[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena smiles and takes the sax off her neck, placing it in the case.  She draws her own silver case and lighter from a pocket.  "Not at all.  Another smoker.  I can use the break."  She offers the case to Arc and then to the Ork the woman had called Duck.  "They're a little strong if you are not used to them."  She lights up and takes a good pull on the thin cigar, letting the acrid smoke float lazily up to the top of the shelter.  "Olena.  Olena Stravinsky.  And my instrument, it has played much other than jazz in its life.  I could try something else for you, if you prefer.  What matters is that it is played.  I do not play it enough, sadly." 

Yelena takes a couple of pulls then adds, "I see that you forgot your umbrella as well.  It is a slow day because of the rain.  The clouds are sad and crying on us."  As she smokes, she watches the other two and sends a message.  <Blindside.  Wanderer.  I have eyes on a Howler human woman who calls herself Arc.  She has an Ork with her she calls Duck.  The woman is wearing an armored vest and might be carrying a gun.>  She says. "I know that I am here to try to make money.  What has you here, Arc?"

[ismilealot]

@ Yelena  >>Wanderer, the orc is who I am here to meet. The human Arc in Howler colors is unexpected. This may be a trap. A set-up by the Howlers to kill me under the guise of asking for help. But you're orders do not change. Overwatch of the meet. Kill them if they draw a weapon.<<

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena considers the message from her employer as she finishes her cigar.  <Blindside.  Wanderer.  Orders understood.>  She places the stub of her cigar in a small tin on the ground as she picks up the sax.  Standing, she turns to Arc.  "Now, shall we see just what kind of magic I can do with this?  What do you want to hear?"

[SgtBoomCloud]

Arc notably lifted a brow at the offering of the case, the corners of her mouth flitting into a little smile as she stowed the cigarette she withdrew for herself, taking one of those small cigars from the case with a low whistle.  "Hooo...now this is fancy~"  Lighting it, she took a long, quiet pull, cybereyes shut as she breathed in the acrid smoke before letting it out with a breath.  "Haa...dayum, that's a flavor.  Much appreciated, miss-a Strrafisky."  She winked, not realizing just how badly she botched the name.  Quietly, she partook in the cigar until the elf asked her question, the human tilting her head.

"Hmm..guess you could call me a buyer then.  I come by every so often to pick up scraps and tech peeps don't want.  Especially parts.  You never know when you can locate a M-37KVII Hermes Rotating gearbox or some other discontinued drek like that.  I certainly didn't come here for the weather, frag it..."  She took a glance back outside, hoping internally that the rain would stop, or the meet was in shelter.

"As for requests....hmm, know any classic rock?  I'm talking 20th century stuff...friend of mine growing up turned me on to it.  Rock ain't a sax thang, if'n I recall right, but should do the job..."

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena nods, "I am glad that you like it.  Some people do not like the taste, but after so long I am quite fond of it."  She listens to Arc talk and says, "I do not know this rotating gearbox thing, but does it mean you are auto mechanic?  If so, I might have a bit of work for you, if you have the time.  My Scorpion has been acting up a bit and I prefer to get it fixed before it gets very bad but I do not know a good mechanic."

"Rock?  Sure I know that.  Several old bands used horns and sax for music.  It has been a while, though, so do not laugh too much, please."  She breaks into some very old Huey Lewis and then on to others.  After a few songs she will stop and smile.  "See.  Not so good."

