Difference between revisions of "Homeworld/OpportunityMetropolis"

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“Show time.”
 
“Show time.”
 +
 +
<h3>House calls</h3>
 +
''Author: By My Crooked Teeth''
 +
 +
By My Crooked Teeth had been in the Opportunity Metropolis for two years. He can come to the city
 +
with nothing and made it look like something. He needed a job to keep his cover and being true to
 +
himself he had several. This was roughly how a standard night went for him.
 +
 +
 +
 +
Wellspring
 +
 +
First, we visit his persona Wellspring, an experience locator for one Delila Twist. Mostly he either trawls
 +
around looking for good tales to spin or convincing people to perform desirable actions and collecting the
 +
Experience later. He mostly did this job for access to the Experience machinery and for the intellectual
 +
exercise. Here is one such conversation with a future experience who is having second thoughts.
 +
 +
 +
 +
“Now, I understand that you have some questions?” Crooked would say.
 +
 +
“Yes, sorry I never asked your name.” The mark would enquire.
 +
 +
“Call me Wellspring.” Crooked would lie.
 +
 +
“Wellspring, right. I have been having some doubts about this. I don’t know if this is a good idea you
 +
know. You can’t imagine the places they could put me in if I get caught.”
 +
 +
“I can imagine a lot actually.” Crooked would say truthfully.
 +
 +
“I am just not sure this Margin Drivers con is going to work.” The mark would say.
 +
 +
“I understand friend. But I remind you, you came to see me, you told me that you wanted revenge of
 +
your co-workers, you were the one with the plan and promised you would perform it. And I don’t think
 +
you would want to upset my employer. I am helping you out here mate. I am putting up some money for
 +
the execution and I got you those guns didn’t I? I thought you can do it”
 +
 +
“I can for a price.” The mark would say obviously.
 +
 +
Here we go, Crooked would think. “Everything in Opportunity has a price. Your teeth if they were in
 +
good knick would fetch 500, your kidneys and lungs 5,000 in the right markets. But for your experience?
 +
Some people trade simply to be rid of the nightmares, with a little pocket change to walk away with.
 +
Some will give away everything to live a different life. I know one person who will go out and perform
 +
every daredevil act only to trade it in for a month solid in the machines. Price is fluid sir. But a price can
 +
only be breached once we know what you have is genuine.”
 +
 +
“Why would I lie?”
 +
 +
“Because money is on the line. Everyone here lies for it.”
 +
 +
“I ain’t lying.” The mark protested
 +
 +
“Then prove it. Contact me when you have collected your experiences make it exciting and there will be
 +
a bonus.” Crooked wrote a number to get his attention on a napkin and pushed it over. The mark picked
 +
it up and looked at it. His eyes widened. Got him, Crooked thought. “Can I count on you?” Crooked
 +
pushed.
 +
 +
“Yeah,” The mark said stunned “Yeah, I’ll get to it. I’ll get it to you. For this I will get anything.”
 +
 +
“Good, see you soon then.” Crooked got up and left the mark dreaming of his wealth and revenge. He
 +
made a mental note to drop a tip to the margin drivers see if he can spice the experience up a little.
 +
 +
….
 +
 +
Smiles
 +
 +
Next we visit his other persona in Joy Effect known as Smiles. A ‘Image consultant’ which was code for
 +
keeping the wrong scandals out of prying eyes and releasing the right ones for the boosted reputations.
 +
Here is one such client who is having a spot of bother.
 +
 +
 +
 +
“Oh, god their dead!” the client would bluster into the phone.
 +
 +
Crooked exhaled and braced himself. “Whose dead darling?”
 +
 +
“I met these people and I took them back to mine. We…..you know.” The Client implied.
 +
 +
“Yes. I have an idea.” He replied with hollow cheerfulness. “And then what? Actually, shut up and don’t
 +
say anything until I get there.”
 +
 +
Crooked arrived the celebrity (whose star was already waning to obscurity) looked tired, Sunburst was a
 +
singer with a few albums under his belt, none of them sensational but catchy enough to have some
 +
nostalgic fans. Crooked walked in adjusting his long white scarf to fall over his shoulder. There was a
 +
puddle of collapsed mostly undressed people. A whole rainbow of possibilities for the singer to indulge
 +
in.
 +
 +
Crooked lifted his hand and kept Sunburst from speaking.
 +
 +
“How long have they been like this?” He asked impatiently.
 +
 +
“Twenty minutes’ tops.”
 +
 +
“And what did they take?”
 +
 +
“I can’t remember.”
 +
 +
Crooked shot Sunburst a look. “Can’t remember or won’t tell me.”
 +
 +
“I mean we took a lot. Must have been something to take out everyone but me.”
 +
 +
“That’s not a miracle, that is a cleansing implant so your voice doesn’t get damaged from the staggering
 +
number of drugs you take.” He crouched and checked the pulses of the bodies in turn. “So, what
 +
happened to bring about the cuddle puddle of corpses?”
 +
 +
“I felt like celebrating?” Sunburst said sheepishly.
 +
 +
Crooked glared at Sunburst then turned his attention to one of the bodies. He checked the pulse and
 +
huffed in annoyance. “Did no one teach you how to check a pulse?” He touched one on the shoulder
 +
and said “Darling? Trust me this is not a great place to sleep. Stoned girl, ONE UP.” A little of his power
 +
flowed into the woman and she jerked awake.
 +
 +
“Oh, my tabloids! What a rush! What happened? Who are you?”
 +
 +
“I’m Smiles and you are not going to talk about this night to anyone understand?” He pulled out folder
 +
of bills and peeled off a generous portion. (It was Sunburst’s money anyway.) The woman nodded and
 +
collected the money and her clothes. He moved around and healed those who could be healed and
 +
patted down the ones he couldn’t save for a form of identification as he went. When he was done out of
 +
the six people Sunburst went home with four survived the trip and two more were going to perform a
 +
vanishing act.
 +
 +
“Now I want you to go home. Shower, sleep whatever you do with yourself but please leave the bodies
 +
out of it. Thank you. I will have to raise my rates if I have to keep making house calls.” He muttered dryly
 +
as he dialed. “Daz? Yeah hi Smiles here. Could you get this stain out of my carpet? I need it whiter than
 +
white. Can you help?”
 +
 +
….
 +
 +
Mr. Locke
 +
 +
Finally, we meet Mr. Locke a freelance operative who has worked for all three Visions at one time or
 +
another. His main job was to be the person you go to when you don’t want anything on the books. This
 +
meant embarrassing jobs and dirty ones. This particular job was to retrieve some blackmail information
 +
on a high up executive on Protean Dynamics. Things do not always go to plan.
 +
 +
….
 +
 +
Crooked waited patiently, all his other jobs were done for the night, this was his last one. The sounds of
 +
the metropolis were loud and bizarre, it was like a beast in the throes of mind altering drugs trying to
 +
sing, which was likely true for many people within earshot.
 +
 +
The blackmailer arrived promptly along with two bodyguards which was going against the instructions of
 +
his message for them to meet alone. Crooked commended him on his sneaky-ness. Crooked scratched
 +
his beard and said “Funny I seem to be off in my mathematics. I am sure you said it would be the two of
 +
us.”
 +
 +
“That was then. This is now.” The blackmailer smiled. The two bodyguards were big and mean, obviously
 +
carry weapons and doing so poorly in an attempt to intimidate Crooked. It wasn’t working.
 +
 +
“I guess so. Let’s get this over with.” Crooked kicked over a bag filled with money. The blackmailer
 +
crouched down to check it. He barely glanced at it before he said.
 +
 +
“You’re short.”
 +
 +
“Five eleven isn’t short.” Crooked joked, keeping in character.
 +
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“There isn’t enough money here.” The blackmailer smiled.
 +
 +
“Now I know you are lying because there is more than what you asked for in there.” He said levelly.
 +
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“But the price is 10 Million.” The Blackmailer said with a broad smile, the picture of innocence.
 +
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“No, it isn’t. it is barely worth five but here we are. Take it and it is over or I shall make it so.”
 +
 +
“Maybe I should send you back in pieces then our friend will understand that he pays what he owes.”
 +
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The bodyguards surged over. Clearly some cybernetics to increase speed, would be hell on the bones in
 +
the long run given it was likely a cheap job. But he was in no position to discuss the virtues of
 +
cybernetics as he was shoved against the wall with a knife at his throat. “Any last words?”
 +
Crooked smiled. “Yeah actually. OC CALL GET OFF.” The bodyguard was stepping off before he realized
 +
what was happening. He was staring at Crooked like he couldn’t believe what was happening.
 +
 +
“Oh, shit he is a Shap-.” Was all the bodyguard got out before Crooked shot him in the head. He
 +
whipped the gun around twirling it around his fingers and levelling it at the second bodyguard and with
 +
another crack the second bodyguard went down.
 +
 +
“There the maths is fixed now. Much better.” The Blackmailer was running, he had the forethought to
 +
take the bag of money, which was greedy but predictable. Crooked pulled out a detonator and pushed
 +
the button. There was a small pop and a scream. He really should he checked the bag better, Crooked
 +
thought as he walked over. He twirled the gun and levelled it at a wounded body guard. “You took the
 +
wrong contract boys. You! HA!” and the bodyguard went still. Crooked walked over to the wounded and
 +
crawling blackmailer. He twisted the gun again. “You! HA” and blasted the blackmailer in the leg.
 +
 +
“Fuck you. Who are you?”
 +
 +
“Mr. Locke at the moment. Now tell me where you got the information from.”
 +
 +
“You can go Fu-“ Crooked interrupted him by throwing a HA into his chest. He checked the loads of his
 +
pistol and crouched down. He looked at the inert Blackmailer and turned his face over in his hands.
 +
 +
“Huh, K.O I guess.” He rubbed his fingers together and pulled out a small set of keys placing them on the
 +
Blackmailer’s chest. “Rise and shine I am not done with you. You! ONE UP.” The Blackmailer gasped for
 +
breath.
 +
 +
“What the fu-“ CLICK he was silent as the pistol was cocked against his chest.
 +
 +
“Now I am going to ask you some questions.”
 +
 +
“What the fuck was that? Who the hell sends a shaper to a meeting?”
 +
 +
“Someone with deep pockets and something I find valuable. Now shut up.” BANG the gun went off into
 +
his chest and he went limp again. Out came the Keys again. “Now you will begin to learn a lesson. YOU!
 +
ONE UP.” The blackmailer gasped again. “To be fair I will answer your question. Yes, I am a Shaper. Yes,
 +
you are shit out of luck right now and yes if you draw that gun I know you are reaching for I will shoot
 +
you again.” BANG.
 +
 +
Crooked exhaled in irritation. “I’m surrounded by idiots.” He placed the keys on the chest again.
 +
“Eventually the lesson will sink in. Eventually you will learn. YOU! ONE UP.” The blackmailer woke up
 +
again looking scared. “In case you didn’t know I am a Keystone. This means I am able to heal you. I can
 +
do this all night until you tell me the answers to my questions. Do you understand?” BANG
 +
 +
He reloaded his pistol and played with his nailed for a few seconds and then replaced the keys “Once
 +
more with feeling you will be educated. YOU! ONE UP.” The blackmailer was terrified by the time he
 +
woke up this time. “Do you understand?”
 +
 +
“YES, By everything expensive Yes. Please don’t shoot me again.”
 +
 +
“Then talk.”
 +
 +
And he did. Crooked left him in the river and reported to a very happy executive to let him know his
 +
troubles were over and all it cost him was ten grand and a small explosion.
 +
 +
Just another day in Opportunity.

