Outbreak

Outbreak
The Starbucks (one of a few) on 16th Street Mall was busy enough for a Tuesday evening.  The weather outside was brisk and scented with the telltale signs of autumn (cool air and crisp leaves and the occasional whiff of apple or pumpkin spice in a passing pedestrian's beverage,) just precisely the sort of night that tended to prompt people to crave a warm drink and pleasant company.  Inside the coffee shop, a line of customers waited to place their order at the counter, while those who'd already been served had found places to sit and read or chat with friends at the various tables.  This particular Starbucks had a plush booth in front of the window, and a family of five had taken up residence there as the parents occupied themselves with making sure their children didn't spill their hot chocolate or make too big a mess of their pastries.

All in all, the mood was one of pleasant liveliness when Grace and Lena arrived.

Grace Evans
"Lena, are you addicted to Starbucks in particular, or something?" Grace asks as they seem to be dragged magnetically toward the place. "I mean, caffeine and I have a long and happy relationship, but Starbucks? By the way, that pumpkin spice stuff tastes like chicken, and that's just weird to taste in coffee."

It's been noted before that Lena has no particular dislike of this establishment -- much to Grace's dismay. The place is like the symbol of cookie-cutter mediocrity and the spreading goo of Capitalism run amok.

Lena Reilly
"Oh god, you never get the pumpkin spice."  She wrinkles her nose, amused at Grace's comment and her reticence toward Starbucks.  She gets it...she really does.  A lot of people aren't fans of the coffee chain, but let's face it; there's a reason why they're as popular as they are.  The DJ walks along at Grace's side, a jacket over her usual T-Shirt and jeans in order to compensate for cooler temperatures.  She takes no offense obviously at Grace's disdain of the coffee place, understanding fully even if she doesn't agree.

"No, I'm not addicted to Starbucks specifically, for the record."  She chuckles and shrugs.  "But they're always nearby and say what you want about them...they're consistent.  By no means are they the best coffee on the planet but I always know what I'm getting.  I love my little out of the way places when I can get to them, but there's a certain comfort in knowing there's always an Americano within a few minutes away, you know what I mean?"

She opens the door, holding it for Grace before she slips inside after.  Mediocre or not, the place always smelled of coffee and she does appreciate that...even if the music drives her batty.

Grace Evans
"No, that is not a comfort, Lena! That is scary!" says Grace, but with a smile that says she's probably mostly kidding. Even so, Grace bows to peer pressure and steps inside. Maybe they can manage not to completely screw up chai?

Today (if you really need to know) Grace is celebrating a holy day of sorts. And she's chosen to celebrate by wearing a t-shirt that reads: 'That brain of mine is something more than merely mortal; as time will show.' over the picture of woman who appears to be in 1800's clothing and style. Though since it's turned chilly lately, she has her grey turtleneck jacket almost covering up the tribute tee.

She's also chosen to celebrate by promising by the end of the week to have some feat or another accomplished in the name of that woman: Ada, Countess of Lovelace.

Lena Reilly
"There's something to be said here about resistance being futile here," she says with a grin, and she moves in behind Grace.  She's comfortable enough with the Virtual Adept to be close to her, though she still doesn't ever purposely touch her.  Grace isn't alone in Lena reacting to her that way though; she's friendly and in just about every way seems like a warm, caring friend.  Except that one.  (Well, and the not really offering up anything about her past.  But we're talking about the good parts, not the bad.)

She takes a deep breath, walking up to the counter and ordering like a pro because, frankly, she pretty much is.  After all, being incredibly caffeinated is practically a part of her job.  (Not that she wouldn't be if she changed vocations.)  She smiles at the person behind the counter, orders a Venti Americano with an extra shot and whatever Grace wants.  Hey, if she's dragging Grace to the enemy, she's gonna pay for whatever the woman gets.

Outbreak
There were three people in line ahead of the pair by the time Grace and Lena stepped through the door and settled in to wait their turn (chatting as they did about the merits and flaws of cookie-cutter coffee chains.)  But the line pushed forward at an efficient pace, and it wasn't long before the pair were able to place their orders.  The kid behind the counter looked about nineteen (probably a college freshman) but he seemed competent enough.  He took their orders with a polite smile and rung them up at the register before waving them along to wait while the barista assembled their drinks.  There wasn't much that was notable about the affair.  Names were called, and soon enough one of those names was Lena.

