[Scarecrow71]

Saturday, March 30, 2075
1530 hours

The hard, driving rain of the past few days has finally given way to the grey that is the overcast Seattle sky.  The clouds hang low, snuffing out most of the natural light that tries to filter through to the ground, and the air is damp and cold.  But it's not raining today, and that is reason to be in a partially good mood.  Unfortunately, it's only 3:30 PM, which makes it several hours before you are normally moving into the upcoming night, which makes the lack of rain close to unimportant.

You fumble about in your apartment for several minutes, trying to figure out why you are suddenly jolted away from your dreams of blue sky, white sand, and cold beverages.  Some kind of buzzing or chirping or singing seems to be coming from near you, but you cannot place where it is or where it's coming from.  The fog of not getting enough sleep combined with whatever it was you were drinking last night is causing confusion to seep in, pushing what little reality you want to acknowledge off to the side.

Buzz....Buzz.....

That damned buzzing.  What could it be?  Where the heck is it coming from?  You finally get a grip on yourself and realize that it's coming from the stand next to your bed, your commlink rattling around as it buzzes, trying to get your attention.  You get up the strength to open your eyes fully, the blurry screen coming into focus slowly but surely.  And when you do finally focus, you see that whoever was calling you has left you a voice-mail message.

You flip over to voice-mail, ready to listen when you see that you don't recognize the icon of whoever left the message.  The icon is somewhat reminiscent of a hypodermic needle, but it's swirled with tie-dyed colors of purple and green and yellow, twisting the image into a psychedelic acid trip from the early 2030s.  Being rather curious - and now rather awake - you decide to listen before climbing back into bed.

"Hoi, chummer.  My name is Hampton, and I got something you might be interested.  Little spot of work for a little spot of cred.  Your fixer said this might be your kind of ten pins, so I'm going all AT&T.

"Come down to Hampton Holistic Healthcare and we'll get to brass tacks.  2100, tonight.  I'll even make it worth your while - 100 cool ones just for showing.  Don't be late!"

The last part of the message contains directions to get to the place, and you start asking yourself who the hell this guy is.  And why the frak your fixer gave him your name is beyond your comprehension at the moment, but 100 creds is 100 creds.  Even through the fog, 20th century references and the slimy British accent you caught that part.  100 creds just for showing up.  Now all you gotta do is figure out if you are going...and how your gonna dress for the dance.

[All4BigGuns]

While the comm was signalling for a call, Jack "Snake" Valance was just finishing up boring the barrel for a custom rifle a client had recently commissioned him for. Setting down the barrel and tools, he walks over toward the table were the comm-link was sitting, tossing the safety glasses onto the table and picking up a rag to wipe the oils from his hands.

On checking the message that had been left, he raises an eyebrow and mutters to himself, "100 just for showing up. That one just positively stinks of desperation, but it's basically free money. Whatever this guy wants better pay a lot more than that if he wants anyone with any talent."

With that, he turns and walks through a side door and up the stairs heading to his living space where he keys up a cup of soykaf and what the auto-chef calls a roast beef sandwich before dropping down onto the synthleather sofa and putting the trid onto the highlights from the last Urban Brawl game--he'd had a couple hundred nuyen riding on the local team.

Before he knew it, the clock read 17:30, and he thought to himself, 'I've got plenty of time...' and set the comm to place a call to Alexa, after all, she should be leaving her shift at the precinct around now asking her to dinner before cleaning up and putting on a fresh set of clothing.


He'd be timing things so that he could arrive outside the meeting location about half an hour early so that he could watch those going in to get a feel for them.

[Panzergeist]

If I get out of bed it's just going to turn out to be a telemarketing bot.  Corvus deactivates the commlink ad goes back to sleep.  Around 1800 he gets up, has a bowl of soup, and turns on the trid.  Around 1830 he remembers he has a message, and decides it might be worth checking.  Actually, he has two messages- one of them really is a telemarketer- one of the drawbacks of having a good fake SIN.  The other one catches his interest. 

