“Here’s the thing. These goblins don’t know shit. they’re basically just turds with legs.”
So Lughaidh’s new job offer by missive was not particularly pleasing to the team. After all you can’t negotiate with a letter. Plus there was the tone. Ex cathedra pronouncements evidently do not engender feelings of joy and contentment in bottom-rung, gutter neo-anarchists. But he did offer 25K a head and that was enough to stow their misgivings for a while.
Lord Z3R0 spent some some time tracking down any mention of a Mr. Morlock on the Matrix and discovered, quite aside from the HG Wells references, that there was – in the 2050s and 60s – a fixer who went by Morlock and operated in Seattle. But most of the info on him suggested he was dead. Z3R0 also tracked down information on Laubenstein Plaza. Lot contacted McAllister since Rourke was off-limits and ordered an auto picker and a mag lock re-sequencer. Perses packed up his newly modded M202 and the three of them got in the van and headed to the parking garage and followed the instructions to the letter. Lot did take some time to a sense the special medallions they were directed to wear. He determined that they were some sort of high-end sustaining focus but he was unsure of the spell.
A little after midnight the team rolled out of the parking garage and headed down to the Plaza. There were very few people in the hotel bar and they were directed to go straight up to 15 where Mr. Morlock had taken the entire floor. When the elevators opened they were met by a gang of burly orks who gave him a bunch of bluster that Perses diffused with some polite, understated threats sending the tuskers on their merry way. Meanwhile Z3R0 was noticing that the wireless traffic in the hotel was incredibly limited even for this time of night. No RFID tags pointing out directions to bathrooms or elevators very limited wireless signals and almost nothing coming from the few hotel guests they can see. And the Wi-Fi that was set up for the hotel lobby itself seemed very outdated.
Up top they met Morlock and found him to be a pasty white dwarf dressed in purple with black and white lace. Understandably they thought him to be a vampire. Further probing and assensing however revealed this to be untrue. Lord Z3R0 tasked one of his agents to evaluate the wireless signals in the local vicinity the hotel. Again he noted that the number of signals was far too low and the software interface was very clunky and outdated. He attempted to access ShadowSEA or even Jack Point to find out what the problem was but he could not find them. Instead he found references to a website called Shadowland BBS which has been defunct for years.
The team then deduced that they had been sent back in time. The team further deduced that Lughaidh had outlived his usefulness and began to make plans to put him out of their misery (and how to best decorate their new apartment building). But there were still 25,000 at the end of it for each of them, and Morlock had agreed to pay them each 6000 up front and 8000 at the end of the job. So – after all – a job is still a job even if you’re guinea pig who’s been sent back in time.
They only had 24 hours to get back to the parking garage and presumably back to their own time so Z3R0 started building up some fake credentials for Perses to pretend he was an agent coming to look at the manuscript. The team rolled up – all entourage, belittling secretaries and browbeating poser elves named Elrand Gylgylad. Z3R0 uploaded the virus and smoked the chintzy outdated IC while Lot took command of Elrand’s mental faculties. Then the group of them walked out of the building with the manuscript in hand.
They headed straight back to the Plaza gave the book to the dwarf and collected their fee. Lot looked up his family in Denver and wired 12 grand to his dad. Perses on the other hand went straight to a bookie and, since it was only September 2050, he got 30 to 1 odds on the Seahawks winning the Super Bowl. He then hired an attorney to invest his winnings in Ares Arms stock and to only release those shares of stock to his biometric scan on January 1, 2072. All told they invested 30,000 at 30 to 1 odds making the winnings 900,000.
They jumped back in the van, went back to the parking garage and followed their instructions to the letter once more. When they drew back out of the lot they were in good old 2072 and went to the lawyer’s office to collect their shares of Ares Arms stock now valued at over ¥1.6 million.
Lughaidh may not be on their ‘to-kill’list anymore.