Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: dragonfire on <08-08-13/1128:33>
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The date is Friday, September 13th 2075.
It’s 12:00 when you receive a notification on your comm. Looks like you have a message. A neon blue jester image is blinking. When you open the message, a neon red harlequin animation begins to play. The movements are erratic, highly animated, and have so many camera angle changes that any trid director would lose their mind just watching it. The message begins…
(http://ts2.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4566251433558281&pid=15.1)
What’s up my friend? How you been? ….Don’t answer that, we've never met before! D’uh! But I’m guessing that you know who I am, and I definitely know who you are. Your friend “what’s his name” told me about you. Yeah, I’m sending this message to multiple prospects. Deal with it. You didn't think you were a precious snowflake did you? Cause if you did, maybe you’re not the person I’m looking for. I don’t have time to go around making individual calls or messages. This is Seattle chummer! Day or night, there’s always a move to be made and some creds to be had. This is of course why I’m contacting you.
I’ve got word of a client that wants a job completed immediately and on the down low. Wants some new talent on this one, not no street legend. Says that if the work’s up to his standards, this is just the beginning of the road for you. Plenty of creds and goodies to be had along the way. It’s a simple job too, but the timeframe’s tight. Client says he’ll slot you 250 creds just for hearing him out. I don’t know about you, but I’d do a lot more than listen for 250 creds!
If you’re interested, be at Syberspace in Downtown Seattle at 21:00 tonight.
A link pops up on your commlink that allows you to save the address for Syberspace.
The place is a nightclub in Downtown. I’ve never been there personally, but I hear it’s a pretty cool place. That loud bass drek is not up my alley though. Be sure to pack your AR gear, I hear the place puts on quite a show. When you get there just tell the bouncers you’re there to see “Jack”. Hate to slot and run, but business rests for no one. Null sweet chummer.
The message cuts out just as quickly as it started. Looks like you might have some worked lined up. So what’s your next move chummer? Are you gonna put on your dancing shoes?
Welcome to the game. Just remember, Jokers are wild.
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Mattoon is busy in his workshop, planning the design for a project he's been wanting to do for some time now- modifying a gas mask to integrate a pair of drug inhalers, which can then be wirelessly commanded to eject their contents into the gas mask's breathing tubes, allowing him to dose up wirelessly. He's almost ready to begin working on the project when that damned commlink buzzes. This better be important.
After listening to the Jester's message, Mattoon begins constructing his masterpiece-at least, the item he'll consider his masterpiece, until the next big project. It's slow going, and he has a close call a couple hours in when he accidentally solders through one of the tubes, scorching his hand and almost lighting the mask on fire. His luck holds out though, and after a couple more frustrating hours, he finishes building the device, and then wraps up the relatively easy task of integrating the wireless functionality. Finally, he fills a couple of empty inhalers with compressed air and inserts them into the new and improved gas mask to test them. All good. Hell, I'm looking forward to my next firefight.
By 18:00, Mattoon is ready to start thinking about the meet. He's new in town, and doesn't know the meet location. Wiring up to his commlink, he starts running some matrix searches on Syberspace. He finds some intiial tidbits of information, but is only met with frustration in his attempts to discover any "underground" information about the place. Time gets away from him- before he knows it, it's 19:45, and he has just enough time to eat a quick meal, throw on some clothes and his trusty duster, and get moving. Mattoon looks longingly at his new gas mask- No Matt, there's a proper time and place to look like a total weirdo, and it's not at the meet. Grabbing his pistol, commlink, and a single dose of jazz, Mattoon heads outside and flags a cab to Syberspace, showing up at 20:15. He plans to hang out at the bar nursing a light beer for a half hour before heading into the meeting room a few minutes early.
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The ‘link’s chirping broke through the drum and guitar riffs of the Rock-a-Billy tune. HellBilly turned his head towards the old bench the commlink sat on. The socket wrench twisted in his hands a few more turns until it was snug on the bolt. Damn Harley’s. Great bikes if you don’t count the oil leakage problems. That’s what you get when you buy a classic, the same old drek. HellBilly wipes his hands on a dirty rag before activating the ‘link. The spectacle that played out over the ‘link causes HellBilly to roll his eyes. He knows no one is there to hear him but, he speaks as he wipes down his hands with the rag. “If that’s where the money’s at, I’ll be there.” HellBilly sets about getting cleaned up, first the shop then himself as he ponders which vehicle to take. No one mentioned getting to work right away but, it’ll look sloppy if he shows up unable to work.