Revision as of 18:17, 18 September 2017

Channel 60

Author: C60, after Cycle I

Channel60.jpg

VACANCIES

I'm C60 at Channel 60, and This Is Happening.

Are you a new Shaper looking for your place in Outworld? Are you ambitious, relentless and extravagant? Have you always wanted a career in broadcast and multimedia but find HoloVid 12 are Just. Too. Pink.?

Channel 60 are the answer. A no punches pulled, Proteon Dynamics backed inverse Joy effect. The corporate media/mercenary full frontal assault collective transmitting from Austere in the oceans at Rift's end.

We are so good that if we want you we will get you. And that's why you should want us.

Why not be a part of such up and coming cutting edge programming like

  • Keeping up with the Valterians
  • Walking with Shapers
  • Back to the Affront
  • @1 with The V01D
  • The news is what we make it and
  • Spider Time.

We believe "Strangers are just assets we haven't met yet" so follow the link to talk directly to myself or one of my many channel 60 affiliates.

Before you Have regrets about joining the Penitent Order, see the error of Valteria or align your mind with the design of the Combine, don't miss this new opportunity to have your visions realised.

We have openings in

  • Camera crew
  • Make up
  • Human resources
  • Marketing
  • Shaper relations and
  • Assassinations.

Outworld will be our world. Take the first step and make contact today.

I'm C60 at Channel 60, and This is Happening

WALKING WITH SHAPERS

I'm C60 at Channel 60, and this is happening.

Today we will be asking "what are Shapers? What can we learn about their habits and motivations from observing their behaviour? What goes on in the minds of these mysterious creatures? And how can we make sense of their culture's prolific expansion?" For the answers to these and many more questions we turn to Stratos of the Walkers. He has observed Shapers in the wild and believes he has uncovered the patterns of behaviour that govern their way of life.

Join us on a magical journey as we follow real shapers with a live camera crew and discover what they really do when they think they are alone. The truth cannot stay buried forever and Stratos has the intention unearth it live, right here on the air.

I'm C60 for Channel 60 and this is happening

KEEPING UP WITH THE VALTARIANS

I'm C60 at Channel 60 and this is happening.

For years the kingdoms of Valteria have machinated in secret, accruing dissonance and becoming blind to the world outside their influence.

Now for the first time in a Channel 60 exclusive one monarch and one monarch in shadow, both Outworld romantics will unleash the pride and the prejudice of Valteria live on KUWTV.

Hear of valiant exploits and watch legacy unfold before your very eyes as we bring you all the drama of the Kingdoms before a live studio audience.

Syndarra the Unyielding and Gedremonde the Lightscourge are the will be facing off when the Rift reopens. Breaking hearts, breaking legs and making history.

I'm C60 at Channel 60, and This is Happening

NUTS ABOUT Ds KNUTZ

I'm C60 at Channel 60 and this is happening.

Are you nuts about Ds Knuts? Here at Channel 60 we have all the toys, play sets and cereals ever sponsored by the mighty Chain Dawg, the blood sports champion of Opportunity Knoxx. You should have them too, and to make clear exactly why and how, the Dawg himself will be bringing the pain and gaining the fame right here in high definition.

We don't want you to miss a single second or miss out on a single product so tune in for exclusive coverage and mind-blowing prizes.

Are you a Chain Dawg fanatic? Don't miss your chance to get rare and exclusive signed Chain Dawg merch by sending your Chain Dawg story to proteondynamics@gmail.com

I'm C60 and this is happening.

BRANDING

I'm C60 at Channel 60 and this is Happening. Here at Channel 60 we are thrilled to announce that we are re branding and taking our already striking image to new and exotic heights. We believe our place in the Outworld multimedia market will be reinforced by this sharper and slicker image, paving the way for our domination of the Aethernet in the coming months. A reminder to all Channel 60 affiliates that branding is everything in this business and its inclusion in outfits and accessories, in the walk you walk and the talk you talk will be paramount in establishing our broadcast empire. I'm C60 at Channel 60, and this is Happening.


Priority Mail

Author: Thoughtful Spider

Priority Internal æ-Mail
FAO: The Void, Opportunity Metropolis
Subject: Employee Induction

Void

I would like to invite you to collaborate with me on the induction of a new Asset, currently affiliated to the Walkers.

