[Lysanderz]

The gray skies of Seattle were something of a constant, but the heavy downpour that seemed to soak even the most prepared businessmen walking down the sidewalks was something that only occurred occasionally. Thunder claps, lightning flashes, all quite beautiful in their own morose way on the evening. Of course, this evening was about business and not sightseeing for those who got the pings on their comms, signifying that their presence was requested. The call was not entirely unexpected, recent hostilities brewing in the underworld had everyone on edge and work was plenty for people with certain talents. Yakuza and Mafia connections had never been friendly, but now with the tempo surge behind them they had returned their focus to killing each other and disputing old territorial lines. It was a hobby they had returned to eagerly, both seeking to prove dominance over the other like bullies on the playground in a dispute and causing everyone else to become casualties.

Work may have been steady for everyone else, but getting in to that kind of action required some connections of your own on one side of the conflict or the other and calls for help just were not landing on your comm. So while others were busy earning their nuyen in the shadows and enjoying the benefits of a steady paycheck week to week for continuing the problems between the syndicates, you were stuck settling in for another night in the gutter with what you might call ‘friends’. It sounded like a good idea until that chirping alerted you that a second drink at the bar might not be a good idea. A quick peek at the message waiting there

>>>>>[Crime Mall Foodcourt @2300, keep your head low and hang out near the soycaf cart. The Johnson is a professional representing someone else and has been given your contact info. He’ll be in touch.]<<<<

The message came shortly after 6pm, but it seems your fixer pulled through and finally got you in on the action brewing around town. Redmond might not be the safest meeting place, but at least it was a neutral zone and all parties involved would be sharing the same amount of danger.  Thunder clapped in the sky once again, like you really needed a reminder of exactly how much of a headache jobs like this could become when power struggles were involved.

[cabo_setek]

Finley had just finished his first beer of the night when he got the message.  "Redmond, huh?"  He got up from his stool.  "Night, Tobias.  Looks like I might have some work to do after all."  He'd have to thank Alcon for coming though, assuming this went well.  Depositing some nuyen into Tobias' tip jar, Finley left the bar.  He pulled up the hood on his jacket, and hailed a cab.  Tonight wasn't a night for riding his bike, much as he wanted to.  He got lucky, a cab came before he got too wet. 

Taking a seat in the back, he gestured to the cabby, "Redmond, 136th Street East, 122nd Avenue East." and sat back.  After what seemed like eternity in the rain, the cab stopped.  "136th, 122nd.  That'll be 23 nuyen."  Finley activated his AR and deposited the money into a dropbox in the passengers seat. "Thanks." he said, and got out.  He flipped up his hood again and placed his hands in his pockets.  It was a cold night, and the rain wasn't helping any.  Thunder clapped again as he walked into the Crime Mall. 

Finley quickly found his way to the Food Court, and spotted the cart.  He ordered some soycaf to warm himself up, and took a seat.   Hopefully, the Johnson would arrive soon.  He already felt like someone was watching him.

[Kylen]

Jackson sighed, putting down h is rice wine as he thumbed his comnlink, the AR popping up in his contacts. Using subtle eye movements, he opened the message. Giving it a look over, he stood up, paying his tab at the local Chinese place, giving them a solid tip as he walked out. The driver was glad for the four hours he'd have before hand, the drive from the restaurant in Everett to the Barrens going to take a while in the rain. Taking his time, Jackson would arrive at the Crime Mall at about 22:00, an hour before the meet. He was dressed in his armored clothes, goggles up on his forehead, a rain poncho hiding most of his body. Giving a nod to anyone who was already at the mall, he bought a large soycaff, wondering how late he was going to be staying up tonight.

[Chrona]

"I got the job!"
Sinkhole almost jumped off his barstool, two waitresses that were setting up for the night flinching at the sudden noise tearing through the quiet club. The clubs soundproofing made it impossible to know there was a storm out, but everyone inside setting up for business could hear the 2.5 meter hunk of chrome was now running towards his bosses office.
He knocked on the door marked "Security" and entered. "Boss, I got the meeting! It's in Redmond, I guess I'll walk it... Um...I was hoping Boss... That I could take the Pred IV? I mean, I should be armed, right?"
His huge feet shuffled lightly but he didn't break eye contact

[Pyromaster13]

Pyro was doing diagnostics on his cyberarm in what may be the most low quality apartment in downtown, but at least the rent was cheap and the landlady didn't mind him having a dog in the residence.  Covering up the prosthetics once he heard a high pitched whine resound in his apartment and the red light come up on his business comm, he knew it was a new contract.  Most people like to call it runs, but Pyro liked the clean professional sound of contract...

Pyro read the message. "So ambiguous.  It's some real drek sometimes ain't it Rex?", he spoke aloud to his dog, which only tilted it's head in confusion.  "Guess it's time to Frag n' Tag I suppose.".  Pyro suited up in his usual mission armor, and decided to dress casual over the concealed protection.  He topped it off with his favorite leather jacket, of which he changed the color to black leather through AR to match the white shirt and black jeans.  He takes the backpack on the counter that holds his collapsed monocycle, tells Rex to 'stay' and heads out to the street.

Putting the address into his monocycles pilot program to drive itself, he starts browsing for the Crime Malls public node to copy down emergency exit route and floorplans of the floor the meet would take place.

Browse Local Nodes 7d6.hits(5)=1

[Lysanderz]

The crime mall plans aren't exactly super secured, the old blueprints from when it was a legitimate mall. Any questions you ask about those blueprints will be answered in the OOC topic.