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Aerik awoke to the piercing sound of his commlink deep within his ears. It wasn't all that loud, but the hangover he was currently suffering from magnified the sound exponentially. He slowly rolled and sat up on the couch in his single room apartment, burying his face into his palms. He sat there for several minutes listening to the dull thud pounding in his head while Jonas, his German Sheppard/Black Lab mutt licked his forearm in a comforting manner. When the pain subsided enough that he could watch the message, he lifted his head from his hands and blankly stared at the wall in front of him. Some spook in a clown suit popped into his field of vision and began the standard Johnson spiel. He glanced down at Jonas and patted him on the head while listening for the key words... Where, when, and how much. Still groggy, he noted the time.... nearly 1300, took a pull from a bottle of rotgut whisky sitting on the table in front of him, and layed back down on the couch. Jonas hopped up at the foot of the couch and curled up at Aeriks feet. He'd get a few more hours of sleep to hopefully clear up this hangover and then figure out how to get to this Syberspace joint. He still wasn't all familiar with the layout of the city but he'd hail a cab if needed.
Five hours later Aerik woke up groggy but at least the headache was gone. He took a couple pulls from the rotgut and got of the couch. After feeding Jonas, he grabbed a bite to eat and got cleaned up. This would be a good opportunity to wander around the city and familiarize himself with it. Shortly before 1900 Aerik grabbed his gear and a flask, and took off towards the Syberspace. With Jonas at his side his commlink estimated they'd be there in an hour.
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Someone had once described cyberspace as a consensual hallucination, and as the persona of a fairly young elf floated amid the black void it was hard not to agree. He watched the variety of other personas below going about their business in the impossible world, only to be interrupted by a sharp, computerized voice. An icon of a small bird appeared on the back of his virtual hand, Shrike holding it up as it spoke in chirps. “A new message has arrived. Unknown sender. Shall I play it?”
“Go ahead, Sentry, then resume your monitoring,” Shrike said. “This must be the guy Zack mentioned.”
“Acknowledged.” The bird leaped off Shrike's hand with a flap of its wings, flying outwards in circles around Shrike as a flat, floating icon appeared in front of him. He narrowed his eyes, it was the silhouette of a jester, radiating neon blue light. Just as soon as it appeared the icon dissolved into particles of light, reassembling into a computer generated image of a harlequin as the color shifting to red.
The elf gave a smirk and a shake of his head at the absurdity of it all as the dancing harlequin began its speech. As it settled down, Shrike reaches a hand out and grabs the icon, clenching his fist closed and watching as the message disappeared. When he opened his palm the blue icon of a jester floated above it, disappearing as he saved it to his cyberdeck's memory.
“250, huh...? Could use that. Sentry!” he called out, waiting for the small bird to return to him.
“Yes master?” it tweeted as it settled down on his wrist.
“We need to do some digging and get ready, tell Ruby we'll have to reschedule. A job lead's come up.”
“Acknowledged. I'll send a message at once and resume monitoring.” The agent program gave an odd bow for a bird and vanished, zooming off in whatever direction Ruby was in. Meanwhile, Shrike himself shot off to find some information on this club. He found a public database shaped like a library and plucked a file off a shelf, reading it quickly. “Sounds like my kind of place,” he noted to himself; a club full of deckers, apparently, and they played his favorite music. No doubt quite the show. He made a copy of the file before putting it back in place, flying off to find more information.
About an hour before the meeting time Shrike walked out the door of his apartment. His real world self looked much like his normal persona in the Matrix: a tall elf with long blond hair. The main differences were the triangle of datajacks on the back of his neck and the metallic silver of his artificial hands. The long, lined trench coat he wore obscured it but the metal continued up his right arm to his elbow, hiding compartments that held a light pistol and spare magazine. Also obscured by the coat was the rest of his gear: his cyberdeck in a large pocket, a taser in a concealed holster at the small of his back, an Ares Predator heavy pistol in a quick draw holster, and pouches on his belt containing all sorts of smaller items. Two extra magazines each for the light and heavy pistol, four spare loose taser darts, a small medkit, and a pair of trauma patcha. He hoped he wouldn’t get into a fight, but if everything he hoped for came through he wouldn’t be in this situation.
On his way to the cab stop he made the final change, switching the SIN loaded on his deck over to his alternate. He preferred not to have his activities in the shadows, even just going to a meeting, traced back to his “real” identity. As real as a fake can get, at least.