A run?  Wizzer.  Is it normal to pay people just to show up though?  And if so, is a hundred typical?  Maybe he just has a lot of money. Or maybe he doesn't have much, but he's desperate.  Or has a lot and he's desperate.  Wait, who meets a holistic healthcare shop?  Is he actually having us meet at his own business?  I was expecting a dingy, smoky back room somewhere, or maybe an abandoned parking lot.  Whatever, a jobs a job, have to start somewhere.  I'll just...FUCK!  That article's due tomorrow!

Corvus frantically turns off the trid and grabs his commlink.  He, or rather "Keith Springer," is supposed to write a short review of the punk rock concert he saw last night and send it in to his boss.  The concert was alright, just alright, and he had been thinking about how to put that last night, before he got into the partying.  So- one hour to slap together a 500-word article, do one quick revision and send it in, a half hour to get ready, a half hour to get there, and a half hour to stake the place out.  It's just barely doable. 

An hour and a half later, Corvus sends in his article, checks the time and freaks out.  Late to first run?  Not happening.  He sets a world record for showering speed, scrubs a later of skin off his armpits, and briefly debates what to wear.  Holistic healthcare.  Respectable business I guess.  Is this guy a suit though, or more of a hippy?  How upscale is it?  ...Better to be overdressed than underdressed.  Gotta look expensive.  Besides, I might end up being the teams...faceman?  Yeah, thats the term, faceman.

Corvus throws on his sleek armored vest, carefully puts on his one nice suit over it, and sets the suit to black with mild pinstripes- the classic power suit.  He meant to disguise himself, but there's no time.  He grabs his gear and rushes out to catch a cab.  One the way over, it occurs to him that he thought the fixer would act as a cutout rather than giving out his commcode.  I'll have to ask him about that.  That's not standard is it?  He arrives at 2050, not really in time to stake the place out.  He watches the shop from across the street for five minutes, noticing a white male human also watching it.  The man has been there since before Corvus showed up. 

Frag.  Is he another runner who was called here?  maybe he's an enemy?  Why did this Johnson have to call a meet at his own fragging business?  I mean, presumably.  Probably just another member of my team.  Well, possible member of my possible team, nothings decided.  Maybe I should say hi.  NO, what am I going to say, "Hi, are you here for the shadowrun?"  Act natural.  Corvus does a poor job of acting natural.  At 20:55, he heads in.  Always good to be a few minutes early. 

[dragonfire]

Zen sat motionless on a bamboo mat in mantis position. The room around him, reminiscent of a feudal dojo. Scrolls surrounded the walls, some merely symbols for the elements others stories of lords and their great deeds. Through the open sliding doors, a river to his right and an endless forest to the left. One could make out the steady running of the water and birds of some sort in the distance. It was night in this place. As Zen's chest moved with the steady rhythm of his breathing,  a figure appeared at the door overlooking the river. The shadowy figure stood there in silence, staring blankly into the room. After what seemed like an eternity within this realm, the figure disappeared, leaving a small black box at the doorstep.

Zen opened his eyes, stood up, and walked to the door. He picked up the box and removed what appeared to be a scroll made of a reflecting metallic material. As Zen unrolled the scroll, neon black words began to appear on the scroll. It was a message in regard to a possible job. As Zen finished reading the message, he sent a command for his realm to dissolve. The world around him began to melt away as he left his host room and entered the general lobby of his apartment complex's host.

As he stepped out of his private host, the apartment's delivery icon appeared before him.

"Hello Mr. Ryu. I hope that you enjoyed your host usage today. I am just here to verify that you received your voice-mail from 15:30 today, March 30.." Zen cut the icon short.

"Yes. I received the message. Thank you. I will be jacking out now." And with that, Zen exited the familiar sensation of the matrix and returned to his meat shell.

Zen's eyes opened as his consciousness returned to his body. He leaned forward in his chair and focused his eyes on his desk. He brought up the AR displays and checked the time. 17:00. He always tended to lose track of time when running his meditation software. It was nice to get away from the hustle and bustle for a bit. He brought up his matrix browser. He had never heard of this Hampton Holistic Healthcare before, but for 100 creds he might as well just see what this "Hampton" wanted. First things first though, time to do some research. Zen started to search for anything he could find on Hampton Holistic Healthcare and made an alarm to notify him at 19:00.

