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September 15, 2045.
Dear Anastasius Foch,
I enjoyed your recent letter regarding your intrepid band of edge-runners in Isreal and Lebanon, and was gladdened by their daring maneuvers and harrowing escape.
Now I feel I must tell you of a recent adventure that even found me taking part. They were an interesting few months. The adventure involved a band of my own design here is MSP. Now listen as I recount the tale.
It was an ordinary evening like any other for Sharkman. Sharkman, as he is called, is a former Corporate Solo of Ares training. His experience is in Gurellia Operations, Counter-Terror Operations, and Terror Operations. He considers it breaking things, blowing them up, and fucking up people; though he says it with a bit more exuberance than he really means. The lad it quite tall, just a few fingers over six foot; heavily muscled, natural and cybernetic; and has more cybernetics than a pack of boosters or chromies. Most will say his main outstanding feature is that his eyes have been replaced with a visor like a pair of Oakley glasses. These permenant shades are tough, durable, and unreadable like their owner.
He spent that evening in the company of Zona and after some time at a local drinking establishment he walked her home. She is a remarkable lady or surprising character, fierce resolution, and stunning looks. She too is tall, almost six foot; has a body that is lithe, muscular, athletic, and has the curves that have started wars and destroyed empires. He describes her's as just a handful, any more is a waste. Granted he will probably never be a great poet, but it does put things in perspective. Finally, her most destinctive feature is a wild pink hair color that leaves her long, think hair unmistakable. On that night, it was night, August 7th, 2045. This is where our story begins.
Her apartment was on the twelfth floor of a out of the building in Apple Valley, south of the Zone, off of 106th Street. Pretty cozy all things considered. It would become too cozy in the minutes ahead.
After entering the apartment with his usual amount of paranoia, which he considers a survival trait, they barely had time to start talking before Shark smelled smoke from below. No alarms had gone off yet so he took action, "Zona grab your go-bag and let's make like a baby and head out." He insists this brought a smile to her face although the go bag is the one bag you can't leave a building without and it means things are serious. It is your last item to drop, and contains the minimum for survival. He quickly checked the stair wells for fire, and after hesitating a moment decided they would become ovens and chimneys for the fire below. Zona must have given him one of her looks because he then started ordering people on the floor to call for TTI, the fire department, or whatever corporation they kept their fire insurance under.
Shark then took it upon himself to climb down the side of the building with Zona clinging to his back. I know not what he was thinking, but it may have worked if you consider falling five stories a success when compared to burning. The reason I say it might have worked is because one of his friends Victoria Evansworth, to those in the know as Spydr, was in the neighborhood. She was walking home following the afternoon shift at her bar, The Web, and noticed a building on fire. Upon investigating she saw it was Zona's building and moved to intercede.
Now Spydr, an ample figured, long haired brunette of ravishing looks and a silver tounge is one of those ladies that can open doors or crush lives with just a smile. Though she is far to kind and loving to maliciously hurt people. What distinguishes her is her large heart. Far too few people have that trait these days, and fewer still would suspect it in this young lady. That said, she was unwilling to watch all those people die, and so decided to hijack a TTI Aerodyne Ambulance. Commanding the autopilot to fly arround the building and pick up people stranded on the upper floors she was able to save over 75 men, women, and children, including Sharkman and Zona.
All told, not bad for a days work, but she was not content to leave it at that. Our dear Spydr, paid for the entire TTI operation because most tennants did not have coverage and the corporation was perfectly fine with watching the entire building and all inside burning to the ground. Seven floors burned but no one was hurt. After paying for it she made an enemy of Ash Winters, the TTI Corporate in charge of the Emergency Response Teams. Shark broke a few of Mr. Winters' knuckles for mouthing off to Spydr, and put him back in line rapidly. We will leave my friends here until next time.
Hopefully this wets your whistle, because from here on things get very interesting.
Sincerely,
Richard Raven
Also, IF-X7-RY-OX-N1-OY
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