder, inden han blot kiggede på den arme mand med et par øjne der var alt for intense til at et helt raskt sind kunne gemme sig bag dem.

"How are ya feeling William? Ya wife been gettin' better? I 'eard s'e be comin' out o' t'erapy now.. Ya got da money for it doncha? Don't worry, I won't talk about da little deal ya 'ave with Lenny da 'awk.. It ain't ma business.. But it could quickly be. The surveillance is gone in 5 minutes.. and doncha try ta lie ta me William.. I know everything."

sagde Broker med en stemme som knive gemt bag et slør af honning. Rolig og blid på overfladen, men uden medlidenhed eller medfølelse ved kernen. Alle i puben vidste at hvis man gik på tværs af The Broker, ville man miste alt.. Døden ville være en mild straf. Med et ligblegt ansigt skyndte Wiliam sig ud i baglokalet for at slette overvågningen.
Broker gik ud på gaden og kiggede rundt efter de andre.

Damn them and their petty little minds.. We will soon see if they are up for the task.. I am The Broker.. Nothing gets past me..

tænkte han for sig selv imens han kaldte nogle brutale typer der havde gemt sig et stykke fra puben til sig. De var betalt for at overvåge og følge efter dem der gik ud fra kroen. Underligt nok havde de dog mistet de folk han ville vide noget om.

Blast them.. I'll figure this out, one way or the other.. for now it is time to prepare..

tænkte han, imens han startede en række databaser for at finde ud af mere om Icarus. Det var på tide at han samlede sine ting sammen og fandt ud af hvad alt det her handlede om.

<<Sceneskift>>

Baren EX269 var et sted for folk med tid, penge og ingen skrubler. Placeret i yderkanten af slummen var det et ideelt sted for forretninger der ikke tålte dagens lys, eller et sted man kunne skaffe sig ting, ingen andre ville sælge. Menneskehandel, Våbensmugling, Stoffer og Ulovlige Handler var alt sammen en del af den normale forretning i EX269. Sjovt nok var der aldrig nogen der stillede spørgsmål. Ingen eftersøgninger, ingen problemer. Selv banderne holdt sig fra ejeren og hans folk. Der gik mange rygter om stedet og ikke mindst en tæt samarbejdspartner.

Ude foran stod en ung mand i et fint jakkesæt, sort imod en rød skjorte uden slips. Hans blanke sko glinsede let da regnen faldt tungt den nat. Hans korte sorte hår var strøjet tilbage i nakken og de ravgule øjne kiggede ud igennem et par brilleglas der var pudset til perfektion. Alt omkring denne mand udstråle forretning, perfektion og effektivitet. Selv hans store sorte mappe gav henblik på at aftenen holdt et løfte om forretninger...

Continuing his disconcerting habit of surprising Faceless, Giro said,"Guess you want it back? or shall I keep it for you?"

“Keep it my young friend, nobody has ever died because they had to much blood, the opposite occurs rather often though,” Faceless said in a chuckle, and added after a moment, “not that I don't appreciate the sentiment mind you”

Faceless kept eying him as he produced knife after knife after knife, and hiding them again in very unlikely places. Her wary fascination with Giros impressive close combat weapons arsenal were interrupted by Jared's assessment of the contractors.

"True indeed, Broker. If i were to die, so would most people within a fairly big radius. But don't worry, dying is not something I'm good at, which I think is true for you, your brother and Giro too" Jared said concentrating on the Broker, though his attention never left Giro nor Faceless as far as she could tell.

'Yeah you are all so experienced at this not dying thing... Why you must all be in your twenties or thirties, that is several decades of staying alive right there!'

After a more few words to the Broker, his brother and Giro, Jared's attention shifted to Faceless,

“Are you coming with us on this job, or are you simply our contact” He said in the same cold and emotionless voice that she had begun to expect from him.

Trying to look genuinely confused, “Yes?”

Not to be deterred Jared continued, now in his casual killer voice, “Also.. I admire your "contribution" to our trust-pool. But to give your own DNA is a very rare thing to do. I will trust this is really yours, but know that you will not exist to apologise, should it be a trick"

'You doubt it's really mine... really!? You did see me cut myself and bleed down on the napkin right? I think you suffer from a case of hyper-skepticism seasoned with way to much paranoia.'

'And a threat... '
'First: Do you seriously think I would have signed up to a suicide mission if I was that attached to my life?'
Secondly: You do know that you just told all of us about your insecurities? Do you think any of us at this table wouldn't hunt down and kill the rest if they somehow betrayed us?
Just sitting down at this table is a non-verbal, but lethal, threat to the rest of what we are willing to do. But you were the only one who needed to tell us of very dangerous you are instead of showing it. Do you think we doubted that? Were you afraid we wouldn't take you seriously unless you intimidated a old woman, and showed how big and scary you are?'

'But I don't blame you. I choose this body-masque so you would underestimate me and leave yourself vulnerable, and boy did you ever comply.'

Trying to look appropriately intimidated Faceless nodded mutely to Jared.


Watching with his piercing and all-seeing eyes, the 'fucking' Broker gave Faceless a knowing smile that only lasted a fraction of a second before he started talking, “"Worry not my friends, we're all in dis tagether.. I'll say, let's meet at da EX269... It's a popular bar in the better end o' the Slums.. I'll make sure ta get ya in, so let's say we meet t'ere at midnight tamorrow."

'Did he figure me out!? Damnation!'

Rising from her place at the table with difficulties, Faceless left the pup. She hadn't walked long when she sensed someone shadowing her. He did rather well actually at following her, much better than she would have ever expected, it was obvious that he had some training.
But against the best infiltrator in the world, the most renowned information thief of newer time and the three times winner of most desirable women in Liberty City...

'And she's modest too.'

...He never really stood a chance. A few transformation between her body-masque's and she lost him.

Del af en krypteret besked. Modtager ukendt.

The blackened city.

