[Reminder]

A light breeze blows in from the east, stirring occasional clouds of dust where puddles from last night's rain do not linger. You pause what you are doing and look up, as the low-hanging morning sun temporarily breaks through the clouds, revealing a blush of color. As it drifts behind another cloud, you go back to what you had been doing on a day not that different from yesterday, and likely one that will not be that different from tomorrow.



At least until the call comes in from Asha, the alleged "fixer" who dropped in on you a few months back with vague allusions to "opportunities."

"Mosi's. Dockside. 1600. Take a table and wait. On time, or don't expect another."

The short, clipped message is all that you receive before the transmission ends.

You look to the sky again as you ponder whether to take the call. It is still early, 0900 at the latest. It would seem enough time to easily arrive, but Asha's closing words hang in your mind.

[Csjarrat]

At first Johannes didn't even hear the vibration of his 'link notifying him of the incoming message, the soycaf maker was far too loud and probably ten years past it's best.
Sipping from a chipped mug and staring out the window at the beautiful morning, his mind turned to breakfast. turning away from the window, the pulsing notification LED on the 'link caught his eye.

Mosi's? hmmm...no idea.
Knowing he was going to need at least an address to make the meet at all, Johannes set the soyprocessor to rattle up some crappy analogue of old-school ham and eggs.
Johannes headed through to the living room, grabbed his deck, took a seat and jacked in.
going for a data processing load-out; Virtual machine running toolbox (+1DP) and browse (1/2 search time), R3 agent running in 3rd slot.
deck set at: DP 5(6)/ firewall 4/ sleaze 4/ attack 2.
Diving into hot-sim, Ultra mentally summoned a search terminal:

//Browse V.2.31b//<<Search terms: Mosi's, Dockside, Mombasa.>>
Tags: <<meeting venue, restaurant, bar, cafe.>>
Request <<location, recent history, recent news articles.>>

Ultra had his agent run an independent search, two heads are better than one eh?
int 4, percep 2 image enhance 2, active search 3 (possible exits) (11d6.hits(5)=4) 4 hits, no glitch for ultra
pilot 3, comp 3, hot sim 2 [dp 6] (8d6.hits(5)=2) 2 hits, no glitch for agent.

//Reply to:Asha//<<Sounds good. We coming ready to rock or discreet?>>

[JackVII]

The chirp from Mlinzi's commlink startles her awake. She's always been a light sleeper, a quality developed from years of living off the land. After all, there's not much you can do once the simba has your foot in its mouth. Inside her small hovel of patched together plasboard and sheet metal, she doesn't have far to reach to grab her commlink. In the shaded interior, she squints her eyes to read the small screen. Most people of the Sixth World would call up the message with their AR-enabled visioning devices or a direct neural interface. Mlinzi, on the other hand, found the alien sensations of simsense distracting and nauseating and preferred doing things the "old fashioned" way.

The docks, huh? she thinks to herself. That shouldn't be too much trouble to find. I'm sure someone can point me to the proper place. She was actually fairly surprised to hear back from Asha. It had been a few months since she had last worked with her. Their last bit of biz had gone okay as far as she could tell. Tracking down and relocating the fisi pack that had been hassling some of the northern slum dwellers had been relatively simple for her and her spirit companion. It hadn't paid all that well, but so it goes. Hopefully this job would pay a little better or at least further her personal goals.

Mlinzi's current situation found her between jobs and living in the slums outside Mombasa along Mombasa Road. As she semi-regularly transited between Mombasa and Nairobi, it made the most sense for her. It also afforded her a fairly direct route to Mombasa Island where the meeting would take place this evening. While there seemed to be plenty of time to get there, the elf knew that she was rather "fragrant" from bunking in the slums for a few days and thought it would be best to swing by one of the less frequently visited stretches of Tudor Creek to take a quick bath before showing up at the meeting.

