Somnium Aeternum Undercurrents

[SedentaryCobra]

Morgan 'Aeon' Rivers
New Arcadia - Inner City
21 hours after the death of Mark Mavers

Mavers wasn't exactly a particularly strong figure, in terms of personal wealth. He made deals, he sold product. His connections, however, made him a dangerous figure. While not the greatest of players in the great criminal underworld, he was one of the few who's name everyone knew. From a nightclub in the red lights district, he gathered connections and influence. He could manage people, and that made him an excellent middleman. As a middleman of the criminal world, his connections grew and grew. And as a middleman, so did people's reliance upon him. From boss to boss, corporation to corporation, Mavers had a reputation for efficiency and no loose ends. After being stabbed in his own nightclub, ripples were making waves. An example had to be set for those who poked there nose too far up. The first wave was forming in a private room of New Arcadia's Inner City.

The Inner City was an architectural and engineering marvel. Skyscrapers of neon, glass and plasteel towered ever higher and higher. It was here that the wealth of New Arcadia laid their roots. The surfaces were kept ever clean and polished, the cars, expensive and luxurious, rolled down uncongested streets past stores filled with high priced clothes and jewelry and electronics. Higher above, the wealthy looked down upon the city that they built, that they owned, and reclined in content, sipping fine scotch as time rolled by. The few on the streets who chose to wander them and not take their vehicles did so unperturbed by fear of robbery or assault. The police protected this place, unlike so many others.

But in the uppermost floor of a office building, a meeting was about to take place. The room was walled with polished grays, and the lights lay off. The light pollution of the city left the room with a faint yellow glow, just enough for one to make their way around. A long, empty, polished glass table sat center in the room, with many chairs adorning it. Courtesy of the interest groups involved, they spared no expense to show each other that they truly meant business. Off to the side, several communications sets lay waiting for use by the parties who couldn't send a representative to meet in person. They had been specially encrypted to make this meeting untraceable to anyone who tried to pry in. It would take days, at the very least, for even the combined efforts of every computer in the city to crack the code to listen in on the conversations. Everything was ready and set, the host, sitting at the far end of the table, with his back to the window, and his front to the door, waited for his guests to arrive.

Morgan waited at the end of the table, fingers laced as he waited for the first of his guests to arrive. All proxies for their bosses, to be sure, so he couldn't be sure who exactly he was expecting to arrive at this meeting. He never liked being involved with big corporations like these, let alone acting as a proxy between them, but it was what he needed to do to pay for his daughter's hospital treatments. He softened at the thought of her, but hardened himself thereafter. Nothing but the mission. Any distractions in your mind, and you'll end up dead. He did a quick check over of his job in his head. Hired to distribute information about the man who killed Mavers. The higher ups were too volatile around each other to meet in person, too little trust. But the man who killed Mavers, who he was, where he worked, everything they had would be shared in this meeting. Each group would distribute what they knew. The higher ups would then make a decision. Kill the man? Kill his family? Kill everyone they've known? Leave him be? Bankrupt him? Ruin his life? Or let the law deal with it that way? Or some combination thereof? Morgan shook his head. With the resources at their disposal, the possibilities for the punishment were limitless.

It was then that Morgan's employer spoke to him, his digitized, disrupted voice playing through his helmet's comms system.
"It appears our first guest is arriving."

 

[Aylura]

Tegan pulled her goggles off her eyes, placing them on top of her head. She looked up at her friend, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity as to why she was interrupting her work. Upon hearing the word "gunshots" her eyes widened and she quickly slammed the floor compartment closed. "Everything seems to be in order. Listen I've got other appointments to be at, do you have my payment like last time?" She hurriedly pressed the barkeep, watching as he pulled out an envelope that she had seen several times before. She quickly grabbed it, shoving the envelope into a pocket on the inside of her work shirt. She nodded to Ava and quickly left the building, keeping close.

 

[Morph]

Ana Lowenthaal
GenTech Corporate Headquarters, Securities Division
21 hours after the death of Mark Mavers

"Mavers is dead."

Ana tented her fingers, looking at the ceiling. Somewhere on her terminal screen--buried beneath news broadcasts, marketing reports, and at least one pornographic video--was a secure audio connection with a man who'd just given her bad news. Silence reigned. The man was a new hire, but he knew how much she loathed bad news.