Until year ago, the territories of the machines were found in the deepest depths of Liberty City. It is not so anymore. Now they have pushed the borders.
They aggressively expand their domain, and it is expanding fast. It used to be that threat of the machines were a cautionary tale, used to warn young scrapyard techs of the human hubris. Now they are real nightmares that it is impossible to ignore or forget.

When the machines comes, it always start the same way. They hack themselves into control of the info grid, then they overload all the techs with viruses and worms, and when the cyber-warfare reach it's peak, the androids comes.

When a new district is under the control of the machines, it changes fast. The machines destroys floors and pillars to make roadblock, they dig tunnels in convoluted patterns and kill all the lights. The only way to move freely is through the cyber'verse and no one has survived that yet.

The survivors we have extracted from the conquered areas all say the same thing:

“In the Labyrinth only Icarus moves freely”

We have not discerned what this means yet.


The Heralds

The androids are the prime physical military force of the machines that we have observed, beyond taking control of turrets and other weaponry in the invading areas that is.

It has been impossible to secure androids for further analysis as they all self-destructs when disabled. But combat experience proves that they all possesses highly advanced technology.

The most serious problem when the machines attack is not the androids though, it's the sleeper agents. The machines have seemingly created a technology that enables them to control humans with neural implants. This means that when the attack comes, thousands of sleeper agents awaken and cause widespread mayhem.

There may even be more dangerous machines out there we have not yet encountered.


Agenda

They have shown no discernible purpose as of yet. Whatever the motive may be it is undoubtedly of a sinister nature.


- Cerberus



[GM note:For at ændre spillet lidt er post-ordnen også ændret nu (så man ikke altid reagere på den samme persons posts)]

Den er nu:

1 Jacob
2 Rasmus
3 GM (det er mig!)
4 Ricko
5 Kim

Hele showet havde været ret spændene og nu virkede det da også til at der skete noget. EX269 Han kendte stedet, han havde været der flere gange, afleveret beskeder, bragt pakker, der var som regel meget trafik, men det var godt beskyttet. Han vidste ikke meget om folkende der, han var egentlig også lidt ligeglad.

Uden for kroen... var der øjne.. Heldigt havde han spejdet området før han gik ind så han vidste præcist hvilken rute han skulle tage.

Der var ingen tvivl.. han blev forfulgt... Giro lod som ingen ting, han gik via en rute som han vidste på et tidspunkt ville lure dem frem. Han slæbte dem ned i et hårdt kvarter i slummen, med god mulighed for at klatre.

De var ivrige og de kom tættere og tættere på. Giro gjorde sig umage for at lure dem med, han havde dem hurtigt hvor han ville have dem, de var dumme nok til at gå lige i fælden. Giro gik mildest talt næsten lige over hovedet på dem og de så det ikke. De var 2. Den ene virkede underligt nok bekendt, men den anden.. Han var helt sikkert godt fysisk trænet, med tyrenakke og hele svineriet. Deres spor endte tilsidst i en blindgyde.

Den trænede mand tog så fat i kraven på den anden mand.

" What the Fuck is this!! You said that you were on his trail!"

For sent fik han tænkt det hele ordenligt igennem og Giro droppede ned foran dem, lukkede dem inde.

"Don't punish the poor fool. He had my trail.... Sadly for you he did. Now start talking or it will have consequences for you"

Den store mand gav slip på den anden og gik et skridt frem imod Giro

"You don't frighten me, you are nothing but a parasite"

Giro vendte sine øjne imod den store mand..

"What makes you think I care? You are nothing but a freak, a hound of the hierarchy"


Vreden spulede sig op i et kæmpe raseri og mandens øjne bliv monstrøse gule. Han satte af i en ustyrligt angreb. Giro lavede et højt hop for at undgå angrebet, men overraskende satte manden af i samme split, i et hop der var mindst lige så højt. Ingen tvivl, Giro blev overrasket og banket ryg først ind i en mur. Slag efter slag fik Giro banket sine ribben skæve.

Hurtigt fik han dog fatningen tilbage og slog den store mand lige i struben hvilket skabte hulet til at rulle væk. Et splitsekund efter var manden i hælene på ham igen. Giro lavede en hurtig piruette og som et lyn hørtes der en klingene lyd som et blad der blev trukket og sat på plads. Blodet begyndte at løbe fra mandens hals og efter et par skridt til snublede han om på jorden.

Giro stod lige og kunne mærke sin brystkasse sætte sig på plads igen, med de små knæk fra knoglerne som satte sig på plads igen. Han trak vejret tungt og vendte sig så imod den unge mand der stod ligbleg tilbage.

"Hallo David, I guess you have some explanation to do. Like what you are doing here and what kind of monster that was"

Giro snakkede til ham som han ville gøre til en lillebror der lige havde dummet sig

David var i laset tøj og havde rodet hår. Han var ikke mutant og kendt for at rande med de forkerte typer. Han havde grønne øjne og havde flere små tech opgraderinger. Han havde en lav men lidt skingre stemme

"Giro I swear they made me do it.. And I didn't know it was you. As soon I knew I followed you to this trap, I knew it was your plan. I Don't know much about them, they found me out and told me they would kill a lot of innocents if I didn't cooperate."

Giro kiggede køligt på ham og pegede så sin finger i retning af liget og David fortsatte.

"I think.. based on those i saw, that the hierarchy is experimenting on them.. maybe some super soldier program.. or something.. I tell you Giro, he ain't the worst out there.. Some are way more sick and twisted.. And I only think they are on a low dose or something.. They talked about it, like a drug and they needed their fix."

David blev ivrig i stemmen

"And they talked about something else too... Something strange... Icarus or something like that... Something that is troubling down in the Labyrinth, and this guy right here, he should deliver an encrypted disk after shadowing you."

Giro vendte sig om og gik hen til liget. Han tog en disken frem for en af lommerne.

