Globalemits December 2012

December 2072

Sun Dec 2 2072

The rifle is quiet, whisper quiet. This is it's intended function, so that seems apt. The Gunman reaches out on reflex, but there's no hot brass to catch in his cyberhand. This one's caseless, an upgrade. There's a blink, as he watches his target's body crumple and then he starts moving. A moment taken to catch breath, dull the adrenaline rush and appear casual. He steps out and turns away from the scene at a stroll. Around the next corner he tosses the apartment key in a dumpster. Another turn sees all the SIN sticks tossed into another dumpster. Then he's away, strolling.

Mon Dec 3 2072

UCAS District, Wide Awakened Coffee Shop.
Teeg, one of Denver's premier fixer's, transfers a sizable chunk of nuyen into an off-shore account having just purchased some hot paydata from another fixer. The purchase confirmed, Teeg looks over the information and drops his cup onto the floor. "Holy drek", he thinks. Slick, brown, soykaf footprints trail out of Wide Awake as he bolts for the nearest public telecom.

Fri Dec 7 2072

UCAS District, News62 Story.
"….and in our third story for tonight, Good Morning Denver! had more than it's usual share of excitement. The topic was concerning an anti-terror bill the city council intends to vote on tomorrow evening during an emergency session. The guests included a representative of the national O.R.C. Political Action Party, Jeremy Falloon's Press Secretary Fred Jones, and via satellite Activist Derek O'Neal. During the interview with O.R.C. Denver's press secretary, Kat Dvark, became more and excited in her disagreement.

»Silent footage shows a conservatively dressed female ork first yelling at the Good Morning Denver host, then standing up and knocking her chair over, before withdrawing a water bottle.«

"News62 has decided to not show what happened next. Censors immediately cut off the feed, however, Ms. Dvark self-immolated herself in the studio as a form of protest. Both the city council and Mr. O'Neal have extended condolences. O.R.C. is currently not offering comment, and Knight Errant is investigating the incident. Reruns are expected for next week while the studio is fixed. In other news- The War On Christmas continues, isn't purchasing what it's all about? One atheist says it's the antithesis of Christianity. Coming up next."

Fri Dec 7 2072

Seattle, Vashon Island. The Luna Building, Penthouse level.
24 Hours till Proposition 81-B passage.
The rustic appointed interior belies the advanced security systems percolating just out of sight. A crackling fire, soft electronic music, the strongest of white noise generators. Jeremy Falloon gazes out of the double-paned and bullet proof window, his thoughts receding just like the sun setting of the lights of the Seattle metroplex. Perhaps it's the vintage scotch. A firm but soft hand wraps itself around his shoulder, beckoning him to forget his troubles, enjoy the peace and quiet until tomorrow.

"You're making the tough choice, but the smart one. It's what good leaders do. It's cut-throat, but good for corporations….and the people, you're doing what's best for them and maneuvering for yourself. I'm sorry about what happened", says the voice.

"Perhaps, but don't stroke my vanity. You're better than that……Derek.", says Falloon. He waves a hand in annoyance. Let the man drink his scotch.

Thu Dec 13 2072

Competing Screamsheet Headlines:

»Proposition 81-B Council Vote Imminent«
»Knight Errant Considering Security Level Redistricting«
»O.R.C. releases statement on employee televised suicide, issues apologies to family, supporters, still protesting council vote«
»75K =Y= Bounty 4 Terrorist 'Suspect' Connor Seale: Airport Bombing, Possible Anti-Police Action«

Thu Dec 13 2072

'Camp Panhandle', Far East Warrens: Two dozen urban camouflaged pup tents, razor wire, paid off gang bangers, a batterd store front church deep in some ghoul-ish territory.
In a back room lit only by the glow of a trideo Caleb jacks into the trix via satellite. The diggers around him moving broken concrete, the occasional patrol, the food line goes unnoticed. There is only the Denver grid expanding forever.
Caleb launches his encrypted data system. A new message from noteworthy decker The Black Cat. Caleb has a job for the famously secretive runner. In the meat space, Caleb smiles.

Thu Dec 13 2072

Thursday Trid Talk Show "Plutocracy Now!"

The moderator and two well-dressed guests: Gregory Kluth, Denver's O.R.C. field director, and via satellite Derek O'Neal, CalFree Ranger Vet, Metahuman Rights spokesperson, personal friend of Jeremy Falloon.

Kluth is self-righteous, antagonistic, and has a whiff of easy living. "Don't misunderstand me, the TLF were /and are/ a terrorist organization, O.R.C do not condone their beliefs and question where their funding came from, and still we remain, even after losing a beloved sister." Agree, feint, point to O'Neil.
O'Neal is charming, yet clipped in his responses and now looks a tad ragged, dark circles under his eyes. "Metahuman anger is at an all time high, you're talking about redistributing wealth. Metahumans just want a fair chance, like I had serving in the military. But safety is part of that fair chance. Admit it Greg, you look over your shoulder in the Warrens. Metahuman orks and trolls are not predisposed towards violence, nor are they 'whores of the genome'".

The moderator looks perplexed. "Who said they were?" Cue shouting match. Cue O'Neal cutting his mic feed. Cue turning the trideo off.

Fri Dec 21 2072

Seattle, Vashon Island. The Luna Building, Penthouse level.
18 Hours till Proposition 81-B passage.

Security cameras sweep the entry points into the building. Jeremy Falloon swirls the Malbec red in his glass, creating a mini-whirlpool unto which he looks inward. Soft rain patters outside. A black helicopter with the Isaiah Group logo swoops past the penthouse's sound proof windows and lands on the rooftop with only a barely perceptible shudder. One entire wall of the living room displays a dozen local and national feeds- Falloon commands the view screens to focus on Denver. He sips the dark wine and strategizes his next political moves and aspirations. He mulls over a summer of magical terrorism, racially charged politics and assassination attempts. Surmountable obstacles with Mr. O'Neals liason's help, with other's help. He thinks of what could be done with the Warrens no longer on Denver's plate and a streamlined law enforcement apparatus.

Fri Dec 21 2072

The Warrens, Orktown. 18 Hours till Proposition 81-B passes.
Horseman Metal Dave's blood lust is faltering. Nearly two months of constant fighting between the elves, the Blackboot Skins, and no major ground gained since the October Surprise. His gang number's have weakened, through death or desertion to the Sons of Sauron. Internal conflicts, the kind of macho posturing he's used to quashing is getting harder and harder to handle. Whispers of needing fresh blood, literally, pop up moe and more often. Now word about some gang of "Hooks" making everyone nervous?

KER-THUNK! A finely crafted arrow injects itself into a pile of garbage just missing the mans foot. "All I want for Christmas are some dandelion heads on a pike.", the ork grouses and looks at as a non-reflective black and chrome helicopter gunship suddenly whooshes past high above. And it's gone.

Sun Dec 23 2072

'Camp Panhandle', Far East Warrens.
Two dozen men women and children dig deeper into the urban cairn. Shovels and backhoes work under the cover of frozen darkness. Dig dig dig. The sated quasi-corpses of ghouls watch from afar, sniper fire and magic keep them at bay. Bribery and murder keep the the rest out, mostly. Dig dig dig. A man in ratty Cal Ranger garb »>Radio Caleb, tell him we've expanded beyond the immediate vesitbule, we're hitting actual cars and tracks now. Looks like some retro-fitted stores too«<
Torches and flashlights beam light into the sooty semi-destroyed and former subway station. A mercenary scrapes away a debris covered wall revealing luminescent graffiti. W lc me o Ti ker Town.

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