Initial assessments indicate the Asset may be the result of a Shaper or Shaper-Like production complex, adapting and amalgamating Proprietary Designs of Protean Dynamics and ProdCorps, likely operated by the Sublime Concord. Details of the Site Location are attached and should be considered a Valid Target for Restitution Projects.

The Asset has shown a forward thinking approach to New-Media Solutions, which should be encouraged and developed within the supportive Protean Dyanamics Environment™ . The Asset has already shown Initiative™ in advertising for roles within the Metropolis, adapting Protean Dynamics Approved wording.

However, in the absence of effective Transhuman Resources to provide effective Psychitectural Solutions, the Asset should be partnered with an Operative. Given your recent endeavours on the Ratings Auspex Project, I feel you would be appropriately placed to act as a producer for the Asset, and induct him further into the Organisation.

Your assent can be indicated by passing through the Breach, we will Touch Base in Outworld and arrange an initial One-to-One meeting between you and the Asset.

With thanks,

Thoughful Spider
Continuity Planning Project | Contingency | Protean Dynamics | Outworld Branch


Light The Sky

Authors: Dahlia Twist, Skyshock Sigma

Darlings, lovelies, dears - welcome back and welcome viewers just tuning in on your holovid sets, from Opportunity and beyond - it's time to Light The Sky! I’m SkyShock Sigma, and if you ARE just joining us right now, unfortunately you HAVE missed The Arquette Phoenix Hot Tub Remix, but he’ll be back next week for sure to show us the latest musical mashups and samplings from across the globe - I simply cannot wait, petals, and I know you can't either. The GOOD news is that, as I have said, you are joining us right now for the first time, you’ll be VERY surprised – and delighted- to hear that my next guest is *none other* than the fabulous DAHLIA TWIST!

(APPLAUSE)

Dahlia, you stunning creation - I'm simply thrilled you're here.

Thank you, Sky, and thank you for having me back on your show.

Oh thats RIGHT, you *were* here some months ago, weren’t you?

Yes, and I was here before then too.

(OOOH)

Darling, you simply *must* forgive me -

Oh no darling don’t be embarrassed, it wasn’t you! I think it was before Splendora took over the channel.

(LAUGHTER)

(Speaking off camera) Chrome, Crymson, darlings, prove me wrong, by all means, can we check the archives - My little Storms are telling me that you are correct – and oh, my stars! Such a long and successful career, spanning not one but TWO commercial takeovers, and several hosts. I have seen starlets and idols grace my lounge sets and greenrooms and not last until the next airdate – but YOU! You have remained a constant and effervescent figure in Opportunity.. Dahlia Twist has *always* been IN, but.. how long has it been since you were HOT?

(SCATHING GASPS)

Well, Sky – The answer is probably that I was hot before you were born. I remember the day I took the limelight, my first few weeks of fame as a musical idol. I was fairly standard, run-of the mill star – a teenage heartthrob with a pretty voice and a good stylist-

I’m sure everyone remembers your first hit, ‘U look gud on me’ - my poor mother certainly had it drilled into her head!

(HUMMING AND GIGGLING)

Yes, yes, I was quite the boy to behold. It was exhilarating, and everything my parents had trained me to be. I loved it, but the fame wouldn’t last. It rarely does.

Ah yes, your inevitable decline. Tell me what it was you did next?

I became a garbageman.

(GASPS)

DARLING, tell me you're fibbing!

Yes, I did. At 19 I was a refuse collector for Peach Plaza District 7. I did that for a year or so before I got a job in Margin Drivers as a marketing assistant for municiple waste disposal. From there I.. well. That would be telling.

Twist, my love, don't tease, we simply -must- know.

SkyShock Sweetie, do you think I spent that time at MD learning how to give away things for free?

(LAUGHTER)

If you really want to know why I haven’t turned to ash like so many of my forebears, I’ll tell you why. I refuse to burn out. Instead of letting my money make money and live off of investments and stocks, I decided to keep creating. To keep building, learning, growing, and changing. I may not bask in the limelight as often as them, but I was here, successful and vibrant, before they finished basic performance academy – and I’ll be here long after they’re gone. Dahlia Twist is staying power.

Fabulous, fantastic! Just FANTASTIC! Dahlia, we love you, we adore you.

I know, Ms Sigma, I know.

Well, we all know what everyone here is *really* excited to talk about – your delicious new tech! After some time in the shadows you have emerged from your, dare I say it – secretive – life consulting at Protean Dynamics with a brand new business concept – Experiences!

(APPLAUSE AND SCREAMING)

That’s right, Experiences. We have all had them. The day your daughter was born, powering on the brand new SkysurferXPRO you got on your Name Day, your first kiss – Moments that define who you are and who you become. But what if I told you that not only could you re-live those moments over and over again – but you could live them even if they never happened, no matter how impossible?

I would say I'd like to test that theory with - oh, what shall I choose... A date with you?

(LAUGHTER)

Well darling, everything is permitted in the greenroom.

(OOOHS)

Practically encouraged, darling. My backstage Storms tell me we have one of your new products here to try out, shall we have a go?

(CHEERING)

Okay now Sky, this is the Peer headset. It channels specific neuron-stimulating vibration and radiowaves into your head, to trigger the production of a fantasy-like state, where the virtual world you experience is completely and utterly indistinguishable from reality.

I hear there are other ways to achieve the same effect?

Oh yes. For erotic and romantic experiences we encourage the injection module, as it most accurately mimics the sensations of lust and love. It also leaves your body more free to move and react naturally, where as the headset puts you in a coma-like state for more cerebral slice-of-life experiences. We also have tablets and candies, that give smaller, short-lasting experiences such as orgasm, weightlessness, flying, acceleration, an applauding audience or a serene landscape. There, you’re all hooked up now.

So what delights have you got in store for little me?

I’ve talked to your mother, and she’s told me you’ve always wanted to be able to play the mediaphonium, but you’ve never had the courage to try.

(AWWWWH)

Its a very complex instrument, takes years to master completely - and really, who has the time or patience?

Thats very true.. but not for you. I’m going to plug you in, and you’ll experience a few moments playing a mediaphonium with exquisite expertise, in front of a thousand-strong audience at the Glitter Lounge of West Ecstasy, Opportunity’s premier classical music theatre.

Honey, you simply -can't- be serious! How do you do it?

Let me just turn on your PeerSync and I’ll explain... there! Using data my Blendgineers have gathered from your past shows, your early life, and the donated experiences of professional mediaphonium players, we have constructed this artificial memory. All that it requires to be complete is you. Inside the Experience, you won’t know that the world is virtual and you won’t even think about thinking about how you ended up there. Special neurotransmitter blockers help with that. Okay, your Peer sensors are all fully synchronized. Here we go, see you in a moment, my little musician.

(Sky falls limp onto the lounge chair. Ticking sounds play over the PA, the audience mutters and whispers for a few moments, before the host springs upright from her comatose position)

Mother of golden glittering-[expletive]

(LAUGHTER)

Twist... that was amazing. It felt so real. The touch of the keys, the cheers of the audience, the lights of the stage, the smell of the perfume of the gents on the front row.. Everything was perfect. Thank you... I.. I don’t know what to say.

(AWWWW)

Well, how about you ask me out on that date now?

Darling, after a mind-[expletive] like that I am not sure I have it in me.

Why don’t you leave what’s ‘in’ you up to me?

(OOOOOOOOOH!)

-Well-. On that thoroughly scandalous and oh-so-promising note, let's take the opportunity for a commercial break and, in my case, a glass of something strong! Thank you VERY much Twist! DAHLIA TWIST EVERYBODY!

Thank you, Sky. And remember viewers, with Experience Modules you can be anything, become anyone, and Try Everything.

(THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE AND CHEERING)


Basic Risk Management

Authors: 'Ten Count' Markowitz, Thoughtful Spider

It was just after one when Ten Count Markowitz started to lose his temper.