* Hmm why would a low grade soldier in disguise hunting a dangerous mutant be caring this. Either does the inteliggens fail fast or maybe he didn't think he could fail.. Or maybe it was on purpose *

"David you have good ears and are a brilliant spy, keep low for a while and remember to check yourself for bugs and tracers"

David begyndte at løbe og stoppede kort op "Thanks Giro, you did always do right by us. Oh and by the way, he did kill another man following you, I don't know who he was, but it was another thug, he had been waiting some time for you to get out, and I think there were others to, shadowing others leaving the bar"


Giro nikkede og fortsatte videre, der var ting han skulle have gjort inden mødet i morgen.

The Gunsmith gik ud af døren, og gik roligt ud i natten med et tilfreds smil om læberne. Fremtiden lovede et nyt adranelinrus, et spændende arbejde, informationer om en hemmelig og magtfuld organisation, samt en virkelig lovende betaling.
Han gik en omvej inden han ville finde tilbage til et af de mange områder ham og hans bror benyttede sig af når de skulle rejse fra slummen og tilbage til ”deres” verden.

Og som han forventede blev han forfulgt. Hvis man ikke var nået til enighed om opgaven de nu skulle ud på, kunne det have været meget afslørende for ham og hans bror, hvis hans bror havde fået alle andre skygget, men ikke ham. Det kunne selvfølgelig bortforklares da alle der kendte til dem vidste at The Broker var The Gunsmiths eneste forhandler, men en grundig og dygtig spion, ville nok stille spørgsmålstegn alligevel, hvis The Broker undlod at sende nogen efter alle, da det ville virke mistænkeligt.

Men eftersom alt var gået godt, forventede han ikke længere at nogle af de andre fra mødet både ville sørge for at forsvinde for dem der skyggede dem, og samtidig se om alle andre også blev forfulgt. Alle burde have deres egen forberedelser inden den næste nat.
The Gunsmith gik ned af en om muligt mindre og mørkere gyde end den han gik på i forvejen. Han kunne ligeså godt sende hans skygge hjem med det samme, så han selv kunne komme tilbage til sin workshop i skyerne. Rundt om hjørnet kom lidt efter en lille mandsperson gående, der virkede som en der var faret vild og ville finde en genvej.

”I det mindste virker han rimelig professionel” tænkte The Gunsmith for sig selv da han så den lille person bevæge sig ned af den mørke gyde. Han lukkede øjnende imens han tog en dyb indånding for at koncentrere sig inden han skulle tale med hans forfølger. Han hørte pludseligt hurtige skridt bag den lille mand, ved indgangen til gyden, og inden han nåede at åbne øjnene hørte han et stille smæld fra en pistol med velsmurt lyddæmper.

The Gunsmith skyndte sig at vænne sig imod den nytilkomne og så sig om i gyden. 10 m fra ham lå den lille person stille i en voksende blodpøl på jorden og lidt bag ham, stod en stor mand med en stadig rygende pistol i hånden, og ligeså langsomt begyndte manden at komme nærmere.

The Gunsmiths indre techdele arbejdede over for hurtigt og lydløst at scanne personen og hans måde at bevæge sig på. Ifølge de indsamlede data var han ikke typen der var veltrænet i avanceret nærkamp eller nærkamp i det hele taget, men mere typen der stadig tævede dygtige nærkampsfolk fordi han kunne tåle mere end de fleste og et enkelt slag ville få de fleste til at gå i gulvet. Han bevægede sig lidt langsomt og uelegant så han var heller ikke den adrætte type.
Og han var udstyret med en XVR.577 med lyddæmper. Det var ikke ligefrem en standardpistol, det var en Hierarchy produceret fuldautomatisk pistol og der blev kun uddelt få i den kaliber, da de krævede en ret stor muskelmasse at styre den. Og det havde været et helvede at udvikle en velfungerende lyddæmper til den. Altså måtte manden her være en Acolyte, spørgsmålet var om han arbejdede på ordre fra The Hierarchy i aften eller…?

”don´t ya move ya little gutershite,” knurrede den store mand “unless ya want a breath´in hole the size ova fist thru ya brain.”

Gunsmith stod stille men kiggede dog på manden og sagde så underdannigt som muligt: “ I will not move an inch then. But could you tell me how i can be of your service this fine night, so you do not have to kill me?”

“ya don’t speak that way to me smartass, just tell me wher´ ya are hiding all ya goods for the Guilds and how I can get to tha´ brokerdude as well!” The giant man towered above The Gunsmith with the gun pointed straight at his head, 2 inches from his face.

”Sorry, I can and I will not betray The Broker, nor will I allow you to destroy the good money I get from dealing with the Guild.”

CLICK! The gun didn’t go off. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK!!! Now the big man looked angry and a bit confused at the gun, still pointed at The Gunsmiths face, then a little embarrassed at The Gunsmith.

“well, this is a bit embari… embarara… embarrarassing” mumbled the man before he straightened “ It just worked fine a second ago on the other guy.”

“Do not worry my good sir” The Gunsmith said with a seemingly calm voice “this happens sometimes with those big caliber guns when you put a silencer on, try again after removing it”

Those guys are always just big really stupid thugs , but this one takes the price– the gunsmith thought to himself as the giant hastily removed the silencer and then pointing the gun at The Gunsmiths head again. CLICK!

“That was indeed strange, are you certain there is a bullet in the chamber good sir?” The Gunsmith said with his most polite tone

“I think so…” the giant man said then he turned the gun to look into the barrel of the gun to check.

BAM!! BAM!! BAM!! BAM!! BAM!!

The sound of 5 consecutive shots sounded in the night the second the giants gun had pointed at his own face.


The Gunsmith left the alley in deep thoughts – Only freelancing then, the Hierarchy wouldn’t send someone incompetent to off someone like us. Well at least I can get back home now. I better prepare thoroughly for tomorrow, better make certain all my tech and implants run perfectly and I also need to get some research done for the job. Oh and not to forget, I still need to finish planning that assassination attempt and make sure I get a better standing at the office. What else what else… oh yeah right, almost forgot the most important, I need to get the blood from the old lady analyzed, preferable before tomorrow, so I know who and what I am dealing with before the job tomorrow. Damn 1 day just doesn’t leave much time for me to rest in.