“Welcome, Rayth Ranthos,” the automated cab said as he sat down in the back seat. He gave a smirk at the sound of his alternate SIN’s fake name. “Please state your destination.”
“Syberspace, Downtown,” Shrike said, settling in and bringing up his deck’s AR interface on his DNI. He idly browsed around the Matrix, relieved the cab was an automatic one; he didn’t much like the chatter real cab drivers tended to make. He had a feeling his life was about to get a whole lot more interesting...
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Sam replays the message twice to insure he has the details. He'd had a long night before and had slept for most of the day, but he still had a few hours before the meet, which was good, since it would take a while to get there.. Ugh, Downtown was a pain, so much security, and the Halloweeners had been running around down there, and a few might want to burn him, literally, for past sins. Still, credits were tight right now, and show up money was always good.
Still, it didn't pay to go unprepared, so Sam drained his beer and tossed it into the trash on his way into the spare bedroom that held his lodge. Settling himself into the cirle etched into the floor and edged with magical and scientific formula, he sent a call out to one of his spirits.
Got 3 hits on a summoning test, and the F6 Air Spirit got 1. Easily soaked the 2 drain.
"Greeting, Aria. We have work to do."
Placing the spirit on stand by with a thought, we pulled on his coat and strapped on his gun. Time to go earn some money.
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HellBilly decides on the Mercury, it has enough room for what he thinks is a full team, enough ass to get them into our out of trouble, and the ability to shake off a bit of damage. HellBilly spends the time needed to do the fluid level checks and runs the diagnostics. On his way to the meet, which he hopes to time at being twenty minutes early he stops and fuels up at a 'Petro and Go'. Having a full tank before a run is a good policy.
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@Aerik: When you arrive, you notice that the club seems a bit slow, but it is only 20:00. As you leave the cab, you notice a Troll and an Elf dressed to impress standing outside of the club. They appear to be the bouncers. You walk up and say you're there to see Jack. The Troll looks down at Jonas and grunts.
Hmm. You bring a snack I see. Haha.
The Elf nudges the Troll aside. And looks at you.
Normally we don't allow pets, but your a special guest tonight it appears. Feel free to grab a drink, as you're a bit early. Someone will come get you when it's time for the meeting. Enjoy your night and welcome to Syberspace.
The Elf signals to the Troll to open the door. When you enter, you are immediately hit by the shock wave of bass. The room carries the echoing sound of a room that isn't crowded enough to absorb the loud and borderline obnoxious repetitive bass. You've got 55 minutes to kill. What will you do?
@Mattoon: You arrive at 20:15 to Syberspace. The taxi drives away and you approach the entrance to the club. There's an Elf and a Troll standing outside, obviously they're the bouncers. After some general introductions, the Elf and Troll get out of your way and open the doors. The club is rather loud, and doesn't appear to be very crowded yet. You walk up to the bar, order your beer, and think about how to kill the next 40 minutes.
@ HellBilly: You arrive at 20:40 to Syberspace. You notice an Elf and Troll outside checking IDs as people begin to trickle into the club. You look around as you decide where to park.
@Shrike: You arrive at 20:45 to Syberspace. Luckily traffic wasn't too bad today, so you zipped right along. There's an Elf and a Troll outside checking IDs of patrons. They let you in without any hassle, and you are immediately hit by the bass. The place is starting to fill up a bit, but it's mostly pre-partiers and a few booths with couples having a drink.
All: Syberspace is still not packed, but there is a steady flow of people coming and going. The happy hour is still going, so it's more of the bargain drinker than the swanky club kiddies just yet. There are waitresses walking around as well as ports to take orders via the AR menu. Neon lights and lasers move and flash to the rhythm of the music, as fog machines fill the place. Feel free to grab a drink and mingle as the time clicks down.
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@Sam: You arrive at Syberspace at 20:30. You notice an Elf and Troll are in charge of the door. You tell them you're there to see Jack. The Troll looks you over and grins.
Have a good night. Don't start no fires or anything.
The Elf elbows him in the side and opens the door.
Ignore my rude friend sir. One of our employees will retrieve you when the meeting starts. Feel free to enjoy a drink and some music in the mean time.
You enter and look around, wondering how to spend the next 25 minutes.
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"Thank you, my friend." Aerik said nodding at the elf as he placed his hand on the dogs head. He had all intentions of ordering Jonas to stay outside in one of the allys, but if they were going to let him into a swanky joint like this, he wasn't going to argue.
