Back to Ess Ess.
You left HammerJack near his appartment and headed back. His will broken. There should be no problem about the ransom by now.
On the route to the Sioux Sector you weren't checked. When you arrived at the border, the checkpoint was burning. A docwagon squad was tending one of the cops. Rest of them was busy putting out the fire. Whoever was alive on the both side of the border and got some tricky stuff to smuggle, was right now making a run for it, before the order will be restored.
You've squized your van among other cars, and without further hickup arrived at the park and near the Cats safehouse.
Located at the eastern end of E 112th Ave, DIY Storage and Lodging is one part coffin motel, one part self-storage and five parts rundown. The three story building has an obvious lean to the southern side where pre-fab walls have given way and begun to crumble.
At the front desk is a weasel-faced elf, literally, down to the prolonged nose and sharp teeth. The cred reader and hand pad look to be the newest items in here, both purchased second hand. Behind the counter is a late 20th century cash register with drawer and mounted crookedly on the wall is a deliboard listing of services and prices.
If you're interested all rooms come standard with air from the streets outside. If you want water, power, or access to the archaic network it’ll be extra. No room service, no house keeping.
If it wasn’t for the weasel behind the counter, you might think the claim, boasting “Great rates for dead rigger storage” was simply a joke.
Stryker scanned the site astrally. While Wico launched his drones to make a visual recon. As you have most probably expected. there is not a living soul nearby except the clerc. If the Cats ever were here with the package, they're long gone, along with their magical and mundane defences.
DIY is on the outskirts of town in a static zone. This makes reception difficult and imposes a +4 threshold for all matrix activities including communications.
The time now is 2:30 am.
