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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 3 2014, 12:11 AM (217 Views) | |
| Fenix | Sep 3 2014, 12:11 AM Post #1 |
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James didn’t know how long it had been. Time was a concept that he was losing grasp with more and more every day. Or was it every hour? Minutes? Seconds? It was like The Crash all over again, caught in a limbo between worlds. At least this time he had control…sort of. He lay in the courtyard of the magnificent castle that comprised his own biological node, trying to make sense of things. He had vague memories of what had happened that night. It was sketchy, a flash here and there. He remembered telling Saru that he was okay...but he didn’t remember her response, if she had even given one. He remembered not being able to return to his body after a jump into Saru’s comm. He remembered seeing his own body, covered in brains and blood, in Saru’s arms as they left the mansion. He remembered being dead, a ghost haunting the commlink of his closest friend. The sky above him was cloudy, almost hazy. He had never sculpted the node that way to his recollection, but doubted himself in his current state of mind. He ran across anomalies like that fairly often. Dust settled amongst the furniture inside, accompanied by the occasional cobweb. The outer walls were beginning to crack and decay. Weeds grew rampant in the courtyard. The vast forest that had once surrounded his fortress was now a dead, barren wasteland. James struggled to bring himself to his feet. He was still weak, even as just an icon. His connection to the Resonance had been all but severed, but he thought he’d try a few things. He walked to one of the nearby walls and placed his hand against it. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the wall and tried to re-sculpt it. The wall began to feel like clay in his hands. He took a handful of it and pulled it out, stretching a long mass out of the wall. A few feet later he felt it pull free, and he opened his eyes to observe the finely crafted sledgehammer that he had sculpted. “Well, I’ve still got that going for me,” James thought aloud. He took the hammer with both hands and swung it as hard as he could against the wall, smashing it to pieces. The room on the other side had been the dining hall. The long table in the center of the room could easily seat an army, but there was certainly no feast. The entire room was dank and dark. There were only two seats, one on either end. They had both been set for guests that would seemingly never attend. James approached the center of the table. He had always wanted a grand feast like in the trids, with servants bringing more and more decadent dishes to dine on until his stomach exploded. He glanced down to one end and could only imagine Jessica there, her face lit up with joy as each plate arrived. For a moment he could almost imagine three more chairs across from him, lining the opposite side of the table. In the first chair was Howitzer, trying to down an entire turkey leg in a single bite. In the next was Sweets, trying to stop him before he choked himself. In the last chair he saw Saru, holding a cup of coffee and staring blankly at her food while trying to block out all of the wait staff around her. Next to her, at the opposite end of the table, he saw himself before The Crash. He looked much younger. He looked innocent. Across his face was the biggest smile he had seen in a long time. He shook his head to dismiss the image and kicked the table over. The table splintered in half on its side as the sledgehammer swung through it. It had been a long time since he had felt happy. Imagining what could have been wouldn’t help any. He had failed Jessica and Sweets was gone, maybe even dead. What the hell was he even doing still alive? James broke through the outer wall of the castle and walked out into the open wasteland. He turned to face the castle, conjuring up as much destructive code as he could in his current condition and flinging it at one of the towers. The tower broke in half and came tumbling down into the courtyard, taking one of the interior walls along with it. James conjured up more code and flung it; then another, and another. What the hell even is this shit? Despite everything, why did he get to live when everyone else suffered? He should have died in The Crash. He should have died when he and his team at the time got double-crossed in Chicago. He should have died when a bullet pierced his fucking skull! Instead Jessica got kidnapped and slaved as KE’s attack dog. Vennie and Gabriel got killed saving his ass in Bug City. Sweets got waylaid while he was on a wild goose chase for his sister. And here he was, an undeserving survivor if he ever saw one. He stopped flinging code and surveyed the devastation. The castle was in ruins. There was very little left that would have hinted at it once being a grand stronghold. He certainly didn’t have the power to protect what was valuable to him, it was due time to rid himself of the false symbolism. ----------------------- After several moments spent regaining himself, he made his way to the rubble. The dust and dirt had finally settled, and it looked like one room might still be partially intact. He climbed through the ruins and made his way to what was once the throne room. A golden chair, covered in ornate carvings and precious gemstones, sat atop a mountain of rubble. On the plush seat cushion rest a crown, still intact. James sighed, surveying his surroundings. “Well, a castle