NPC Account
Previously on Darkwire...
None of the projections were lining up anymore. In truth, they had been on a consistent decline for a while, but at every turn there were promises. Promises from Accounts that the numbers could be re-run and variables double-checked. Promises from Blackheart that the next version would fix the very failings the last two versions were developed to address. Promises, not profits. Those had failed to materialize by any substantial means.
Infuriating!
Each new turn of events had just shifted more responsibility to the Muun's lean shoulders. Blackheart's premature release of the replicants had caused initial confrontations with their Darkwire originals to disastrous results. Starlight's botched attempt at an ambush for Darkwire caused her to levy suspicion and accusations at the partnership until finally pulling her support. As it was, unless Qanatain Xopsaloff took control of Project Brightband itself, it was projected to be a loss. And that was worse than failure.
"Schedule contact with Hentz," Qanatain told the miniature projection of his secretary that rose from the holo-comm embedded in the desk. "Tell her I want a report on the MynterCo acquisition. And tell her I want it now."
As Gemma Hentz entered the meeting room, she offered a polite cant of her head. “Mr. Xopsaloff,” she began with a pretty – but insincere – smile. “I have the information you requested. Well, partially—”
Gemma pulled out her datapad with the most recent report she had received, and handed it over to Qanatain. “We have sent numerous requests for a status update from President Khoan, but he has been... unresponsive.”
Qanatain handled the datapad gingerly, as if his long, delicate fingers were unused to the task. He had expected a presentation ready, if not an oral report on the status, not having it simply handed to him. This would be considered in the woman's next performance review, the Muun mentally noted, as his eyes scanned through the report, picking out key phrases as it went. "These were not the promised figures projected last quarter. Production is still too low, why have Khoan's other factories not been retooled for the project yet?"
The Muun glanced back up at Hentz, setting the datapad down on his desk. A practiced gesture in the air called up the information from his holo-terminal, projecting an overview of President Ramesh Khoan's portfolio and the amount he owed in debts to Qanatain. A considerable amount. "You impressed upon him the importance of this venture, did you not? It would be a shame if his accounts fell into arrears, of course, but such a fate would be inevitable for him if these quotas are not met."
Gemma smiled, “Of course.” Whenever the First Bank of Denon was involved, her people put the full weight of every loan on their customer’s back. There was money tied up here, too. “The president has the means to retool his other factories and increase production. Why hasn’t he done so yet?”
Her shoulders rose into a small shrug. But as she moved to take a seat across from Qanatain, she let the spark of remembering something light up her face. Information she’d had in her pocket all along. “There is probably a sob story waiting for us,” she added. “I recall there being some personal...financial trouble. The president’s cousin, identity theft...” Gemma glanced down at her manicured nails. “Something along those lines.”
Qanatain had made his name being cold and ruthless, he was not one for explosive theatrics. While a quiet storm raged beneath his surface, the Muun merely clasped his hands together in front of him. "Call in President Khoan's debts. All of them, Hentz. Find anything he has outstanding, vaults forbid, even elsewhere. On him and his family. Acquire what we don't own," he told her, and then looked directly into the woman's eyes as he levied his ruthless demand, "and then make it come due."
The Muun leaned back in his seat, folding his hands into his lap as he announced, "Meanwhile, MynterCo now has a new company president. Congratulations, President Hentz. See to the transfer and any bureaucratic mess, though I'm sure your new company board will see the wisdom of having an executive who isn't buried up to his eyeballs in debts."
“As you wish, sir,” she said. “I will see to it.”
"Yes, you will," Qanatain said. He had decided on the course of action during their conversation, as much as he detested it. Yet, when there was no one else left to trust, there was nothing else left to do. He rose to his full height, towering over Hentz, and he made use of every bit of the advantage. The Muun held a predacious gleam in his icy blue eyes, and a grin bloomed on his thin lips. "I'm coming with you, and together we will see this project through to the end."
Administrator Finor Corrik had just been finishing up his shift when the shuttle arrived at Loronar Transmitter Station No. 4. He didn't think much of it at the time, it was either a displaced spacer who aimed at the closest landmark his sensors could detect or some young pilots playing at holo-comm-ditch. Either way, Corrik's mind was focused on the plans he would make when his rotation ended in a week, this was something his staff in the control center could handle. Only when his lift was rudely restarted back to the control center did Corrik realize his work was not truly over. His staff were on the comm with someone claiming to be the pilot of Qanatain Xopsaloff, and demanding to speak to the station commander. With a glance at the chronometer, Finor sighed and stepped up to the comm to deal with it.