[TCArknight]

Eugene looked up from the book he was reading as the call came in. He'd put in a lot of time and effort finding a real, hard copy of The Man In The Iron Mask, and he'd hoped he'd have been able to read a bit more than he had. After Hampton hung up, Eugene thought about the offer. A hundred nuyen would offset a bit of the amount he'd spent for the book, and besides, he didn't have any other prospects at the moment (and he needed to earn his next month's rent at that).

He made note of the address and directions, and began getting ready. After getting his suit looking just right, he smiled in the mirror as he turned for the door. Once outside, he put on his tophat and began walking to his destination, his cane taping on the walk as he went. Perhaps this would be a good evening for Mr. Wilde after all.

[Serafina]

The sounds of tortured wails shakes Jennifer from her cocktail-induced state as a data-scrambled entity. A heavy dose of caffeine manages to turn her into a functional animated corpse, and a scalding-hot shower induces sufficient energy to thaw out her brain. An hour of routine passes until the cause of her rising is remembered and the message received.

Half an hour of studying the newest on Dho-Na curves in Summoning Thresholds - control of which is still mostly beyond her - is accompanied by expanding on what little information she has about the offer. Just basic matrix searches - no point in digging deep when you have no idea where to dig.

Lucky me - i got a job offer from who-knows who, about bugger-knows what. Well, better make sure i'll get out with all my facilities intact when this goes pear-shaped.
Another two hours are spend reading metamathematic articles before she gets to work in the former kitchen of her apartment. Her commlink beeps as it loses its grid-connection due to being inside a faraday-cage, and Jennifer blinks for a minute as her eyes get used to the intense artificial light. Then she gets to work.

After checking that the circuitry of her Hand of Glory - actually just the paw of some roadkill, modern electronics make human ingredients obsolete - and checking the code on her Infrared-camera (decayed as usual) and the containment of a aluminum-silver dodecahedron, Jennifer grabs a taser and a raincoat and waits for the next bus.

[Scarecrow71]

Zen
Your matrix search on Hampton Holistic Healthcare turns up....next to nothing.  It's a small operation that specializes in natural, holistic healing for whatever minor aches and pains you may have.  It also happens to be situated in a rather run-down section of Downtown Seattle, near the edge of what might be close to Downtown.  You get links to articles about this natural remedy, or that herb, or this plant, but nothing really major.


Jennifer
Your matrix search on Hampton Holistic Healthcare turns up....just about nothing.  Some random articles on natural remedies and holistic medicine, but nothing concrete about the place itself.


Snake
You sit outside the place, watching and waiting to see who else shows up for this meet.  By 2055 you see a couple of humans and a troll enter the place, and they all look like runners.  The troll actually looks your way at one point, and you believe he's looking right at you, sizing you up.


All Except Zen
By 2055 you make your way into the building, which looks like a medicine lodge exploded inside it.  A small receptionist desk is situated on the far wall, with plants and sticks and bottles upon bottles of every kind of natural remedy lining the walls.  A petite blonde woman sits behind the desk, and when you tell her you're here to see Hampton, she immediately shows you to a back office, insisting that "...Mr. Hampton will be with you shortly, as soon as you have all arrived...".

The four of you are sitting there, a series of chairs definitely not built for anyone bigger than a human, a card table in the middle of the room that looks like it's been used for things other than bridge.


Zen
You may arrive at any point AFTER 2055 hours, which makes you the last to arrive.

[dragonfire]

Zen walked over to his kitchen as his deck ran the searches on Hampton. He grabbed an iced soykaf from his fridge and sat back down in front of his AR panels. Looks like there wasn't anything really special about Hampton Holistic Healthcare. All the natural remedy stuff always seemed a bit like a con to him. He should know, he'd spent most of his corporate life playing the game of lies and doubletalk. All these advertisement just reeked of the same drek he used to feed the corporate suits to keep them out of his hair. Not that his efforts ended up helping him in the end, but those were memories that Zen would rather not relive right now. Right now, there were creds to be made.