won’t do, but I would like a place to call home.” James found a space clear of rubble near the base of the throne and sat down. He places his hands on the ground and imagined reshaping much more than just a wall this time. From him, a pulse went out that sent the rubble to the edges of what would be his workspace. With an upward motion of his arms, some of the rubble flew towards him, changing from rock to metal and forming walls around him, followed shortly by a roof. Several more motions later he seemed satisfied, and stood up. He was now standing in an empty warehouse. In the center remained the throne, atop the mound of rubble. It looked even more solemn as the moonlight outside shone in through a large window and illuminated the throne in a cold glow. James sculpted some crude stairs into the rubble and climbed up to the throne. He took the crown and inspected it. It was just as gaudy as the throne itself, and seemed mostly unharmed by the destruction. It had been slightly tarnished however, as he could barely make out his own features in his reflection of the polished gold. Crown in hand, he made his way around to the back of the throne. On the back was carved a large dragon, its head protruding slightly outward. James placed the crown on the dragon’s head. He then reached into his jacket pocket and produced the broken and bloodied mask that he had been wearing the last time he was in his meat body. He put it in the dragon’s mouth, one of the fangs through an eyehole to hold it in place. He thought it was a nice summary of his life story. Satisfied, he jumped down to the ground and headed for the exit. Once outside he was met with urban decay that could easily rival the Redmond Barrens. Trash and filth littered the alleyways, fires burned in old oil drums, and there was even the occasional siren in the distance. He reached down and picked up a broken piece of glass to get a look at himself. A few minor adjustments to go with the remodel, I suppose, he thought. His lined coat became a long, hooded jacket. On his hands he added a pair of fingerless gloves. The finishing touch was the respirator, which he’d have to remember to wear around his neck when appearing in front of Saru. There was one last thing to be done. James walked over to the nearest burning oil drum and produced a file. He gleaned briefly at its contents one last time. “James Sprenger. T325-60M1-6C3R.” His identity had been blown, and thus his SIN was useless. James Sprenger, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, died that night. It was time to make it official. He dropped the file into the drum and watched it catch fire and disappear, successfully deleting it. He turned to walk away, surveying his new environment. ------------------ After some time, Simon Hargrove headed back to the warehouse in the center of his new little world. Flinging the door open, the once proud throne greeted him. It now looked broken and defeated in the silver moonlight. Simon carried himself up the makeshift stairs up the rubble and took his seat on top. He was still the king of his kingdom, even if it had been reduced to a slum. Maybe one day he could take pride in rebuilding his fortress, even grander than the last. Maybe. |
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| shyriann | Sep 8 2014, 10:22 AM Post #2 |
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Simon had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, lost in thought. Time had little meaning and no frame of reference in the Matrix, as evidenced by the days of his life he’d previously lost while immersed. The sounds of the street outside had already become familiar, almost soothing, as was the steady drip of water echoing from somewhere below him, and it was easy to just sort of drift off and let his mind wander. Wait a minute… I didn’t sculpt a basement. Better have a look around and find out what was up with that. Could be just a strange echo that made the direction of the dripping sound different, but with the way the castle had been deteriorating, it might be something more serious. If this was going to be a continuous problem with his node…With my mind, he corrected…he needed to know about it now. He climbed down off the throne and started walking. The central room looked exactly as he expected. Concrete floor. Walls made of brick, nanocrete blocks, and plaster, crumbling in places. Mildew stains on the corners and along the mortar. It was just as decayed and depressed as he’d intended it to be, a glorious old factory, defeated and abandoned. Pipes were covered with condensation and slime, panels of the drop-ceiling lay on the floor where they’d given up, and holes in the ceiling revealed the ducts above and occasionally even the sky. Rows and rows of empty metal shelving stretched to the ceiling, separating the old work floor into sections and giving the illusion of rooms to the square structure. The foreman’s office was in a perfectly reasonable place, with a perfectly reasonable rusted metal desk and ancient abandoned coffee mug stained with some unthinkable black sludge. Quite a lot of it was structure that he hadn’t sculpted with meticulous care, it was just dredged out of his subconscious to fill in the spaces he hadn’t concentrated on, but it was all correct, and it all fit. Not a bad job at all. Except for that door. He had definitely not sculpted that hulking, glistening, steel bulkhead door in the far left corner of the office. Alright… let’s see what’s behind door number one. The door was huge, a thick monstrosity shaped like the bulkheads on a submarine. The wheel in the center was secured by an alphanumeric cypher on cylinders, like the lock on a twentieth-century briefcase. He recognized it as a standard Renraku firewall icon, and he damn sure hadn’t put it there, nor was his PAN connected to anything made by the corporation. