"He'll see you now, Mr. Fullerton."
He sighs, rolling his eyes. "The name is Speed, Delilah. Mr. Fullerton was my dad."
Her expression doesn't change from the utterly serious, business-like expression that it always has. Not another word is said, not even to correct herself - she just motions to the huge, mahogany double doors.
Whatever. Damned stiff corp assistants. He just shakes his head and goes into the plush, opulent office.
An office which is cavernous in proportion, not quite as big as, oh, say, a stadium, but it certainly seems close. At the other end of the office is very large, ivory-colored Western dragon with hints of blue in his scales, watching him approach imperiously from where he sits curled up. Nearby him is an ork.
As he nears the odd pair he halts, bowing his head in a respectful gesture before looking up at the dragon. It's difficult not to feel fear in the presence of one of their kind, when if they were so inclined they could simply snap you up for a snack. Still, he manages to keep his voice even as he speaks. "The preparations you requested have been completed, Ghostwalker. Your security system has been set up and programmed to your specifications."
The dragon looks from him down to the ork. It is the ork that speaks, his voice soft, sooth, cultured and intelligent, unlike so many of his race. "Does that include the artificial intelligence programming we asked for?"
It is an effort to keep from sighing. Unlike most of his shadowrunning brethren, he makes it a point to do everything to the absolute best of his ability. "Yes. Including the limits to the intelligence of the system and the drones themselves, as well as the preliminary testing of the system and the loading of all the automated strategic and tactical data you asked for, plus a few enhancements thrown in."
Another brief silence before the ork speaks again. "Very well, Mr. Fullerton. Per our agreements, the preparations have been made to send you where you wish to go, as well as arrangements to send you everything you have asked for as well as sufficient monies to live off of for quite some time." The ork motions to a nearby table, upon which rests a chunk of orichalcum roughly the size of a softball. "Once you have reached a suitable destination, all you will have to do is speak the words to open the portal that will transport all of your...items."
He walks over to the table, hefting the rusty orange chunk of metal as he turns back to them and bows his head once more. "Thank you, Ghostwalker, and you as well, Nicholas Whitebird. It has been a distinct honor to have worked for you." For a moment, he is silent, then speaking again, almost afraid of the answer he will get. Unfortunately, he had been raised with a mother who believed in courtesy as a necessary part of anyone's personality, and so he asks. "Is there anything else you require of me before I go?"
Another long silence. Nicholas, the ork, speaks again. "As a matter of fact, we do have one more favor to ask of you. It has come to our attention that you have as one of your acquaintances a decker that goes by the handle of Peregrine."
He winces at that. Her real identity is a very closely guarded secret, and she is certainly not the easiest decker to find even in the Matrix. "I know Peregrine, yes."
The ork chuckles softly. "We do not want you to reveal anything about the decker personally, merely tell us how we may get in contact with her...she has some talents that we would like to make use of, and we will certainly offer to pay her very handsomely."
Never deal with a dragon. Hasn't he been told enough times? But he did ask, and they made a request. Besides, for what they're doing for him, how can he refuse? He reaches into a pocket and comes out with a chip, tossing it to the ork. He won't be needing it where he's going. "She's a little cagey, I'll tell you, but if you tell her that Dave told you how to get hold of her, she'll be willing to hear you out."
The ork catches the chip easily, smiling and bowing once more. "Ghostwalker wishes you to know that he appreciates this and all the work you have done for him. This concludes our business arrangement. Delilah will guide you to your vehicle and the place you will need to go so that you may be taken to where your friend has gone."
The dismissal is plain, and he bows his head once more before turning to leave.
He had brought the Beast, his custom GM/Ares built heavy armed van, not knowing what to expect when he arrived. Interestingly, he had been transported into the middle of a town, right in front of a building whose sign proclaims it as the 'RhyDin Public Library.'
Interestingly, his appearance doesn't cause much of a stir, though the town has a rather quaint feel to it. This sort of thing must be a fairly common occurrence.