Zen dresses himself in his actioneer business suit, making sure to iron out any creases. Some habits die hard, and the corporate look always seems to work well when discussing terms, regardless of the environment. He packs his Yamaha Pulsar and Browning Ultra both in concealed holsters in his suit and gets his usual supplies ready. Packs his glue sprayer, medkit, couple spar clips and makes sure he has all his paperwork in order. Don't want to be caught out in the shadows without his fake SIN and licenses. At least, not with his background.

Lastly, Zen pops in his contacts and grabs his comm. He takes the elevator down from his apartment level to the garage and locates his Suzuki Mirage. He thinks to himself:

Sure. Taking public transit might be cheaper, but there's nothing like the convenience of having your own wheels when things go sour.

Zen loads up the address to the meet location and heads off. He may have spent a bit too long on the searches, for how little they turned up, but he always would rather be safe than sorry. Besides. He should arrive just before the meet time anyway.

(Zen arrives outside at 20:58)

Zen parks his bike near the front of the healthcare facility. He switches his deck to run silently and walks into the facility. He walks up to the receptionist.

I believe I'm expected.

[Scarecrow71]

Zen
The receptionist has a bit of contempt in her eyes as she looks from her watch to you.

"Yes, you are expected...to be on time, not late.  Follow me."

She leads you through the facility and into the same meeting room the others are in.


All Characters
At about 2101 hours the door to the meeting room opens, and the receptionist is followed by Zen.

"Mr. Hampton will be with you all shortly," she says, the words a bit cold coming from her.  She then closes the door, and you sit and wait in anticipation or irritation for what seems like forever - because that's what it always feels like when you are waiting for someone in an office - but in reality is only like a minute or so.

When the door opens, the person greeting you is not what you'd expect.  From the looks of the lobby, you would probably expect an Amer-Indian shaman of some kind, fetishes and feathers and what-not hanging all over him.  What you get is a clean-shaven, middle-aged elf, wearing a really nice suit complete with polished leather wing-tips, horn-rims and a gold watch.  For all his classy clothing, however, he has the look of a man who hasn't slept in days, the bags under his eyes belying his apparent good looks.  He sits down at the table, looking you each in the eye.

"I've not time to discuss pleasantries, so I'll just get right to it," he starts, the urgency in his voice clear.  "The mob's got my daughter.  I have to pay them a 'protection fee'," his fingers making the quotation sign, "to keep the local gangs from stomping on the business I've built, but business has been slow lately and I can't afford to make the monthly payment.  And it doesn't help that the amount I 'owe' keeps going up and up regardless of how much I complain about not being able to afford it."

He hangs his head slightly, sighing deeply before continuing.

"The Fratellis are holding her hostage until I can pay them.  Assuming I can pay them.  And if I don't...well, let's just say I bought Moxie a really nice ring for her Sweet Sixteen, and the Fratellis have more than one use for a cigar cutter."

He reaches into one of the pockets of his suit, producing a credstick.

"I don't have much - hell, I can't even afford to ransom my own daughter - but I am willing to pay you for your...assistance...in helping me get my daughter back.  It's not much, but there's 2 grand on this credstick.  It's yours if you bring my daughter back to me."

He sets the credstick on the table, waiting to hear your response.

[dragonfire]

Zen sat back, listening intently to Hampton's story. He made sure to observe Hampton's body language and speech patterns to identify any possible contradictions between his story and the projected emotional response. When you work with computers and code all day, you start to see patterns in not only technical object's routines but the people you meet day to day. Overall, we're just not that special. He waited for Hampton to finish, then took a quick glance around at the others at the table. An interesting group it looked like. Zen wondered, who would speak first, but his propensity for chatter got the best of him.

My name is Zen, Mr. Hampton and I'm sorry to hear about your daughter. Allow me to express my deepest concern. .

As Zen spoke, flashbacks of his murdered family flew through his head. He thought of the blood covered walls, the cold empty eyes that once held so much life and energy, and the screaming that to this day he wasn't sure came from him or was a figment of his imagination. An auditory hallucination brought on by the realization that the most precious thing in his life had been taken away. All this passed through his head within a split second.