She had just returned from a mission out west. One of GenTech's prospective acquisitions had started negotiations with a competitor. If we're signing our company away, they said, why not make sure it's going to the highest bidder? Ana knew--and more importantly, her boss knew--that the competition would give them a much worse deal in the end. Perhaps some of them would die. While it was tempting to allow the deal to move forward out of spite and watch the upstarts suffer, that meant the competition got a hold of an important asset. So the moment the boss found out somebody had grown a pair of balls, he ordered Ana to fly out and cut them off. Figuratively, of course.

She'd only just returned, and had been catching up on what she'd missed when the call came through. Apparently, she'd missed something important.

Fuck. Was it a hit? was the first thought that went through her mind. It was followed swiftly by another.

I need to find a new supplier.

"No doubt," Ana began, "There will be blood. Mavers was a popular fellow."

There was a ping as he sent her a report. She perused it while she spoke.

"Do we have--"

Killed in his office with a large bladed weapon. Bullet wound in his foot.

"--any intel--"

Several suspicious figures sighted. Man in a mask.

"--on what the response might be?"

Smokes was working for Mavers. Was she on duty when it happened? Nothing on her in the report.

Her man sighed. "There's word a few of the big bosses are having a meeting. Rumor has it Aeon is there."

"Ah," she said, clicking her tongue. "There will be lots of blood, then."

She heard him shuffling around on the other end of the line. "Do you want in?"

Ana chuckled. "No, of course not. I'm a law abiding citizen." She looked through the report once more, tapping her leg against the tile floor. "Eyes on the club, rotating teams. Details about the NAPD investigation if it ever gets off the ground. I doubt you'll hear much from Mask, but keep an ear open. Standard communication and operating procedure for now, but be prepared to switch to Plan 2B if any of our execs get wrapped up in this. Out."

She closed the call and began to browse through her contacts. Everything was encrypted, but she'd been using these codes for so long that she knew them like a second language.

Hoping that her information was current, she opened a call with Aphrodite and waited.

 

[DestrixGunnar]

Liam Suez
New Acadia—Rolius Sector
Helping Hands Office
21 hours after the death of Mark Mavers

Liam sat down at his desk in his personal office, staring at his computer screen. For the past 18 hours he's been thinking. Thinking of the consequences for killing someone like Mavers. He knew Mavers's place in the criminal underworld. His death is sure to be known by all at this point. And if they ever found out that he was the one who did it, the possibility of everyone under the Helping Hands' is sure to be targeted. But if anyone were to ever attempt a strike at them here, at the office, they are going to war against men and women trained to take down armies single-handedly. And if they went at him alone...well they're gonna be in for a real rollercoaster ride.

He leaned in and pulled his chair closer to the desk, his hands ready on the keyboard.

"Mavers is dead. You won't have to worry about him anymore. I'll be waiting for the next payment. I trust that you will pay up the other half of the deal. For insurance, I'll have my men watch you and your family for at least a week in case of any more problems. Free of charge, of course. I pray for the well being of you and your family,"

He ends his message sends it to his last customer. He pulls away from the desk and leans back, letting out a big sigh. He looks to the side of his table where his mask is. The mask that keeps his animosity. Everyone in his business has one. Even the ones who aren't on the field. His secretary, clerks, acocuntants, call operators and even the cafeteria workers. They are all trained killers, soldiers, bodyguards, cops etc.

He knows he should be calm and not worrying should anything happen, but something is making him feel uneasy.

 

[Andromeda]

​

Aphrodite "Smokes" Jones
The Slums, New Acadia
21 HRS after the death of Mark Mavers

If Aphrodite had a dollar for every shitty decision she made last night she'd be just as rich as the late Mark Mavers. Not only did she allow the assassin to kill her employer but she also allowed him to escape. This was more than sloppy to the vet. To her, this was a class A fuck-up that would take an unreasonable amount of time to recover from, financially and otherwise. There was very little work out there for a washed-up soldier and having one of the few people willing to have you on their payroll impaled right in front of your eyes was very troubling, to say the least.

What happened after Mavers' death had been a blur. She could've sworn she fired at the assailant as soon as the mob boss' body dropped to the floor, but whether or not any of those shots had any effect other than raising alarms to the patrons topside was left for debate. Truth was, Mask moved way too quickly for her, and she was left in the dust trying to make sense of what happened.

Aphrodite had scrambled to the crumpled body of Mavers, but having witnessed him taking a very sharp blade through the chest she was sure that he couldn't have survived. With a torrent of swears she got up and dashed outside, back into the multicolored glow of The Blue. People were staring with concerned looks on their faces as they tried to get answers out of her. They got nothing but a mean scowl as she pushed her way through them in an attempt to pursue Mask, but if his speed was anything to factor in he was most likely already out the door and had become one with the night.