Twelve hours later, as his next shift was scheduled to begin, Corrik felt dead on his feet. Qanatain Xopsaloff, Burser of the Banking Clan, DireX of the Corporate Authorities, and a longer list of titles that had made Finor's eyes glaze over when he pulled up the databank info to cross-check, was here on his station. Their little HoloNet transmitter station out at Lagrange Point 5 trailing Loronar was suddenly bustling with activity, and between his skeleton staff and Xopsaloff's small entourage they needed every being working overtime setting up some kind of secure relay from his private network to several factories on the planet's surface.
So when the proximity alarm sounded on the sensors again, it took several minutes until a member of Corrik's staff could check it. By that point, the station had already come to a heightened state of alert and sent a distress signal automatically to Loronar for reinforcements. Finor's arrival back at the control center came in the middle of an intense debate between one of Qanatain's lieutenants and a member of his staff over standing down the few defenses that the station carried.
"Here's Administrator Corrik, he'll tell you," the comms tech was saying, gesturing to the screens. Finor could already see that one of the two newly-arrived ships was Qanatain's flagship itself. "The computer has already authenticated its codes as valid, and the captain of the Death Monger says that he's only come to ensure Xopsaloff's security. Standard procedure is—"
"—and I'm telling you that there's nothing standard about this. That ship is stolen, and whatever that monstrosity is beside it, those ships do not represent Qanatain Xopsaloff's interests!"
It was clear that this debate had gone in circles for a while, and both were looking at Corrik for an answer. His long night was turning into a long day already, making Finor long for this week to be over. Then he would be planetside again, reunited with his wife, and his children, who even at the worst of times were less of a handful than Xopsaloff's visit was becoming. He sighed, and put his hands up in a placating gesture, "Look, we're all doing the best we can here with limited resources. Why don't I talk to the captain of—"
"—no, that's not going to—"
"—Administrator, you'll want to see—"
The blaring sound of the proximity alert sounded over all of them, drowning out their demands for its own. Whatever hope of discussion or rational solution there had been, it died a dozen times when as many new dots appeared on the sensor display. The new signals were nearly on top of them, and before Finor could ask why no one had detected them first, or why their security escort hadn't defended them, the station shuddered as the first of the objects impacted with the hull.
Then another, and another, and another, until all of the pods were affixed and their crews were beginning to cut their way through. Leaving the skeleton crew and visitors on Loronar Transmitter Station No. 4 just enough time to gather weapons and offer any prayers before they were boarded, by enemies who had come to put a stop to Qanatain Xopsaloff and anyone who defended him.
The same message to you also played for anyone who accepted the job. Shadowrunner and contractor alike, Darkwire was offering the creds directly and it wasn't being picky. The instructions gave the time and place to meet, and once there you would quickly find yourself heading to Loronar space and climbing into a boarding pod. The only thing left to do, in the words of the message that played, was:
(Jointly written with the fabulous Gemma Hentz )
and now the conclusion:“Your legacy has become a rowdy bunch, hasn’t it? Does it please you that they have come so far?” Lance of Dreams extended a hand towards Frankie, referring to her status as the Founder of Darkwire.
"Rowdy? Dunno about that, I like 'em. They've got spunk. And heart, real heart." Frankie's words were earnest, maybe a little hopeful.
None of the projections were lining up anymore. In truth, they had been on a consistent decline for a while, but at every turn there were promises. Promises from Accounts that the numbers could be re-run and variables double-checked. Promises from Blackheart that the next version would fix the very failings the last two versions were developed to address. Promises, not profits. Those had failed to materialize by any substantial means.
Infuriating!
Each new turn of events had just shifted more responsibility to the Muun's lean shoulders. Blackheart's premature release of the replicants had caused initial confrontations with their Darkwire originals to disastrous results. Starlight's botched attempt at an ambush for Darkwire caused her to levy suspicion and accusations at the partnership until finally pulling her support. As it was, unless Qanatain Xopsaloff took control of Project Brightband itself, it was projected to be a loss. And that was worse than failure.