I understand what it is like to have a loved one in danger. I speak only for myself, but I would be happy to provide you support in this endeavor to extract your child. However, though I empathize with your situation, you know just as well as I do that unexpected things can come up when dealing with unsavory characters. I do not wish to bleed you for anything that you are unable to provide, but expenses come up quickly when dealing with organized crime. They, after all, have resources that are put in place to prevent just the task that you are asking of us. I would prefer to provide your daughter with the maximum support possible to reduce any mishaps. As such, is there any way that you could provide any more resources for this job? Perhaps if you are unable to get your hands on more creds, there are some services or other resources that you could provide?

With his peace spoken, Zen sat back and waited for the reaction from Hampton and his possible soon-to-be team on this little expedition.

[All4BigGuns]

Listening as Hampton goes into the details, Snake gives a nod as the man finishes and starts to speak until the late arrival cuts in, at which point he holds off until the man is finished casting wary glances at the animal foot worn by the woman.

"I understand that you may not have more than what you've offered, but two thousand split five ways is not very much. Whether you can offer more credit or not, is there anything else that you can offer?"

[Serafina]

Jennifer keeps back while the others engage Mr. Hampthon in conversation.
Sure, kidnapped daughter. Going through non-official channels can mean any number of things. He doesn't seem to be the type to mistrust the police for no reason. And he should be smart enough to know that simply rescuing his daughter won't prevent further retaliation - bet there's more behind this offer, i should better check it out.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Just for a few seconds, that's enough to imprint the Information content of her surroundings on her own soul. As Jennifer opens her eyes again, her perspective has changed drastically - everything is tinted in a pale blue light shining from below, with green streams flowing without regard for gravity. Yellow light streams from herself and the troll that arrived with her - a clear sign of a information-entangled soul, capable of processing the entropy that comes with accessing other realms - commonly known as magic.
After taking a short look at the Troll, she starts to study Mr. Hampton and the room they are in.

[TCArknight]

Eugene leaned back against the wall, watching and listening. There was something about Hampton's story that rang true and made a connection. This man had family that was missing because someone had taken them. That upset Eugene as he would give or do anything to have his parents back. As he observed, he noticed the seemingly relax and close her eyes. He smiled as he recognized the signs of someone assensing things. *Smart girl, you might have a good idea* he thought.  The troll did likewise and began reaching out, observing not just the room, but the rest of the building, just in case.

[Panzergeist]

Corvus feels a mixture of bruised ego and relief that he's not the team faceman.  Would be an honor, but a lot of pressure for his first run.  Should we start introducing ourselves?  Nah, save it till we're away from this guy.  Maybe he thinks we know each other already.  I wonder who's who?  The guy doing the talking is obviously the face, and the troll is probably the street same, which leaves....the human guy must be the mage, and I guess that makes the woman the decker.  Sounds about right.  Assuming this is a well-rounded team, fingers crossed. Should I tell them I'm an adept or just keep that to myself for now?   Of course, he doesn't realize that two of them have either seen his magical nature, or will in short order. 

[Scarecrow71]

Zen
You gauge Hampton, trying to tell if he's on the level or not.  And your careful, but quick, study of his body movements, tone and inflection of voice, and all the other visual cues lead you to believe that the guy is on the level.  He may not be telling the entire truth, but he's definitely not lying.


Jennifer
You check out the astral space around Hampton, and you are quite sure that he's mundane and normal.  That is, you sense no presence of magic or cyberware, nor do you detect any disease, poison, or toxin within him

Scanning the room...that's a bit different and is going to require separate rolls for every person therein.  Unless there is something specific you are looking at in the room?


All Characters
Both Zen and Snake speak up, asking about more money or other services that could be provided.  Mr. Hampton looks at the floor very sheepishly, shame filling his eyes.

"I have given you all I can afford.  If I had more money, my daughter might not be in this situation.  I'm sorry it's not more.  But, for what it's worth, I can at least try to clean up any wounds you may receive as a result of this job.

"I'm so sorry that I have nothing more to give..."