Well, it's that time again. Figure I might as well update this log for that big ol' What If, but I always figured if I bit the bullet, you would too. Not that I'm tryin' to imply somethin' Tobe, it's just..... ah, frag it. You shoulda seen the first entry by now. You know.
Latest 'run, right. Fel contacted me for an "easy job - on a tropical island - think of it as a working vacation". Yeah, I know, screams for time an' a half, but she's a chummer. She said that there was some sorta family mess goin' down her way, so I figured what the hell, why not.
Johnson was a slimeball, big surprise. Missing mage types on the corp's private little island. Find out, come home. Oh, and did I mention Templar was my partner? I swear, I'm beginning to see more'a him than you.
Drek. I didn't mean for that to come out that way, it's just - never mind. I gotta keep reminding myself that if you're reading this that I'm dead.
Anyway, my cover was of a new decker for the local authorities. Rent a cops. Did an ok job at the airport, though. Heh heh. Sorta. Had this James Bondian elf (ends up he's the 2nd in command and head of the magical division) at the gate, and man, did he flip when he saw me. An' you know me, never could let the ones with a stick get away. Went over and started.... 'chatting' with him. He didn't like me, for some reason. Anyway, Templar managed to outdo me; the girl at the counter took one look and the room practically filled with drool.
The hotel was ok, nothing to brag about. So I figured I'd head over to the workplace and find out what's what.
On the way someone started tailing me. Hate it when that happens. So I pulled a quick chicken contest on 'em, backed 'em up into the middle of main street, and went on my merry way.
Turns out it was Templar. The idiot forgot to tell me he was gonna follow me, and really, what'd he expect? And to add to th' fun, Mr. Todd Anderson - the elf from the airport - was following him, so guess who got arrested? Hahahaha, it was wonderful. I just wish I'da been there to record it. Was all over the news for the next few days. Little Mr. Suit getting cuffed while the cops removed his precious little car.
Anyway, when I got to the station, I was shown to my room. Previous decker left his deck, but major bad juju about it. There were the regular progs and stuff, but no... no personality. Weird.
About that time Mr. Anderson arrived with Templar. He asked me to do some background checking on Templar, so I fixed a few... previous driving violations. There are days when I really love my job. But since we couldn't really do that much with him in jail, I fabricated some orders from the Powers That Be to let him go.
Mr. Anderson was not happy with that. He ended up bugging Templar's guns with trackers.
Anyway, quiet day, went to visit Templar, removed the bugs, checked the deck, and found some suspicious code. Fragmented, but looks like he wasn't on the level.
Like I'm one to talk.
Templar spent the morning - after several calls from 'Bambi', the slitch from the airport. I swear I'm never gonna let him live those down - following around one of the suspects, some teen that had magical promise or whatever the hell ya call it. Ended up in the local swamp. Did some paperwork, "chatted" a few times Mr. Anderson. By the afternoon, things looked so dismal, I figured frag it, and we told Mr. Anderson and the boss what was going down.
The rent a cops were not happy. Infringing on their turf. Puh-leeeze! Nothing happened before the disappearing peeps. It's a fragging summer resort for the corp.
Well. To cut things down to manageable size, they (Templar, Mr. Anderson, what's-'is-face the deputy, and the Chief) went to the swamp with lotsa cans of Raid.
It was bugs. They found a hive with the 4 missing magic types (no decker) doin' a bug in amber impression. Mr. Anderson assessed 'em, and - well, this is the bad part. They didn't have magic. The sensors on my drone picked him up muttering to himself. I guess the bugs were draining them. Remember how I used to chat with Ayden all the time? For a crazy mage he made a lotta sense. An' one'a the things he talked about was being magic, how he'd rather die then give the magic up.
My legs, my eyes...... the magic.... nobody should hafta go through losing that. Mercy killing's a slitch. I dunno if they'd thank me or hate me for that. I - I just...... ah, frag it. I dunno.
That was pretty much it. We traced the decker back to Seattle. Might go after him, maybe not. I'm still getting a handle on the 4 mages.
Frag. Another entry goes down the emotional drekker. Sorry, I'm just havin' one'a those days.
Merry fragging Christmas, Toby.
--- Shanna (05:54:37/12-25-58)
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