[ismilealot]

The Market begins to get more crowded. Business has to go on despite the rain and the chill. As the sun gets higher overhead the fog abates some, but the air gets colder. Winter's hand definitely beginning it's grip on Seattle. It's chilly for a hoody, especially with the rain. And more people appear with umbrellas and heavy jackets. Shoppers bargain with mechants hard, getting the best deal they can. And a guy walks past obviously struggling with a heavy crate of parts. Must be for a junk shop because there's a small carburetor, a large VFX4J, a couple of trike wheels, and a small rusted piston pump sticking out of the top. You hear shouting in Or'zet. A vendor obviously having a bad day, humans don't generally scream in that language unless they're cussing, and yes they are most definitely cussing as the wind shifts enough to make out 2 of the words. Business as usual.
But, then you hear it, 2 people walking past. "Just heard about it man. My cousin messaged me. It attacked in broad daylight. Killed five, FIVE, right in broad daylight! My cousin said he only saw a piece of it, kinda shadow-like, and then suddenly people were screaming and he saw a body taken intta the air and it was screaming and somebody was crazy laughing, and everybody was running and shooting and my cousin almost gets trampled till he 'kin run too. An when he stops running people are saying five people were taken intta the air by this crazy thing that just came out 'ta sewers like some kinda crazy trid movie. Wid the crazy laugh my cousin he be thinking it be the smiley-face killer man and some kinda bad mojo drek, maybe an illusion or sum' what can scare people, cause it sure didn't go down wid bullets my cousin say. They're moving past the booth as they talk, not paying any attention to anything else until they stop for a burger a few booths down.

[SgtBoomCloud]

Arc's eyes seemed to flare open at the mention of the Scorpion, mouth dropping a bit as tension seemed to build in her like some geyser ready to go off.  One could almost swear to see a little spark fly from one of her optical implants.  Finally, she spoke, rapidly with a very eager amount of enthusiasm to her voice.  "No.  Fragging.  Way.  You gots a Harley-Davidson SCORPION?!  How in the drek did you manage to come by one of those when you're fraggin' buskin' in an open market?  I mean, DUDE.   That's WIZ!  Frag yeah, I'm a mechanic.  Give me anything technical or machine, and I can fix that drek null sweat.  Olena, here.  My commcode.  B14MO2085R6U3115R.  You give me a ring when you want that Scorp looked at.  Fraaag, have I wanted to take a look at one of those..." She trailed off, holding the cigar between to fingers as she glanced out, seeing the machine parts.  She was tempted to step out to peruse the contents, but was distracted by the pair talking as they walked past.  Her heart froze at the realization they were talking about Smiley, and her jaw notably set for a moment.

Something is off...we're gonna have to work fast to take this down..Feathers, hope you're ready..  Sighing, she distracted herself with the sounds of Olena playing music, realizing there was really nothing she could do at this point, and would open communications with the others after the meet.  Fraaag....  After the elf finished, the human clapped her hands a bit, her purple cybereyes glinting in the gray light.  "hoi, better than I can do..that's for fraggin' sure."

[ismilealot]

@ Feathers  Lance's breathing slows and he slowly uncurls. Eventually he's able to sit up. He stretches his arm, looking at it, flexing it's muscles and opening and closing his hand a few times. He looks at Sioux, who tells him, "Mermaid tells me the thing took your arm. And while it did not take your physical arm, your soul was wounded. I'm grateful it was not mortally. But as mortal wounds take time to heal. So do those of that other world. I can only repair so much. And given the nature of that which you were after. I think we can all be grateful that you all returned to your bodies." He stands then, and looks around at all of you, an older orc whose garb is an odd mish-mash of Howler colors and a few totem fetishes and beading, and whose tattoos combine gang and tribal markings. "I take it we have our confirmation?"
Merlin nods at him and answers, "And then some man. Prof be tellin' the chip truth! I hope ta nevah see drek like dat agin'!" Mermaid agrees, "It was evil. I used ta think I knew what evil was, but people can't be evil like that. That was on a whole nutha' level."
Sioux nods, "I'll tell Lupo when he wakes up. He's with Splat right now. And I'll let Sarge, Nuts & Bonehead know as well." He levels a stern look at all of you, "You three get some rest, and absolutely no alcohol until you wake up." He leaves then, and Mermaid slumps against the wall her eyes closed. In less than five minutes they're opened again and she looks at her brother, "I can't find her! She won't come! She's always been there! But she won't answer and I can't feel her anywhere! I think she be dead. Oh drek." She hides her face in her hands then, her shoulders shaking as she silently sobs. Her brother says, "Frag" softly, and goes and holds his sister. Lance moves to hold both of them. His large troll body easily encompassing them and making even two full-grown orcs look small.