Aerik took three steps into the club and could sense his audio dampers kicking in. He looked down at his dog, Jonas, who was not phased by the thundering bass. The dog took only three sessions to break him of being gun-shy, which was extraordinarily fast in his experience of training dogs with the UCAS Air Force.
As he walked to the bar he ordered a tall whisky and ice via his commlink and the AR menu. He waited at the bar for only second before an attractive human set his drink in front of him, winked, and then continued to her next customer. "Obviously looking for a tip." he thought top himself. He smiled back and wired the money plus a small tip as he took a pull off the drink.
With drink in hand, the pair walked to the wall opposite of the main speaker array, and took a seat at an empty booth. Jonas curled up underneath the table out of sight, and Aerik took a few more pulls of his drink before replenishing it with the flask of rotgut he brought with him. He checked the time..."45 minutes till the meeting." he thought to himself. "Hopefully this meeting goes quick." With a sigh, he used his commlink to order another drink, and scanned the patrons for anything that would be out of the ordinary.
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Shrike eases himself out of the cab as it arrives, standing back for a moment to take in the exterior of the club. Physically it wasn’t anything special, but already he could see signs of the activity within on his AR overlay. Virtual signs advertised the club and as he approached the door the sound of electronic music was pumped louder and louder directly into his brain.
He checked his AR clock display as he passed by the bouncers; his fake ID luckily hadn’t been an issue and they gave a knowing smirk when he said he was to meet Jack. Getting past them left him with fifteen minutes and he wasted no time in ordering a drink off the AR menu. He leaned against the bar as he waited for it, scanning his eyes across the crowd. The usual patrons were obvious enough, looking as if they were right at home. A few in the crowd stood out, seeming just as new here as he was, specifically... Was that a dog under a table? Shrike raised an eyebrow at that.
A waitress walked over with Shrike’s drink at the ready, the elf picking the glass up with a nod. He wired a tip straight to her commlink as she grinned at him and batted her eyelashes, but before she could walk off he lightly placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Hold on there, sweetie,” he said with a smile, taking a sip at his drink. He let the warmth wash over him before continuing. “I’ve heard about this guy here, Jack. Mysterious one it seems, probably has something for harlequins. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about him?”
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@Aerik: You scan the sitting area. There isn't much out of the ordinary. It does appear that most of the clientele here are fully geared for AR, and you do notice a few people holding electronics that look a bit like cyberdecks, but they're being discrete about it. As you scan the walls, you notice a few lasers and projectors that look a bit out of place. You assume they're cameras, but in a nightclub with this much tech, it's not that surprising that the place would be under close watch by security.
@Shrike: The waitress leans closer to Shrike so as to be heard over the mounting crescendo of electronica
Sorry honey. I don't really remember much about our customers except if they tip well or not. Our VIP rooms have been pretty busy lately, but I work the floor down here. Don't know much in specific about what goes on up there. Let me know if I can get you anything else.
And with that she shoots a smile at Shrike and turns to head back to the bar.
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HellBilly looked about and cursed. He didn't know the exact layout including or rather especially where the cameras were. Best to blend in. HellBilly wheels the car into the lot at least 3 rows back and walks towards the door. Looking about he really feels this isn't his scene with his heavy synthleather Armored jacket, faded denim jeans and all the other biker apparel. As he gets close to the door his heavily adorned hand moves towards his head. His ringed fingers brush back the long hair.
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@HellBilly: As you approach the door, you push pass a few decker types. You can hear the faint pulsing of bass coming from inside the building. When you approach the door, you're stopped by a large Troll and an Elf. You explain that you're there to see Jack and they let you passed. Once you the door is opened, you're immersed in the heavy beat of the music, smell of ozone, lasers, and light effects that are moving with the rhythm.
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All: At 20:55, you are all approached by waitresses. Each of them instruct you that the meeting room is ready and if you would please follow them, they'd be happy to show you to the elevator. The elevator is at the back of the club. You go passed a dozen or so people starting to congregate on the dance floor, numerous booths in the shadows of the club lit by the glow of commlinks and decks, a few gogo-dancer cages, and multiple AR menu platforms. The place is still not quite packed, but there has been a steady flow of people for the passed 30 minutes. No one is taking notice of you, except for the errant glance now and then. Nothing suspicious. When you reach the back of the club, you may enter the elevator.
The elevator's panel is locked and the third floor has been pre-coded as your destination. The elevator fits all of you. The elevator will leave once you all have entered.
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HellBilly will follow the waitress, his eyes wander from her hips and buttocks to his surroundings. Once inside he looks at the other occupants, sizing them up mentally.