Aphrodite had made it to the door and stumbled outside, leaving the rest of the guards to see about the mess downstairs. The night was cold and uncaring, just as it always was. The vet looked around but saw no sign of Mavers' killer. She was ready to explode into a fit of rage, but she quickly calmed herself down, holstered her gun and replaced the cigarette she had lost from the encounter in the den with a new one. Time to go home and try to process what the fuck just happened.

She then took off into the night.

Twenty-one hours later, Aphrodite found herself on the worn couch in her apartment, cigarette in hand as usual - still a bit sore from being kicked in the stomach. Home for Aphrodite was a one thousand square foot living space in the middle of one of the poorest parts of town. She was never one for soft-living nor did she feel the need to make herself a target by living in opulence, despite the money her mercenary and bodyguard work brought in.

The TV was on in front of her, giving off an ambient glow to a rather dark room. They were showing re-runs of a century-old sitcom as though there were still people alive to appreciate those things.

Aphrodite had hoped that someone would have called her by now - reached out to her. However, it seemed as though no one gave a damn. And why would they? She ran off, didn't she? She's past her prime. No one wanted a fuck-up like her anymore.

One thing was for sure, though: she was going to track down Mask and end him.

Just then, her holophone chirped from the coffee table between her and the TV. She picked it up and read what was on the screen. She was being contacted by an unknown source. With her luck it might've been someone looking to pin Mavers' death on her, so it would've looked doubly bad if she didn't answer. Aphrodite accepted the call and held the holophone up to her face. "Who's this?" she asked.

 

[Morph]

Aphrodite's face filled her terminal, and she smiled, trying not to look too much like a shark.

"Someone who had an opening in her schedule and thought of her favorite chain-smoking gunslinger." Ana tapped her leg rapidly against the tiled floor, making little to no sound due to the noise dampeners she'd had installed for her mission and hadn't removed yet. "I hear you had an eventful day. You can tell me all about it over a cup of... coffee? Tea? What is it you drink these days, my dear?"

 

[Andromeda]

"I asked you a question," Aphrodite replied sternly. "Who's this?"

She was just about ready to hang up. After last night she really didn't need any unknown individuals bothering her, especially not some random blonde who was smiling like she'd just won the goddamned lottery. But something in the back of her mind was telling her to hang on, as if she somehow knew the importance of keeping the call open ... as if she somehow knew this woman.

She took drag from her cig.

 

[Morph]

"Ana, of course! Ana Lowenthaal. I hope you haven't forgotten me entirely, because I certainly haven't forgotten you."

Her smile hitched for a moment. "Remember? We stood outside GenTech, and I gave you a speech that ended with 'one day, all this could be yours!'"

 

[Andromeda]

Ana Lowenthaal. The name rang a very tiny bell in Aphrodite's head, but the events of last night and the drifting nature of today left her without much to go back on. But the woman did look like someone she'd know. She was rough around the edges despite her attempts to appear clean and cut. Instead of hanging up, Aphrodite decided to go along with this Ana. Maybe she'd finally get to make amends for last night's slip-up.

"Don't seem to recall, but I'm willing to hear that speech again," the vet smiled.

 

[Morph]

"Good, good." Ana tapped her chin with an index finger. "How about tomorrow at 1200, lunch at Bianchi's Bisto? I'll pay."

 

[DestrixGunnar]

(I'm gonna skip on ahead to the next day for Liam, sorry if it's too long)

The day nears to an end. One by one, everyone working for him start to go back home. Only a handful are still in the office and everyone on the field have gone home. Liam was particularly tired that day, so he decided he to get home early. He turns off his computer and as it shuts down, he takes a good look at his mask. A simple mask has served him so well. It is the face he wears when he needs to become the killer he trained himself to be. The mask that keeps his animosity. Those who know Liam, won't know it's him when the mask comes on and those who identify with the mask has no clue who hides behind it. The only ones who knows both identities are his workers who he sees as family, and a special someone.

Liam picks it up and hangs it on the side of his belt. He turns off the lights in his office space and locks his door. "Heading home so soon Liam?" His secretary calls out to him.

"Feeling extra tired today, Jess. Make sure to double check everything before you leave, okay?" Liam says as he walks away.

"You can always count on me boss," Jess says before Liam sets foot outside his office and gets inside his car. 20 minutes later, he arrives at his home in one of the suburbs of the city. He parks his car in the driveway and takes a quick shower upstairs before plopping down on his bed and slowly let's himself drift to sleep.