Running a few scenarios through her mind, she crafts a quick cover story for "Erika Koinainge, Game Warden." Simple is usually best, so Mlinzi's story largely reflects reality. "Erika" would be meeting a few friends for dinner on Mombasa Island before heading out directly for a few days in the bush. Grabbing her gear, she secures her limited belongings. Taking one last look around the squat to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything, she heads for the shower curtain serving as a door the hovel. Before stepping outside, she pauses to center herself and calls for one of her spirit companions to join her. "Come Wawindaji! It is time to hunt!"

The air shimmers as Wawindaji answers her call. The spirit appears on the Astral plane, today taking the form of the Emela-Ntouka, an African cryptid vaguely resembling a rhinoceros. Nodding its head, it speaks in her mind, "It is good to see you, roho rafiki." With her friend accompanying her, Mlinzi heads for Tudor Creek, arriving after about an hour.

At this point outside Mombasa proper, Tudor Creek remains a relatively clean waterway feeding into the Indian Ocean. Mlinzi locates a relatively secluded bend in the creek and strips naked. Sending a mental message to her spirit companion she says, "Wawindaji, please protect me from the eyes of predators." The spirit manifests and protects her with its power of concealment.

Grabbing a small bar of soap from her kit, she starts scrubbing away the grime that had built up over the last several days. The elf wasn't overly modest, but preferred to play it safe given her past experiences. The last thing she needed was a gang of young toughs coming across her. Other than a fisherman who failed to notice her due to the concealment afforded her by Wawindaji, she encountered no one during her bath. After drying off, she dressed and settled her kit. Thanking Wawindaji for its assistance. she asks for the spirit to follow her on the astral plane so as not to draw undue attention. She heads out from Tudor Creek and picks up Mombasa Road about 30 minutes later. From there, she heads towards Mombasa with Wawindaji in tow.

Realizing that she has plenty of time before the meeting, Mlinzi strolls at a leisurely pace, occasionally switching her view to the astral plane to see if she can spot any spirits in the area. By 1430, she is crossing the bridge to Mombasa Island with what she feels is plenty of time to locate the meeting spot in question. Once she reaches the island proper, she plans to use her natural charm to zero in on the docks and Mosi's.

[spoiler=OOC]Summoning Spirit of Beast (4): Summoning (5) + Spec (2) + Magic (4) (11d6.hits(5)=6) w/Concealment Power (Reduced to 4 due to limit)
Spirit's Resistance Test (4d6.hits(5)=1) (1 away from a glitch, poor Wawindaji)
Drain Resistance: Willpower (5) + Charisma (8 ) (13d6.hits(5)=3)

Force 4 Spirit of Beasts w/Concealment. 2 Services Remaining (- 1 Concealment)[/spoiler]

[Crunch]

The buzz of the comlink taped snug against his ribs cut through the jarring rumble of the Yamaha. Francois twitched a command and the fixer's message scrolled across the bottom of his vision field. Mombasa. Merde. He twitched another finger and checked the time. Enough time to drop off this package and see if one of the assholes had a delivery for Mombasa? He ran the journey through in his head. No. He cursed into his bandana. Barely enough time to stop at Voi to recharge the bike.

Francois gunned the Yamaha and veered into a dry gulley. First things first. Drop the package off charge up and then burn for Voi and Mombasa. Then hope this fixer is as good as their word. A few good scores and he could be out of this pest hole and back to the Mediterranean. Francois grinned into the wind and whooped a war cry.


Francois is driving to Mombasa with a stop off in Voi to charge up the Growler. He should get there in plenty of time for the meet, but he won't have a lot of time to do anything else.