Ikke længe efter trådte Case ind I sin workshop. Hans satte sig ved på stolen ved det eneste bord i rummet hvor der ikke lå techdele, nemlig hans skrivebord. Han kiggede på sin holder til alle de væsker han brugte i sit arbejde når han skulle fusionere tech og væv, chip og dna. Den havde altid en motiverende virkning på ham. Den skræmte ham, men samtidig huskede den ham på hvordan han kunne ende hvis han ikke gjorde sit arbejde godt nok, og sørgede for altid at være den bedste til det han gjorde og altid holde sig et skridt foran hans modstandere. Han havde en lang nat og dag fyldt af arbejde foran ham inden han var klar til at mødes med de andre.

(GM note: Ja jeg ved godt at jeg har været lang tid om det men jeg har haft rocker travlt. Jeg har haft så travlt at jeg ikke engang har fået spillet Darksiders 2!!! Anyways, lidt af et monster post men whatever.)
(GM note 2: Rettede lige de 10.000 af stavefejl der havde sneget sig ind.)

Faceless walked out of the holoprojecter, having just finished the conference call with the Management. Holoprojecters were yet another pre-sanctuary invention. As just about everything were DNA-coded nowadays, she were at an extreme inconvenience and had to rely on ancient artifacts. Not that she would be able to keep it much longer anyways. Not unless she found some way to appease the Organization.

Apparently they weren't very happy about the promises she had given to some of the contractors. Apparently it was a liability if the contractors were informed of more than the barest details.
Apparently no one is inexpendable if they compromise the mission.

'Apparently it was not a wise decision to call them for “bloated and immature gutter-rats” even if they acted like it.'

After brooding and fuming for a couple of hours, and mumbling about all kinds of youngsters drunk with power and pride, she grabbed her gear and went out to make some final preparations before the big mission.

>>Sceneskift<<

With the dim and flickering halo of light as the only source illuminating the front door of the warehouse it looked nondescript from any other cathedrals of decadence, but Faceless knew different. This was a pinnacle of death and desire, so much more refined and vulgar than in any of the other temples dedicated to the human hubris.

This was the culmination of that which mortals desire above anything else. This was the house of blood and sex. This was New Babylon.

Faceless didn't know when or from where it had originated, but the business of bloodsport and high-end prostitution thrived phenomenally. Even in these desperate and craven times or maybe especially in these times...

By now whole warehouses or towers were dedicated to the combination of lust and carnage.

'What is it about death and violence that makes people so horny? Has it really come to the point were I'm the sane one!?'

While these places were seen everywhere, just like the rest of the society it was seen even moreso when the rich were doing it.

Primal brutality and base lust were perfected to the extreme here. Fighters augmented and mutated to the absolute limit fought for the ultimate glory in the arena called the Reapers Court at the floor level.

Winning and losing unimaginable sums of money while watching the theater of the macabre, were of course the skyborns. In amidst all this are the muses who can bring any man or woman inconceivable amounts of pleasure and is required to obey the clients every request. Entry to this sinners paradise is only on invitation.



[perspektiv skift]

When Dimitri had first entered the arena, as a young and naive glory-hunter, he had been irked if not out right angry that his mentor did not think his name was intimidating enough. But he had chosen to trust his mentors wisdom in the end, and so now he was known as Bonecrusher.

Even after 6 years he still severely disliked his new name, though he could not deny that it had its uses. Few people expect a 7 feet tall giant named Bonecrusher to be a cunning and calculating fighter. They thought he would come charging in like a headless brute, and they were somehow always surprised when he broke free from their narrow and confining prejudices. Of course he didn't abstain from the mindless brutality, he did just not limited himself to such a basic fighting style.

But still they looked down on him, they thought they were better then him, they thought themselves so much smarter then him. But Dimitri knew, and made he made sure they paid for their arrogance as he crushed their soul and bones.

The enormous double-doors gave way for him and admitted him access to the arena. He gave the audience one of his beastly grins as he walked into the Reapers Court. His Court.

The court in itself was an technological wonder, seamlessly blending virtual reality with real life environmental obstacles to make the battles more interesting for the spectators. So the Court could be a replica of some old, ruinous and war-torn city to simulate urban combat and warfare, or it could be turned into an ancient Inca temple with traps and all or something entirely different.

To survive in the Reapers Court, the first lesson was to not be distracted by the reality-defying feats that seemed to be everyday occurrences. One such thing you shouldn't question was how in the name of the Black Lords they could fit the ancient city of Berlin into a medium sized warehouse. Portal and dimension technology was just a normal part of the Court.

Dimitri didn't pay much heed to the finer details of the technology that made this possible, he just needed to concentrate on the chosen arena and the unlucky souls trapped in there with him.

Today the Court was a pre-war forest with lots of green stuff, and the occasional boulder or lake. Even a few huts here and there, probably to give the smug skyborns some sense of realism. Just in case the widespread death and destruction don't do the trick.
Dimitri started to move to the center of the forest at a slow and relaxed pace, casually ignoring the screams of agony and bloodlust that drifted to him from the battles in other areas of the Court.

The rules of the Court were sometimes intricate and convoluted, but the gist of it was:

• You can only challenge others to a duel if you have the rank of champion.
  
• You become champion when you have raked up a thousand kills. Until then you are a paleskin.
  
• Champions is ranked internally by one merciless rule. You kill him, you take his rank and privileges.

Today it was a two hour free-for-all slaughterhouse with 200 hopeful or desperate Pales. 200 pales and 1 predator. Dimitri only needed a couple of kills to become a champion, and today would be his time of glory.
His thought were brought back to the matter at hand when he noticed 3 pales shadowing him from the perceived safety of the trees. He smiled to himself.

He knew that his biggest competitor, Nightfire, could never live with herself if he became a champion before her, so obviously she would try to eliminate him today. It was her last chance and it was probably her minions in the trees, trying to herd him to the Honor-ground in the center of the arena were they could outnumber and outflank him. He would make her regret waiting so long before provoking their final battle.

