A shadowed alleyway outside the entrance to the Squatters Mall

It's quiet this time of night, at least INSIDE the mall.  Outside is where the business happens when Redmond hits the evening hours.  A man of particular interest is showing alot of tenacity; a one tusked Rastaf-Ork wearing obnoxious gang colors.

"Ah see now wat I be doin' 'ere.  Omae! Turn ya head out ya PAN omae! if ya wan'to get lifted omae, you bes' be goin to da Crush, ya scan?  We got de bes' eh - nee - wares....Cram....Deepweed...Novacoke Omae....We got'sall aye n aye be wantin' 'forelong. You buy n buy from us , n'we be sure ta hook you up. Got's plenty ta go 'roun, more n more so you be sure'n ta return ta score." 

The tusker hisses and cackles as people show little interest around him.  The ganger dealer simply does not care, his confidence seems suspect to even the addicts who feigned interest in his bark.

Lucky for the ork, he notices you gawking from the far wall and he pulls on his shirt while blasting yellow, cracked teeth. " Ya 'ear me omae?  Check out da' crush n' I'll pers'nally get ya the best deal..."


Asking around, you're able to find out the supply coming out of the Crimson Crush, the gang represented by the Rastaf-Ork, seems to pump most through their turf and other parts around central and south-central Redmond.  Seems there's always trouble across from Touristville.  But then again, its just an issue for dopeheads and junkies abound.  So what if the drugs are at the lowest prices seen in years.  Who cares if some packages contain multiple kinds of little escapes, as well as BTL's for the advanced addict.  There has to be a catch...

Your PAN alarm goes off.  You're late for meeting with your contact, dawdle any longer and you'll be left high and dry.  Turning away from the mall entrance, you let the night distance you from the rank life that man represents.  For now.
OOC:

Hi guys I'm Osprey! I was on Denver a while ago but then switched jobs IRL and then basically didn't do much for a year and a half .  If you see me on the MUSH and would like to find out more information about this pose page me please! A rumor roll here, maybe a little data search, whatever idea you have.  Also if you have time to RP then page me as well, other bits of information may pop up that way...Eventually as things progress ( check this thread...) there will be a run notice. 

Greetz Folks! Vinyl Vicky here, and though the format of vinyl recordlng is dead we're still bringin you the esoteric sound of the music of the 20th century, every 20th hour of every day, only by way of the FREEDOMUSIC network!  Make sure you listeners out there are running your spoof programs because our community has , and don't be so shocked, broken yet another one of those damned corp broadcasting and copyright laws!  You can thank Horizon for sending the 'star to your turf, but you should be able to talk to one of our members to set up one for hearin' our network properly.  On today's program, get ready for a recently discovered vault of albums from The Clash, delivered to us over the 'trix by another one of our dedicated listeners and fellow archivists!  But first, here's a man who's pushing music we like to like, every performance he makes out there on the streets of seattle.  Elvish Blues Guitarist, Lenny Greenleaf.

"Thanks for the introduction,Vinyl Vicki. Hello Seattle."

Hope you don't mind our format, but we like to keep our identities as safe as possible, which is why this is an audio only program. Oh and Call me ViVi, it's alot easier on the tongue. Ladies, if you could see Lenny I'm sure you'd be flocking to his next show, however. Now Lenny, what made you decide to come down 'ere to Seattle and do a string of concerts?

"Ah... well..ViVi, I'm originally from Seattle, born and raised around the Lake Washington Area.  My family has always been into the performing arts and my mother was a music teacher, who insisted I learn the family heirloom; a grand piano.  I got a chance to study music at the Tir Conservatory when I was still only 10 years old, my mother arranged it of course.  That was where I discovered the guitar by way of a very old Elvish player who simply blew my young mind away.  He played the blues, and I went from a kid piano player to a bluesman in a matter of 8 years there.  "

That's gnarly omae!  So the ol' keys don't find their way in front of you do they?  What about current technology instruments, do you ever utilize OMNI or other 'jack controlled devices for accompaniment when recording?

"Not really...though there is an old friend of mine who wrote his own program he calls a 'tracker' for his Commlink, and has recorded some riffs of mine to use in his work.  I stick to the guitar, and if anyone had a piano I wonder if I could even play it anymore...."

Out of sight my man, out of sight.  So Lenny where have you played so far and what's left? 

"Well I wanted to do small venues, bars and clubs throughout the area, any place I can be heard by small groups of people.  Even on the street   I wanted to get the older feel of performing like the bluesmen over a hundred-fifty years did, ya know?  So I've played at Seattle Central Park, outside the Seattle Museum of Music,  and in Touristville at the Phoenix House, outside of the Redmond Center,  and just last night at The Mad Woman.  The show at The Mad Woman was the smallest so far, but it had a good feel, well, up until one of the patrons had a 'turn for the worse'."