[Imveros]

Another night of back braking labor. Coming from a troll that means something. Smashing down walls, taking out floors and ceilings, and moving it all out of the place. Johnny keeps meaning to ask Mr. Zhèng if this place actually belongs to him, but the promise of waving next weeks rent on his corner of the little dump next door is too good to ruin with questions. Quitin time comes at a snails pace, but with one last swing of the hammer, this floor is ready to expand the tenement  next door into this building.

With a huge sack over his shoulder, the foreman walks towards the group of workers as they pack up to leave. A short dwarvin bastard the other workers called Teddy to his face, and drekhead behind it. Johnny looked for horns each time his moved his helmet to scratch an itch that never seemed to go away. The man had to be at least some distant relative of the devil. Good work tonight gentlemen. Here is your payment as promised The foreman drops the sack with a clang and scrap metal comes cascading out

Johnny stifles a growl Wait a damn second here Mr. Zhèng said we was gettin paid in rent for this job, not garbage. The other workers nodded in agreement. Either too tired or too scared of Teddy to do more than nod. Mr. Zhèng pushes aside the curtain that is all that separates the two newly connected buildings. I no say that, you get scrap, you go market, you sell high price, guarantee! Mr. Zhèng cocks a smile like only an old man missing most of teeth can muster and returns to the other building

Teddy cracks a smile and then puffs out his chest at Johnny's challenge.We could sit here debating who said what to whom all night, we could have a scrap, and old man Zhèng can send you and your runt packin, or you can go sell this scrap and call it a night. Should be morning soon. Head on over the the market on the other side of town. Someone there is bond to give you a little something for tonight's bounty. It's a bit chilly but at least it isn't raining. Small blessings right? As soon as the words leave the foreman's mouth, fate gives Johnny a hearty kick the the groin as the heavens open That bastard  Zhèng is lucky i don't break people in half anymore. Oh but how i want to make an exception

Johnny's progress through the streets is slow, the hard labor, and cold mist sapping the last of his strength. Ghost, when was the last time i ate a full meal? Who knew money dried up that fast. With any luck i can sell this drek fast and maybe grab a bite to eat and a few winks before Tommy gets back from his first lesson He heads back to his cubby, Tommy still fast asleep on his cot. The clock blinking 5:48. He drops off his work gear and grabs his armor and weapons. They say this drek is worth some cred. Better safe than sorry i guess. He dons his 10 gallon hat, looks himself in the mirror, pretends to quick draw his weapons. BANG BANG He blows the smoke from his imaginary guns and heads toward the door. The blocks melt away under his massive stride. Sometimes being nine feet tall had its advantages.

The wind and the rain pelt Johnny in the face as he walks. He adjusts his hat to keep the worst of it out, and before he knows it, he has arrived. The smells of the food stalls telling him he had finally made it. The growling of his stomach almost as loud as the various shop keepers clang their wares about as they set up shop.   He finally raises his head to take in the market, try to get a feel for it, and sees black and green jackets interspersed everywhere in the crowd. Teeth bared he lets out a growl out of habit at the sight.Drek out of the frying pan and into the fire. If any of these knife ears knew what i used to be they would eat me alive. A mischievous smile crosses Johnny's face. Good thing I'm not gluten free

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena grimaces and nods.  "I am good at this and the instrument is better.  Not all my times have been hard.  I got Scorpion in better days.  But now there is odd noise and I do not know what causes it.  I will contact you soon.  Thank you, Arc.  Do you have place to look at bike?"

After playing the set she look a bit embarrassed at Arc's approval.  "Thank you, my new friend.  It is not often that I play music like that.  It is mostly jazz.."  She nods at the two people as they pass.  "Are they talking about the killer that leaves smiley faces?  I thought that was only at night so is this a different thing?  I do not understand things that kill for no reason"  She visibly shivers.  Her eyes gloss over and she is looking at people and faces from the past.  Her past.  Human faces that she sent to the grave for no reason other than they were human.  She has long ago forgotten any god, but she unconsciously makes a symbol to ward off her demons, although it is easily mistaken for a reaction to the current monster rampaging through Seattle.