Dimitri noticed more and more of Nightfires minions and allies around him, trying to limit the direction he could go in. He counted about 20 in all.

Not before long he entered the center of the forest arena, where the Honor-ground was located. The Honor-ground was a massive square platform placed in the middle of a bottomless chasm (or bottomless as far as Dimitri knew). The only way onto the platform was two bridges that hanged suspended above the abyss of the chasm. This was the place to resolve grudges and insults to your honor on the battleground, all for the added entertainment value of the audience.

This was also the best place to corner your prey. To bad Nightfire hadn't realized she wasn't the predator.

Dimitri crossed the bridges and placed himself in the center of the platform waiting for his prey to come to him. It didn't take long for them to exit the forest and block the bridges.

He quickly spotted the beautiful and raven-haired Nightfire leading them. She was an remarkable girl, possessing a mastery over the fire element, a keen mind, and the ability to ensnare witless pales to be her minions with empty promises of future glory. Almost a shame that his long-time rival was going to die today. Almost.

Stepping onto the platform with the majority of her minion host, Nightfire gave Dimitri a confident smile: “I guess this is the end” she said almost wistfully.

Dimitri looked at her calmly and without a word he detonated the explosive charges he had bribed an arena official to place under the two bridges before the slaughterhouse began.

Nightfire's confident smile faltered when she saw all access to and from the Honor-ground was literally blown: “BURN HIM!” She screamed to her minions, realizing she had walked into a trap.

Dimitri closed his eyes and activated his ability....

…and Bonecrusher opened his eyes. Something moved in front of him. Men with guns and swords. Corpses then.

He surged forward. A dead man stood in front of him. Bonecrushers fist moved as lightning. It gave a satisfying crunching sound as it split the man's face.

Something dug into his back. But there was no pain. It was a sign. A message in a secret tongue, that only he could understand. It told him were the next dead man was standing.

Men were crushed and crunching. They tried to shoot him. They tried to slash him. But it were useless. Bonecrushers fists were strong as the roots of the mountain, relentless as the sun. His blood was molten darkness, his soul was fire, his mercy was the void. Dimitri might have pitied them, but Dimitri was far away and Bonecrusher had less pity than the winter.

Their screams bubbled and died. He laughed, and the sun laughed, and the corpses laughed and the fire laughed.

Fire?

He saw a dark-haired woman embraced by the fire. He charged her, tasting her fear, savoring her despair. She unleashed the blazing sun at him, but his skin was lava, his eyes thunder, his will indomitable. He took her puny skull in his hands, and she fought with the untamed hellfire of her soul.

But his grip was unconquerable as time, his power limitless as the universe. She was the inferno, but a flame can never beat the supreme fire. He crushed her skull and closed her eyes in his triumph...

...and Dimitri opened his eyes and surveyed the chaos. Limbs and blood were everywhere. Nightfire, or what was left of her was in front of him. Obviously very dead. Clearly no enemies had survived. His body was a mess, burned and beaten, with a bunch of painful bullets lodged in. His regenerative abilities had kept him alive, but it was a close thing this time. That was the danger with letting Bonecrusher out, no sense of self-preservation, pain or defeat. But today it worked, today he was a champion.

>>Sceneskift<<

Having settled in into his new champion-exclusive appartment, Dimitri leaned back in his chair gesturing to the muse that she could enter. Muses were gorgeous women (or men if that's whom you fancy) who were trained in the arts of a consort, and the very best of them were accessible only for a champion. This perk was one of the reasons so many fought to become a champion.

At his command the muse started to massage his shoulders. His whole body was sore from the aftermath of the battle, his regeneration had worked in overdrive to heal his damages. It was easy to relax now, but he still checked the wine for poisons out of old habits.

When the muse was done, he lazily made a very suggestive gestured so there was no doubt what he had in mind should happen now. Infuriatingly enough the muse just walked around him and leaned on a table just out of his reach and started talking. He was so annoyed that the whore tried to test his patience, that he barely heard what she said at first

“...and I haven't even started talking about the semi-sane hacker who the Black Lords themselves must have dragged out of damnation just to annoy me! And would you believe me, if I said that the Broke were actually more twisted, controlling, and annoying than the rumors says” The muse chattered.

“Shut up!” Dimitri tried to interrupt the soon-to-be-former muse, but for some reason his mouth could not form the words and it ended as: “blrrr”

Giving him a look of pure disdain “Well that is a well-thought and beautiful formulated argument if I ever heard one” the muse said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Now really angry Dimitri tried to stand up and punch the arrogant bitch. Unfortunately his limbs didn't respond to his commands, and he just barely toppled out of his chair to lie paralyzed on the floor.

“Yeah, it's over my friend. Why don't you just lie still and accept it. In case your wondering, the poison was in the massage oil. I'm immune to most poisons you see, but unfortunately your not. You might have had a chance to make it, had you not used most of your energy today. But that's life right? Well not your life mind you, your life is about to end.” The assassin/muse laughed, apparently pretty proud of her own joke.

Dimitri, failing to see the humor in the situation closed his eyes....

“I wouldn't do that if...”

...and Bonecrusher opened his eyes.
His blood was fire, but the ocean was flooding his veins.
His will was the never ending flame, but the poisoned tide unyielding.
His strength was the scorching sun, but the darkness all-devouring.

He looked up to see his bane, and understood. He was fire, she was ice. He was the blazing summer, she the endless winter. He was death, she undying.



[perspektiv skift]

Faceless quickly sneaked out of the room, happy to have acquired her new body.

'The original inhabitant seemed kind of grumpy to be kicked out though. Not like I was rude or anything, even gave him a massage first. Guess some people are just impossible to please.'

She slipped out of New Babylon with relative ease, having done so quite a few times before, and started to move into the slums and EX269.

>>Blødt sceneskift<<

She shifted to her “old crone” body-masque before moving to the entrance.