The truck lurches as he puts it in gear and drives away from where he arrived slowly.
http://imcdb.org/images/061/187.jpg
He sighs, rolling his eyes. "The name is Speed, Delilah. Mr. Fullerton was my dad."
Her expression doesn't change from the utterly serious, business-like expression that it always has. Not another word is said, not even to correct herself - she just motions to the huge, mahogany double doors.
Whatever. Damned stiff corp assistants. He just shakes his head and goes into the plush, opulent office.
An office which is cavernous in proportion, not quite as big as, oh, say, a stadium, but it certainly seems close. At the other end of the office is very large, ivory-colored Western dragon with hints of blue in his scales, watching him approach imperiously from where he sits curled up. Nearby him is an ork.
As he nears the odd pair he halts, bowing his head in a respectful gesture before looking up at the dragon. It's difficult not to feel fear in the presence of one of their kind, when if they were so inclined they could simply snap you up for a snack. Still, he manages to keep his voice even as he speaks. "The preparations you requested have been completed, Ghostwalker. Your security system has been set up and programmed to your specifications."
The dragon looks from him down to the ork. It is the ork that speaks, his voice soft, sooth, cultured and intelligent, unlike so many of his race. "Does that include the artificial intelligence programming we asked for?"
It is an effort to keep from sighing. Unlike most of his shadowrunning brethren, he makes it a point to do everything to the absolute best of his ability. "Yes. Including the limits to the intelligence of the system and the drones themselves, as well as the preliminary testing of the system and the loading of all the automated strategic and tactical data you asked for, plus a few enhancements thrown in."
Another brief silence before the ork speaks again. "Very well, Mr. Fullerton. Per our agreements, the preparations have been made to send you where you wish to go, as well as arrangements to send you everything you have asked for as well as sufficient monies to live off of for quite some time." The ork motions to a nearby table, upon which rests a chunk of orichalcum roughly the size of a softball. "Once you have reached a suitable destination, all you will have to do is speak the words to open the portal that will transport all of your...items."
He walks over to the table, hefting the rusty orange chunk of metal as he turns back to them and bows his head once more. "Thank you, Ghostwalker, and you as well, Nicholas Whitebird. It has been a distinct honor to have worked for you." For a moment, he is silent, then speaking again, almost afraid of the answer he will get. Unfortunately, he had been raised with a mother who believed in courtesy as a necessary part of anyone's personality, and so he asks. "Is there anything else you require of me before I go?"
Another long silence. Nicholas, the ork, speaks again. "As a matter of fact, we do have one more favor to ask of you. It has come to our attention that you have as one of your acquaintances a decker that goes by the handle of Peregrine."
He winces at that. Her real identity is a very closely guarded secret, and she is certainly not the easiest decker to find even in the Matrix. "I know Peregrine, yes."
The ork chuckles softly. "We do not want you to reveal anything about the decker personally, merely tell us how we may get in contact with her...she has some talents that we would like to make use of, and we will certainly offer to pay her very handsomely."
Never deal with a dragon. Hasn't he been told enough times? But he did ask, and they made a request. Besides, for what they're doing for him, how can he refuse? He reaches into a pocket and comes out with a chip, tossing it to the ork. He won't be needing it where he's going. "She's a little cagey, I'll tell you, but if you tell her that Dave told you how to get hold of her, she'll be willing to hear you out."
The ork catches the chip easily, smiling and bowing once more. "Ghostwalker wishes you to know that he appreciates this and all the work you have done for him. This concludes our business arrangement. Delilah will guide you to your vehicle and the place you will need to go so that you may be taken to where your friend has gone."
The dismissal is plain, and he bows his head once more before turning to leave.
He had brought the Beast, his custom GM/Ares built heavy armed van, not knowing what to expect when he arrived. Interestingly, he had been transported into the middle of a town, right in front of a building whose sign proclaims it as the 'RhyDin Public Library.'
Interestingly, his appearance doesn't cause much of a stir, though the town has a rather quaint feel to it. This sort of thing must be a fairly common occurrence.
The truck lurches as he puts it in gear and drives away from where he arrived slowly.
http://imcdb.org/images/061/187.jpg