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought, feeling a little Wonderland. But I’m not touching anything that says ‘Drink Me.’ The firewall itself was nothing more than factory settings, and spun up to the correct cypher with little more than a nudge of resonance. The door gave a little hiss as he spun the wheel, and opened into a pitch black corridor. The light from behind him illuminated only the first two steps of uncut, rough rock leading downward, and the smell of still water and stone was faint, but distinct. He rubbed his fingers together until he’d materialized a small glowing ball of light, which he tossed into the air to hang like a tiny fairy. It bobbed slightly, and followed him when he took a step forward. Perfect. Well, nothing better to do. Guess it’s into the fucking rabbit hole. The stairway was a strange contradiction. The steps themselves were hacked haphazardly from rough stone, but the walls were a crisp, sterile latticework of cables, the largest of which was nearly the diameter of his torso. The little bobbing light hesitated as he stepped down onto the first step, quivering in the doorway before finally managing to force through the threshold with a slight pop. Uh, okay? It zipped down to bob dutifully beside him, seemingly fine now. He shrugged, and continued down the stairs. The steps eventually opened into a large natural cavern directly beneath the warehouse with a shallow lake at the center. The damp air was cool, almost chilly, and tasted faintly of metal. The sound of dripping water was louder here, and more like the bloop of pebbles being tossed into a pond, slower and more deliberate. His little bobbing light faded to an apprehensive shade of blue and moved to hover directly behind his left shoulder. In the distance were other lights, which cast shadows on the walls and accented the contours of the stone. There were three in all, spaced around the lake at the shore in a large triangle. The closest was directly in front of him, no more than a few yards away. As he neared the light he began to make out that it was a candle, and judging by the pools and rivulets of melted wax on the rocks beneath, it and its predecessors had been burning for years. The candlelight danced over the contours of the cavern, casting deep, stubborn shadows on the walls and holding back the dark with its tiny, determined bubble of light. At the edge of that light where it met the water was a black, roiling mist that moved slowly and rhythmically back and forth at the threshold of the darkness. The ambient light changed as his little orb turned an inquisitive green when the stone-plop sounded again directly through that dark mist. Simon took a single step towards it, stopping short as a tendril of mist coalesced into a slender, long-fingered hand. The hairs on his neck, virtual as they might be, nevertheless stood on end as the hand picked up a pebble from the shore and tossed it into the lake before dissolving into darkness once again. Edited by shyriann, Sep 10 2014, 05:38 PM.
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| shyriann | Oct 13 2014, 06:27 PM Post #3 |
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Simon Hargrove was a hacker, not a ninja. He cringed as pebbles crunched under his feet, half a second before his brain had finished tallying whether it wanted to 1) Continue toward the candle and investigate the mist, or 2) Say fuck that, mist isn’t supposed to grow hands and where the hell did that come from anyways? The mist spun like a cyclone at the sound, whorls and tendrils trailing behind only to settle gently back to form a shape that was roughly humanoid. Eyes formed in what would be the face and fixed directly on him. His first instinct was to gtfo, but it was the eyes that stopped him. Those familiar, terrified, molten-metal gold eyes that, so many times, had been the first thing he saw when he woke as she kept vigil over his meatsuit. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she was gone with a gasp, dissolved away into the darkness. “Saru?” he called into the darkness. There was nothing but the echo that came back from all directions, sinister and desolate. “Saru?” he tried again, a touch louder. “Shhhh!” came the hiss from behind him. The shadow wafted backwards away from him as he turned, whispering, “She’ll hear you.” She who? The terror in her voice reminded him of the early days when they’d first met. She’d been a skittish thing then, like a wounded animal. For a moment he missed the companionable silences they’d sat in more recently. How long since they’d done that? He had an idea. He reached up and grabbed the little glowing ball of light, rubbing it between his palms as he brought them down, and sculpting it into a plain white mug of black coffee. He then sat on the edge of a large rock and took a sip. A leg, a real, slender human leg clad in denim jeans, coalesced out of the bottom of the black mist and took a step toward him, then faded back to shadow as the other leg pulled itself into existence for the next step. It continued slowly like that all the way to him, as if only the parts currently in use needed to be solid. Although the rational part of his mind was thoroughly freaking the fuck out, there were none of the subconscious alarms that rippled through his