The Spyder


Porsche 918 Syder

Standard engine | handling 3/8 | Speed 210 (gas) | Accel 10 | Body 3 | Armor 0 | Sig 2 | Autonav 3 | pilot 0 | Sensor 1 | Cargo 1 | Load 45

Seating 2 bucket, Fuel gasoline (60 liters)

  • rigger adaptation
  • (remote control rig)
  • silver chrome paint, mirror finish
  • rebuilt engine

Drone Review


Chassis: Crawler, Small (spaces 17, 8500nY)
Handling 4/4, Body 1, Armor 0, Autonav  n/a, Pilot 1, Sensor 1,  Breakdown 3 min
Locomotion: “Tracked” using spider legs (2 spaces, 500 nY), Fuel Electric motor 7PF (20 meters/PF< idle 25 hours/PF), Speed 20-25/Pace 3 (includes increased speed) – No penalty over rough terrain
Weapon: Standard Machine Gun (2 spaces, 500 nY) Range  24/48/96, Dmg 2d8, shots 100, AP2, 3RB
Rigger adapted
Remote control interface
Advanced Sensors – (space 2, 1000nY) Gives +2 to notice rolls includes Audio, Low-light, Thermo Imaging.
Jamming Suite – Level 2 – Each level provides a die type for jamming communications (including drone/rigger comms)  Max D12 (4 space, 100o nY)
ECCM – Level 2 (4 space, 100o nY) – Each level provides a die type for breaking through jamming.  Roll must beat Jamming Roll
Increased Speed – Increases pace by 2 (3 spaces, 1000 nY)
Final Cost: 13000nY

This drone sees and hears all! Long range sensors and recording equipment, enhanced sensors, and moves fast!

Drone type: hover and flight, rotorcraft
Chassis: Spaces: 10 (10 x 500nY=5000)
Locomotion: Rotor motor – (3 spaces, 1000 nY) Pace 8/Speed 70, Fuel 120pf electronic, hover 2 min/pf
Weapon: Standard Machine Gun (2 spaces, 500 nY) Range  24/48/96, Dmg 2d8, shots 100, AP2, 3RB
Advanced Sensors (2 spaces, 1000nY) Gives +2 to notice rolls includes Audio, Low-light, Thermo Imaging.
Radar System (3 spaces, 1000nY) Doubles the range of sensor, Black and white vision only.
Rigger Adapted
Remote Control Interface

Final Cost: 7500 nY

Strangeness of False Flesh

kiteTis not often my dearest friends that I find an interest in the false flesh. Though I can imagine the way of simsense is just another realm of such a thing. But this invention does leave me most perplexed with hungers.

What if you could become wholly a man while your sex is most certainly womanly? And you could embrace this experience simply as the mood strikes? Nothing of permanence. Nor would it be simply recorded to feel digitally as a shot to the brain.

No, this would be an enlightened combination of your own senses, ridden in machine and false flesh, then pressed completely within the body of another? Ah, such a delicious consideration… would you then take men who loved such touches? Or pamper a woman in ways you knew best from simple heritage?

I find myself with such an opportunity to learn of desire from a friend suited …you could say…for such an occasion. I hope with bated breath she will allow me audience of this moment shared with another to document in lovely detail every thrust, the deep moans, the sight of their bodies joining. And of course, twist everything watched into a dance of words all of you shall enjoy.

The maiden become gentleman. Be still my throbbing loins…

Porsche 918


Porsche 918 – Vintage era vehicle

  • replace the engine (40 successes) – DONE
  • recast the breaks/general body work/subsystems – DONE
  • repaint to chrome
  • replace all lights to halogen with dimmer switches
  • add sensors level 1 (?low level lighting, infrared)
  • add rigger adaptation ($2800 nuyen)


  • speed
  • masking not to be seen with reflective mirror finish
  • attempt to detect everything with sensor grid
  • quiet the engine as much as possible for stealth


ironFar too much has happened that I do not understand. I went with Hot Lips for a simple guard position to find Merliner mages waiting. Perhaps they sought Kiva, or Hot Lips. Maybe even a pretty parcel of Novastorm or myself. I am not entirely sure. But without Novastorm, Hot Lips, and Dio, I would not be well now.