What do you mean?  Usually of all the bars around the Redmond/Touristville area, The Mad Woman tends to keep things on the quiet side.

"Yea, thats what I was always told, and despite how the crowd 'looked'... well, let's say a poor wageslave sap had one too many things to party with... Guys' face turned blue and then he just passed out, damn joygirl he came with was in a fit, yelling about how they didn't even do that much nova, why'd only he go nuts... It's a shame, the guy heckled me before his fit but I just let him be, listened to him.  He just wanted some music, had to get away.  Decided to take a fast route and it blew up in his face.  I think the 'star ended up haulin the old fool to the morgue..."

That's tragic, and as usual , FREEDOMUSIC encourages our younger listeners to stay the straight-edge route, because an archivist needs to live long in order to achieve their goal.  The more time we have, the more we can collect, and that means the more we can save for the next generation to enjoy!  That's our oath, Lenny, and you do it the same by performing such an older style of music.  Thank you for doin' that.

"Oh stop, Vivi. It may be an old style but the feeling that comes from playing this way is timeless.   And so I get just as much out of playing as my audience does in listening, surely.

Well, just keep doin it, and thanks for stoppin' by, and look for Lenny Greenleaf at.. where are you playing next?

"At the downfall, then I'm appearing at a public party for a Metahuman Rights Group at The Squatters Mall, its in protest of alot of racial bias given to Meta squatters and squat vendors who don't have many places to get out of the cold and damp."

That's Pail, That's Bucket, Lenny. Just Awesome. We'll be sure to catch up with you again, here's Lenny Greenleaf with "Keepin' me Astray

Deep in the piles of garbage and random debris cast aside by Touristville, a community of squatters can be found utilizing the Rat's Nest as a means of survival.  Low-lifes, outlaw, freaks , the downtrodden, even the junkies and the crazed loners of the world can all find a place to crawl into somewhere along the terraced wastes.  A survey drone, a Renraku Stormcloud, floats above, observing the days events and reporting to a hardlined system any serious unrest in one of the sprawls potentially dangerous sections.

>>>>>VIDEO FEED LOADING......
>>>>>SYSTEM INITIALIZE......
>>>>>BEGIN FEED....

Two younger squatters are dragging what looks like a body to a large ravine located in the northwest section of the nest.  A few heave-ho's and they send the poor empty shell bouncing off some old automobiles and scrap metal, and more importantly, other sets of rotting, and what seem to be half eaten corpses.   After the deed is done, the two lads flee the scene.  It's quiet by the bodypile, but a shape is seen moving along the shadows towards the new 'deposit'.

>>>>>ZOOMING IN......
>>>>>ONE MOMENT PLEASE.....

The video adjusts itself, and the freshly dead's face, that of a young girl, has blood streaks down her chin, her eyes wide open and completely bloodshot as rigamortis begins to claim her.  The figure who traveled amongst the shadow is apparently a bruised old woman, who's eyes are instead streaked from tears.  She is stroking the dead girls face, lips moving but, its near impossible to discern the actual words based on this feed.  After wiping the blood and dirt away, the woman straightens her hair and forces eyelids closed.

There is a moment of stillness, living eyes looking past covered orbs of the deceased.  The video feed jumps and the Drone refocuses.  The older one is reaching behind the back of the girls head and seems to be fiddling with something...It takes a while and the woman seems to be getting mad, she pulls hard.....

...and flies back, holding something in her hand as she drops the head that was resting in her lap.  Angrily, she tosses it up and away, surprisingly and unintentially towards the Stormcloud's camera.  It looks like either a broken datajack or a dull and burnt out data chip.  After another moment of silent stares, she storms off to wherever the hidey hole she came from is located.  The corpse lays there, at least with some sense of effort in seeing the soul off.....

The stormcloud drone floats about, scanning the area of the Rat's Nest for another 20 minutes before moving to its next pre-planned location.
 

There are a bunch of flyers going around Redmond...




Word on the street is that Lenny's Manager is looking for people to provide added security at the event.  History has shown again and again that protests like this always bring their share of problems.

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Please Contact me here with a private message or as Osprey on the sr4 MUSH using @mail.
I am planning on running this scene monday, sometime after 7 pm EST  Tuesday and Wednesday are options for me as well but due to work I will not be available until after 9 pm EST.

