[Nevyn]

Marcus looks at the two others squashed into the back seats of the Beemer.

Looking at the one who arrived with the car, he smells of cyberware. He probably has bioware too. His movements are measured and precise. Possibly a street sam but he exudes more self-confidence and charm. Certainly dangerous.

The other, disinterested, disaffected. A lot like Number 2 (a contact of Marcus') carries a deck and is clearly more plugged in than out. Probably the guy doing the work and I'm doing all the protecting!

Hi, call me FP. to both, turning to look at the decker, I'm probably here to defend you so if the drek hits the fan we're joined at the hip. looking at the charmer, What's your deal?

[Byte]

Byte casts a sideways glance at FP. Meatshield huh? Hope he doesn't bore easy, I don't plan on raising alarms. "Byte." Byte then goes back into his own little world, only answering any questions with brief to-the-point responses... Most of which aren't even complete sentences. (Unless you talk Matrix or video games... Then he has the rambling problem.)

[8-bit]

Viso takes note of his companions. The Ork is the first one to speak. Just from the human's name, it's obvious he's a decker. Muscle, Matrix, and myself. Not a bad combination.

What's your deal?

Viso smiles. He's direct; that's interesting.

"You can call me Viso. I'm going to be the smooth-talker for this job. No offense meant, but I prefer to finish jobs without resorting to physical combat."

He looks out the window; One hadn't come back yet.

"So, did One67 just call you guys out of the blue as well?"

[Byte]

Byte makes notes to himself as the introductions continue. "Job offer. Nothin' else." Byte reopens his eyes and crosses his arms, his boredom and irritation beginning to surface. "Pay's good, I hope."

[Nevyn]

Nope. Nu'in else. I've never even met the guy. Used him before but never met the guy. Seems high strung, know wha' ah mean?

Mental note: Viso is the charmer. 8 bit the decker.

So - with a charmer, a decker and close protection - we looking at a steal job or maybe a revenge thing? What you think?

[8-bit]

Nope. Nu'in else. I've never even met the guy. Used him before but never met the guy. Seems high strung, know wha' ah mean?

Viso nods. Definitely a little more personal than Seattle.

So - with a charmer, a decker and close protection - we looking at a steal job or maybe a revenge thing? What you think?

He shrugs. "Could be either, really. Or both. I can only hope he's professional enough to not bring personal vendettas into a job." He pauses a moment. Although it wouldn't surprise me.

Looking out the window, Viso searches for any sign of One67 coming back out. "We'll find out the details soon enough, I suppose."

[Poindexter]

[Jennifer's house, Jacksonville, CAS. April 13th, 7:10am 2076]

One comes jogging back out of the house about five minutes later, the morning sun forming a halo behind his hooded head as he heads toward the car. After hopping back in and saying, "Ayo, one a yall mugs hop up front, yo. I aint tryin ta look suspicious and shit, wiz?" he waits a moment for whoever moves to get situated, then hops back on the road, headed back west the way you came, leaving Arlington over the Mathews bridge. As the four of you drive through the early morning church traffic, One begins to lay it down.

"Aightchyall, here's the deal, wiz? Yall need to jack a DS traphouse fore the lady in charge shows up at nine am today. Yes, that's in less than two hours, so this is a rush job and mugs will be payed accordingly. Whatchyall really be lookin for is a brown duffel bag with eight keys of fake novacoke in it. Bring that to me before it gets inspected, and I'll give ya seven g's and a pound of zen each. Now, anything else yall take from there is on yall. I aint really give a fuck, but I will give ya a good price on any other dope yall happen to come across while you're there. Finally, anything else yall mugs should happen to need that you maybe aint bring with ya can be provided, probably. I know Viso here aint got no ride. What about the rest a yall mugs? If yall need it, a mug can letchya hold this car here, but yall gotta be careful as fuck with it, wiz?" He glances around the car at the three of you. "So, we got a deal or what?"

[Byte]

Being completely uncomfortable crammed in the back seat with the others, Byte immediately takes the offer to move to the front seat. "Dibs."

"So, we got a deal or what?"

Byte grunts and smirks, "7g+? Sounds 'kay." Byte then bites the tip of his thumb in thought. Traphouse security, random. Enemy meat, high. Combat, very likely. Byte then glances back behind him at his two potential partners. Looks like one can fight. Other unknown. Concern, low. Success chance, unknown. My role, to be determined... Hope they don't plan on bull rushing the place... Though, it'd be entertaining. Expecting minimal matrix security, boring. Might be able to hit systems hard though. Could be fun, if done right. Facing forward, Byte continues to run simulations of various methods of how his decking skills could be used to his advantage.

[Poindexter]

Byte then bites the tip of his thumb in thought. Facing forward, Byte continues to run simulations of various methods of how his decking skills could be used to his advantage.

Noticing the look on your face, as well as the biting of the thumb, One makes a good guess as to your thoughts. "You're probably thinking, 'The fuck they need me for?' Right? Well, you here as a 'just in case', wiz? I aint know if a mug got any scrap to him or not..." he says, thumping you on the bicep with one hand. "...but I know you good enough on the matrix to fuck with some low level dixies and make sure it aint no drone type surprises, so do that. And if a mug do got some licks, then feel free to dish em out, yo."

[Byte]

Byte puts his hand down and stares out the window. "I'll shut their sys, yo." Byte takes a deep breath, "Or turn it on 'em."