Of course, the question of where to sit would prove a bit problematic, as it seemed that most of the tables were occupied, but a bit of searching would find one in the back corner, empty but for a discarded newspaper that the previous occupant had left behind.  Taking up residence at the neighboring tables were an older man typing diligently on his laptop, a couple of twenty-somethings on a date (which seemed to be going well,) and a pretty girl in a yellow dress who was delicately making her way through a piece of cheesecake.

The girl made eye contact for a moment and paused mid-bite.  Then she smiled a bit, the way people do when they meet the gaze of someone they don't know, and returned her attention to her food.

Grace Evans
[Perception + Awareness = Because chai is here, and its time to relax and look around]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (5, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Outbreak
[It would appear that there is nothing immediately notable about the coffee shop or its occupants tonight.  Grace is unable to sense any hint of resonance besides that of Lena's and her own, and there does not appear to be any weaving of effects in the area.]

Lena Reilly
This is the part that she hates about Starbucks...when it's one of those pseudo-busier times and people get bunched together.  Don't get her wrong; Lena is actually better in crowds than she is with people.  One of these days one of these Awakened people will actually go see her when she spins and they'll see a Lena they've never seen before; that's because a crowd she can get lost in, especially when she hears the Lakashim strongly.  Groups of people become individuals and they feel less connected to her, more distinct.  That's harder.

She looks around with a little bit of a frown, though it brightens (at least briefly) when she meets the gaze of the girl in the yellow dress.  It's a brief look from Lena; she doesn't linger on beauty the way that some Cultists do.  And then she's looking at Grace, letting her guide the way on this one.

"Where you wanna sit?"

Grace Evans
Grace is so much like Lena. So different too. But she will never be the one to reach out her hand for an introduction, she will never ever hug anyone, she would rather talk about the future than the past.

Lena makes for a comfortable friendship. It's like she knows in that way that doesn't require words.

Also, Grace totally lets Lena pay for the chai latte. Free stuff rocks! Even if it's corporate free stuff.

"So, you been up to anything interesting lately? In the, you know, music arena?" Grace says, stirring the spiced tea, as though stirring it with a mundane coffee stirrer would have the same effect as Patience's light-wand-thingy. What was that she'd said? Destroying the deviant molecules? Yeah. Pretend to do that. Maybe the placebo effect will actually make it taste better.

Grace Evans
"Well, there is that one place in the back," Grace offered.

Lena Reilly
"Perfect," she says with a smile, though really it's not.  Perfect is just a word you say that means That will suffice and in truth, there are a few things wrong with it as far as Lena is concerned.  But then there are probably a few things wrong with it as far as Grace is concerned, such as It's In A Starbucks.  So the Ecstatic can't let beggars be choosers, and she moves to head that way and take a seat.

"I'm mostly just doing my thing, really," she says in response to the question about her music.  "Ive been experimenting a lot with some new sounds...I'm sick to death of dubstep beats but that's all anyone seems interested in.  I'm trying to blend in some trance and ambient stuff with a hip-hop sensibility at this point.  Sort of a chillwave, Lorde-meets-Portishead if Chuck Inglish or Mike Will Made It was producing it with a little Aphex Twin sensibility thrown in."

She gives a slight shrug as she sits down, pushes the newspaper off to the side.  "It's a work in progress, really.  There's a serious dearth of good samples right now that I can work with to hit that sound unless I go with the same people that everyone else does, you know?  And those are good for attention-grabbing, but if I'm gonna keep my edge I need to keep looking for my own thing until someone else finds it."

Grace Evans
Grace just kind of nods, making her way over to the back seat with Lena, as though she knows what half of those words and performers mean, which she emphatically does not.

"That's um.. It sounds impressive! I would like to see one of your shows someday, you know. Ahh, I know two musicians now, and I have yet to hear either you or Sera. I am so... wrong," Grace says, and sits down across from Lena at the table.