Thought
Speech-English
Speech-French
Speech-Arabic
Speech-Kiswahili[/color
Matrix/Text

[Ren]

Mutumbo got up to the sound of the comm, a bit disoriented. He tried to interpret the meaning then he decided he would try again after sipping a soykaf for a while. Yesterday evening was very good, he spent it with Sokoro’s family, celebrating the successful hunt from which they just arrived and the generous shares it yielded. The celebration went on for quite a while, involving all the neighbors, and there were plenty of reasons to stay until the end.
After waking up fully, he went back to the message. He frowned after reading it again. He didn’t really trust this Asha figure, although last time she made good on her word, and her nujen was as good as any. Still, it was strange to meet her in the hustle of a preparing hunting party, and given a job he actually had to perform during the hunt. It couldn’t have been easier. He just had to slip a piece of paper into the tent of one of the hunters unnoticed.
Mutumbo was content having not heard of her again, she was a shady type. But he had no hunt scheduled for at least two weeks, and if this work meant serious nujen, it might help him save up for that wreck his neighbor still insisted was a car. He wanted his own ride, it was embarrassing to ask his co-workers to give him a lift every time. And he would have to do it today, too.

…

”Thanks buddy, you’re a life saver.” he told Sokoro, as he took the bag with most of his hunting equipment in it out of the trunk. Sokoro drove the family car, he had to run errands for them for the afternoon, and it wasn’t too much of a detour to drop him off on the island. Mutumbo waved goodbye to him as he drove off, then shouldered his bag and directed his steps towards Mosi’s. There was still plenty of time, so he looked around a bit, the dockside had all kinds of interesting ware, and sometimes some crates ‘just fell off a truck’, and that was when you could buy good stuff if you knew the right man. He spent the next hour or so looking around.

…

He arrived at Mosi’s about five minutes before the appointed time. He didn’t plan to be this late, but some annoying SOB gave him wrong directions. He entered, looked around to check whoever was in there, then walked to the bar, nodding to the bartender. ”A beer. Bottled.” You never knew what was on tap in these places. The bottled beers might not be better, but at least knew what to expect.

[Csjarrat]

Johannes planned a route on his mapsoft, zapping it over to the truck's node, and jacked out as the soyprocessor alerted him that his breakfast was ready.
It wouldn't take that long to get his kit together and although he had a bit of a drive, he still had stacks of time. Knowing that the island's police could be tricksy at times, Johannes makes ure to conceal his firearm and deck's icons a music player and e-paper device using his wrapper software.
He took the time to watch the news, water the plants and load up the truck, pulling the tarpaulin rain cover over the flat-bed to keep it from scattering out on the bumpy roads as much as to keep away prying eyes.
Lighting up his AR feed, Ultra eased up the throttle and headed to the meet.

[Bewilderbeast]

Alexander woke up in the late morning, enjoying the few blissful moments of confusion and oblivion on waking. For a few seconds, he couldn't remember who he was or where he was. The first thing to shatter his reverie was the heat. It was still morning, but he was covered in sweat. A harsh light filtered through metal barred window of his tiny, condemned second-floor "apartment." He sighed heavily and sat up from his pallet, surveying his barren room. It was time to face another day as a penniless foreigner in a foreign land.

He headed downstairs, through the hallways and into the washroom he shared with the other tenants who were renting a room from Jimmy's flophouse. He was just dumping a bucket of lukewarm water over his head for his "shower" when Jimmy stuck his head in.

"Hey, sorry Mr. Tourist, but your comm is going off. Go answer it. Some of us are still trying to sleep it off, yeah?" He shut the door and Alexander sighed again, scrubbing himself off quickly and heading back up to his room.

Inside, he found his Renraku Sensei buzzing itself across the dusty floor like an out-of-control wind-up toy. He picked it up just in time for Asha's message to go straight to voicemail. He was surprised and intrigued. Isaiah gave him the number after he was released, but he never actually expected a response from the fixer. He listed to the message and immediately started to get dressed. He'd been in the gutter before. He knew what it took to get out, and he sure as hell wasn't staying there. A little punctuality could go a long way... or at least it did at Ares.

