The IO Diner, or known by locals more affectionately by it's former name "The Exile", is a refreshing change from the yuppy community where the Palisades is located. Mikonos, the owner, is an ork with a graying ponytail that always finds some excuse to complain to you which part of his body is giving out on any given week.
The team arrives a good 3-4 hours after the drop off and it's about 2 AM. The place is quite full and you guys all crowd into a booth at the Exile with Brick in a troll-chair on the end. The smell of krill-bacon and soycaf makes Brick breath a sigh of relief to be home. The rest of the team however looks around rather curiously taking in some of the "native" Seattle culture. You know you're in Everett once you see a room half full of Shalish-Shidhe tribesmen and the other half a diverse array of mark-ass marks, trick-ass marks, punk bitches, skig-skag skanks and scallywags, ho's, heifers, heehaws, and hoolihoos and they all seem to be getting along just fine.
The waitress is a tough-cookie type red-headed ork chick with a name-tag that says Miranda. After taking your orders she winks for a moment at Zach and drops him her telephone on his PAN.
<<If you wanna fuck some time, call me.>> The AR window is not even private and all of you can see the little message before Zach quickly puts it away.
Amazing Larry rings Brick back on his comm and since the wings still haven't come out of the kitchen yet, he decides to shoot it over to conference call. A 3d translucent image of Amazing Larry in his office appears in the middle of the table and only the team has viewing and listening rights to it.
"Alright you crazy fucks, please tell me THIS wasn't your doing..." He turns around a piece of AR paper and shows you what's on it. It's a video from the evening news showing torn up concrete, burned out cars and the rolling smoke from what you recognize to be the place where Brick shot off the inferno rocket.
"You know, what.....fuck it....i don't even care....I don't even want to know, so don't say shit. The Johnson was happy so you didn't make me look bad. Alright gents, we'll be in touch as soon as I line-up some more work for you guys. Later."As if on queue, the wings and synthanol-beer come out and once you all start digging in it becomes apparent that Brick wasn't bullshitting....those are some pretty damn good wings. When it came to BBQ, Brick didn't like to cut corners....real chickens was a must. Of course, in the troll's book, devil rat was the next best substitute .