Outbreak
Grace and Lena settled in at their table, doing their best (as one does in these situations) to ignore the close proximity of strangers around them.  The man and the flirting couple seemed oblivious to their presence, as did most of the rest of the people in the shop, wrapped up as they were in their own lives.  Across the room, one of the kids shrieked with laughter, and her mother leaned over to quiet her to a polite volume.

The girl in the yellow dress looked up when this happened, her eyes fixed on the family with a subtly pained expression, as though the sound bothered her.

A few moments later, she looked at Grace, leaned over and said, "Sorry to interrupt, but is that an Ada Lovelace t-shirt?"

Grace Evans
Grace looked up a bit, a kind of 'omg what?' look on her face at first, having been prodded out of her determinedly-ignoring-everyone-else shell. This was followed by a massive grin. Well, somebody knew the reason for the season. "Yes! It is! It's Ada Lovelace day today, so I just thought -- of course I am wearing this today."

"Also, Hi! Nice to meet someone who knows about Ada out in the wild," Grace says to the woman in yellow, all smiles at this point. She can put on a friendly face, even though it might take a bit of initial panic.

Lena Reilly
She takes the shriek from the kid across the Starbucks with stride.  Lena is guarded but generally she's not jumpy as a rule, and she understands that kids can be unruly.

Instead her attention is focused on the young woman who leaned over and asked about Grace's Ada Lovelace shirt.  She smiles a little, watching them converse.  She doesn't have a lot to add to that conversation...which is not to say that she doesn't know who Ada Lovelace is, mind.  It's just...well.  It would be like Grace interjecting her thoughts on music into a conversation between Lena and another deejay.  At best she could offer surface information and so instead, she busies herself with her caffeine-charged drink.  Ahh, caffeine.

Outbreak
The girl, she had an ageless quality to her.  Willowy build and youthful features marked only subtly with hints of age.  But her manner and appearance were elegant and composed in the way one might expect of a young professional: her dress, hair and makeup perfectly put together.  She was, by all accounts, lovely and luminous - with one exception.  When she shifted in her chair and leaned over to get Grace's attention, her left arm came into view.  The skin there was pink and shiny and textured with grafts and scarring.  (Burn damage, from the look of it.)

She smiled at Grace's response to her question, edging her chair a little bit closer so that she wouldn't have to lean in to be heard.  "As a fellow woman in science, I would be pretty lax if I didn't take the opportunity to celebrate her achievements," the girl replied.  "Though I'm a biologist, myself.  Computer history is something I've only studied in passing."  After a pause, she reached out to offer her hand.

"I'm Katie."

Outbreak
[Edit: "reached out to offer her hand to each in turn."]

Grace Evans
Ugh. The handshaking ritual. But which one? The one holding the cup of chai would be hot and possibly sweaty, but that's the one necessary... Grace hesitates, puts down her chai, wipes her hand off on her jeans, and finally shakes hands rather awkwardly.

It's just not her thing.

"Unfortunately there's not a lot of data on Lovelace. She was kind of reclusive, you know. Plenty on Babbage, but man, we know more about Ada from his perspective than we do from hers. Still, a complete visionary, really. You know, Lena, she was the first person to surmise that computers would be able to translate data into music? Babbage just thought of all the wonderful tables full of numbers he would be able to make," Grace says... and this is much more obviously her thing.

Lena Reilly
Like Grace, handshaking is not Lena's thing.  But it's a formality she can understand, and while she doesn't always feel comfortable with it she can do it in order to make other people not feel comfortable.  "Hey, Katie," she says with a pleasant enough smile, her grip light and brief before she slips her hand away.  "I'm Lena...nice to meet you."  It's a warm pleasantry, a bit of politeness to the girl that Grace has found a common hero in.

She smiles when Grace mentions the historical woman's influence on computers and music.  "Oh yeah?"  She grins then, raises her cup to her lips.  "Well, remind me to toast one to her one of these days.  I owe her my career."  And life's work, but who's counting?