[Poindexter]

Duck sleeps like a bag of dogshit. After having Arc drop him off a few blocks from his squat last night, he tried to get a few hours of sleep, but the thought that he slept in a sewer drain pipe and this spirit was using sewer drain pipes to get around wouldnt stop bouncing around in his head. He had finally given up on sleeping around 6am, strapped up for war and headed out to patrol the streets, but to no avail. The early morning was even quieter than usual. The hood be scared shitless. His hair hasn't been washed since the morning before and it half hangs, half sticks and clumps down the back of his dark grey hoodie. Before long, it started to rain and he was soaked to the bone. He waited until Arc messaged him around 9ish before officially forming a plan for the rapidly approaching day at hand.

He originally had told her he wanted to handle this on her own, but she insisted on coming to get him. Rather than argue with the spunky little breeder, he just relented, choosing to save his energy for something more worth the battle. It only took her about 15 minutes to reach him and the two of them stopped off at a stuffershack for a bite to eat before heading to the market. After annihilating his meal with 3 bites, he pipes up, finally working his way out of his sleep dep stupor.

"So... Didja ever get a pricetag on all that gear Feathers needed from last night? And speakin a last night... the fuck did we even need them fuckers for anyhow? Seem like just a buncha extra spoons in the pot, y'know? I mean, I'm sure you got a plan and things, and if keepin em secret is part of em, that's all good. You do what you gotta do, wiz? But, if secrecy aint parta the plan... He leaves the sentence open with one eyebrow in the air.

After hearing her explanation, he nods. "Well, as for whats up with these Ancient heads? This meet is straight financing. Aint shit else I need from these gangers. I'm bout to put myself in some serious debt with these fuckin pixies and I might end up being on their "payroll" for a minute over this shit, but blood demands blood. That's what's real." His eyes are finally clearing out and he's starting to notice that Arc is still wearing her gang colors from last night.  "You... probably shouldn't a come dipped in that Howler shit, but... they aint been beefin in a long ass time, so fuck it, right? You done eatin that nasty ass drek yet? We need to go burn one in the ride on the way to the market." At some point in the car, while rolling up some Zen, Duck asks her, "So hey, you ever hear back from 'Rack last night? This shit got a mug shook, wiz? You know if he aight?"

A short car ride and Zen spliff later, the two of them arrive at the spot and the first thing Duck notices is the elf woman playing the expensive looking saxophone. The fuck is this? Ancient's assassin or some shit? Aint no reason for no squish to be out here flashin some shit that pricey and she aint got some kinda pull. She armed? He stays quiet as he and Arc make their way around the area, keeping his eye on the live music without being obvious about it. Before long, the two of them have made their way close to her and Arc begins to engage her in conversation. Duck stays quiet for as long as he can, but soon he hears something he just can't keep his mouth shut about.

"i don't go out of my way for jazz, but a slitch can appreciate it all the same.  And I ain't gon' ask you to play metal on that thing.  Don't seem right.  Name's Arc by the way..".

Finally deciding to test the chops of this elf woman, Duck lets out a half laugh, half scoff at Arcs comment. Lets see if she really got some.

"Shit, girl! You need to go as far out of your way as the funk needs you to go! Funk know better than you." With one hand on a metal garbage can nearby, he tips it over on its side and sits down under the rain, straddling the can widelegged. He leans his head down to look at what he's doing for a moment, taking a few practice taps on the bottom of the can with his bare hands, testing which sounds come from where. After a moment, he looks back up at the little elvish sax player under her cover from the rain with a look on his face reminiscent of an iaijutsu master before a fight. He ignores the comment about the killer, focused instead on the task at hand.