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Mattoon finishes his beer and heads into the elevator.
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”Hmm, so he doesn’t come out here and sticks to the VIP rooms... They must have a separate entrance to the club so no one can see who comes and goes there, typical layout but good to know if I need to run.” Shrike thought to himself as he rubbed his chin. When he had first got the cyberhands it always felt odd to touch another part of his body but he had gotten used to it by now.
There wasn’t much more time for him to do anything before a waitress approached him. She motioned for him to follow, Shrike taking a final sip of his drink before setting the nearly empty glass on the bar and following behind. He glanced about at the patrons and idly scrolled through whatever information their commlinks or decks were publicly broadcasting. If he wanted he could probably break into more than a few of them on his way to the elevator, but he had no reason to. He glanced up at a camera hanging from the ceiling, a much more tempting target but again, one that wouldn’t be of much use now. There was a line with paranoia he tried not to cross. Still, he checked his deck’s status and ensured that his agent, Sentry, was still running and monitoring for silent devices and that wrapper was keeping his array of weapons disguised.
The decker is third to enter the elevator, glancing between the ork and human who were already there. He smiled and leaned against the back wall, crossing his arms across his chest and making no effort to hide his metal hands. “So, going to introduce yourselves? I have a feeling those names you’re broadcasting are about as fake as my own, after all. Let me start, you can call me Shrike.”
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Aerik had just finished off his third whiskey when the waitress summoned him to the back of the club. He produced a half-cocked grin followed by a nod at her as he slid out from the booth.
He stayed three steps behind the waitress as they walked towards the back of the club trying boss best to not draw any attention to himself. Jonas stayed right next to his leg and hopefully drew as little attention as possible.
As he approached the open elevator he noticed a skeezy looking ork, an elf who looks like he's spent done time on the streets, and a perfect example of your every day human already standing in the elevator. "These chums must be here for the same thing" he thought to himself as he entered the large elevator.
"Gents...." he said as he walked into the elevator, giving them another single nod and spinning to face the exit. He could see in their faces that they were sizing him up but it didn't last long. As soon as they noticed he had a dog with him, all eyes were on the mutt. He simply faced the door opening and placed his hand on Jonas's head, who had settled down in front of him.
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The elevator door closes. The lights change from a neon blue to crimson. Though the ride only takes a few seconds, you notice that once you reach the third floor, the thunder of the bass and the murmuring of the crowd are nearly silenced. The doors open to a hallway that is about 25 meters long. The walls are black, with the only light being neon crimson lining the ceiling. It's just bright enough to light up the doorways and hall, but faces are still covered in darkness. At the end of the hall, you hear a voice.
This way my friends. I've been expecting you.
As you walk down the hall, you pass doors on both sides of the hall, varying every 5 - 10 meters. You assume these to be the other VIP rooms. Just as you reach the end of the hall, your host retreats back into the room. As you approach the doorway, you notice neon blue light emerging from the room. There is the faint sound of glasses clinking together and the music from downstairs. Entering, you see sofas lining the walls to the left and very back of the room. There is a wet bar in the far right corner of the room. The entire right wall is a giant glass window giving you a perfect view of the dance floor. In the center of the room is a large rectangular table with six chairs.
Your host is at the wet bar, lining the rim of his glass with a bright orange liquid. He looks up as you enter.
(https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-aWDd5rEL7AU/UOGYNffPz2I/AAAAAAAAAPo/ITGi0S0ndgc/s150-c/photo.jpg)
Care for a drink anyone? Feel free to help yourself. I think you'll find the bar fully stocked and it's on me tonight. I'm partial to Old Fashions personally. Though, this synthetic orange zest just doesn't give the same kick as a real orange peel. These techies love their synthetics though.
He takes the seat at the head of the table, takes a sip of his drink, and brings up an AR menu from the armrest.
Just let me know when you're nice and settled and we'll discuss why I've summoned you here tonight.
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"I appreciate the offer. I'm partial to whiskey, cognac and bourbon drinks myself." Mattoon mixes himself up a sazerac and takes a seat, taking only the smallest sip of his drink.
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Aerik sidestepped as he got out off the elevator, letting the others pass him as they walked down the dark hall. He knew he wasn't here too be the grunt of the group and he didn't want to try and act like it. He kept his eyes peeled on all the doors as they followed the voice at the end of the hall.