'It might not be wise to show up Im the body of the newest champion of the Reapers Court. It may be seen a bit suspicious, and I guess we should be all “stealthy” and “inconspicuous” for the time being.'

The other contractors were already there when Faceless arrived. She didn't recognize the Broker's new face at first though, but it were easy to guess when she saw the others talking to him.

Greeting them, she followed the Broker inside as he gave them an introduction of the place.

The Broker havde samlet det meste af "holdet" udenfor EX269. Giro, mutanten, var ankommet med den sædvanlige nonchalance en født dræber besad. The Broker kunne næsten lugte stanken af død fra ham og tænkte lidt over hvem det uheldige offer mon havde været.

Poor soul.., tænkte Broker, don't trail a predator.. Unless you're prepared for a fight with tooth and claw..

The Broker gjorde sig endnu en mental note om hvilke foranstaltninger der skulle gøres imod mutanten.. Bare i alle tilfældes skyld.
Den næste der var mødt havde været det omvandrende kraftværk. Manden havde været stille som graven og efterlod en irriterende summen i Broker's øre.

Damn power tripping megalomaniac.. If I had half a mind left I would have gotten rid of him in a very quiet and unthrilling way.. tænkte Broker for sig selv. But that wouldn't really be fun would it? No, let's give him a bit of leash.. See if he strangles himself and blows everybody up, or he actually manages to be of some use to me..

Broker's tankespind blev afbrudt da en besked fra hans broder tikkede ind. Deres private netværk var sikret mod indtrængende og gav dem en chance for at kommunikere med hinanden af sikre kanaler. Det var dog en stadig kilde til forundring hvor hurtigt hans broder kunne sende og behandle beskederne de delte imellem hinanden.

That kid is more machine than man by now.. Gotta watch him a bit, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.. tænkte Broker med en mental grimasse, imens han iagttog de to ankomne. I guess I'm gonna be glad I brought my jammer.. and the backup drive.. and the gun.. Especially the gun..

Broker var godt igang med at gennemgå sine indre planer og sikkerhedsforanstaltninger da Gunsmith og det gamle rovdyr mødte op. Han havde stadig ikke luret hvem eller hvad der gemte sig bag masken, men snart ville han rive den af for at se.. Ligesom han altid gjorde. Ingen holdt noget skjult for The Broker.

"Alright my good sirs, and lady, let's venture inside and have a look at the goods shall we?" sagde han med sin bedste forretningsstemme. Han vinkede de fire dødstrusler med ind og så sig omkring. Toner fra musikken bragede imod ham og den dybe dunken resonerede i hans krop, hans hjerte, hans åndedrag. Det blinkende lys satte gang i en mærkelig process i hans hjerne. Stoffer blev frigivet og hans puls steg stødt. Ungdom og kraft var centrum her, og de mange kroppe på danse gulvet foran ham vred og vendte sig i takt til de forførende toner. Broker undertrykte effekten af den lokkende musik og lyset og et kort øjeblik krusede et grusomt smil sig på hans læber. Så var det væk igen og hans begyndte at fortælle med et højt hævet stemme.

"Welcome good sirs, and lady, to the EX269, the finest trading center this side of the Skyways. In here you will find whatever your heart desires... It all comes down to, if you have the right price."

Broker begyndte at bevæge sig imod baren, imens at han pegede op på den lettere skjulte første sal.

"Up there we have the Inspection Rooms. It's where those who wish to have private meetings, yet still see the gathering of youth and vitality."

Han pegede nu imod adskillige dører på den anden side af dansegulvet.

"Over there are the more private, isolated meeting rooms.. It's where most of the transactions take place."

Ved dette vendte Broker sig imod de andre og smilede igen. Et smil der på ingen måde nåede de ravgule øjne bag brillerne.

"Of course this is all a secret... A known secret amongst the right people, but I expect you to be quiet about it.. For your own good."

Han smilede igen, men der var noget sært over hans ravgule øjne. De var for distancerede.. For kolde.. Som om der inde bag dem kørte en computer der kalkulerede risiko og gavn ved alt foran dem..

"Right.. We are headed to the bar.. A bit of refreshments would be nice, as we have a long night before us."

Broker førte an hen til baren, ad en velegnet sti der var placeret så man kunne undgå de mange vridende kroppe der tog det meste af pladsen i det betragtelige rum. Baren var lavet som en cirkel i midten af rummet så der var udsyn til det hele fra den. Den oplyste bordplade lyste i et behageligt blåt lys og adskillige flasker var oplyst i forskellige dæmpede farver bag ved bartenderene. Den ene, en mand med kun et øje og en klap for det andet kom over til dem. Han var klædt i hvad der lignede en hel dragt af et sølvskinnede stof med en sort blazer ud over. Hans korte sorte hår og skæg var veltrimmede og hans smil var charmerende.

"What can I do for you all? I have drinks and snacks, beer and wine, old and new, all you need, I got it."

Han pegede bag sig imens han talte og grinede så kort til dem alle. Et ulve grin.

"Or if you need some more.. private stuff, I have a room just for that. You look like people who means business."

Broker trådte et skridt frem og lagde en note på bordet. Den blev hurtigt samlet op af bartenderen der, uden at forandre en mine, læste den, nikkede og gjorde en gestus for at de skulle følge med imens han forlod baren.

"Yes indeed, we have what you need. It's in room Br-01."

Med en sikre og elegante bevægelser der kommer af at have vandret af en sti utallige gange, førte bartenderen dem til en dør i den anden ende af rummet.

"My name is Lukas. I will be here if you need anything else. Just use the com device inside."

Med disse ord forlad han dem og Broker tog over igen.

"Let us head inside no? There will be refreshments inside."

Med et vidende smil åbnede han døren og lukkede de andre ind i et lille rum. I rummets midte stod et rundt bord, velegnet til forhandlinger. På bordet stod en karafel med rent vand og 5 glas. Broker satte sig ved bordet og tog et glas.

"Let's sit and talk a bit, before i reveal the rest. I need a little to drink. And I assume you wouldn't mind getting dry as well."

