Clusterfrag

Stat1C can feel the disconnect that these subterranean systems have with the arcology. There are references--link files--to the main arcology, but the matrix sub-system that he is in now is so legacy that navigating upwards would be impossible.
Val examines each control node until he locates one that contains control verbiage commensurate with a water processing system.

Val inputs an invalid syntax string and triggers the node's defense programs. A yellow beam probes out towards the decker's avatar, attempting to locate the source of the exploit.

Max stands by and considers Val's slack face. Once upon a time Max might have considered taking this moment to draw penises all over the decker's face. Once upon a time Max would have had a sharpie on him, too. Missed opportunities pile up as the years roll on. Such is life.

The scan program begins analyzing the dopplegangers one-by-one, freeing up Val some hackin' time.

Stat1C5hade's fingers plunge into the node and fractalize as they reach out to touch each part of the water processing system. The node glows and assumes the same color as Val's avatar, as he is granted a security logon.

Now inside the node and wrapped in his hacked security credentials, Stat1C5hade performs a diagnostic of the water systems under his control in record time. He begins diverting a portion of the precious resource from the arcology above to the currently dry plumbing system which honeycombs the walls of the tunnel city in which the displaced forsaken reside.

In an abundance of caution, he locates the module responsible for monitoring water flow and relaying the information to arcology utilities technicians. He calculates the flow differentials from before and after his interference and edits them into the module so that a casual observer would see normal flow rates to each sector controlled by the node. Still mildly annoyed by his near detection, Stat1C5hade edits his session out of the access log in the event that an overly curious spider might actually get off his virtual ass and look into the small blip he just made on the network's radar. Satisfied that he's done all he can, he logs off, jacks out--

--and pulls his neural interface cable from the terminal's console to find his forehead beaded with sweat. It's as if his meat can be nervous all on its own. He silently curses it for a coward.

Val coils the neural interface cable reverently and returns it to his kit. "Should be good to go with the water situation. Let's see what we can do about the electricity." His voice is steadier than his mind feels it should be following his near miss, but he has no problem with the discrepancy in this case.

< On our way > Adams comms.

He keeps his eyes low, scanning the way for traps as he starts walking across what once might have passed for a floor.

Max staggers and grasps at a railing to keep his balance. His spine throbs for a moment as his move-by-wire system seizes. He blinks at the earthen floor and straightens up, his 'ware having returned to normal.

Val catches another whiff of wireless signal escaping Max's PAN. This time there can be no mistaking it.

Val freezes in his tracks as his head snaps toward Max. His vision finds the elf just in time to see him recover from a decidedly awkward, stiffened posture against the railing. OK... that wasn't my nerves. That was real. It was real the first time, too. What in the fragging ninth circle of hell is going on? The hair on his forearms is standing on end.

Val attempts to lock onto the anomalous signal despite his diminished wireless AR capability, but can't acquire it; it's gone already. He takes a few quick steps to Max's position and grabs him gently by the upper arm.

"Max, you alright, 'mano?" His voice is concerned, but his eyes transmit a different message as clearly as if he'd screamed it through a bullhorn: We need to talk.

((Nice posts Stephen))

Giving Tyros a poke with his elbow, Sinjin gestures toward the electrical station.

"C'mon."

Sinjin slinks through the tunnel, hugging the side so as not to create any sound with each footfall. A few dozen meters in the opposite end of the water processing room is a long corridor, flanked on all sides by thousands upon thousands of fins. Occasionally a small arc will jump from one side to another, eliciting an unnerving popping sound and throwing the room into temporary daylight.

Tyros peers past Sinjin's shoulder at the arcing electrical field. Frowning, he attempts to see their target, a lever or switchboard on the circuit breaker that will reactivate the power.

"Can you see what we need to actually turn on? I don't particularly feel like getting electrocuted today."

Max grabs at his head, which throbs anew for a brief moment before subsiding. The elf looks at the decker-- his eyes betraying the confusion and fear he feels.

"It's like... like all of my muscles just seized-- like I had a full body spasm that wrenched me stiff as could be-- but it wasn't my muscles... it was like.. I don't know. It was just my body, but it wasn't my body. I don't know how to explain it. What the frag is going on with me?"

The elf dropped his cigarette as he seized; the smoke is the last thing on his mind.

Val returns Max's gaze as levelly as he can under the circumstances.

"I have some wild theories, but they're vastly outnumbered by questions right now. I think it'd be a good idea for me to look at your PAN the next chance we get, but it's probably best if I don't do that down here. It could just be a software glitch in your peripheral controller..." Val trails off, not believing such nonsense for a minute.

Behind his outward calm, Val's mind is racing with more thoughts than he can complete at once, AR's screwy down here--if that's not just some virus checking in?--originated from an external source--how did the signal get through? The only definite conclusion Val comes to at the moment is relatively simple. If someone, or something, is doing this on purpose, then they're good. Very good.

