[Csjarrat]

__Lumen__
Timmy's reply takes a few minutes to come through
Jay said he can cover me this afternoon. Ha, i'm no wiz but i'm better than any of you old bastards. Where'dya wanna meet?

[Zweiblumen]

<<<@Ralphy [Taylor] Of course!  Thanks for the look out.  Didn't need the paperwork of going to the station after an altercation.  The boys look like they took care of things just fine.  Got anyplace better than the Stick to go to?  Otherwise, same table as usual?  A pint will be waiting for you 'round [Zweiblumen needs to dig through the backlog and find the time].>>>
Taylor is happy to see the uniforms come on.  Funny how a crook needs the cops to keep him safe.  Strange world we live in, friends in low places and all that rubbish.

Once he gets on the Tube and is heading home, the effects of the psyche are finally wearing off.  Taylor stops by the market and gets some lunch for himself and his mum.  As he gets home he brings the boxed lunch into the living room for Judy so she doesn't have to pause her trid shows just to get some food.  He makes sure her meds are in the right place and that she took the ones she was supposed to take, then heads up to his office.  Pulling apart the broken commlink and retrieving the credstick from it, he checks to see how much is on it.  Then he calls Winston and Vicky back from the resonance and asks Win to see about sorting the problem with the soy processing unit downstairs.

He makes himself busy while waiting for the message from Bex about where the next meet will be.

[Scawire]

Mantis smiles and does a small chuckle to himself. Oh man I need to read up more on all the drekin cyberware man, this guy will record me and sell the brain wired memory for some nuyen. Mantis takes the card, well seems I got a better card in France then here in the old smoke.... I hope Mantis nods at the Troll. Thanks mate. Bit busy tho. Mantis walks out not sure he wants to shake that troll hand and defiantly nothing else that's for sure. Mantis makes his way to his big still keep an eye out for any threats, I guess getting shot and stabbed in France has him a bit on edge but you can never be too careful.

If Mantis can he will make his way back to his apartment and get his comm system to read the intel his good bud gave him on the ride home.

[Lumen]

<Don't take much to be better than me, I can barely tell a node from my own arsehole.  Swing by my flat whenever you get relieved.  Oh yea and bring me a pack of smokes while you're at it.  Cheers lad.>

Knives continues his journey through the tubes trying his best to occupy his tipsy mind.  Tipsy minds only lead to two things for a young street thug, fights and birds.  Neither of which he had the time for right now.  He pulls up the schedule for tonight's footy games and checks the spread.  If he's gonna be out with the lads gotta have a few bets going to keep things interesting. 

Once he gets home Knives digs through the various objects Johnny had passed him over lunch.  He slots the datachip to start perusing the intel on this mark then checks the credstick. 

[Csjarrat]

___Lumen___
Sure, will do.
Checking through the spreads, you see a decent set of odds on Nottingham Forest to beat Hull City 2-1 in the FA cup 2nd round and Man Utd to draw 0-0 against Aston Villa. Your slightly tipsy trigger finger itching; you hazard a fiver on each and contemplate taking the long odds on Inter Milan to beat Juventus in the European Cup. They'd been playing shit all season, including getting hammered by Spartak Moscow 3-0 at home, but last year they'd pulled it out of the bag for the home derby and smashed Juve 4-1. You stood to make 50 quid return on a fiver and your finger hovered for a second before making a decision.

The heavy reinforced fire door slammed shut behind you as you hung up your heavy coat, the salty Chinese food and copious volumes of Sake combining to make you both unreasonably thirsty and gagging for a piss at the same time. Chipping each one into your Link whilst you sit on the bog, you skim over the intel Johnny had provided. Most of it seemed to be trawled off public databases, social media and news aggregators and such.
The name was Lord Langdale, inherited his mint from his dad. Daddy made his fortune on the stock market and put him through the Eton toff factory and he's headed up the political chain from there on in, though a position in the council was a long way from Parliament which you knew was where most of the Eton crowd ended up. Either he was too thick, pissed off the wrong people or someone else was holding him back in his ambitions. None of the info on the chips made any steps forward on your hunch though, so you skipped on, finding the commcode for the madame of the whore-house he frequented.
The last chip had photos from varying fencing e-magazines and publications winning national tournaments. He was a greasy looking fucker, 6'2" and skinny as a rake, his face sporting only a wiry and waxed moustache like something out of the history books.
He was obviously good, but you understood what Johnny was on about, the swords were tiny and thin, loaded with sensors to detect hits, not made for hurting people. Still, it gave you a method of testing him out and making his acquaintance.
You realised your legs had gone pins and needles-y from sitting on the shitter too long and that the kettle had long since boiled. You'd got stuff to go on at least...

[Csjarrat]

___Zwei__
Fancy a change to be honest mate, few games of pool? Rileys by Marylebone station work for you? Don't sweat the bailout mate, got a favour I need to call in though, will fill you in over a beer.
Heading inside, you kick off your heavy stylised boots and hang up your damp, heavy jacket, picking out the bits of detritus the orks had pelted at you.
Hiya love, did you have a good day? Did you lose your dogs? Your mum calls through to you, looking a little concerned as you begin to bustle about her without them, as you go about sorting her food and her meds.
Heading into the kitchen to tackle the soyprocessor, your two lively sprites burst forth from the resonance with wagging tails and excited jumping, sniffing around the machine under your instruction.