He opened up his closet, beating out a layer of dust from his Actioneer's business suit before putting it on. The thing was hot as hell in this climate, but they say dress for the job you want, not the job you have. Before he left, he bent down and wiggled loose a floorboard, pulling out the Browing Ultra-Power he kept stashed there. He secreted the weapon in the built-in shoulder holster of the suit, then made his way back downstairs.

Passing by Jimmy Tibbs, he flashed an earnest smile. "Jimmy, think you could give me a ride to some place called Mosi's? I got a job."

Jimmy groaned loudly, shaking his head, and Alexander's expression suddenly grew somber. "Let me put it this way. If you want your rent money, you're giving me a ride to Mosi's."

"You're lucky your so damn pretty, Mr. Tourist," Jimmy chuckled. Alexander could tell he wasn't happy about it, but he reached out a long dark arm and grabbed his keys anyway, motioning for Alexander to follow.

Jimmy dropped him off in the general area and gave him further directions to Mosi's. Explaining he had "errands to run," (meaning clients to sell zen and bliss to, most likely), Jimmy sped off. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Alexander started heading toward the meet at a leisurely pace, trying his best to enjoy the dust, grime and heat. He was due to arrive at the meet about five minutes early; just early enough to impress Asha with his professionalism, but not early enough to appear desperate. Alexander was very, very concerned about appearing desperate. Desperate men usually are.

[Reminder]

He arrived at Mosi’s about five minutes before the appointed time. He didn’t plan to be this late, but some annoying SOB gave him wrong directions. He entered, looked around to check whoever was in there, then walked to the bar, nodding to the bartender. ”A beer. Bottled.” You never knew what was on tap in these places. The bottled beers might not be better, but at least knew what to expect.

The giant of a man behind the bar turns his head to look at you as he finishes filling a tray full of shot glasses with a greenish-grey liquor you can't recognize. After a minute of hushed discussion with the waitress, she grabs the tray and deftly turns before heading off with it to the back recesses of the cavernous room. The bartender wipes down the bar before finding his way down to you. He reaches under the bar and after a moment pulls out a bottle as he slaps down a napkin before depositing the beer on top of it. As you look at the bottle, you note that the beer is not going to win any contests for it's flavor, but you are a bit surprised by the condensation forming on the sides. "Five Nuyen," he says.

[Reminder]

Jimmy dropped him off in the general area and gave him further directions to Mosi's. Explaining he had "errands to run," (meaning clients to sell zen and bliss to, most likely), Jimmy sped off. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Alexander started heading toward the meet at a leisurely pace, trying his best to enjoy the dust, grime and heat. He was due to arrive at the meet about five minutes early; just early enough to impress Asha with his professionalism, but not early enough to appear desperate. Alexander was very, very concerned about appearing desperate. Desperate men usually are.

You pass a series of what you take for various factories or warehouses. As you move farther towards the outskirts of the industrial sector and begin to approach the docks, you notice a change. The paint is less fresh, boarded up entrances become more frequent, and the din of traffic and people dies down as you begin to have to pick your way around occasional bits of trash left on the sidewalks. You wonder to yourself if Jimmy was in a hurry, or if he was avoiding coming down here.

As you round a corner, Mosi's comes into sight. It's dull grey exterior does little to distinguish it from the warehouses surrounding it on on all sides. You might have overlooked it, were it not for the small, faded white sign with red lettering over the solid double doors that identifies your destination.

[Reminder]

By 1430, she is crossing the bridge to Mombasa Island with what she feels is plenty of time to locate the meeting spot in question. Once she reaches the island proper, she plans to use her natural charm to zero in on the docks and Mosi's.

Though you are one of few people crossing this bridge to the island on foot, you note that you are actually moving faster than any of the three lanes of traffic in either direction. As you near the far end of the half kilometer long bridge, the cause for the congestion comes into view. The cables lashing a cargo container to the back of a large truck have snapped, spilling what appears to appears to chunks of some kind of ore across three and a half lanes of traffic. A large crowd has gathered as angry motorists who have left their vehicles mix with the crowd of onlookers who take up most of the sidewalk on either side of the street.