Da Jared forlod den snuskede kro, gik han derfra med en stille sind. Den slags der kommer af simpel accept. Han vidste at han var gået ind til noget farligt. Nok farligere end han havde prøvet før. Han vidste også at han kunne stole på dem alle sammen for nu, men at de til hver en tid skulle holdes skarpt øje med, da deres motiver ikke var kendt for ham.
At den gamle dame faktisk skulle med på deres opgave var Jared på ingen måde begejstret for. hun virkede alt for skrøbelig, men netop derfor var hun det nok ikke. Enten det, eller også var hun ganske rigtigt skrøbelig, men samtidig også i besiddelse af uvurderlige evner eller viden..
Noget gjorde hende i hvert fald egnet, siden et guild Alder kunne tilbyde så meget sendte hende med.. medmindre hun naturligvis var "highly expendable", eller ligefrem en sikkerhedsrisiko. Det var ikke til at vide. Men uanset hans nye partneres egenskaber, kunne han ikke lade være med at være begejstret.. Endelig kunne han tage det næste store skridt mod det overordnede mål.

Jared fortsatte turen hjemad i sine tanker og overvejelser, og begik en kæmpe fejl i og med at han lod sin opmærksomhed falde til et niveau den aldrig havde været nede på siden... Ja, sin barndom. Da den kæmpestore mand der havde skygget ham svingede riffelstumpen mod hans hoved, opdagede Jared det derfor først lige før den ramte, og nåede kun at dreje hovedet en anelse og få det lidt til siden, før hans syn sortnede, da riflen ramte næsten rent ind i hans baghoved..
Verdenen gyngede, og Jared kom langsomt til sig selv, og opdagede at han blev båret på skuldrerne af en kæmpestor mand. Han var stadig i slumområdet, så der var ikke gået mere end et par minutter siden han blev slået ud. Han undertrykte kontant den sårede stolthed og enorme skuffelse over sin egen totale uopmærksomhed, til fordel for at aktivere sin processor i hjernen, der hurtigt foretog de nødvendige beregninger.

*der lyder en svag summen, der hurtigt stiger i styrke*

Den store mand stopper op og kigger sig kort omkring, for at se hvor den summene lyd kommer fra, og begynder at bevæge sig hurtigt og aggressivt da han ikke umidbart kan se hvor den unormale lyd kommer fra. han skal til at lægge Jared fra sig for ikke at blive taget uforberedt, da han pludselig forsvinder i den blå luft, samtidig med Jared.

3 Minutter tidligere*
Den kæmpestore mand der havde skygget ham svingede riffelstumpen mod hans hoved, og ramte intet. Hvor der for et mikrosekund siden gik en mand han var sendt for at tage til fange lige foran sig, er der nu intet andet en luft. Han stopper op et øjeblik, kniber øjnene intenst sammen for at lave en hurtig vurdering af situationen, og beslutter sig for at stille sig op af en nær husvæg, for at observere vejen stille og roligt, og se hvad der skete og få et overblik. han skal lige til at vende sig for st tage de to skridt hen til væggen, da han med sin modificerede hørelse hører en person ca 10 meter bag ham, samt den afslørende lyd af en aftrækker der er ved at blive trykket ind. Han når lige akkurat at begynde en unvigemanøvre, da klikket lyder og et kæmpe brag lyder, da patronen fra et tungt håndvåben forlader løbet og i samme splitsekund går gennem hans strube og river halsen halvt over.

Fra sin nye liggende position på vejen, er hans hoved faldet i den retning han før havde ryggen mod. det sidste han ser er den mand der for mindre end et sekund siden gik lige foran ham. Mens han med sine sidste kræfter løfter geværet mod manden, lægger han mærke til blodet der løber ned over hans mål's ansigt fra et sted oppe i håret, på trods af at han ikke havde et sår for et sekund siden da han skulle til at slå ham.
Med et andsigt let fordrejet i en grimasse af bitter skadefryd, sendte Jared uden et ord endnu en kugle i sin forfølger, denne gang i hovedet, før han når at få geværet rettet helt op mod sit mål.

Efter at have sikret sig der ikke var overvågningskameraer i området, fortsætter Jared med dundrende hovedpine og med stor skam og selvforagt, hurtigt hjem.

*Sceneskift*

Jared gik med hurtige skridt hend mod Den aftalte bar. mere årvågen end han havde været i årevis, undersøgte han nøje hver enkelt person der var i nærheden, og var konstant opmærksom på selv de mindste tegn på fjentlige eller andre intentioner. I går aftes var en lektie om uopmærksomhed som han og hans sårede professionelle stolthed sent ville glemme.
Da han nærmede sig indgangen og havde noteret sig de forskellige personer ved den, lagde han mærke til en mand der havde præcis samme intense blik og ubehageligt selvsikre kropsholdning som The Broker havde haft aftenen før. Han gik uden et ord hen og stillede sig ved siden af manden, som hans instinkt og logik fortalte ham måtte være The Broker i en anden forklædning end han havde været dagen før, og fulgte ham med ind gennem festen, op til baren og hend til mødelokalet sammen med de andre som de efterhånden kom. Undervejs fik han næsten hovedpine af sin konstante analyseren af de alt for mange mennesker der var samlet på dette sted.

Musikken pumpede i baggrunden... Her var højt for en mutant med gode sanser...

"Before we get started.. I meet another mutant.. A creature working for the hierarchy... He had this"

*Throws the encrypted disk on the table.

"I figured one of you had the skills to use this."

Han gjorde det kort for alle fibre i hans krop ville bare i gang.. Ikke mere venten..

Det havde været en lang nat, men han havde da fået tid til at sove og han følte sig nu frisk og klar, mens spændingen ved det forstående job gjorde han følte sig mere i live end han længe havde gjort.