He tries to take Max's mind off it for the moment. "Keep it together for now. Next chance we get I'll look into it, but you're gonna have to give me a subscription, so do me a favor beforehand and get all those porn sims outta my work space, eh 'mano?"

Val claps Max on the back and puts on the facade of a grin that's never felt more out of place. He turns away and begins stepping down the tunnel.

Max smirks-- not even remotely placated but with no options-- and says,

"I don't know if solving this problems is worth geeking my porn sims, amigo."

Max makes his way tentatively toward Tyros and Sinjin in step with Doc and Val.

The team stands clustered together at the mouth of the corridor to the electrical station, watching brief fingers of electricity defy the darkness.

Max scans the passageway for a safe path toward the team's goal.

Sinjin watches the arcing electrical currents, trying to deduce their rhythm and cycle. If there is a pattern, then it should be possible to get through unscathed. If there is a pattern. Unnerved, he looks up at the ceiling, hoping to find a heavy pipe running the length of the hall that will take him over, instead of through, a deadly game of musical electric chairs. Nothing. Of course there is nothing. Frag it. Sinjin curses softly beneath his breath, and begins stripping his person of metals. Laying his kit neatly in order, he takes a single knife and throws it high and hard down the hallway, muttering something about orc fried rice. Finally, with a look to Tyros that seems to say Nice to know ya.., he zips his coat tight and pulls his hands and head down inside the jacket's protective layers of non-conductive material.

Counting the seconds between arcs, he springs into action.

The muscular ork sprints down the hallway, bobbing to duck a sudden arc of electricity as his hair stands on end. The build-up begins to grow as he pounds onward, closer and closer to his goal. With a sudden burst of agility, Sinjin leaps forward and tucks into a dive. A ball lightning momentarily forms and implodes just behind him, filling the room with the smell of ozone.

Max watches the ork acrobatically zoom through the electric minefield. The arcs of current still swirl in the air and the sizzling snaps reverberate through the elf's bones. Max reaches over and pulls his sequencer out of Val's pack, pauses a moment and gestures with it to the decker, and says,

"Unless you want to go bouncing through there... " The elf cocks his eyebrows and smiles and continues, "Looks like it's my turn, then."

Rolling his head on his shoulders several times, Max stuffs the sequencer in his pack and takes one last look toward his destination. The distance isn't terribly far, but it could scarcely be more dangerous. Max hands his shotgun to Doc and starts running.

Max dashes through the narrow corrdior, trying to ignore the scalp-tingling sensation of electrical buildup. A series of arcs explode behind him, trading from one fin to the other in hot pursuit of the highly conductive elf, but failing to finds its mark. Max slips into a low slide and stands on the other side of the gauntlet, next to Sinjin.

Max looks with some disbelief at his own agility at the ork beside him and gives him a meaty slap on the shoulder. Wearing a two-dollar smile, the elf bolsters himself with,

"Piece of cake! Now, let's see about cutting the power, huh?"

The elf turns to the electrical panel and extracts the sequencer from his pack, sets it up and goes to work.

With a meaningful look at the sequencer in Max's hands, Sinjin remarks,

"I guess you'd know more about that than myself."

As he bends to retrieve his thrown blade, he adds devilishly,

"I was just going to smash it open and start cutting wires."

A shock jolts Max's arm, like a steel-toed kick to the elbow. The elf wishes Sinjin had.

Uttering an imperceptible curse, he smashes the top of the control panel with his fist. Bundled fiber optic cables come spilling out of the machine like innards. A little gunshy after the first zap, Max sets about clipping the sequencer in.

Max's face is green in the light of the sequencer's screen. The hand-held device indicates that it has completed its task. A sound like a truck dying fills the room as the energy cells empty into the archaic electrical wiring of the maintenance tunnels. The tongues of bright blue-white that lapped across the myriad of conductive fins promptly disappear.

The elf's rugged swathe of hair settles back down to its usual coif.

Max looks at the electrical panel, attempting as a layman to deduce whether that counts as adequate reclamation of the power referred to by the prodigal mole people.

Before following the rest of the team out, Val takes a final look at the electrical panels and tries to determine if there is any way to trigger Rikei's backup power conduits from here.

Max comms back,

<We're on our way. Nothing to it.>

Turning to the team, the elf suggests,

"Alright, let's head back and see what this guy has to say. Once he shows us the way into the city, let's see if he has a room where he can let us take a moment and strategize. These guys are clearly no friends of Mitsuhama, so I don't think we're risking much on the off-chance that one of them listens in. Sound good?"

Max starts making his way back to the ladder that leads back up to the man who has promised to lead them into the arcology.

Adams nods in agreement.

"Yeah, we should decide on a course of action before we head topside."

He pauses, and then starts speaking again in a more hushed tone, "I also want to take a look at you. In danger of stating the obvious, something isn't right with you, and I think it might be your 'ware, though I'm not certain. Have you been experiencing any glitches lately? Anything other than what just happened back there?"