Outbreak
There was a change that occurred when Katie shook Grace and Lena's hands.  Like that moment in a movie when the action slows and the camera swings around to a new angle and suddenly it's like you're watching a completely different scene.  Katie's grip lingered in each of their grasps, and though the edges of her smile remained, the warmth of it faded.  Grace neglected to offer her name in return, but Katie didn't ask after it.  (Perhaps it didn't really matter.)  Her hand was warm and a little sweaty, and if either grace or Lena looked for it, they'd feel a tell-tale thrum of a quickened pulse.

The music changed, and in the brief interlude it seemed as though the ambient noise had quieted to a low murmur.

Then one of the kids shrieked again, and Katie winced as she dropped Lena's hand.  Her bright eyes glimmered with veiled emotion as she turned away.

"She was an amazing woman, truly."  Katie glanced down at her mostly-empty plate and pushed herself to a standing position, brushing her hands down over her skirt.  "It was nice meeting you two.  I hope you have a good evening."

There was a lingering glance and a soft nod.  "Happy Ada Lovelace day."

Then she gathered her dishes and deposited them on the tray atop the nearest trash bin before making her way outside.

Grace Evans
Grace watched the woman pack up, and... well, it was a little disappointing that. She could talk about computing history all night, and not be sad for it. Strange to just spark up a conversation about Ada Lovelace, and then leave. But hey, people are busy right?

"Happy Ada Lovelace day back, sorry we couldn't talk more!"

Grace turned to Lena, "Well, she was nice. A bit strange though." Pot. Kettle. Hah.

[Wits + Alertness = ST Demanded It]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (1, 1, 4, 4, 6) ( fail )

Lena Reilly
Grace watches the woman pack up and is disappointed that she can't talk more about computers and such.  Lena, for her part, pulls her hand away even quicker than the brief hold that she'd intended.  It's instinctual for her, born from a fear that's been held for quite a while now when she senses someone is fevery or their immune system is overrun.  She doesn't freak out and run, but she does lean back slightly and the smile that she offers is a bit...strained, to say the least.

"Nice to meet you, Katie."  For once, she doesn't sound quite like she means it.  She looks to Grace and the smile remains in that same form.  "Yeah, I suppose so."

[Wits+Alert]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (3, 3, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

Outbreak
It was only a minute or two after the girl left when Grace and Lena would both feel a sudden, sharp sting on the backs of their necks.  Grace, perhaps caught up in her thoughts, was slow to react, and in the midst of her surprise, she knocked over her chai - spilling the hot drink across the table and into her lap.  By the time her hand reached her neck, whatever had stung her was gone, leaving only a tiny red lump of irritated tissue in its wake.

Lena, though.  She was already on the alert, and when her hand shot up to her neck she felt a brittle crunch of something tiny and metal beneath her hand.  She managed to jump out of the way of the spill, and perhaps in the midst of the chaos she might not get a chance to really look at what she'd caught.  But when she did, she'd find this:

It was a bug, but not a living one.  This was some sort of tiny robotic wasp, now crushed and mangled, with a needle as its stinger.

Grace Evans
Chai goes flying everywhere, and soon there's pain not only in Grace's neck, but her lap too. Fucking Starbucks found a way to ruin her chai, didn't it? "Ah! Shit!.... The hell?"

Instead of immediately rushing to get napkins however, there is that sting.. she prodded at the back of her neck, looked up at Lena in confusion. One sting she would have passed off as an insect. But two, at the same time, in the same place?

The words 'What's going on here?' remain unspoken however, a look is all she'll manage before heading over to the counter to get enough napkins to clean up.

Lena Reilly
Maybe it's because she was already paranoid.  Maybe her uncanny sense of situational awareness happened to come into play.  Maybe it was even just luck.  Whatever the reason, she's faster and she's to her feet, out of the way of the spilled chai tea and reacting quickly when she feels that sharp piercing on her neck.

She cries out, reaches back on instinct and smashes her hand against the source of the pain...strikes paydirt.  She pulls her hand down slowly, looking in her hand and thanking the gods for not the first time in her life that she's not allergic to bees and going into anaphylactic sho--

She stars at the think in her hand, blinking a couple of times as if she doesn't honestly get it.  She does, but she is just...dumbfounded.  "Oh, Jesus Fuck."