They entered the room to an amazing view of the club below them. The flashing lasers of the strobes, which they were nearly eye level with, pulsed with the much softer bass. He walked over towards the glass as the man with the obvious cyber-eye gave gave his
introduction, and gazed below. Aerik was always a sucker for the stereotypical avant garde techno-chick. When given free reign over the bar, he strolled over while taking the final pull of his flask, and grabbed the nearest brown bottle. Like someone whose done this a time or two, he refilled his flask courtesy of cyber-eye guy.
"Nothing like testing your welcome." he thought to himself.
After returning the flask into his innerflask breast pocket he grabbed a handful of ice and returned back to his place near the window. As he walked, he tossed two pieces of ice at Jonas, who had remained sitting near the glass. He caught both mid air and devoured them quickly. He continued giving him the ice till he was out.
Back leaning against the window, Aerik leaned against the glass and waited for the games to begin.
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Shrike gave a shrug as no real response came to his introduction, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling of the elevator car as it began to ascend. ”The quiet sorts, eh?” he muttered, closing his eyes and enjoying the music while he could.
A moment later the elevator reaches its destination, the decker’s eyes opening at the sudden silence. ”Sound-dampeners, they have this floor sonically isolated from the rest of the building below. Better hope we don’t have to scream for help,” he said with a wink as he sauntered out of the elevator.
He walked with the group down the hall and into the room they were motioned to. He had barely taken a step through the door when the silence became even more deafening to him, the elf tilting his head curiously before Sentry’s voice filled him in.
”Master, all outside Matrix access has been cut off and I have detected Matrix activity within this room that was not previously noticed from the outside. It appears a jammer is active localized to this room, preventing signals from getting in or out,” his agent’s disembodied voice said within Shrike’s head. He suppressed a frown and walked over to the window, looking down at the dance floor below.
”Locate that jammer for me. Don’t do anything to it yet, I don’t want to piss off our host; just find it,” he mentally ordered Sentry through a message over his DNI.
“Acknowledged,” Sentry said, beginning its look around.
Shrike wandered away from the window to the bar, finally taking a good look at the host as he began pouring a drink. He didn’t know much about mixing his own cocktails and without access to the outside Matrix he couldn’t look a recipe up, so he experimented on a whim before settling into a chair and taking a drink of his concoction. After a shiver passed, he held up the glass to look at the pale blue-colored liquid within. “Huh, maybe I should have been a bartender, that’s not bad. Unfortunately I’m not, and neither are you it seems. You’re not a harlequin either, so I’m guessing this evening won’t be as entertaining as that message had suggested it would be.”
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HellBilly looked through the bar's inventory before settling on a bottle of Tequila. He hefted it up to see the color before bringing it to the table with him. He was anxious to get the meet going. The sooner it was over the sooner he could complete the job and then drink.
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As the group makes their drinks and gets settled, Jack observes each. Guess that one with the dog likes the view. He laughs to himself. When he is addressed by the elf, he turns.
Yes. Joker can be a bit...idiosyncratic at times. He is truly the epitome of the fool though. I wouldn't underestimate him. Sometimes the best way to hide things is right in the open. Besides, if it weren't for him, this journey of ours would never have began. He's told me a bit about each of you. And each of you has been chosen for a purpose. For right now though, I have a specific purpose in mind.
Jack reaches into his suit pocket and removes five credsticks. He throws them into the center of the table.
As promised. 250 creds each. Feel free to keep the sticks. They're all gold and certified.
He takes a deep drink from his glass, and with a flick of his right hand, brings up a trid projection of two large crates in the middle of the table. The crates are in the back of two pretty beaten up pickup trucks, a Gaz P-179 and a Toyota Gopher. The trucks appear modified to allow for storage of one crate in the back with two seats bolted on to the back of the cab, facing the rear of the truck. Looks like you could comfortably seat four, but if push came to shove, six or eight could probably be crammed into one, especially without the cargo. The crates are all securely fastened into the bed.
I have a delivery I need made. These two crates need to get to a contact just across town. If you can deliver the items to my contact and return here by 03:00, I will pay each of you 4,000 creds. 1,000 now and 3,000 when you come back.
Jack swipes his finger across his AR controls and the projection ceases.
So what do you say?
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Shrike reaches out and takes the credstick from the table, folding back his coat and making sure that the others at the table could see his deck hidden under it. He slotted the stick into his deck’s connector and transferred the money before sliding the empty stick into a pouch in his belt.
”So, the harlequin is Joker and you’re Jack... Wonder if we’ll meet a Queen and King, perhaps an Ace too?” he said as he closed his coat again, looking up at Jack and staring with his cybereyes at their host’s.