"Schedule contact with Hentz," Qanatain told the miniature projection of his secretary that rose from the holo-comm embedded in the desk. "Tell her I want a report on the MynterCo acquisition. And tell her I want it now."
As Gemma Hentz entered the meeting room, she offered a polite cant of her head. “Mr. Xopsaloff,” she began with a pretty – but insincere – smile. “I have the information you requested. Well, partially—”
Gemma pulled out her datapad with the most recent report she had received, and handed it over to Qanatain. “We have sent numerous requests for a status update from President Khoan, but he has been... unresponsive.”
Qanatain handled the datapad gingerly, as if his long, delicate fingers were unused to the task. He had expected a presentation ready, if not an oral report on the status, not having it simply handed to him. This would be considered in the woman's next performance review, the Muun mentally noted, as his eyes scanned through the report, picking out key phrases as it went. "These were not the promised figures projected last quarter. Production is still too low, why have Khoan's other factories not been retooled for the project yet?"
The Muun glanced back up at Hentz, setting the datapad down on his desk. A practiced gesture in the air called up the information from his holo-terminal, projecting an overview of President Ramesh Khoan's portfolio and the amount he owed in debts to Qanatain. A considerable amount. "You impressed upon him the importance of this venture, did you not? It would be a shame if his accounts fell into arrears, of course, but such a fate would be inevitable for him if these quotas are not met."
Gemma smiled, “Of course.” Whenever the First Bank of Denon was involved, her people put the full weight of every loan on their customer’s back. There was money tied up here, too. “The president has the means to retool his other factories and increase production. Why hasn’t he done so yet?”
Her shoulders rose into a small shrug. But as she moved to take a seat across from Qanatain, she let the spark of remembering something light up her face. Information she’d had in her pocket all along. “There is probably a sob story waiting for us,” she added. “I recall there being some personal...financial trouble. The president’s cousin, identity theft...” Gemma glanced down at her manicured nails. “Something along those lines.”
Qanatain had made his name being cold and ruthless, he was not one for explosive theatrics. While a quiet storm raged beneath his surface, the Muun merely clasped his hands together in front of him. "Call in President Khoan's debts. All of them, Hentz. Find anything he has outstanding, vaults forbid, even elsewhere. On him and his family. Acquire what we don't own," he told her, and then looked directly into the woman's eyes as he levied his ruthless demand, "and then make it come due."
The Muun leaned back in his seat, folding his hands into his lap as he announced, "Meanwhile, MynterCo now has a new company president. Congratulations, President Hentz. See to the transfer and any bureaucratic mess, though I'm sure your new company board will see the wisdom of having an executive who isn't buried up to his eyeballs in debts."
“As you wish, sir,” she said. “I will see to it.”
"Yes, you will," Qanatain said. He had decided on the course of action during their conversation, as much as he detested it. Yet, when there was no one else left to trust, there was nothing else left to do. He rose to his full height, towering over Hentz, and he made use of every bit of the advantage. The Muun held a predacious gleam in his icy blue eyes, and a grin bloomed on his thin lips. "I'm coming with you, and together we will see this project through to the end."
Administrator Finor Corrik had just been finishing up his shift when the shuttle arrived at Loronar Transmitter Station No. 4. He didn't think much of it at the time, it was either a displaced spacer who aimed at the closest landmark his sensors could detect or some young pilots playing at holo-comm-ditch. Either way, Corrik's mind was focused on the plans he would make when his rotation ended in a week, this was something his staff in the control center could handle. Only when his lift was rudely restarted back to the control center did Corrik realize his work was not truly over. His staff were on the comm with someone claiming to be the pilot of Qanatain Xopsaloff, and demanding to speak to the station commander. With a glance at the chronometer, Finor sighed and stepped up to the comm to deal with it.
Twelve hours later, as his next shift was scheduled to begin, Corrik felt dead on his feet. Qanatain Xopsaloff, Burser of the Banking Clan, DireX of the Corporate Authorities, and a longer list of titles that had made Finor's eyes glaze over when he pulled up the databank info to cross-check, was here on his station. Their little HoloNet transmitter station out at Lagrange Point 5 trailing Loronar was suddenly bustling with activity, and between his skeleton staff and Xopsaloff's small entourage they needed every being working overtime setting up some kind of secure relay from his private network to several factories on the planet's surface.