And now she's touching.  As Grace goes to clean up, Lena grabs the Virtual Adept by the arm.  "We need to go, now."  She isn't waiting around for permission this time.  She's paled considerably from the idea that they may be under attack of some kind and she's even (GASP!) leaving her coffee behind as she pulls Grace along with her.

Outbreak
Whatever it was that Grace and Lena had been stung (injected?) with, they didn't seem to feel any immediate effects.  Perhaps through stress and paranoia they might attribute their body's boost of adrenaline (and its accompanying symptoms) to some unknown drug or poison - but if so, the correlation would be imagined.  In truth, there was no immediate physical response to the stings, aside from the pain and redness at the site of the injury - not at all unlike the reaction one might have to a vaccination.

And if Lena was worried that more of those tiny robotic creations might descend upon the unsuspecting Sleepers in the coffee shop, this fear at least would remain unfounded.  All around them, life continued as normal.  None of the other people jumped up in surprise, except for the man with his laptop, who glanced up and quickly shifted his feet out of the way of the pooling chai on the floor.  As Lena began to usher Grace out of the shop, one of the employees trotted over with a roll of paper towels and a spray-bottle of some sort of cleaning solution, smiling in reassurance.

"Oh, it's alright.  Happens all the time."  (She assumed, of course, that their agitation was due to the spill.)

Grace Evans
Lena's serious, and Grace gets the idea that yes, leaving now -- even with chai all over her jeans, making her look like she's gone and pissed herself -- is a really good plan. Quickly, quickly now, to the exit...

It's the kind of sensible plan Grace might come up with herself, and she doesn't need much pulling along, really. But she does want to know, "What is it? What do we do?" Her words are quickened with adrenaline and hushed.

She gives a strained smile to the employee with the paper towels -- oh no, nothing terrible happening here, ha ha -- all the while making her way to the exit, hyper-aware of Lena's grasp on her arm. Outside the Starbucks, away from the crowd, Grace repeats herself with a, "What's going on?" under her breath.

Lena Reilly
Lena is usually the reassuring one who offers smiles and assures that things will be okay.  She would normally be apologizing to the poor employee who has to clean up the mess that they were leaving behind or at least offering her own smile of gratitude for the woman who is working a job that not enough people have respect for.

She doesn't this time.

Instead she largely ignores the woman, rushes out of the Starbucks and starts walking down the street with her attention toward the sky.  Luckily no other assaults come, but it doesn't put the Ecstatic at ease one bit.  As she walks along at a brisk pace, she opens her hand and shows Grace the little robotic wasp with the needle stinger that rests in her cupped palm.

"I think we just got attacked by someone.  And I don't know what it is, but we need to figure it out and quickly."  There's an edge to her tone, an urgency of fear crackling under the surface of her voice.  Biological attacks strike deep at her emotional core and she's very shaken at the moment.

Grace Evans
"Holy shit... that's a..." she doesn't finish the thought. Of course it's a robot. Lena can see as much. "Do you think it was that woman? Katie?"

"Come on, we can get to my car... I'll do some diagnosis, okay?"

At least, that is Grace's plan, and she's sticking to it. Whatever happened to them, she hopes the code will show it.

When she gets to the old red Toyota, she immediately pulls out her laptop and begins to work, setting the thing up and preparing to code.

[Life 1 -- What The Heck Did That Stinger Do? -- Spending WP]
Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Grace Evans
[Extending, because... Spending WP]

Grace Evans
Dice: 1 d10 TN5 (5) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Lena Reilly
"I know what I think of when I see robot bees," she mutters under her breath, looking back over her shoulder.  The remnants of the creature is stuck into her pocket and she moves along with Grace to the other's car.  Paranoid would be a kind way to describe what the Ecstatic is feeling like right now.

Once they're to the car she slides into the backseat.  While Grace starts scanning with her laptop, Lena goes a much less technological route; she pulls her feet up, crossing her arms into lotus position and shuts her eyes.
Focus, clear your mind.  Find your heartbeat, find the Lakashim.  It will guide you to the truth.