resonance at danger such as when IC had been launched, so he let curiosity win and sat still until the shadow had walked all the way to him. The legs stayed solid and bent at the knees into a crouch as a hand also materialized and reached tentatively toward his face, stopping at the respirator. Fuck, he’d forgotten that already. No wonder she’d freaked. He reached up slowly and pulled it down to hang around his neck. Slowly, a little cupid’s bow of a mouth materialized beneath the eyes, and then suddenly her face was there, solid and smiling. “Saru…” he said, stopping short as she shook her head. He had another idea. “Shadow?” he tried. And then something that had never happened, to his knowledge, in the history of the earth, happened. “James,” she breathed through her smile, then she threw her arms around him in a hug that knocked him flat. |
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| Fenix | Jul 9 2015, 05:54 PM Post #4 |
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“It’s uh…good to see you too, Shadow,” he said, fighting the subconscious reaction of trying to catch his breath upon hitting the ground. He wrapped his arms around her and patted the back of her head against his chest. He was glad to see her, but was just as much confused by her sudden outburst of emotion. The only other emotions he’d ever seen her exhibit were more timid, submissive, and in the last few months they had been together they became more cold and calculating; more sociopathic. It was…different. It was nice. She continued her wide grin as she rubbed her cheek against Simon’s chest. He attempted to nudge her off of him but to no avail. “Shadow this is nice and all, but I’d like to get up.” She shot him a mild pout and recoiled back into the black mist. The golden eyes and smile remained, glowing out at him like a mischievous feline. Simon stood, dusted off his persona, and walked over to the rock. The coffee mug still sat untouched on the stone. He reached out near it and tried to sculpt a smaller rock to sit on – but to no avail. Well, that’s strange. I should have full access in my own node. It dawned on him that nothing about this place had seemed right since he stepped through those cellar doors. Shadow’s presence had been more than enough to tell him that he wasn’t quite in Kansas anymore, but if not then where? Simon reached out into the datasphere around him. His range was severely diminished, but he could glimpse Saru’s comm. He tapped into the backdoor he had left months ago and subscribed to the node. He tried again, and a stool-sized rock rose up from the ground and greeted his outstretched hand. With a slight grin to himself, he walked around to Shadow’s side and did the same. They each took a seat, Simon in his full persona while Shadow misted in and out of existed. Those bright golden eyes and the wide grin always remained, regardless of the condition of the rest of her. She grasped the mug with both hands. “I missed you, James.” James Sprenger. He had since decided that name was no longer his. Anyone looking for him knew that identity was bullshit, and if he ever surfaced with it again it would be a world of trouble for him and his team. “Shadow…call me Simon.” She looked confused. “But you’re James.” “Yes and no.” He clasped his hands and looked down at his feet, contemplating how to explain it to her. “James was just a fake name I used so that certain people who wanted to hurt me couldn’t find me. As you can see, those people found me. So there’s no use in hiding behind that name anymore.” He looked back up at Shadow. He wasn’t sure if she was wrapping her head around it or not. She wasn’t stupid, it wasn’t like it was a foreign concept to her. Several of us had used fake names. Her big golden eyes and smile that had seemed so happy were now expressing a bewildered look. Maybe he had just shattered her concept of his identity. Maybe she hadn’t quite understood what he had meant after all. Either way, he continued. “You can call me Simon now. Simon Hargrove is my real name.” He followed it up with a slight grin in her direction. She made a sound that resembled the beginnings of a laugh as the smile returned, bigger than ever. “Nope, you’re James.” “Ugh,” he sighed, “we’ll work on it.” |
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| shyriann | Dec 18 2015, 09:25 PM Post #5 |
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Weeks went by. They settled into a comfortable companionship that generally involved hours of scouring the Matrix and coming up empty handed, followed by virtual coffee with Shadow in the cavern. Aside from the damp cave, it was just like old times. He’d invited her upstairs to the warehouse, where the light was better, but she couldn’t seem to make it past the threshold. It was yet another cup of imaginary coffee after an exhausting evasion of IC in the host of an obscure KE subsidiary lab. He pored over patient names and project listings as Shadow sat quietly at his feet. Sort by sex, age, and then hair color. He wished he still had access to his own medical records to see if there were any genetic markers that ran in the family. It would make searches like this take so much less time. The ambient light in the cavern dimmed suddenly, and muffled screams echoed across the lake from the direction of the furthest candle. As the darkness descended, a door in the cavern’s wall became more visible. It was red heartwood, bound in iron. As the room got darker and the screams got louder, he felt a tiny hand in his. “Get down,” Shadow whispered frantically. “Don’t get in her way.” A