I am looking for 3-6 runners, First Come/First Serve basis.  Thanks! >^.^<

Your friendly neighborhood fixer is organizing some datachip cases when he notices you walk in, looking for work.

"Eh?  Well.....there is a job that just came in.  Seems somebody down at Aces' Scumpit wants some escort , what with all the threats 'gainst the Crimson Crush, they 'pparently need to reach out to some of you runnah types for a lil' mission.  Guess they really need somethin and don't feel like runnin the risk of headin out in a large group, beggin for a Rager Firestorm.  Can't blame em, either, you come across a bunch of angry halloweeners together and get them on a mission for destruction and you'll lose more than yer skins, chums. 

You wanna check it out? Go to Aces Scumpit, ask for Donie.  Tell'm you heard they need to pick up a package, he'lll be able to fill ya in on the rest.

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Hi, Osprey Again.  I wanted to run this event tonight (friday the 24th) but have to pick up a shift for someone at work and will not be home until very late.  If you'd like a chance to participate drop me a private message here, or @mail Osprey on the Sr4 mush.  I will try and conduct this run on sunday and monday, (April 26 and 27) starting around 7 or 8 pm est.  If more time is needed we'll schedule further dates.

I'm looking for 3 to 6 players, first contact/first serve basis. 

Aces Scumpit


At 4 am, three members of the Crimson Crush had a little pow-wow.  Those who gathered were:

one of the more prominent lieutenants in the gang, a rastafari ork known as 'Da Chief'
a sickly trog with a neon-green eyeband and a habit of spacing out known as 'Ratch-Set'
a younger ganger now known as 'Da Mule'

Da Chief: Alrightee na, we be here n' deres plent' ta deal wit now yea ?
Da Mule: Aye, Chief, we can be quick though.
Da Chief: Well den, ya got da 'link ta send ta signal for our soon ta be festival?
Ratch-Set: "Yess....well..."  He coughs, his eyeband's neon hue leaving a slight trail in the misty seattle twilight "...The cred's tapped..n'the agent shot back to da main server, so we's gots dat.  Can switch it at any, omae. "
Da Mule: You sure we wanna be doin' it?
Da Chief: Ya be sayin dey setcha up , ya omae?  Den we gotsa show a bitta muscle den.

The three are silent, but the careless slobberly sound of Ratch-Set the troll licking his lips in anticipation gets them back in focus

Da Chief: Do it , Ratchee.
Da Mule: Dats tha order then.  Gonna need new suppliers.
Da Chief: Frag'zat bulldrek.  I and I be sendin' a big notion to dat gang, we needta put da cred towards bulkin' up 'mmafraid.  Ain' no reg go-gang or udda 'rens street crew wes fraggin witt.
Ratch-Set: ''Can go any....."
Da Mule: Just sighs, folds his arms and nods. "Ya know I got yer back Chief, dis' a big move. We both gotcher back 'gainst whateva Scales gotta say.
Da Chief: Gots dem 'allo-eenars on one side, now we'gettin a trix gang ons anudda..Ta 'ell wit Scales, das why we doin dis now.

Ratch-Set hands Da Chief an unevenly shaped rectangular gizmo, with a long antenna sticking out of the top.  Right in the middle is a big yellw smiley-faced button.

Da Chief: Ya dun gimme many options na do ye Ratchee...
Ratch-Set: Need...more da time n parts..

Everyone holds their breath as Da Chief presses it, and after a second the gizmo shuts off.  Ratch-Set nods and the three let out big gasps, Da Chief prepared with pre-rolled jays for the occasion.  All three of them cheer, laugh, and exchange smoke until the sun comes up, then get ready to lie low for a few days.

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A coffin Motel  outside of Touristville. Maybe Stans, or Swins...just another cheap knock off joint run by some ex-corper who got downsized years back


The sleeping elf groans but fights the urge to leave his dreams.


Once again, a groan in response, though this time a few curses follow. The elf continues mumbling over the next few beeps.


"Fine Fine, Drek...."  One eye opens to direct a slightly numb left hand to pull out a commlink, one recently required by this increasingly irritated Elf.


"What???  "  A line is pulled from a fingertip compartment, surprisingly in such tight quarters, forcing an interesting posture to connect it from the commlink to the datajack behind his head. " One sec....."


The elf is silent, and just stares at the ceiling of his sleeping casket, returning a gaze its own.


"Ah....FU--"

The bomb goes off, shaking the biz a bit but still perfectly contained within coffin, unfortunately for the once sleeping elf.  Thin smoke seeps out, faintly reeking of skin and hair, with the scattered flesh soaking into the box itself. 

Needless to say, management will be quite angry