In the morning, he is awoken by a ring from his phone. He takes a minute to adjust himself and he rests his back on the head of the bed. He checks to see who it is. To his surprise, it's from the special someone. "Hey Liam. Its been a while since I've seen you. I got something important to talk to you about. Brunch at the usual place?"

A rarely seen smile appears on Liam's face. "Already starting to miss your old partner after 6 months huh? I'll see you there, Em," Liam replies before getting himself out of bed and taking a shower. Minutes later, he's in his car, pulling away from the driveway. It's been a long time since he's seen his old partner in the NAPD. Now she's working big time, Special Units. Fortunately, she and her team gladly help the Liam and his business. This girl, Emily Lucian, has become like a daughter to him. Knowing how she grew up, it's a surprise she's and bright and sunny as she is. On his way to the place, he checks the bag he brought along with him. Inside, is a gift he's wanted to give to his friend.

Once there, he walks in the restaurant and instantly spotted Emily, looking out the window. He walks up to the table with her oblivious to his presence. Without warning or a hello, he sits down across from her. "Hey there Emily,"

"Oh my god, you scared me. I could've shot you right then and there," she jumps before sitting back down. "Liam, it's nice to see you. You should order yourself something. My food's already on its way,"

Liam proceeds to place his order through the interactive menu on the table/screen. "So what's the occasion? Surprised you found time in your busy schedule to meet me, assuming you've been busy for the past months,"

"As a matter of fact, my good ol' buddy, I have been busy. Been on a string of hits on human trafficking sites all around the city. Some of them were hiding right under our noses. Luckily for the good people of New Acadia, they've got this girl looking out for them," she points to herself with both thumbs and smirking.

"Oh yeah? How the boys doing?"

"Great actually, our combat efficiency just went up to 98%. THATS INSANE! Its gotta be some kind of new record right?" She says enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it better be. Never met someone who does it better than you do,"

"Oh stop, you make me blush. How's the business going?" She leans in and rests her chin on her hands pressed down on the table.

"Business is doing swell," Liam leans back. "More and more people keep joining us every month. And our name is starting to become more popular,"

A robot arrives carrying Emily's meal and places it down in front of her. "Thank you Mr Robot. Why don't you go tell Rami Malek in his grave that you just stole his job," she says smiling up at the robot. It walks, away seemingly confused by Emily's statement.

"I think you just short circuited that robot's brain,"

"I tried," Emily starts eating her food.

"Emily, I got you a lil' something that you've been wanting for quite a while,"

"Oooh, a present! It's not even my birthday," she sets her utensils down. Liam reaches for his bag and pulls out a combat-ready helmet, designed by his own people. He lifts it up and places it on the table in front of him. "Boom,"

"Holy shit! This is so legit! And it looks badass too! Oh wait, where are the eyes?" She grabs it and hovers it on front if her face.

"There's a small camera at the front and a sensor on all sides to warn you of any hostiles. It's got the same scanning feature that my mask has. And it conceals your voice, just like mine. It keeps track of your ammunition and it allows long range comms to your teammates, NAPD as well as me and my team. To top it all off, it's bulletproof,"

"Holy shit Liam. This is awesome. Does it fold?"

"The top half folds back and the mouthpiece drops to your collarbone,"

"Oooh, I can imagine how it looks," she examines the helmet like it's a museum piece. Out of the blue, a robot arrives with Liam's meal and sets it down. Emily puts her helmet to the side and looks confusedly at Liam's meal that he's about go chow down on. "Liam, what the hell are you eating,"

"A sandwich. Since you're paying, I don't wanna rape your wallet,"

"Oh come on Liam. My paygrade is way above everyone else's. I get paid more than the guy who gets me payed,"

"How come? Your paycheck shouldn't be any higher than 5000 more than standard NAPD officers right?" Liam takes a bite out of his food.

"Yeah, but you have no idea how many people are paying us. We're Special Units, Liam. A lot of powerful people chip in a lot keesh to keep us a unit. They will pay any amount if it means keeping the NAPD's greatest assets on the streets,"

"Right. So what was it you wanted to talk to me about? You did bring me here for a reason. No way was this meeting just go catch up with things,"

"Right. I heard you killed Mavers,"

"News flies fast huh. Like the plague," Liam takes another bite from his sandwich.

"Yeah well i came to warn you. There's gonna be more than just gangsters causing you trouble,"

"I understand my situation Em. No one is taking me down except for age and the power of God,"

"Right. That is so you. I just want you to know that my team and I, we've got your back,”

"Eat your food Emily, its getting cold,"