The rain runs in little streams down his face as he says, "You know Armando's Rhumba, right?"

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena looks at the Ork as he challenges her and smiles.  "You testing Keeb with the sax, right?  OK, I will try to keep up."  She starts off slow and picks up the pace where she should.  She is very good and knows the tune from a long memory of similar pieces.  For a while she forgets the Market, forgets her demons and lives in the music.  She pours her heart and what is left of her soul into the music.  The sax wails on cue, as if alive in its own right.  She barely touches the thing and it responds.  She keeps her tempo to that of the drummer and realizes that he is a pro, as much into his instrument as she is into hers.  They reach the end of the piece and the last notes carry over the market.  She lowers the sax, tears running down her face.  She stands silently for a moment, then speaks softly.  "You are very good, mister Duck.  Thank you for letting Olena play with you."

[ismilealot]

@ Imveross  It's not long before you find a buyer. After some hard bargaining you've got cred enough for a week, maybe. Certainly not enough to be fair wages for the work your doing, and Tommy's lessons are going to push it tight. And if it weren't for the dry roof over his head it certainly wouldn't be worth it. Still, it's honest labor, even if the mugs your working for aren't quite. But, your not breakin' heads so that's something, right? The Market is busy but not packed and you catch snatches of conversation here and there. One of the main topics seems to be the smiley face killer. It attacked some people this morning just after 6am. This time it was actually spotted. People are full of chatter and speculation and the details vary from group to group.

@ Yelena, Arc & Duck  The booth you're seeing Blindside at is suddenly filled with Ancients, they must have come from some back entrance. It's almost time for the meet.

@ Feathers  It's not much but the cot is warm & dry. And you're to tired for much more. It's obvious that the monster isn't about to come here after you. The spirits must have taken care of it. Hopefully. Mermaid cries it out and she, Merlin & Lance just fall asleep in a little huddle right there.

@ Masquerade  After finding the site Masq goes back to her roost to rest, exhausted and bruised. It had been an incredibly long day, and chasing kids over rooftops had not been any part of her plans for her future. Ouch, he should probably ice that elbow. Yeah, like he was getting up again now that she was finally laying down. He'll deal with it tomorrow. She's got things enough to do as it is. Poisons seem like a long shot. Howlers will probably be down in the sewers after the mage. While he, he would be in a ritual circle looking like bait. Yeah.

[Mercy Merchant]

Yelena looks at Duck sitting with his makeshift drum and softly says, "I have seldom.......no, never.......had pleasure of playing with drummer of your skill.  It is like you were Corea when he did that song.  It would be honor to jam with you, if you would want to."  Even with her mind still reeling a bit from the experience, she notes when the Ancients occupy the booth next to hers.  She calls out to the sitting Ork, "Hey.  Mister Duck.  Some Keebs with colors just moved in next door, and they do not look too friendly."  There was a note of concern in her words, and she is surprised that she did not have to force it.  *Please do not do something to make me kill you.  Please.* 

She carefully raises the sax to her lips and begins to play some soft jazz.  She notes that her employer's guards are taking up positions and she smiles as she notes that they are standing almost exactly where she had thought they would.  *Guards and goons the world over can be sooooo predictable.*  She nods to herself as she plays out the soft rhythm.  The overwatch plan will not have to be adapted much until the Ork and the human do something unexpected.  And she ALWAYS counts on targets doing the unexpected.  That has kept her from becoming vulture drek for decades.

[Poindexter]

Mister Duck? Yeah, this pixie is muscle. Blindside must be paranoid. After setting the can back up, he speaks over his shoulder to the woman as he walks toward the group of Ancients, "It's Duckdown. My friends call me Duck. It aint mister anything." As he moves toward the group, he peels his soaking wet hoodie off his torso, putting him back to bare chest, armor vest, and obvious butt of an Ingram poking out from underneath. As he nears the group, he holds his arms out slightly away from his body with his palms facing them. "Whaddup fam? Blindside? Duckdown. Your boy, Lil Mik hooked me up with ya."