The mage did something very strange to my mind, leaving an odd memory. I still find myself confused at times, but Dio and Hot Lips have been a great help. I remember him so clearly, at a sushi restaurant when I first arrived to Seattle. We spoke of the city, of so much. And yet, I don’t have his number. Just a name, photo, and video. Antole. Perhaps a Merliner. spoke to me of mind magics. I think he had such a problem before, with someone, though I do not know what it could have been. There was such fear in his eyes when I neared him, when we spoke, then suddenly he relaxed. Something I can understand, if only a little.

Sparky, Hot Lips, and Dio help me feel so very safe. I only hope Uncle understands what I face. I never imagined such threats.

EDIT: I reviewed the footage…he is powerful. And alive. Everytime I feel like I am clearing my thoughts, something changes, something comes to light. I end up curled up completely lost again. I fear meeting him again. Will the memory return as it first appeared? Will I run to him worried for his well being, or take actions without knowing it? I have to remind myself over and over he is not my friend, but an enemy.

I have provided files to Hot Lips. Hopefully her contacts can get me a workable image of his face. And if Kiva can get me images of the car, I will track him down. I will find him for my own need to either shoot him or hand him over to uncle. Though I imagine Hot Lips and Dio want a piece of him.


masaruDore dore! Rei Rei, you would not believe what I have been up to lately. I have met some amazing people, made new friends, and can’t wait to see what happens next.

Ever hear of a Tiberius Sorin? He is this new playboy here in Seattle, had to come from somewhere. He tosses around money and parties without a care in the world, covered in more jewelry than I own. I crashed one of his parties with a girl named Diamond.

So far Diamond is pretty nice. We have been shopping all over Seattle, getting me introduced. I think you would really dig her style. She has heels and attitude that the boys there would die for.

I also think I have a better chance of getting a boyfriend here. I know, about time! There are pretty boys, but I have not visited the International district. A nice Japanese boy would be great, but I may have to wait on that. The few I have tried talking to keep their distance just like in Tokyo. But the Seattle boys smile, talk, even flirt. Gaijin bait.


Illegitimate Ties

kiteTale of “Frank” and “Bob”

Warfare begins in the the heart. Someone wrote that somewhere, perhaps a few worlds away. Maybe everyone believes that due to some recent Trideo or a widespread BTL. With a good decker, anything is possible.

This war of mine definitely started in the heart, the muscle trying to tear itself apart. Years of augmentations, cyber running through until I sometimes think the cold is just my body. I’m a walking coffin. Every run leads to a fight. Every fight riddles what remains with slugs, shrapnel, and a new reason to visit the body bank. Can’t keep this up.

The next run was like every other, a fight as a one man army built with great science for some shady Johnson. Or so I thought. I’ve come across this particular runner before. The last time, we ran out of munitions, beat each other senseless, called it a draw and made some deal. Added a few more burn rooms with more guns and munitions since then. Never thought the deal would be collected.

Repelling from the 130th floor to the 97th in Seattle Downtown definitely gave me one of those insightful moments. Reminded me I was human, somewhere in this husk. The glass glowed with raindrops from colliding temperatures between inland and bay, one of my favorite places and times. I’ve hit this building a few times over the years. Hope to continue. Seems he had the same idea.

We faced off around 123. He wasn’t waiting for me to get inside, making it personal. Fine by me. We rushed each other, guns firing in arcs, leaping wide on rigs. Any bullet could have frayed our lines, sending us to a brutal death. With the cyberware in our bodies, we might even break through the streets into the Ork Underground. A shared deathwish. Well, this night just gets better and better. He’s grinning, the patch over his eye shifting in colors, a display behind it. Smart missile fire from a pack on his back, that’s damn new.