As you approach, you see a pair of shoving matches break out. The dozen or so uniformed officers you can see seem unaware or unconcerned as they deal with sorting out the people and vehicles in the road.

[JackVII]

"This does not look good Wawindaji, but it is not our concern. Let us see if we can slip through but please be prepared for my call."

Mlinzi tries to work her way through the morass, slipping onto the street and weaving through the ersatz parking lot. She glances at the truck involved in the accident to see if there are any markings to help her determine what corporation, if any, was responsible for this mess. She also glances at the ore on the ground, wondering what it is and guessing it is headed to the docks to be shipped out of the country, yet another resource being drained away by the corporations. Admittedly, Africa had been like this way for over 300 years with the various European colonies exploiting the natural resources of the continent and giving almost nothing in return to its people. Speaking of its people, things seemed to be growing even more heated. Noticing the gathering crowds, Mlinzi had some concern that things might escalate here rather quickly and tries to determine the cause of the ruckus.

[Spoiler=OOC]Let me know if I need to make any rolls for Perception, Judge Intentions, etc. If it looks like things are going to get out of hand, she may have to try and play peacemaker.[/spoiler]

[Reminder]

Speaking of its people, things seemed to be growing even more heated. Noticing the gathering crowds, Mlinzi had some concern that things might escalate here rather quickly and tried to determine the cause of the ruckus.

You make some headway as you move along the street, but the officers onsite quickly notice you and usher you back onto the sidewalk. They are clearly more focused on clearing the road than on what is going on alongside it.

Several people bump into you as you pick your way through the crowd. As you near the span of sidewalk next to the tumbled container, you can make out a logo on the side of the truck that had been carrying it, and identify it as belonging to Regulus Joint Industries. Your focus on the truck, however, causes you to jostle another onlooker.

She shoves you, causing you to stumble. "Watch where you are going Bantu!"

You need to make a balance (gymnastics) check at this point to avoid falling.

[JackVII]

[spoiler=Balance Check]Gymnastics Check: AGI (4) - Default (1) (3d6.hits(5)=1)[/spoiler]

Mlinzi is caught off-guard by the woman's shove and stumbles, nearly falling to the ground. If not for the close press of bodies, she would have been sprawled on the ground. Regaining her balance and steeling herself against any future violence, she turns toward the woman.

Be calm, Wawindaji, I can handle this, she sends to her spirit companion.

"I am quite sorry, you are dosari." Bowing her head meekly, she continues, "With everything going on right now, I was not watching where I was going. Please accept my apologies. Do you know what is happening?"

[spoiler=Hoop-Kissing Check]Etiquette Check: CHA ( + Etiquette (1) (9d6.hits(5)=3)[/spoiler]

[Reminder]

Do you know what is happening?"

As you regain your footing and turn your attention from the road to her, you note she is dressed in a stiffly pressed grey business suit that once may have been quite fashionable, but has seen better days. She moves as though to brush herself off (not that she had any reason to), and gives you a look filled with disgust.

Are you too stupid to see?

After letting her statement hang in the air for a few seconds, she decides she has wasted enough time on you and turns back to watching the process of extracting the few vehicles surrounded by the rubble.

[JackVII]

Shrugging aside the woman's disdain, Mlinzi checks her commlink to make sure she wasn't going to be late for her meeting. Given the woman's dress and pejorative use of her ethnicity, the elf had the vague feeling the woman may have been associated with one of the Corps, although most tended to dress better. Had she been one for shallow vengeance, she would have called Wawindaji forth to terrify the slitch. As it was, she had more important things to do than waste them on the unpleasant woman and rightly feared that the spirit's sudden appearance might increase the chaos.

Mlinzi turns her efforts toward moving through the crowd along the sidewalk as best she can, being as polite as possible while pushing through as best she can.