The Opportunity sun had dawned weak but gotten stronger and stronger by the minute and as the clocks struck thirteen, had reaching the heights of “scorching”. The morning’s jackets and coats had been doffed by the public on the streets below and the occasional parasol or set of sunshades had emerged but, up on the rooftops where Ten Count lay prone, there wasn’t an inch of proper shade on offer.

“Holly, love, the next time you see me give me a clip round the ear for accepting this poxy job in the first place.” A treacherous bead of sweat trickled down over his eyebrow, and Ten Count had to waste another second wiping it away with the back of his hand, keeping his eye glued to the sight on his rifle.

“Got a problem, Mister Markowitz?” came the chirpy reply into his earpiece. He’d taken Holly Gaines under his wing a couple of years ago when her dad had had a minor attack of colourblindness, hooked up two wires he shouldn’t have, and been redistributed across half a city of block. Orphans weren’t uncommon in the slums of Opportunity, where the Margin Drivers held sway, but for an Accounts Executor like Ten Count to effectively adopt one was uncharacteristic. The current theory was that he was planning on teaching her everything he knew and then retiring.

None of it was true, but there was no sense in correcting people when they were determined to be wrong.

The target stepped into another doorway and Ten Count had to bite back his normal stream of baroque profanity, settling for grinding his teeth. Holly had only just hit double digits and while she'd learn how to swear properly in time, Ten Count wanted to keep as much of the wise old mentor image as possible while he still could. “This is the trouble with Accounts, youngster. When you aren't being paid by the hour, marks who don't have the common decency to present a nice easy target get right on your nerves.”

And that was the thing that grated on the Margin Driver - there was no reason for this mark to be as all over the place as he was. He'd tried to be smart and play the Drivers off against the glass tower mob and, once somebody in Sales had dug through and figured out the scam, they'd decided his best career option was to become an example. Turn up dead in a river, bullet through the head, no collateral damage – easy. It had taken Ten Count about a day to track the guy down, another couple to make sure his routine was clear, and a couple of hours to find the best hidey-hole for him to set up shop. Dead simple, and yet...

“Kid, how long have I been here?” Ten Count said, pressing the balls of his hands into his aching eyes. Staring down a telescopic sight did absolutely nothing for one's vision; not that his was going to get much worse short of actual blindness.

“This week, or...?”

“Fuck me.” If she had to ask that question, he'd been on this one far too bloody long. “The hells with it. Holly, I'm leaving the rifle. I'm going to give this squirrelly bastard a personal appearance.”

“You told me never to do that if you could avoid it, Mister M,” Ten Count heard as he rolled onto his back and sat up, giving his knees a quick rub. Lying prone on a hard surface could do a real number on the body.

“Good, you've been listening.” The rooftops weren't the easiest to navigate, but at least there weren't going to be any jumps to make. “Now for lesson two – do as I say, not as I do.” Ten Count patted his hip holster, making sure his pistol was still safe and secure. “So I’m telling you: do not show your face to the mark, do not talk to him, and above all do not give him a change to escape or overpower you.”

“Which you’re going to.”

“Of course.” Ten Count heaved himself over the parapet and out into the empty air.

---

With the alley sandwiched between a pair of tall buildings, the only thing the midday sun could do for it was make the darkness less complete. It suited Thoughtful Spider to the ground. Standing hidden in a shadowed doorway, Spider resettled his grip on his knife and beckoned the target with a crooked finger. The glove he wore was something he’d shaped to his own needs – without knowing why, his target would be steadily drawn towards him.

It wasn't that Protean Dynamics disapproved of insider trading in of itself, but - not only had the deal been unsubtle, the resulting stock increase had fallen well short of projections. The initiative was sound and could be earmarked as an endeavour worth pursuing in the future, albeit on a more restricted scale, but better to dismiss the responsible party. The conduct of his peers and other low-level operatives would be maintained.

It made for a straightforward Contingency operation, and Spider's objectives had been clear: terminate the target's employment and reclaim any Protean Dynamics property on, inside, or integrated with the target's person. As Spider waited for him to get closer, he knew other operatives would be at the target's personal residence and any known safehouses, ensuring that Protean Dynamics reclaimed everything due to them.

Spider prized efficiency in his operations. Delays, minor or otherwise, were not to be tolerated...so for a man to drop ten stories, land in front of the target without appearing to take physical damage and draw a pistol was especially sub-optimal.

...

Ten Count tried not to get too caught up in looking cool or being stylish when out on a job - that was the purview of the Joy Effect cretins – but sometimes, it was hard not to. “A perfect landing, not a hair out of place,” he said, snickering as he popped open his holster. “That, Scorpion, is exactly how it's done.”

To give the man credit, the Protean Dynamics operative known as Lucky Scorpion dealt with his dynamic entry rather well. Ten Count had pulled that trick on plenty of people before - some gibbered in fear before breaking and trying to flee, others stared blankly with their mouths hanging open like fish at feeding time – but Scorpion's only reaction was a quiet, muttered curse. “Shit.”

“Shit indeed, sunshine.”

Trying his best to avoid obviously staring at the holster, Scorpion shifted his weight tentatively, and Ten Count guessed there was about one chance in four he'd try to make a quick break for it. It would be a brave thing to attempt, but Scorpion had spent a few months trying and mostly succeeding in scamming two of the three big Visions in Opportunity. Whatever else you could say about the man – not much fashion sense, the early stages of male pattern baldness, a distinct paunch – he had balls. “I did...I did wonder...if they found out, who'd come for me first,” Scorpion smiled faintly. “Your people or mine.”

“Both.”

Ten Count had had a response ready to go, but the single word made him bite it back. Behind Scorpion, a figure detached itself from a deep pool of shadow maybe twenty feet away; inching his hand down towards his pistol, Ten Count’s eyes flickered around the alleyway. If this newcomer was hostile, he could have literally dropped into a trap. “Oi! This is a private function, no guests allowed. Piss off!”

There was a gentle sound of metal on metal – either a weapon being drawn or one being sheathed – and the newcomer stepped forward a couple of paces. “Unfortunately, Mr. Markowitz, Lucky Scorpion already has a scheduled meeting. This is Protean Dynamics business.”

“I guessed.” It wasn’t hard to figure out – he wasn’t nearly ostentatious enough to be with Joy Effect and everything looked far too custom to be a Driver. “But you’ve got me at a disadvantage and I don’t like being at a disadvantage. Who the fuck are you?”

The newcomer laughed, a gentle chuckling noise that seemed to carry no mirth with it at all. “Operative Thoughtful Spider. Contingency Division.”

Contingency Division...that put a wrinkle in the situation. One-on-one, Ten Count would pick himself to kill just about anybody Opportunity could throw at him, especially if it didn’t have to be a fair fight, but Protean Dynamics’ Contingency people were nasty pieces of work, bred for killing and mentally bleached to ensure obedience. Or so the rumours said. “Thoughtful Spider. You people do love your names, don’t you?”

Thoughtful Spider quirked an eyebrow, as if struggling to process something. “Yes, we do. Ten Count.”

“Don’t you fucking move,” Ten Count growled, flicking a finger at Lucky Scorpion to disguise his embarrassment at saying something so foolish. “Alright, we’ve established everybody knows who everybody is, next order of business. What do you want?”

“Much the same as you.” Spider touched the hilt of the knife at his belt. “Lucky Scorpion, terminated.”

Ten Count snorted a laugh. “Fuck, you are not making any friends, are you Scorpion? What’s he done to piss you lot off as well?”

“Again, the same as you. Our understanding is that both of our organisations have suffered from Lucky Scorpion’s indiscretions in the market,” Spider said, straightening out his glove. It looked like an odd affectation for somebody otherwise so businesslike. “It was unsurprising your superiors chose to place a contract on his head.”