”Now, your offer’s really tempting but it all seems a bit too easy... You’re meeting us in a special room which must have its own dedicated entrance since the people down below don’t know you, there’s some sort of sound dampening going on to keep our speech away from eavesdropping, and you even have a jammer keeping signals from entering or leaving this room; all that for a simple delivery job. Sure, on their own nothing too suspicious for a man who values his privacy, but all together it starts to paint a rather interesting picture...”
Shrike reaches down to his glass and takes a long drink from it, steeling his nerves before continuing. “By my guess, someone else wants these crates. Now what you or they want them for is none of my business, but I imagine if they want them that bad they’re probably going to try shooting us. I prefer not to be shot, and as much as these other fellows seem ready for combat I doubt they want to be shot either. Give me more motivation for risking myself.”
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Aerik examined the faces of the other runners, guaging if their expressions gave any indication if they were interested raise in taking on this job. The elf was the first to speak, asking questions of why with a mix of both so subtle negotiation thrown in. Aerik had always thought to simply say yes our no to a run. If you turn down a job there's a hundred runners behind you that will. He was very impressed with street prowess of the elf, while feeling a little humbled by his own naiveity.
He waited to hear the response from One-eye before throwing his name in the hat. He had all intentions of doing so, but not before the elf got him a pay raise
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Jack's glance didn't leave Shrike as he spoke. When Shrike had finished Jack got up and walked to the bar.
Haha. You thought I was Joker. I have to tell him that the next time we speak. He'll get a kick out of it. As far as the King and Queen are concerned, maybe you'll get to meet them one day.
Jack reached for a fresh glass and poured what appeared to be whiskey into it. He returned to his seat, taking a sip of his drink on the way over.
You may have noticed my eye here isn't my original. Learned from the experience of losing it that you should always be careful rather than sorry. Hence all the security. The sound dampening's part of the package for the club. Sometimes the VIPs like to have their own party up here, so yes, there is a discrete entrance and exit for a price. I see you've also noticed my little toy here.
He reaches inside of his pocket and pulls out a small black box, about the size of a cigarette pack.
What we're discussing is of a sensitive matter, so I thought it better for others to not eavesdrop. I apologize if it rubbed you the wrong way.
He placed the jammer back into his suit jacket and took a sip from his glass.
I have competitors you see. Competitors that are always looking to get the edge on my business. And before you ask, let's just say that I'm in the import and export business. As such, I make it a habit to keep what I say between the people I'm saying it to and me. Now, in regard to these packages, let's just say that the person you're delivering them to is a new contact of mine. I haven't done business with him before and I haven't done business with you folks either. From what I hear all of you here and this new contact are individuals that I could have long and happy working relationships with. My business partners also think that we would all benefit from each other's talents. For instance, my employers might be able to help some of you with your ghosts from the past. Others might benefit from business contacts that could help get you on your feet. And this is Seattle.
So in light of all this information, I'm willing to offer some hazard pay. I'll throw in an extra 1,000 each. That's 1,500 upfront and 3,500 when you return. Better? As I said, I'd like to continue to do business with you in the future, so the creds may seem a bit generous, but a well greased wheel doesn't squeek or wear out.
So what do you say?
With that, Jack finishes his drink, walks to the bar, and pops open what appears to be a bottle of well aged scotch. He pours a fresh glass, turns, and leans against the bar as he waits for a response.
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HellBilly leans forward his interest completely piqued at this point. "I've got a question. These trucks got a rigger interface in them?" His mind was already spinning with possibilities and traffic patterns. "And, what's point A and point B?" Even without interference from outsiders driving Seattle could be tricky and lengthy.
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The trucks are rigger ready and have a bit more armor. Other than that, they're stock.
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Mattoon grunts. "More money is good, but more information is vital. I'd like to know why you want runners for a simple cross-town delivery. What opposition are we expecting? Also just to be clear, are the trucks themselves important, or just the crates?"
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Jack brings the bottle of whiskey with him to the table and refreshes his glass.
I can't say for certain who might want my goods. Downtown's rife with gangs, up and comers, crooked knight errant and lonestar, and a few other "fixer organizations" that want to compete with my affiliates. I'm not going to get into details, but let's just say that my shipment is rather valuable and I would like to guarantee it's safety without having to file a lot of red tape. Hence bringing all of you here.
Jack looks to the Ork.
As far as the location. I'm going to wait to provide that information until you've all agreed to this little job. I can give you some general information. It's roughly 40 miles away. The route is straightforward and it's all urban. The location is an equipment company that's a front for my new contact.