__Scawire__
He shook his head, and elongated his affected American-ish accent, drawing the words out to emphasise his disappointment at loosing a prospective client.
Your loss my man... Call me if you change your mind.

Heading out into the cold, the hit of the nicotine felt good and the winding, flickering dance your flame made drew your eye, entrancing you before the gusty winter wind extinguished it.
The flat hadn't managed to clean itself in the period you'd been out, much to your disappointment and you rubbed your hands to get some warmth into them as the heating system had clearly packed in again.
Heading into the living room, you slot the chips into your trid projector as a strange noise at the window caught your ear. Turning to get a better look, you see it was a small bird, tapping its beak on the window as it gently hopped along the windowledge. It couldn't be could it? It was.. Sliding the old wooden window to its maximum couple of inches, Tweety hopped in, chirruping loudly.

[Zweiblumen]

"Naw mom, just didn't have them loaded for a bit.  They're fine, see!"  Winston starts to nose around the SPU, subtly repairing the problem Taylor's gremlins caused.
<<<@Ralphy [Taylor] Sounds like a plan.  I'll meet you there.>>>

With that done, Taylor starts researching different types of data bombs.  Using a variety of fake accounts to route through so as not to draw attention to his searches.

[Lumen]

Nottingham was good enough odds and Knives never hesitated to put a few quid on Manchester United.  Now this Inter Milan business... that was tricky.  *Oh fuck all let the fiver ride.  If they hammered Juve last year they could do it again.*  He nods decisively as he confirms the bet.

Most of the file on Lord Fancypants seemed pretty clean to a life time street thug.  The only thing that really peaks Knives' interest was the fencing background and even that was a fancied up pussy version of the blade play he was used to.  The 'exotic' taste in women could prove useful for blackmail if the cards were played right but madame's generally weren't too keen on ratting John's out, especially rich ones.  It's worth taking a look into if the clubhouse conversation doesn't work out.  Feeling the pins and needles he finishes his business and hobbles awkwardly to the kitchen.   He rinses out the kettle and tries again with fresh water.

[Csjarrat]

___Zwei__
Ooh thats good then, I was worried you'd broken them! Come here boy, come on then, come see your grandma
She cooed at winston, gesturing at him, not quite getting that she'd need her AR gloves on for gesture communication. She seems genuinely taken with him though, as if she really wanted one of her own for company.
Maybe a robodog would be a good purchase for her, keep her company while you were out at "work".
Heading into the kitchen you set Winston to work on the jiggered soyprocessor. He buzzed about it, ducking in and out of its flickering icon as he disected each and every circuit board on the damn thing.
Eventually it fired up, scrolling through its demo-mode as it reverted back to factory settings.
It went through its noisy calibration process, spitting out various sizes of feed material as you checked your link and the comm-shell. The credstick was good for the full amount, clearly they were happy with your work.
Bex forwarded on the meet details, yet another custom node. You had an hour to kill before the meet and your head began to pound as the last vestiges of the drug exited your system. Everything felt a bit overwhelming after a long day of clear focus and you felt like you needed the warm embrace of the VR world of the matrix.
Getting comfy, you relaxed into it.
Waves of information roiled over you like waves in a churning ocean. Most of it was speculation and bullshit, but there were numerous reports of sneaky bastards using databombs to inject tracking code into the triggering user's persona file, embedding it and reporting back much like the tracking cookies of old.


__Lumen__
The kettle boils and you make a decent brew, pissed off at having to use an old carton of UHT soymilk instead of the fresh stuff. You really needed to nip out and get some bits in now you were back.
Enjoying a cuppa, you sat and waited for Timmy to arrive and its not long before theres a buzz on the intercom and an excited Tim appeared at your door.
Awright Knives, whats this job about then eh? Need some digital muscle eh?
His smile was infectious, this was clearly his "proving" job, the one where he felt he could make a name in the family and secure better work than poxy guard duty at shitty fish packing factories..

[Lumen]

"Settle down lad.  Where's my smokes?   You wanna cuppa?"  Knives gestures him to sit down and pauses long enough to make it uncomfortable.  "Just fuckin with ya mate.  Awright 'ere's the skinny.   I need a way into this swanky private club down the way from Number 10.  Think you can whip me up a membership card or a guest pass?  Pretty sure it was you that dug this all up but have a look if you fancy."  He turns the trid to project file with the information about the club and lights up a smoke.

[Scawire]

Mantis is glad to be back at his home but when his little mate shows up at the window, Mantis knows why The Old Smoke kicks Frances butt. Mantis goes to the window to let his little helper into the apartment. Mantis opens a cupboard and pulls out some bird food he had on hand from before Speedy went missing. Well Speedy it seems you came home guess this big lug of an orc ain't so bad after all lets home Jen thinks so too Mantis spends only a short amount of time hanging with Speedy, before reviewing the intel Luke gave him on the missing Boat. Hey Speedy I need some nuyen, so I'm going to see what Luke has for me but this time I'm leaving you at home too cold out side for you bud.