“Yeah, about that.” Now he was satisfied he wasn’t about to be ganked, a little more of Ten Count’s ordinary arrogance had returned. “Let’s not mess each other about. You know how the Accounts department works. Contracts come down, we fulfil them, and most of time people end up dead. Thing is, I don’t know who’s ordered this one but I’m pretty sure they want it completed how they specified, so I need you gone. Sorry.”

Spider adjusted his sunshades briefly, resettling them on the bridge of his nose in an oddly disarming manner. “True. However, Lucky Scorpion is a Protean Dynamics operative before anything else. It reflects better on the organisation if we resolve disciplinary matters such as these in-house.”

“What does it even matter? He’s a walking corpse. He ends up dead anyway, doesn’t matter who actually shanks him, and two shots to the head means we all go home happy. Sorry, Scorpion,” Ten Count had to add. “Forgot you were there for a second.”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Markowitz, that is precisely why we cannot allow you to simply neutralise Lucky Scorpion. He is in possession of certain pieces of technology that the organisation would prefer to reclaim intact.” With what almost sounded like dry wit, Spider noted, “Bullets tend to make reclamation projects significantly more difficult.”

Slipping his hand into a pocket, Ten Count removed a single round. He’d shaped them himself for maximum lethality: capable of piercing most conventional armour, while retaining the hollow points that meant any wounds were sure to be lethal. “Then I think this is what they call an impasse. I’m happy to cap him right now and chuck him in the nearest, I can’t say I care about making sure your mob get your gadgets back.”

With a thin smile, Spider replied, “I prefer to think of it as the opening of negotiations.”

“It’s going to be like that, then.” A pair of industrial bins sat up against the wall, apparently abandoned, and Ten Count leaned back against one, taking a stubby bottle from one of his dozen vest pockets. “I’d offer you a drink, but...I don’t want to. Look, I know you people like negotiations, but you have to have something to offer and I don’t want shit from you.”

“Credits or information.” Spider looked up for a moment. “Your current contract was valued at two twenty-nine k upon completion. We would be prepared to offer that sum with an immediate ten percent addition as a buyout in order to have the issue resolved immediately.”

The sum was complete almost before Ten Count tried to calculate it. 262 was an impressive figure for a single action, especially since the mark was going to die anyway, and his mind clicked up another seductive gear. There was no reason he couldn’t take this deal and then report the contract complete to claim the rest of the payment, was there? Hell, what were they going to do? Send a Margin Driver to catch a Margin Driver? Only if they didn’t want them back in one piece. And yet…

“Nope, going to need to try harder. Think what sort of damage it’d do to my reputation around here if the word got out that you could buy Ten Count Markowitz off,” he said, shaking his head with some regret. “I’ve worked jobs for millionaires and billionaires and their enemies are normally just as rich as they are. Who’d hire me to liquidate their business rival if they thought their rival could pay me off? No deal.”

Spider raised another eyebrow. “Long-term plans, curious. Is your continued reputation so relevant when rumour has you hanging up your pistols and handing over your mantle to...” Ten Count’s hand dropped to his pistol, almost unconsciously. Besides her father and HIS father, nobody knew he had any connection to Holly. It was the safest thing for her. The instant Spider’s mouth shaped the word, Ten Count had the pistol free of it’s holster and blasted a single round at the operative.

As a disabling shot, it was sweet - the bullet smashed into Spider’s shoulder and penetrated cleanly. It wasn’t likely to be fatal, but it would hurt like hell and badly hinder the use of the arm...which is why it was so disconcerting that Spider barely appeared to register anything at all. The bullets hit with a lot of force yet Spider hadn’t even stepped back and, as Ten Count lowered the gun slowly, a trickle of something oozed from the wound. It couldn’t be blood – he’d seen a lot of people bleed but so far, nobody had bled black.

Thoughtful Spider glanced down at the wound without any particular interest. “I think, at this stage, it may be prudent to consider de-escalating this encounter.” The words fell on mostly deaf ears, however, as Ten Count’s gaze was still fixed on the dark liquid slowly streaming from his shoulder.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” whispered the Margin Driver, half to himself and half at Lucky Scorpion. “What the fuck are you?”

“An operative for Protean Dynamics. Contingency Division,” replied Spider, wiping the blood from his shirt. “And a Shaper. Like you.” For the first time in recorded memory, Ten Count had nothing to say. More than anything else, he’d worked hard to keep his Shaper status secret, and there were four bodies somewhere in the rivers of Opportunity to prove that... yet Protean Dynamics knew it enough for this creature to drop it into conversation like it was no great thing. “May I suggest we resume negotiations and consider information as currency?”

“...so what are you offering?” The bottle still in his hand, Ten Count took a long slug. It felt like the appropriate time.

“In brief, how we know about your associates and your capabilities. Protean Dynamics is an information trading enterprise. You may be surprised at what we are aware of.” Spider turned slightly, not losing sight of Ten Count or Scorpion, but enough to see the alleyway entrance. “As a gesture of goodwill, if you assent immediately we are willing to consider marking certain files for...permanent archiving.”

Ten Count licked his lips. Presumably Spider was concerned about the gunshot drawing unwanted attention. It was unlike somebody from Protean Dynamics to willingly add extra incentive without good reason but, much as Ten Count wanted to exploit the advantage, he was still a little shaken. The mission parameters had changed rapidly and the smartest thing to do was retreat, reassess and reclaim. “Permanent archiving.”

“The strategic loss of information can sometimes be more valuable.”

“Hm.” The grunt filled the silence as Ten Count’s brain ran through the list of possibilities. Getting his own file destroyed was going to be pointless because he was still active, which ruled out most of the names jumping to mind. Grandpa was long dead, but getting his father a little extra security couldn’t hurt. And on the subject of fathers, Holly was likely too young to have any significance but she’d show up in her dad’s records. She wasn’t going to get a clean slate, but it’d do. “Take three out of circulation and that’s a deal.”

“Three. The names?”

“Terry Gaines. Used to be known as ‘Capital’ Gaines, deceased a few years back. Milo Markowitz, Shrapnel.” Spider’s head tilted faintly, and Ten Count decided to answer the unspoken question. “Yeah, my dad. You already knew that, it’s not like I’m giving anything away.”

“The third?”

Even legends deserved a bit of a break. “Spence van Oren. The ‘Thrift’ in Thrift and Ransom Associates. He taught me a fair bit and I’ve never repaid him.” Spider nodded, but Ten Count wasn’t done. “For the record, if something happens to any of them and I think Protean were responsible, I don’t give a fuck what you are or why you don’t bleed right, I will come for you and you will not live to see the next day.”

The threat appeared not to register, but Ten Count wasn’t expecting it to. It wasn’t meant to elicit an emotional response – he just wanted it to lodge in Spider’s head for the future. “Duly noted,” said Spider, placing his hand gently on Scorpion’s shoulder, and the other Dynamics man tensed briefly. “In short, your communications have been compromised and have been for some time. The majority of our information on you has come through your own network, standard Protean procedure is to monitor any unsecured networks. Especially those known to be associated with new and upcoming Shapers.”

“I never talk about that.”

“No. Unfortunately, while you did a good job removing all those you knew to have discovered that information, it came to us nonetheless.” Spider held up his bare hand, cutting off Ten Count in anticipation of the next question. “We will not divulge the identities of those responsible. Your principle of client anonymity is a laudable one, especially for a member of your organisation. Others have proven to be significantly less principled.”

Ten Count hissed through gritted teeth. “And there I am, twisting in the wind with my fucking principles, not knowing who’s listening in.”

“But knowing your network is no longer secure gives you a place to start looking for answers.” Thoughtful Spider turned away, crooking a gloved finger at Lucky Scorpion; apparently accepting his fate, Scorpion followed his to-be executioner. “Good doing business with you, Mr. Markowitz.”

Shoving his pistol roughly back into the holster, Ten Count plucked out his earpiece and gazed at it. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, for nobody but the shadows to hear. “This is what happens when you buy cheap.”�


Report to the Board

Author: Chain Dog

What follows is the information we have been able to gather on the asset.