question died on his lips as the door burst open and an ocean of blood poured forth from it; a tidal wave of coppery crimson that roared across the cavern, obliterating everything in its path. The screams of a thousand tormented souls echoed through the cavern in a grotesque symphony. Quickly, Shadow pulled him around a rock outcropping that they clung to as the thick, metallic wave of blood roared past. It crashed against the far wall, near the stairs, backwashing into a monstrous vortex where the lake had been moments before. The dreadful undertow strained to rip him away from the rocks and crush him against the floor, and Shadow’s fingernails dug into his wrist as she tried to anchor him. She had become more and more solid over the past weeks, as if she hadn’t been real until someone interacted with her. Currently he was very, very glad that she was feeling noticed. He turned his arm in hers and grasped her forearm, solidifying her hold. Over the edge of the rock that was their lifeline, he could barely make out a figure emerging from the door. It was humanoid, small and lithe and wet with gore as it arose from the river of blood that still flowed with force from the redwood door. It moved fluidly toward the stairs, like a person made of blood itself. As it neared the conduits that spanned the wall up the stairs, the tide of blood surged upward and seemed to be absorbed into the ducts. The figure turned to look over its shoulder to where Simon and Shadow still clung desperately to solid stone, and blinked slowly with wrathful, golden eyes. And then, as quick as it had begun, the figure dissolved into the tide, and the ocean of blood vanished into the ductwork, leaving them dry, unharmed, and stunned. “What the fuck just happened?” he demanded of the trembling child beside him. She looked up at him with those unnerving eyes, wide with fear, and whispered, “Saru. That was Saru. Someone must be close.” |
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| Fenix | May 12 2016, 09:47 PM Post #6 |
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Simon quickly flipped through the file cabinet only to come up empty handed, yet again. Shit. He closed the drawer just in time to duck around the corner and avoid the flashlight of the patrolling security guard as he walked by the doorway, peering in. Satisfied nothing was there, he continued his route. Simon let out a deep breath and ducked back out the way the patrol IC had just come. He had burned a favor from a contact to get into a higher level KE hub in Seattle. Knocked out the cameras for a few Stuffer Shacks so some go-gangers could shake 'em down, and in return they helped him prod the place for vulnerabilities. He wasn't anywhere near his old self, and with the new Matrix protocols live since he'd been out he hadn't quite adjusted just yet. The host had been sculpted to look like they were several stories up in an office building. It was after hours, so the lights were dim and the only "guard" on duty was a lonely patrol IC pacing the corridors with his flashlight. Simon was headed for the exit, taking a left, a right, then another left, and - IC. He ducked into the first room on his left and dove behind the desk. The IC had switched up his route, probably a subroutine to keep hackers on their toes. Once you thought you had him figured out, bam! He changes directions. He waited for the guard to pass, and when he did he took a moment to inventory the room he was in. It was another office, same as the last, but had a more "executive" feel to it. He began to sift through files on the desk, files in the drawer, and in the file cabinet. He still couldn't find a thing on Jessica. There was nothing - gone as if she'd never existed. KE had taken her, made her into their own personal super weapon, and turned her into a phantom; only to be seen when she's about to put a bullet in between some poor fucker's eye sockets. What he did find lit a new fire in him. It was a case about an old lab that had apparently had a fire lit in it as well. An Aztechnology lab up in Snohomish that had all but exploded. Facility 4, it was apparently called. Critter containment, FAB vats, and labs complete with surgical theater, specimen tubes, and fucking blood magic ritual chambers. It sounded just like the kind of place he might be able to find data on a certain nine-tailed friend they'd lost in Tir na nOg. ====================== Simon slipped out of the host and back into the head of his favorite anime vampire princess with renewed vigor. Saru was still piloting, and by the looks of it she had taken a vacation from his old apartment and was back in her old hunting grounds. She walked the streets in a trance-like state, daring someone to look at her wrong or bump into her. I really don't want to watch this... he thought as he dove into the node he had called home lately. It had been months since he regained himself in Saru's head. They continued to have their coffee at least once a day, and Saru continued to terrorize the neighborhood. He hadn't quite mustered up the willpower to visit with Saru any more than the courtesy "I'm here, I'm not dead, I'm glad you're okay, you're welcome to stay at my apartment, and please be careful with the coffee pot." He found himself in the littered alleyway that was his personal node, and made his way to the cellar door of the abandoned warehouse throne room he'd made for himself out of the debris of his old castle node. He ventured down into the cavern, sculpting a pair of coffee mugs as he made his way in, and set them on the large rock that he and Shadow used as their makeshift table. He pulled up the files in midair, flipping back through them as Shadow materialized across from him and gingerly wrapped her hands around the coffee mug. She had almost fully materialized by now, and he figured another month or so she'd be fully solid again. "You ever hear anything from Howitzer after everything went down?" Simon asked without even looked over at her. Shadow shook her head. "No...." A slight grin grew across his face. "I think I've just found something that he might want to see." |