The mall is busy,  but isn't it always? If there were no gangers dealing BTLs in the hallways and black market shopkeeps offering their goods placed strategically behind hired muscle it would be a creepy burnt out building. The food court is filled with makeshift grills, torn up food stalls turning out questionable meat, even a ghoul is taking in the nightlife here and enjoying a...... burger. The area is littered with tables looked like they've been gathered from everywhere: Some aluminum and some wood, some chairs bolted to the floor still and others seeming salvaged from a local McSoys.

A group of punks hooping and hollering tear through the food court, pedaling bikes to weave in and out of tables, hooligans leaping over chairs and pushing down patrons, it seemed just a mess of chaos temporarily disturbing the meals of other people who had stopped their black market perusing for a meal. As the mass of people passed the food court returned to a seemingly neutral place. People mulled around tables, black leather or ragged business suits, women and males of all shapes and sizes. Cliques already seemed to have formed before any of you arrived and they sit chatting amongst themselves with laughter and the occasional dirty look towards others in the area.

The vendor gladly sells you your drink, if you chose to buy one, but strangely the Fixer that the message spoke of has yet to show up. Something feels off. Very very off.

[cabo_setek]

The meeting time the message had mentioned was fast approaching, and the Johnson still had yet to show up.  That feeling Finley had that someone was watching him only escalated as time went by. 

Roll to spot anything strange - Intuition 4: 4d6.hits(5)=4

[Kylen]

Finley would easily spot the loitering Jackson, who was waiting near by in a fashion that quietly said "I'm here on business." The human sipped at his highly caffinated fake coffee, wishing he was at home with his single serve. Noticing that the contact wasn't here yet, he sent a quick message to his Fixer, trying to double check the time and place of the meet up, mentioning that no one was here.

[Pyromaster13]

With no Johnson in sight, and time ticking past the designated point, Pyro decides to boot up his smartlink program off his business comm.  Once up and loaded, Pyro takes his smartlinked goggles out of his pocket and put it over his head, whilst loading up his AR over his contacts image link.  With everything set, he leans back in his chair, with one hand his Ruger and the other on his goggles. He nonchalantly takes a look around.

Perception(Visual) 9d6.hits(5)=3

[Chrona]

"Hah... Hoo.....whew... made it."
The metallic Fomori came half way running up to the stand. He waved his hand and apologised to the vendor for scaring him. Taking a deep breath he stood up straight, towering above the stand and looked around.
"Maybe I am late?" He thought. The mall looked pretty dangerous but at least he had an Ares Pred IV tucked neatly into a concealed holster.

Perception 3 + Int 4 (7d6.hits(5)=3)

[Lysanderz]

Your perception test notices that though there are plenty of groups hanging around the food court, two in particular continuously look at each other with a strange sense of tension. One group is dressed in jeans and tee's with crossed switchblades tattooed on their body or printed on their shirt. The other group is mostly filled with black leather clad individuals with a lot of green and spiked rings around large A's. While the first group is full of any meta type normally seen around town, the other seems only elves.


The court seems to quiet slightly as an individual backed by two other steps forward with the heavy thudding of biker boots on the tiled floor. Green streaks split his scalp into three black racing stripes and his mirror sunglasses sit atop a nose broken once or twice recently. A leather jacket matched his boots and tight jeans completed the outfit.

To his right was an elf male with a chromed left arm and a sneer. His eyes were intently staring down the other clique while his pointer finger and thumb rubbed together in small circles. To the man's left was a female dressed more like a dominatrix than anything else, with a leather catsuit tightly hugging her form, leaving little to the imagination.

The man behind the soykaf cart shifts, the wheels of the cart moving as he speaks just loudly enough for the group of you to hear him. 

"Keep your heads down and watch, don't get involved. Yet."

The man in the sunglasses smiled as the other clique begins shifting a bit uncomfortably with their attention openly focused on the elves now. Some people on the edges were moving away and nearby shops were lowering grated cage walls out of safety. The man behind the soykaf cart watches unconcerned, a rag making small circles on the top of his cart. Things were about to get interesting.

[Chrona]

Boss mentioned all the gangs around here...
Street Gangs (5d6.hits(5)=2)
"Oh.. Thanks Mister.." He smiled down at the vendor. "Um.. I'll have to buy something another time... I'm a bit short................. On cash, obviously."
Looking back at the cliques he wondered which was going to do something first... He'd felt hostility similar to this as a bouncer but this was different.

[cabo_setek]

From the advice from the soycaf vendor, and the situation unfolding nearby, Finley decided prepare himself, just in case.  Slipping his hand under his jacket, he made sure there was a dart loaded into the chamber of his Parashield Dart Pistol, switching off the safety quickly afterwards.  Finley also noticed that the one of the groups consisted solely of elves, and decided to bring his hood up, hoping he wouldn't be confused for one of them.  He also had the oddest feeling that the vendor was more than just a vendor.  Slowly getting up, he sidled next to the soycaf cart.

"I'll have another one, chief.  Medium, Black this time."  After a pause as the vendor served Finley his drink, Finley spoke up again.  "You're the guy I'm supposed to meet, aren't you?"


Roll to talk him into admitting the truth - Charisma 6 + Etiquette 4 :  10d6.hits(5)=7

[Kylen]

Street: Seattle Gangs skill check. (4d6.hits(5)=3)

Jackson studied the two groups for a second or two, moving closer to the stall as they squared off, trying to see if he could place what groups they were. He shook his arms out, one at a time, readying himself for if he needed to defend himself. "Here's hoping we don't have to get involved. I'm quite willing to let two gangs chew each other up." he said quietly as he got closer to the group. He figured at least a good couple of them were in the group he was joining.

[Pyromaster13]

Pyro decides to keep to the tactic of wait and see. And with the advice of the soykaf vendor he decides it's an even better idea.  Pyro calmly stands up from the bolted down chair and decides to stand behind the nearest potted plant (or other sizable solid construct that can provide cover) and light a smoke as he watches the mayhem unfold.