[retrieve file \uNet 10040 ProDyne Personnel record "Scion Wing"]

Personnel file

Scion Wing, 19 Personnel Wing: Pathway Augmentation Solutions COntingency Client: Terminal Recourse

Pre-Procedural comment: Slumspire trash, didn't mention family, has done some very low-grade accounts work for the Drivers in the past, most recently in manufacturing.

BIOMANCY/PSYCHITECTURE PROFILE

Organ implants:

  • Enhanced Adrenal Cortex
  • Cortisol Slough
  • Toxin Siphon
  • [CLASSIFIED]
  • Glandular Output Modulator

Cranial implants:

  • Ventral Tegmental Stimulator
  • Neural Input Modulator
  • Optical Input Modulator
  • Olfactory Input Modulator
  • Auditory Input Modulator
  • Paroxysmic Enhancer
  • Dreamchafer
  • [CLASSIFIED]
  • [CLASSIFIED]

Subdermal Implants:

  • Polyelectrolytic infraplating
  • Muscular Microfibration
  • [CLASSIFIED]

Psychitectural procedures completed:

  • Combat Antideliberation Conditioning
  • Identity Repatterning
  • Response-time Restructuring
  • Target Delineation
  • Counter-Meditation

Post-Procedural comment: 100% retention on all implants, now get him out of the lab before we lose another invigilator.


[retrieve file \uNet 11131 ProDyne Contingency record "Scion Wing"]

Terminal Recourse PDC 'Taking Your Last Chance'

Scion Wing uses the latest advancements in Biomancy, Psychitecture and Contingency Operational Training to deliver an integrated package for emergent coercion strategies. He is the last word in abrogation strategies, asset reclamation and liability repackaging. The following aethernet footage demonstrates his abilities. It is recommended that sensory input be restricted to audiovisual while experiencing.

Completed Training Programs:

  • Basic Combat techniques (all)
  • Advanced Firearms and Melee techniques
  • Applied Melee techniques
  • Advanced Covert Training
  • Basic Overt training
  • All basic vehicle techniques

Operations file:

  • Delta Sundown (Completed)
  • Operation Skyfire (Completed, earned Killstreak bonus)
  • Three Dragons (Completed)
  • Zarin Spire (Completed)
  • [CLASSIFIED] - Asset temporarily missing in action, mission otherwise successful

Asset's file closed, transfer to Joy Effect pending.

[retrieve file \uNet 12090 ProDyne Relations record "Vesica"]

The following transmission was intercepted from the Combine frigate 'Deliverance's Ascent' at timestamp 400/128/10.98.44

Facilitator, we have failed to [GARBLED] Vesica's Hope. However we retrieved the data on the [static] and are transporting it now. Even as I transmit, our volunteers are making their bold last stand against the Shaper. He has, er, boarded the vessel in pursuit of the information. I am going to make one attempt to transmit the data from here, but it is heavily encrypted. My own shaping talents should allow me to~ Ah, he has entered. Rhetonomic Engineer Chain Drive signing off. Wish me fortunes, Comrades.

[TRANSMISSION ENDS]


Dissonance Cascade

Author: Chain Dog

The airship hung in the air, burning, angled downwards in frozen descent. Pillars of smoke blossomed from rents in the side. The outside was ablaze, but the fire didn't spread. The flames were moving but never expanding. It was almost a grim tableau.

"Why doesn't it fall?"

"The other question one could ask is, why doesn't it burn? Or why doesn't it fly away?"

"Who are you?"

There were two speakers. The one enquiring about the state of the Combine ship was sitting on the pebble beach, being tended to by the other. The first was clad in a tight fitting thermal bodysleeve, dark grey with white and orange highlights. The logo on his breast was a diamond with a stylised TR emblazoned on it. The other man was dressed like a Margin Driver, all black suit and black tie, black shades and a black briefcase which apparently contained some emergency First Aid biomantic gear.

"I'm just this guy, you know", he replied, in a kind of sing-song manner that suggested he was about to finish a lyric. "And who are you?"

The assassin, which is clearly what he was, looked at the dog tags in his hand. They simply read CHAIN D- and finished there, because something had clearly cloven them in two. Chain D. Dog tags.

"I'm Chain Dog."

"Are you, now? Well, you're lucky I found you. You were out cold when I found you."

"So what's with the gunship?"

"It's there because a Shaper was onboard. If she hadn't been there, that ship would have been embraced by the sea by now. And if you hadn't been there, it would made it clear by now."

"Dissonance?!"

"You seem surprised, Chain Dog. Did you even know you were a Shaper?"

Chain Dog hadn't considered it. He'd never seen anything like this before, though. He wondered how long it would sit there, in the sky. He wondered about the other Shaper.

"So that's what Dissonance looks like?"

"It's what it looks like today, yes."

"What about the other Shaper?"

"Chain Drive? She'll be fine. She's probably in no worse state than you, but she's still up there. A colleague of mine will see to her wellbeing. Fear not, no data will be passed to the Combine. That's part of the arrangement I made with your superiors."

"What? What arrangement?"

"Chain Dog... I like that name, by the way... you should work on your gift. Tell me, what did you most enjoy about your work?"

"What- uh. The look in their eyes."

"The eyes of your foes?"

"Yeah. Yeah!"

"Noted. You've always dreamt of the spires, haven't you? Consider, what would happen if those talents of yours found themselves... on the floor of the arena? What if those thin energy blades you use... you made yourself, in your own style? What do you see yourself as? What parts of your life will you embrace? What will you abandon?"

"Tell me more. I want it all! The lights! The Sounds! THE MUSIC! ALL OF IT!"

"Yes, Chain Dog. All this and more will be yours. But first, let me show you how to shape an item..."


Food For Thought

Author: Rain Falls On The Snow, after Cycle II

PRIORITY MESSAGE - OUTWORLD TO HOMEWORLD
ENCRYPTION ENIGMA-FIVE- SEVEN (WARNING: KNOWN INSECURE)
ROUTING HEADER: ORDER ADDRESS XS3-H5- K23-P1 - YOU KNOW THIS MEANS WAR (HELLION), E5-C67- LM2-P3 - MARKET ADJUSTMENT (ADJUTANT)

MESSAGE BODY BEGINS:

War, Market, this is Rain. I’m calling in my markers.

If you’re both dead, well, anyone else intercepting this, you owe me a pretty big favour on account of how I helped save your life, and the lives of everyone else in Homeworld, and I’m calling that in.

Just read the message and do what you can to help.

We still get some news from Homeworld, for certain definitions of ‘news’, and I hear that Opportunity are starving, and they’re doing some stupid things because of it. Attached data files are a solution. Not a perfect solution, but this isn’t a perfect world. Yet.

They’ll need a couple of large-scale hydroponics facilities, any skilled bio-engineers they can dig up, and possibly some fertile soil. War, I know you still have some Walker contacts - if that’s not enough, grab the Green path Sage called Thorn and remind them who taught them everything they know about biomancy. Market, hit your Protean R&D contacts from the other side. See if you can sell it to Joy Effect as a new fashion or something. Personal food gardens or whatever. I don’t know. Your speciality, not mine.

Technically the files are corporate property of MetaGen LLC (The Last Word In Agrobionomics TM ), but, well, they’ve all been dead for a good 800-plus years-personal-subjective, so I don’t think we have to worry too much about lawsuits. Also it’d be funny to see someone try and serve me here.

Be sure to make them read the usage and planting instructions carefully. The juice-vines in particular are very sensitive to the alkali content of the soil; they won’t uptake the vitamins right if it’s more than 0.2 off. If someone works out a way of fixing that, stuff the details into the pocket of the next lunatic who jumps through the Breach and I’ll see what I can do about constructive criticism.

Rain Falls On The Snow, signing off.