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| Fenix | Jun 17 2016, 08:22 PM Post #7 |
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Facility 4 had almost been a waste of time. The place looked like it had seen far better days, and that was before the firefight that had apparently happened here. Knight Errant had cordoned the area off, apparently found whatever they were going to find, and had just left the place to rot. Scream sheets on the Matrix had said that some squatters had been living here and got into a “heated altercation” with some gangers native to the area. Bunch of bull-drek, Simon thought. Howitzer, who he’d found a few weeks ago at a new watering hole, made quick work of the boards KE had erected to keep anyone else out. He had been looking for Sweets for a while and had all but given up. Mention of her name had perked him right back up, and here he was now along for the ride and committing B&E’. Simon forgot how much he hadn’t quite missed all the smartass comments. It was just like old times, except that this time he was riding around in the head of a ninja, watching the outside world through a simrig and giving out directions as needed. Good times. The building went a few levels underground, and all along the way were signs of conflict. Bullet holes blade scrapes scarred the walls, brass casings and used syringes from combat stims littered the ground, flames had scorched the hallways and someone had gone so far as to raid the snack machine – at least someone had kept it mildly light-hearted. They found several offices, containment cells, a storage room, and a lab complete with an operation theater, specimen vats, and even an arcane circle of some sort. This was definitely the right place. What they didn’t find, however, were any real clues as to what exactly had gone on here. No notes, no logs, no aborted specimens in the dumpster – nothing. “Maybe they just got in an argument over who was going to sleep in the big vat over here and just started shooting each other like hooligans?” Howitzer stood by one of the vats scratching his head. Simon didn’t acknowledge him with a response. There had to be something. First Jessica had disappeared and then Sweets. He was going to find one of them at least. In the end all they had when they left was the “bitchin’ hankie” that Howitzer had found in a desk drawer. It had some custom embroidery on it, a green skull with “NM” across it’s forehead. At first it meant nothing. Some new gang maybe, who cared? A few days passed and curiosity had gotten the better of Simon. He started to look into the insignia and soon found out about this new gang in Seattle, the Neo-Misfits, who had been making a name for themselves and steadily taking turf from the Mafia and Yakuza families. The name had rung a bell for him at first, but he quickly dismissed it. Sarge had called them the Misfits before, but he was never sure he had ever really liked the name. As much as he hated to say it about a former companion, he had been the misfit. The rest were a close-knit family, while Sarge was just kind of…there. He always seemed to think of them as more of a fireteam that needed direction than comrades. Then the ghouls had gotten him. He had changed, turned on them, and been hit by a Bulldog while tearing down the streets of Seattle. For all Simon knew he was dead. No way there was a link. He shook the thought from his mind and began to compare some of the notes he had pulled from KE nodes while looking for information on Jessica. These guys had ties to Aztechnology? Suspected funding from Aztechnology? Holy shit, this was a much larger find than he thought. Maybe there was a connection. Maybe there was more. It was time to start a new search, into the heart of the Neo-Misfits to see just what their ties with Aztechnology were. He went right back to his old routines, hitting suspected members’ comms, scouring crime scenes where they had been involved for any data, hitting any known safehouses. Saru would come and sit with him, silently cupping her coffee mug while he went over the data. Putting pieces together. Weeks went by, and he heard a name, Dr. Isiah Nim. Nim!?!? He immediately searched for anything he could find on him. Aztechnology wage slave along with his wife Janet Nim, the file he’d compiled read. He was killed in lab accident – at Facility 4 – along with his wife. They were survived by a son, Aaron Nim, just two years after having lost their son Dyrone Nim to a gangland slaying in Tir na nOg. That slimy son of a bitch. While his report read that Dr. Nim had been killed, the info he’d pulled from Neo-Misfit street soldiers was that he was very much alive and well, carrying out some demented experiments under the radar in Seattle. “Saru, you remember Dyrone Nim right?” “Yes…” her face twisted as if she’s just bit into a lemon. “Looks like his daddy might be a lead to tracking down what happened to Sweets. Let’s give Howitzer a call and see if we can’t track this slitch down.” |
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