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HellBilly nods. "I'm in. A hot run through gang turf is a daily task"
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" We've got nothing better to do tonight" Aerik said gently slapping Jonas on the side of his face. The dog had an almost smile as he gently panted.
He walked over to the table where Jack had just sat down, an pulled up a seat on the other side of the table. Grabbing a glad that had been sitting on the table, he reached for the bottle Jack had brought with him and filled his glass
"Suppose we better get the fine print here pretty quick, as I do believe were on a tight schedule"
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Shrike rubbed his chin as he considered the offer. The pay wasn’t bad, even if it wasn’t his typical sort of mission. The time frame was short though, he doubted he’d be able to run back home to grab his armored jacket which he usually wore when going into dangerous situations. Still, he had gone through worse before.
”All right then, 5,000 it is. I’m on board. Glad to see we have someone who seems familiar around vehicles,” he said with a nod to the ork.
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HellBilly nodded back. "I'll get us there and back again. I'm assuming we won't be charged for damages done to the vehicles during the performance of our jobs?"
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The safe delivery of the crates takes priority over the vehicles. Don't worry about any dents or nicks.
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Mattoon nods. "I'm in. We'd better get started right away- I left all of my heavier gear at home, might want it for this run."
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Excellent.
Jack loads a trid projection of a map of Seattle.
The address is 13008 142nd Avenue East, Orting WA 98374. It's an Equipment Company that my contact, whom you can call Bazaar, currently is working out of. The trip shouldn't take you more than 45 minutes to an hour It's 21:20 right now. Bazaar will be available between 22:30 and 02:00. If you have not arrived by 02:00, I'm afraid the deal will be off and I will expect you to return my merchandise. I would recommend taking the straight shot down the I-5, but you are free to choose any route you see fit. I will trust in your abilities.
Jack brings up what appears to be a live feed from a security camera showing about half a dozen figures patrolling around the two trucks that were previously shown.
I currently have the trucks in storage at Vigor Industrial on Harbor Island. It's roughly 10 to 15 minutes away. I have the goods under guard at the moment, but they will be expecting you. I wouldn't recommend trying to sneak up on them. They are not the most forgiving of men.
Jack removes a datachip from his pocket and places it on the table.
All the information I've gone over is on this chip, including commlink numbers for Bazaar and my guards at the harbor. Any questions?
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"Well, i'm no math whiz but I think we got about enough time to do this in one run. I'm not risking doing most of the run and not getting paid because we showed up ten minutes late." Aerik recalled the plot of the some remake of a remake of a remake of a trid that he watched a few years ago about some chum stealing a bunch of cars one night but running a few minutes too late and not getting having it all be for nothing. He didn't recall the whole plot, just that part....
"Personally, I've got everything I need for this little shindig." he said, patting Jonas on his face rather fiercely again. It almost seemed that the more aggressive he pet the dog, the happier he was. "And if needed I'll drive one of the trucks, but just be aware I ain't got a clue how to get around this place, and if I pile it up I apologize in advance."
The thought crossed his mind that he wished he brought a few more things with him, but this was a simple grab and go run.... did he really need his rifle and good med-kits?
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Mattoon thinks for a bit. "So we've got four and a half hours to complete the delivery, plus another hour to get back here. No problem. I want to stop by home and grab some more equipment; I can meet you guys at the pickup location in one hour. I know we don't want to take too long, but if we get attacked we'll want some decent weaponry."
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Shrike reached down to his belt, sliding his Ares Predator out of his holster and idly checking its magazine again before setting it on the table in front of him with his hand held on top of it. ”I’m not the best fighter, but I’ll do my part. Got everything I need right here, though if I could stop by home for my better armor that’d be nice. I’d like to stay inside a truck if possible though not driving it. If I have to go limp, I’d rather not be an easy target.” He gives a nod to the pocket his deck was stored in.
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"Sounds like a plan," Mattoon says. "Before we go, let's just introduce ourselves. I'm Mattoon. I'm a tinkerer, I build stuff, repair it, modify it. Not a hacker or rigger, but I can work on drones, maybe even jury rig the trucks if need be. I'm also pretty good with guns, grenades, and demolitions. Can't drive, I'm afraid. What's everyone else's specialty?"
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"The names Blackthorne....I did some time workin' for the guv and then pulled security and slung badges for a living. This is Jonas." He said stroking the top of the dogs head. "He's my boy.... doesn't leave my side."