Han havde nået at færdiggøre noget af hans forskning, dog ikke alle de våbengadgets han havde håbet, men alligevel noget at arbejde med. Derudover havde han fået analyseret den gamle kvindes blod, men han havde endnu ikke fundet frem til hendes navn og identitet, han vidste han sandsynligvis nemt kunne finde det, da den forhåbentligt sværeste del var overstået, men tiden havde været begrænset.
Slutteligt havde han researchet hvad han kunne om Icarus, og det havde han været glad for. Der var stadig meget der var uvist men han havde kunnet nå at pakke og forberede sig bedre på jobbet.
Derudover havde han nået videre i sit arbejde for The Hierarchi og med lidt held ville de fremskridt han og hans hold gjorde ugentligt snart give udslag i højere stillinger og bedre budget. Han blev jo nødt til at beholde facaden som den ambitiøse forsker ligeså snart han var tilbage blandt skyborns.

Han havde håbet han kunne mødes med hans bror lidt før de andre ville komme, men da han kom frem var han og den gamle de sidste til at ankomme. Og igen blev han overrasket over hvor mange perfekte komplette "udklædninger" hans bror skiftede mellem og havde fuldstændig styr på. Han tænkte igen på om hans bror mon ville kunne huske hvordan han selv så ud hvis han ikke skulle "spille" sig selv hver gang de var tilbage på deres poster i The Hierarchi og var sammen med resten af familien. Og dage overvejede han også om hans bror måske brugte så meget tid i hans mange forklædninger som The Broker at han faktisk kun kunne huske hvordan han selv så ud fordi han havde familiefotos til rådighed til at hjælpe ham med at huske hvem han var.
Det var dog kun spekulationer og indtil videre havde hans bror ikke givet ham grund til at tvivle på hukommelsen, tværtimod var hans forklædninger altid upåklageligt perfekte.

De var gået ind på baren EX269 en af The Brokers pengemaskiner. The Gunsmith havde været her et par gange før og ”brød sig ikke” om stedet. I virkeligheden elskede Case hvordan hele ”maskinen” virkede, hvordan teknologien påvirkede folk, men i sin forklædning som The Gunsmith havde han besluttet at ikke bryde sig om stedet.
Stedet vrimlede med folk, der var larm, luften emmede tykt med lugten af sved, sex, spiritus og andre lignende dunste.
Mange ville kalde det ungdommens oprør og frigørelse, men virkeligheden var at de fleste der var her, ikke havde viljen til at modstå alle de små teknologiske ”våben” der lokkede en ud i den dansende mængde, fik en til at bruge penge, og være total løssluppen og bare give los. Det var lavet for folk kunne stikke af fra hverdagen og nyde nuet, på en måde som gjorde The Broker endnu rigere, og samtidig kunne være facade for lidt mere lyssky handler.
Nej i forklædning som The Gunsmith brød han sig ikke om det her sted, der var alt for mange alarmklokker der ringede for en så paranoid person som ham.
Og det virkede til han ikke var den i den lidt særprægede gruppe der bevægede sig efter The Broker, der havde det værst. Mutanten så om muligt mere anspændt ud end han plejede at gøre i hans altid opmærksomme væremåde, og selv det omvandrende kraftværk så ud til at få hovedpine herinde.

De nåede op til baren hvor The Broker talte med Lukas og snart efter var de på vej efter denne ret særprægede klædte mand ud til et af de private mødelokaler, lokale Br-01.

Da folk havde sat sig ved det runde bord i lokalet startede Giro ud med at sige han havde fået en disk han havde taget fra en Hierachy agent og denne smed han på bordet. Og inden Giro havde talt sin sætning færdig om han håbede en af de tilstedeværende kunne finde ud af noget med den, havde The Gunsmith fundet sin PDA frem og var i gang med at bryde krypteringen.
Han kunne ligeså godt begynde at øve sig i at hacke manuelt igen ud fra den research han havde lavet ville han få brug for det meget snart. Han håbede bare den krypterede disk kunne fortælle ham mere.

Ca 7 sekunder efter Giro havde smidt disketten på bordet kiggede The Gunsmith en smule mere fokuseret rundt på de tilstedeværende end hvad han plejede, og sagde:

”Well, it is part of an encrypted message I have found a couple of times during my research within the last 24 hours as well. The problem is it seems damaged and incomplete. But well you can listen to it for yourselves.”
“ the blackened city. Until year ago…” The Gunsmith læste derefter hele beskeden op før han fortsatte:

”so as you can see, it is a lot of useful information. My problem at the moment is, I have no idea as to whom cerebus are, or why this information is on a disk on the way to the hierarchy and has surfaced in a couple of other and rather inaccessible places, or how much of the information is lacking as the message miss some of the start.

But what I think we do know if this information is reliable and I see no reason not to take precaution as if it is true, whether it is or not, is that we are gonna need to be extra careful when entering this labyrinth. I think since 3 of us are techs and therefore will need to be on closed circuits and systems before we enter, that at least for me, my hacking speed will be considerable slower as I need to do everything manually through my pda. This will then make our progress through this labyrinth slower than what I would have liked.

Sadly I also believe this is just some of the precautions we need to take and some of the troubles we might meet. We might also need to consider that if this information is not reliable, how come it exist, who have created false information and for what purpose?
If it is true though, it probably would be smart to avoid trying to traverse via the cyber’verse as it seems it could be rather deadly maybe even for individuals like us, it might end up being necessary as it seems it might be the only way to move freely through this labyrinth.

But well, besides the risk of half our parties brains could be fried on this mission and all of us blasted to smithereens in a sneak attack by a walking turret I guess this will be a breeze.
So how do you all think we should proceed?”

Det sidste sagde han med hans sædvanlige rolige let smilende og distræte attitude, mens han lænede han sig tilbage i sit sæde og afventede folks reaktioner og svar. Alt imens han lyttede begyndte han at scanne disken videre for svar. Alt han havde sagt var sandt, det var det der var på disken. Men der så også ud til at være flere informationer på den hvis han gravede dybere. Han håbede i hvert fald på han kunne spore den enten tilbage til kilden, eller måske finde ud af hvem modtageren skulle have været.