[[Life 1, scanning self.  WP spent, Quint to lower difficulty because Lena is paranoid about her health.  Will be extending.]]
Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 8) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Lena Reilly
[[Extended roll, also spending Quintessence, no WP]]
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (5, 10) ( success x 2 )

Grace Evans
Lena meditates, and Grace does a bit of meditation herself. It's a different kind, mind you, but the silencing of active mind, the stillness to the outside known in the jargon as 'hack mode' settles over her as the code streams across the screen of her laptop. Lena doesn't seem to be bothered by the clacking of fingers over keys, thank goodness, because that noise and the blank pauses of single-minded concentration fills the car afterward.

She starts with herself. It's easier, the baseline recordings she already has, so one needs only to run a diff. Okay, so usually this is done on text files to see the difference between them, and now she's doing it to her own body's representation in the universal code, but you know... Whatever works.

And then, eyes darting, face slack, staring into the streaming, sliding code, she shifted her attention to the other human reading in the vicinity. More difficult this, but with the gleaned data from her own pattern as a guide... yes. This could work...

Outbreak
Lena and Grace had the same idea: to find out what it was they'd just been injected with.  And though they went about their effects in very different ways, in the end the result was the same.

Their bodies were in the same condition they'd been in an hour ago - apart from the very minor trauma at the injection site.  There was no poison or chemical substance coursing through their veins; no detectable damage or alteration to their patterns.

But something was happening.  Their immune systems were in a hyper-active state, white blood cells attacking some tiny, microscopic foreign bodies in their blood-stream.  The evidence was plain enough to anyone who knew anything about basic human biology.  They'd been exposed to a disease.  A virus.  But no matter the insight their careful scanning could give them, there was no clear answer to be had regarding the exact nature of the viral cells.  Neither of them were disease pathologists, and even if they had been - this thing... it was not a virus that they would find in any case file or textbook.  Its effects were completely unknown.  Perhaps it would prove relatively innocuous, but given the manner in which they'd been infected...
The odds were not good.

And here was the really, truly alarming bit.  Those foreign cells... the ones their immune system managed to destroy - they were multiplying.  Splitting as they died to produce two new living cells.

(Like a hydra.)

Grace Evans
"Oh... my God..."  Grace mumbles into her screen when it dawns on her what is happening. Well... There are some ways to stop one's immune system. Too bad they're mostly fatal, because you'd be... uh... without an immune system.

But it's like she just wants to tell her white blood cells that they are so not helping right now.

"Lena, we're sick... The more our bodies fight it, the worse it's going to get... Whatever it does." Her voice is amazingly calm, like she's just listing a factoid. "No idea what it's going to do. I'm going to get the info up on Ginger, but... We should probably stay away from people," she sighs, some emotion finally seeping in there. Shit... what is this thing going to do?

Lena Reilly
"Take me home, Grace."

There's no panic at this moment, no wailing or raging or freaking out.  That'll come later.  She's in the calm moment of realization when you have just been hit with a crisis and you're thinking clearly.  There's a serenity there, albeit weighted with a tinge of horror, as she uncrosses her legs, leans back on the seat and looks out the window.

"Not to the chantry.  My apartment isn't far from here.  I need to go there."  Several moments pass, before she answers the question Grace asked.  "I don't know what it's going to do.  Whatever it is, it's not good."

Outbreak
Ultimately they were left with just as many questions as answers.  Grace and Lena didn't know who'd made the wasps, or why they'd been targeted.  They didn't know what this virus was going to do to them, or how likely it was to spread to and infect other people they might come into contact with.

At least one of those questions would certainly be answered, given time.  Perhaps it was better that they didn't know.  The answer would not help them sleep.

16th Street felt unusually quiet and still around them.  Back inside the Starbucks, people chatted and laughed as if it were an utterly normal fall evening.

(Funny how calm things could be at the beginning of something terrible.)

Grace Evans
Grace nods, finds her keys, realizes she still has the laptop on and in her lap, and puts it in the passenger seat for now...

Shakily, she manages to drive, though utterly distracted. Maybe it's just the mental effect of knowing what's going on underneath, but she feels the back of her neck again... and her skin crawls with the thought of those replicating cells.

Lena gets dropped off, and Grace tries to be reassuring as the other woman leaves, "Hey... ah... maybe it'll all work out." But you know, not even Grace really believes that. Whatever it is, it's not good, indeed. Then it's off to her own place, to what end though?