MESSAGE BODY ENDS

ATTACHMENTS:

Bio-Gene Recipe 00347 (Juice-Vine).gen
Bio-Gene Recipe 00210 (Megapumpkin).gen
Bio-Gene Recipe 01056 (New Corn Plus).gen
Bio-Gene Recipe 00023 (Rainbow Apple).gen
Bio-Gene Recipe 10012 (Starshine Seaweed).gen

One Night Only

Author: Miss Marina Montague

She sat alone in the green room. A brief moment of quiet. She knew any moment she would be interrupted, there was always someone wanting something. She closed her eyes, and took three deep breaths.

“Miss Marina? … That’s your 5 minute call.”

“Thank you Tracey” , she sighed breathlessly, opening her eyes to a stylishly cardiganed, handsome young man. He had a slight frame, thick glasses, and dark – impeccably styled hair.

He raised a hand and touched his ear “Yup. Yup. Are Emily Cho and Xeva Diva in position? Two min makeup reset. Uh-huh Got it. Yup. No No. The blue – Sponsor is ZenX tonight.”

Marina’s eyes wandered across the walls.

Lost in thought, she examined the Neon gilding intertwined with barbed wire, and the curve of the well- known faces that had passed through those halls, the most prominent of which belonged to Trojan Force, he in fact - was on EVERY wall. This was his turf.

But it was clear that he had taken the trouble to make Marina feel welcome. He’d left her a present. Two incredibly large dumbbells in the shape of his own face, un-liftable to all but juiced up tanks. A hand scribbled card read “Lookin’ the Bomb as always. But if you really want to make your Tri’s explode…”

She looked at the slightly ‘off’ versions of Trojan’s face. He’d clearly had them cast from holding his breath, and sticking his head in to a mold until he passed out.

What a sweetie. Not too bright, but a sweetie.

“I’ll just keep them as statues” she thought to herself.

Flowers filled the room, and a large selection of exquisite edibles and beverages from every corner of the realm adorned a table in front of her. She separated out a small plate of Redvine grapes, and put it aside for after the show. Redvines reminded her of her mother. They were her favourite…

A large antique looking mirror was nestled amongst the bouquets. Marina caught a glimpse of herself in it, from the corner of her eye, and brushed her gently curling blonde hair from her face. A red sparkling tag hung from the top corner of the opulent frame, it sprung to life on registering movement, and in a thick accent she recognized all too well said: ‘Heeeeeey, Marina Honey! Holomirror edition 6. Pretty stylin, huh? Am I forgiven yet sweetheart? C’mon back to the company baby. This thing is great for virtual-conferencing. ;) BLOODNETWORK ain’t the same withoutcha. Talk Soon Sexy. Billy Singh xox.’ She rolled her eyes. “Rot in Hell Bill” she muttered to herself.

Suddenly, there was a mountainous clamor from outside. The event was starting. Trojan Force must have made a ‘surprise’ appearance on stage. She could hear distant echoes of “CAN YOU DIG IIIIIT?” Marina ran her hand idly over some beautifully flowering Starificus Maxima, its petals smelled like a moon lit night in late summer.

“Yup. Yup. Moving now…Miss Marina?”

“Tracey, will you make sure the families in The Flies District get all of this? Gift wrap it for them. I don’t want anyone feeling like it’s a hand out, okay. Promise me? TF has got a tough neighborhood around here. You don’t win, you don’t eat. They’re a proud people. Can’t have anyone looking weak. Don’t sell the stuff okay?”

“Miss Montague! I would NEVER…”

“I know… Say Tracey, do you maybe wanna come back with me? We could use a new Director…and I kinda get the feeling you don’t fit in around here.”

“…I.” Tracey’s ear buzzed, [ 3 MINUTE CALL. PA 5 REPORT IMMEDIATELY - *where is that prick?* - P A 5 POSITION IMMEDIATELY. ]

“C’mon Honey, let’s go. I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” A cacophony of flashbulbs exploded as she stepped out of her dressing room, a long silver mermaid gown trailing behind her. A crowd of tightly packed press, and HoloRatzzis shouted and jostled for pictures, lunging towards Marina.

However, due to her host, some extremely large, bare chested security guards with TF firmly emblazoned on their chests kept a suitable radius around the star. She smiled, and gave a little wink to the hulking guardian beside her, whose face had been firmly fixed in Marina’s direction. He batted the yelling HoloPaps away like flies. The gargantuan mass of muscles grinned. A huge, stupidly untamed genuine grin, and gave a little blush whilst chuckling to himself.

Marina and Tracey passed through a second set of heavy steel doors.

The bare chested soldiers of Trojan Force kept the HoloRats at bay there.

Another brief moment of silence.

“Tracey… The audience... Do they look kind tonight?”

Tracey smiled warmly as Emily Cho and Xeva Diva rushed towards Marina, Kawaki Makeup brushes in hand. “BLUE, BLUE, Get the blue!” Emily fussed.

“With you? Always.”

She smiled back at him gratefully.

The speakers boomed. Trojan’s voice filled the arena.

[COMING TO YOU LIIIIIVE FROM THE TROJAN FORCETRACE OF SOLITUDE. A ONE NIGHT ONLY SPECTACULAR.]

The arena was plunged into darkness. Cheering, screaming and thunderous applause filled the air.

Moments later, thousands of tiny blinking lights ruptured into being from countless Biocoms being held aloft, all attempting to Holocapture the event.

[THE SINFUL . THE SPECTACULAR!]

“Check. Marina to stage position please. Marina to position”

[BLONDE BOMBSHELL YOU ALL LOVE TO LOVE AND WATCH MAKE LOVE. TOURING WITH HER NEWEST, HOTTEST HIT]

“Cue trap 7 please. Trap 7 on the lift”

[THE ONE!]

“Check sound, Cue light. Roll VT on go”

[THE ONLY!]

“Booth is hot. 4…3…2…”

[THE DIVA HERSELF!]

Fireworks streaked across the roof of the dome, exploding in a vibrant extravaganza of colour and avertizing, raining down sparkles upon the euphoric screaming masses below.

A single spotlight hit center stage, illuminating the star speckled darkness.

Marina appeared like magic, as if materializing from crystals, floating in midair, almost incorporeal, and sparkling like a diamond. She was engulfed by a wall of immense sound and pure ecstasy from the crowd.

[MISS…… MARINAAAAAAA MONTAGUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!]

She whispered to herself.

“Show time.”

House calls

Author: By My Crooked Teeth

By My Crooked Teeth had been in the Opportunity Metropolis for two years. He can come to the city with nothing and made it look like something. He needed a job to keep his cover and being true to himself he had several. This was roughly how a standard night went for him.

Wellspring

First, we visit his persona Wellspring, an experience locator for one Delila Twist. Mostly he either trawls around looking for good tales to spin or convincing people to perform desirable actions and collecting the Experience later. He mostly did this job for access to the Experience machinery and for the intellectual exercise. Here is one such conversation with a future experience who is having second thoughts.

“Now, I understand that you have some questions?” Crooked would say.

“Yes, sorry I never asked your name.” The mark would enquire.

“Call me Wellspring.” Crooked would lie.

“Wellspring, right. I have been having some doubts about this. I don’t know if this is a good idea you know. You can’t imagine the places they could put me in if I get caught.”

“I can imagine a lot actually.” Crooked would say truthfully.

“I am just not sure this Margin Drivers con is going to work.” The mark would say.

“I understand friend. But I remind you, you came to see me, you told me that you wanted revenge of your co-workers, you were the one with the plan and promised you would perform it. And I don’t think you would want to upset my employer. I am helping you out here mate. I am putting up some money for the execution and I got you those guns didn’t I? I thought you can do it”

“I can for a price.” The mark would say obviously.

Here we go, Crooked would think. “Everything in Opportunity has a price. Your teeth if they were in good knick would fetch 500, your kidneys and lungs 5,000 in the right markets. But for your experience? Some people trade simply to be rid of the nightmares, with a little pocket change to walk away with. Some will give away everything to live a different life. I know one person who will go out and perform every daredevil act only to trade it in for a month solid in the machines. Price is fluid sir. But a price can only be breached once we know what you have is genuine.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because money is on the line. Everyone here lies for it.”