Flipping far out in a tucked somersault, I tossed flares bright as my body heat, confusing the circuits. Just long enough to pull that missile off target, a moment more is all I needed. Spearing my body forward, limbs propelling me with weight and ‘jectors sent me colliding with my so called nemesis.



We had no idea of our real names, and the fake ones changed every time. I’m so tired of his shit, this work, maybe it’s time to accept fate. That thought lasted a nano second when he laughs. Damn Frank.

“Smart. I bring it back, we both go up.”

I peered over his shoulder, keeping a hard lock on him from window reflections. “You mean down.”

“The amount of explosives we are packing, Bob, we’ll go up like Redmond during Dwarven Christmas.”

Now I laughed. Had to admit, it was pretty funny. I never noticed he had brown eyes at some point. Reminded me of caramel candies my granny used to give me, clear and golden, coming in these little purple and brown wrappers. I took the other eye some scrap back. Oddly enough, he’s staring back into my Stratolinear Vexxars, something new a friend got my way. Gold, green, black, deadly. Most chummers that see them this close are taking a last breath.

Frank’s taken ten by now.

“I’m still alive.” Had he read my mind?

“We’ve been at this a long time, Frank.”

“Far too long.”

We had the same timber in our voices, the stress read out in my HUD gave sparks. Suicidal. Lost cause. “Brothers in arms. That meant something over 50 years ago. Now it’s some damn go ganger catch phrase.”

We twisted and pulled knives, vital areas marked, missiles and blades ready to kill slow or fast.

“Do it on the count of 3?”

Frank hesitated. He sensed my words were hollow. Maybe his readout was the same, just took longer to verify. “I have another idea. Screw these missions. We go rogue.”

He coudl tell I’m interested. Any other chummer runner would have been raining ash on those fancy Johnsons below. Made not a bit of sense to keep up this cold metal war. “Brothers…”

The trip down and away was far from typical. The corps would seek us out, try to tear away the cyber provided. We woudl put up one hell of a fight. For now, this battle’s end wasn’t what I expected.

The moment I walked through our safehouse’s doors, he went on the warpath. Knives popped from my wrists, meeting the blade he gripped. So close, shouldn’t have let my guard down.

“So Bob. What’s your real name?” He grinned, this close looking …intriguing. I’ve never seen him in natural lighting. Damn caramel eye, thin lips, fit to be tied. He seemed likewise interested, keeping in close quarters to twist me around. Within a few steps, we hit a corner.

“Animus. You?” Latin but it always fit my outlook. A soul in a box.

“Darkwolf. Seems we’ve both been loners.” He twisted at the hip, dropping faster than any other I’ve fought before, two slices and my belt was ribbons. Cute.

I leaped upwards, every servo and bundle of tech forcing my heavy body far above into darkness. All he could see were the golden rings of my eyes. My feet landed on the wall giving me enough traction to run down, leap forward, then back, two slices in an arc before he could recover. Good bye shit.

Pitted marks of my fire fights with him left a map he finished off with tattoos. Some strange work where the bullet holes were wolf eyes. A whole pack of wolves. Had we fought so long? My pants started falling down, worthless if caught. And that brought the strangest reaction from him, a grin.

Movements became a blurring dance, reaction and instinct fired with locator beckons, warnings, and room schematics. Machine and man moving like lightening. I had my arm around his throat. He could have stabbed through the servos…but he didn’t.

He kissed me. And for once, my heart pounded harder not from fighting, but something unexpected. What the frak. I threw him aside and the ass just twirled me in and scooped me close in some ballroom dance move. Confused me long enough to get in another kiss. I’m staring at him now, not reacting, but not pulling away.

It’s sudden then, blades retracted into my wrists and I shoved him back and back until we hit some table of metal. He met my steps until we tumble with mechanical grace. His hands were everywhere, careful with the flesh we still had on our bones, but damn if I didn’t have this need to prove how alive I really am.

We wrestled until the pinions of my arms are giving warnings across the HUD, ready to unhinge if I didn’t pop some serious moves. Or just gave in. What can I say, in this war, he won.

(story continues on another page, extreme in every detail)