So when the proximity alarm sounded on the sensors again, it took several minutes until a member of Corrik's staff could check it. By that point, the station had already come to a heightened state of alert and sent a distress signal automatically to Loronar for reinforcements. Finor's arrival back at the control center came in the middle of an intense debate between one of Qanatain's lieutenants and a member of his staff over standing down the few defenses that the station carried.
"Here's Administrator Corrik, he'll tell you," the comms tech was saying, gesturing to the screens. Finor could already see that one of the two newly-arrived ships was Qanatain's flagship itself. "The computer has already authenticated its codes as valid, and the captain of the Death Monger says that he's only come to ensure Xopsaloff's security. Standard procedure is—"
"—and I'm telling you that there's nothing standard about this. That ship is stolen, and whatever that monstrosity is beside it, those ships do not represent Qanatain Xopsaloff's interests!"
It was clear that this debate had gone in circles for a while, and both were looking at Corrik for an answer. His long night was turning into a long day already, making Finor long for this week to be over. Then he would be planetside again, reunited with his wife, and his children, who even at the worst of times were less of a handful than Xopsaloff's visit was becoming. He sighed, and put his hands up in a placating gesture, "Look, we're all doing the best we can here with limited resources. Why don't I talk to the captain of—"
"—no, that's not going to—"
"—Administrator, you'll want to see—"
The blaring sound of the proximity alert sounded over all of them, drowning out their demands for its own. Whatever hope of discussion or rational solution there had been, it died a dozen times when as many new dots appeared on the sensor display. The new signals were nearly on top of them, and before Finor could ask why no one had detected them first, or why their security escort hadn't defended them, the station shuddered as the first of the objects impacted with the hull.
Then another, and another, and another, until all of the pods were affixed and their crews were beginning to cut their way through. Leaving the skeleton crew and visitors on Loronar Transmitter Station No. 4 just enough time to gather weapons and offer any prayers before they were boarded, by enemies who had come to put a stop to Qanatain Xopsaloff and anyone who defended him.
We got 'em where we want 'em, Darkwire. QX is alone and only got a handful of his "elite" guards for protection, all we gotta do is get there and bring the karking pain.
The same message to you also played for anyone who accepted the job. Shadowrunner and contractor alike, Darkwire was offering the creds directly and it wasn't being picky. The instructions gave the time and place to meet, and once there you would quickly find yourself heading to Loronar space and climbing into a boarding pod. The only thing left to do, in the words of the message that played, was:
Stop Qanatain Xopsaloff, that's all there's to it.
-Use that pretty little antenna of his to hijack his secure network, and spread that fancy virus Lance of Dreams cooked up to destroy all the data for his pet doppelgängers, Project Brightband.
-Then ruin his day even harder by putting an end to him, permanently.
-Use that pretty little antenna of his to hijack his secure network, and spread that fancy virus Lance of Dreams cooked up to destroy all the data for his pet doppelgängers, Project Brightband.
-Then ruin his day even harder by putting an end to him, permanently.
Airal Thamne
Anakin Stormrunner
Annasari
Aren D'Shade
"Bloody" Bill Renfroe
Brie Jaxx
Cartri Keswoll
Cassus Akovin
Chelara "Chel" DuCote
Chloe Santhe
Daiya
Deryn Kaaldos
Elkin "Big Cheese" Magor
Gray Venasir
Haden Del
@Helena
Jerec Asyr
Kole Eckttor
Kimiko Taiyou
QEMD-15 Echo
Saija Kwann
Spark
5-WCH (Switchblade)
Subject 648 Slipknot
Xan Deesa
Yula Perl
Anakin Stormrunner
Annasari
Aren D'Shade
"Bloody" Bill Renfroe
Brie Jaxx
Cartri Keswoll
Cassus Akovin
Chelara "Chel" DuCote
Chloe Santhe
Daiya
Deryn Kaaldos
Elkin "Big Cheese" Magor
Gray Venasir
Haden Del
@Helena
Jerec Asyr
Kole Eckttor
Kimiko Taiyou
QEMD-15 Echo
Saija Kwann
Spark
5-WCH (Switchblade)
Subject 648 Slipknot
Xan Deesa
Yula Perl
(Jointly written with the fabulous Gemma Hentz )