After going over Lukes Intel Mantis will decide if he will summon his Ally or wait until after the job is done.

[Zweiblumen]

Spending time in VR is just more comfortable for Taylor these days.  Finding some interesting things on the new methods of data bombs, he whips up a data sprite to help him.  A little scotty slips out of the resonance as he pulls the bits of old code together and applies heavy doses of Resonance to glue it all together.  Oddly, the programmer in him is almost revolted by the way sprites come together.  He knows the code shouldn't work, but after years of practice and then finally submerging his intuitive understanding has eclipsed the base logic he uses for coding.  So as not to loose track of time, as he is partial to doing he pulls up an icon of an Elizabethan cuckoo clock that will go off when it's time for him to meet Bex another unregistered host.  Then he wraps his sprite in static to hide him from GOD.  Don't need those pesky g-men sticking their nose where it doesn't belong.
Standing up from his desk, he creates a room of mirrors for himself and the sprite.  They two of them begin inspecting his persona looking for any icons that look out of place.  The wiry little dog starts running around him in circles, spiraling up and down invisible stairs as he sniffs and sticks his nose into all of the nooks and crannies of Taylors icon.  Taylor peers into the mirrors trying to find anything that looks out of place.  He wonders if he should do a self-reboot just to be safe, but figures these types of things would defeat that simple measure as most people would reboot any equipment after doing any type of nefarious deeds.  And he remembers that he rebooted overnight anyway, this may all be a pointless task in any case.

[Csjarrat]

___Lumen___
His smile fades a little as you get down to business; he digs out a pack of middle-of-the-road smokes and nods at the offer of a brew.
He fidgets nervously as you look at him, clearly uncomfy and not sure of what the issue is. His eyes dart around the floor, desperately searching for something to focus on other than your glare.
He laughs nervously as you lift the mood, joshing him in the shoulder to reinforce that you were joking.
He sips at the tea as you explain the job and nods in agreement, his enthusiastic smile bleeding back across his young face.
Yeah sure, you got a name for this place? If you can get a card or a real good look at one, I could probably knock up a decent enough copy. I'd need you to scan the card though so I can copy its chip data. Should be doable though mate...
He scratched at his thin and wiry facial hair. Thumbing through the AR overlays he catches up on the bits of info he didn't provide.
Guy is gonna have decent security at home and that club won't be that easy either. At least they expect you to go in armed eh? one less fuckin about anyways.
I can create a profile on their side, providing I can get through their defenses. You'll prob need to find out what their door security is though. If its a card system, i'll need a working card or a scan of one if not. I've got a spare scanner at my gaff if you need it.


___Mantis___
Speedy chirrups and pecks hungrily at the seed you lay out in a dish for him, fluttering about and re-acquainting himself with his old home as you flick through the data you've got from Luke.
It shows that the container ship made port in Durban and the container was checked over there fine.
A commcode for Luke's contact in the Durban port authority is enclosed on the bottom of one file but no further scans into or out of any holding bay or checking process had been made in at London East Terminal.
A commcode is provided for Luke's London contact, named only as "J", but Luke's scrawly AR handwriting overlays the commcode with a note saying "no answer", which hardly fills you with confidence that his contact was still around.
More scrawly over-writing directs you to the Three Lions Inn, the nearest pub to the freight terminals. You assume Luke and "J" used this as a meeting point, or perhaps it was a last known position for him.

___Zwei__
Your heart races as your search turns up a worrying result.
A stain of resonance signature lingered around one of your public-facing persona config files, worryingly similar to one of the techno's sigs you'd sensed from the intercepts. Something about it worried you deeply, knowing what you did about personas and that segment of code, it was likely to have been a cookie or capture script. Either way, it wasn't great news.
You and your sprites set to work on removing the last vestiges of it's datatrail and you prep for your meet with Bex, going through your usual security procedures to rule out a digital ambush.
The layout of the host was identical, a shiny white pop-up host, straight out of "factory settings" mode, not a single iota of sculpting done.
Bex popped in right on time, her avatar different this time, thigh high boots complementing jet black shoulder length hair set to maximum reflectivity.
It was stylised to fuck, but man did it look good.

<<Bexter_101::>> Entered host...
<<Bexter_101::>> //Good work on those intercepts. We learned a lot. Got another job for you if you're up for it? Same rates again//

[Zweiblumen]

<<</me whistles.
<<<Always happy for work.  Normal rate for normal work!  Same type of thing?>>>

[Lumen]

"Nah mate no idea what the name of the place is.  How many fancy fuckin twat swordery clubs could there be by Number 10?  I'll probably need to check door security?  Ya think mate?  This is your first job not mine, you don't have to tell me what I have to do."  Knives leans back and lights up smoke, "Ya know what mate?  It'd do ya some good to see a pro at work.  Come on, we're going to check it out.  You got the scanner or do we need to make a stop."  He stands and puts on his coat.  "You got a car Tim?"