“I ain’t lying.” The mark protested

“Then prove it. Contact me when you have collected your experiences make it exciting and there will be a bonus.” Crooked wrote a number to get his attention on a napkin and pushed it over. The mark picked it up and looked at it. His eyes widened. Got him, Crooked thought. “Can I count on you?” Crooked pushed.

“Yeah,” The mark said stunned “Yeah, I’ll get to it. I’ll get it to you. For this I will get anything.”

“Good, see you soon then.” Crooked got up and left the mark dreaming of his wealth and revenge. He made a mental note to drop a tip to the margin drivers see if he can spice the experience up a little.

….

Smiles

Next we visit his other persona in Joy Effect known as Smiles. A ‘Image consultant’ which was code for keeping the wrong scandals out of prying eyes and releasing the right ones for the boosted reputations. Here is one such client who is having a spot of bother.

“Oh, god their dead!” the client would bluster into the phone.

Crooked exhaled and braced himself. “Whose dead darling?”

“I met these people and I took them back to mine. We…..you know.” The Client implied.

“Yes. I have an idea.” He replied with hollow cheerfulness. “And then what? Actually, shut up and don’t say anything until I get there.”

Crooked arrived the celebrity (whose star was already waning to obscurity) looked tired, Sunburst was a singer with a few albums under his belt, none of them sensational but catchy enough to have some nostalgic fans. Crooked walked in adjusting his long white scarf to fall over his shoulder. There was a puddle of collapsed mostly undressed people. A whole rainbow of possibilities for the singer to indulge in.

Crooked lifted his hand and kept Sunburst from speaking.

“How long have they been like this?” He asked impatiently.

“Twenty minutes’ tops.”

“And what did they take?”

“I can’t remember.”

Crooked shot Sunburst a look. “Can’t remember or won’t tell me.”

“I mean we took a lot. Must have been something to take out everyone but me.”

“That’s not a miracle, that is a cleansing implant so your voice doesn’t get damaged from the staggering number of drugs you take.” He crouched and checked the pulses of the bodies in turn. “So, what happened to bring about the cuddle puddle of corpses?”

“I felt like celebrating?” Sunburst said sheepishly.

Crooked glared at Sunburst then turned his attention to one of the bodies. He checked the pulse and huffed in annoyance. “Did no one teach you how to check a pulse?” He touched one on the shoulder and said “Darling? Trust me this is not a great place to sleep. Stoned girl, ONE UP.” A little of his power flowed into the woman and she jerked awake.

“Oh, my tabloids! What a rush! What happened? Who are you?”

“I’m Smiles and you are not going to talk about this night to anyone understand?” He pulled out folder of bills and peeled off a generous portion. (It was Sunburst’s money anyway.) The woman nodded and collected the money and her clothes. He moved around and healed those who could be healed and patted down the ones he couldn’t save for a form of identification as he went. When he was done out of the six people Sunburst went home with four survived the trip and two more were going to perform a vanishing act.

“Now I want you to go home. Shower, sleep whatever you do with yourself but please leave the bodies out of it. Thank you. I will have to raise my rates if I have to keep making house calls.” He muttered dryly as he dialed. “Daz? Yeah hi Smiles here. Could you get this stain out of my carpet? I need it whiter than white. Can you help?”

….

Mr. Locke

Finally, we meet Mr. Locke a freelance operative who has worked for all three Visions at one time or another. His main job was to be the person you go to when you don’t want anything on the books. This meant embarrassing jobs and dirty ones. This particular job was to retrieve some blackmail information on a high up executive on Protean Dynamics. Things do not always go to plan.

….

Crooked waited patiently, all his other jobs were done for the night, this was his last one. The sounds of the metropolis were loud and bizarre, it was like a beast in the throes of mind altering drugs trying to sing, which was likely true for many people within earshot.

The blackmailer arrived promptly along with two bodyguards which was going against the instructions of his message for them to meet alone. Crooked commended him on his sneaky-ness. Crooked scratched his beard and said “Funny I seem to be off in my mathematics. I am sure you said it would be the two of us.”

“That was then. This is now.” The blackmailer smiled. The two bodyguards were big and mean, obviously carry weapons and doing so poorly in an attempt to intimidate Crooked. It wasn’t working.

“I guess so. Let’s get this over with.” Crooked kicked over a bag filled with money. The blackmailer crouched down to check it. He barely glanced at it before he said.

“You’re short.”

“Five eleven isn’t short.” Crooked joked, keeping in character.

“There isn’t enough money here.” The blackmailer smiled.

“Now I know you are lying because there is more than what you asked for in there.” He said levelly.

“But the price is 10 Million.” The Blackmailer said with a broad smile, the picture of innocence.

“No, it isn’t. it is barely worth five but here we are. Take it and it is over or I shall make it so.”

“Maybe I should send you back in pieces then our friend will understand that he pays what he owes.”

The bodyguards surged over. Clearly some cybernetics to increase speed, would be hell on the bones in the long run given it was likely a cheap job. But he was in no position to discuss the virtues of cybernetics as he was shoved against the wall with a knife at his throat. “Any last words?” Crooked smiled. “Yeah actually. OC CALL GET OFF.” The bodyguard was stepping off before he realized what was happening. He was staring at Crooked like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Oh, shit he is a Shap-.” Was all the bodyguard got out before Crooked shot him in the head. He whipped the gun around twirling it around his fingers and levelling it at the second bodyguard and with another crack the second bodyguard went down.

“There the maths is fixed now. Much better.” The Blackmailer was running, he had the forethought to take the bag of money, which was greedy but predictable. Crooked pulled out a detonator and pushed the button. There was a small pop and a scream. He really should he checked the bag better, Crooked thought as he walked over. He twirled the gun and levelled it at a wounded body guard. “You took the wrong contract boys. You! HA!” and the bodyguard went still. Crooked walked over to the wounded and crawling blackmailer. He twisted the gun again. “You! HA” and blasted the blackmailer in the leg.

“Fuck you. Who are you?”

“Mr. Locke at the moment. Now tell me where you got the information from.”

“You can go Fu-“ Crooked interrupted him by throwing a HA into his chest. He checked the loads of his pistol and crouched down. He looked at the inert Blackmailer and turned his face over in his hands.

“Huh, K.O I guess.” He rubbed his fingers together and pulled out a small set of keys placing them on the Blackmailer’s chest. “Rise and shine I am not done with you. You! ONE UP.” The Blackmailer gasped for breath.

“What the fu-“ CLICK he was silent as the pistol was cocked against his chest.

“Now I am going to ask you some questions.”

“What the fuck was that? Who the hell sends a shaper to a meeting?”

“Someone with deep pockets and something I find valuable. Now shut up.” BANG the gun went off into his chest and he went limp again. Out came the Keys again. “Now you will begin to learn a lesson. YOU! ONE UP.” The blackmailer gasped again. “To be fair I will answer your question. Yes, I am a Shaper. Yes, you are shit out of luck right now and yes if you draw that gun I know you are reaching for I will shoot you again.” BANG.

Crooked exhaled in irritation. “I’m surrounded by idiots.” He placed the keys on the chest again. “Eventually the lesson will sink in. Eventually you will learn. YOU! ONE UP.” The blackmailer woke up again looking scared. “In case you didn’t know I am a Keystone. This means I am able to heal you. I can do this all night until you tell me the answers to my questions. Do you understand?” BANG

He reloaded his pistol and played with his nailed for a few seconds and then replaced the keys “Once more with feeling you will be educated. YOU! ONE UP.” The blackmailer was terrified by the time he woke up this time. “Do you understand?”

“YES, By everything expensive Yes. Please don’t shoot me again.”

“Then talk.”

And he did. Crooked left him in the river and reported to a very happy executive to let him know his troubles were over and all it cost him was ten grand and a small explosion.

Just another day in Opportunity.