[Nevyn]

Watching the decker like a little brother, Marcus' protective instincts have kicked in.

Right then, how many guards? Placed where? You go' blue prin's, floor plans? They on the ma'rix? Go' any cams up that By'e can feed off? How many punners at this time of the day? Where is this place? What are the en'ry and egress points? For 7 grand and 2 hours til operashun shu'dahn, ah'm expecking foo'work to be done ALREADY. What intel we go'?
To Byte. Hey little brother, when we know where this is gonna happen, you search the lines see if ya cahn't get us some feeds of the area?




[ooc punners = punters = clientele]

[Byte]

Byte raises his thumb to FP, "Data search jack spots floor plans drone count cam feed automated weapons White IC Black IC E.D.'s  no problem." Byte continue to ramble quietly to himself as the others talk, still listening for any important information.

Being impatient, Byte already starts to put out his feelers on the Matrix, ready to jump in and go to work the instant his brain registers the information needed to start.

[8-bit]

Right then, how many guards? Placed where? You go' blue prin's, floor plans? They on the ma'rix? Go' any cams up that By'e can feed off? How many punners at this time of the day? Where is this place? What are the en'ry and egress points? For 7 grand and 2 hours til operashun shu'dahn, ah'm expecking foo'work to be done ALREADY. What intel we go'?

Good, a professional, for once.

Viso speaks up, "You have any idea where in this place your package is? The clock's ticking, and sifting through an entire house for one bag could take a while, especially if there is security we have to dodge." He glances at FP before turning back to One67. "Seven kay is not bad, you understand, but you've given us a pretty severe deadline. We can run on minimal information, but that wouldn't help either of us, now would it? Anything you give to help us, helps you. Capisce?"

[Poindexter]

Right then, how many guards? Placed where? You go' blue prin's, floor plans? They on the ma'rix? Go' any cams up that By'e can feed off? How many punners at this time of the day? Where is this place? What are the en'ry and egress points? For 7 grand and 2 hours til operashun shu'dahn, ah'm expecking foo'work to be done ALREADY. What intel we go'?

"You have any idea where in this place your package is? The clock's ticking, and sifting through an entire house for one bag could take a while, especially if there is security we have to dodge. Seven kay is not bad, you understand, but you've given us a pretty severe deadline. We can run on minimal information, but that wouldn't help either of us, now would it? Anything you give to help us, helps you. Capisce?"

Listening to your concerns, One switches the car over to autopilot and begins rolling a spliff as you speak. He's fast. You can tell those calloused and paint-stained hands have done this a million times. He's just about finished by the time you're both done talking. "Word. Yeah, I feel ya. Let's see, guards? Usually three, but you never know when you get that close to the streets. Probly also gonna be a few random fiends up in there, too, wiz? Maybe ten, fifteen of em. They might scrap or they might haul ass. Again, ya never know. But... What I do know is that whatever guards they got there is some punks. I could probably take one of these guys, one on one, wiz? Now, they all gonna be strapped, all gonna be vested up, probly no wizards, probly no razorboys, but again, ya never know. Dixies always liked chrome more than mojo, wiz? Finna be one out front, one inside, and one on the stash. Sometimes, they rock another in the back, sometimes two out front, but it's ALWAYS three in those three spots." He licks the spliff to seal it, then points at Viso with one finger. "That's gonna be where tha bag is at, wiz? In a room on the second story, behind a locked door. That door looks like wood, but it's probly reinforced." After lighting and taking a hit off the spliff, he switches the car back to manual, holding it between two fingers on the steering wheel and filling the car with smoke. "It's two entrances; one in the front and one in the back. All the windows are barrred. No official blueprints, but it aint hard to find your way around in a traphouse. Aint nothin in there but dopefiends, dope, and probly a few guns. Just get to the second floor and get through that door, and you're good, wiz? Oh yeah! You asked about Matrix shit, too. Naw. These fools aint got shit. Aint no cameras round there neither. Mugs done knocked em down a long time ago. I'm sayin. This mug, Byte is here strictly as overwatch. Unless he got some wicked hand skills no one told me about, he's here for backup, wiz?"

He takes another massive hit from the spliff before passing it to Byte. "Yo, it's just Zen, chummer." Once Byte has taken the spliff and put it into rotation, whether he hits it or not, One speaks again. "Now, is it any kinda gear yall mugs finna need for this shit? I'm a be chip with yall mugs. This job is for a new client and if it works out, he's gonna be a good client for a long time. This has to work out. Whatever yall need, for real, wiz?"

[Byte]

Byte simply passes the spliff into rotation without hitting it. Rather, Byte actually decides to "get in character", as he likes to call it, and turns his hat forward and takes out his respirator, which doubles as a mask. The respirator straps around the back of Byte's head, which when combined with the hat and headband cover a solid 75% or so of Byte's face. Byte fidgets with both his hat and respirator until they both sit just perfectly on his head.

Byte insists he's ready for his role on the run, "I'm good for run." Byte's voice is a soothing tone, almost that of a child's now. While his mouth is covered, simply glancing at Byte's face could tell you he's smiling under it as if laughing to some sort of inside joke. Byte then changes the color of his outfit for about a minute, making very simple patterns of the various pieces until he finally settles on a mix of dark blue, black and dark purple. Byte then simply waits, staring out the window. Again, he still listens while his mind is busy hoping around from one network to the next, killing time with mundane checks on all public matrix space along the way.