>>>>>[I take a multi-day job and this place turns into a Spam Discothèque? Or whatever that word Mr. Money uses for places that have bad music.
Damn glad to be able to be online again, bored as hell in my, well, Uncle's old safehouse. Mine because I inherited it I guess. I swear, complete screwball on this job. From the Johnson to the guy he hired to be in charge, teh rest of the crew was OK, but had some really bad habits. The Mr. J didn't help much throwing every bad 'Trid stereotype at us. You know, the magician doesn't know tech, the muscle is stupid and should just keep quiet, the military guy knows how to lead, the dwarf rigger is cranky and annoying... Oh, that last was right. The military guy, however, almost gets us killed on a simple gear pick-up run. What should have been drop the money, pick up the gear turned into a damned shoot-out with the KE chasing us! And he laughed all the time about keeping the money and gear. Burned a damned good contact of mine, and we lost a Rotodrone into the Sound!
The rest of the crew was ready to leave, but the job was pretty much planned and ready. Needed some work, but I knew what to do to fix the plan. So, I pulled the ol' Predator on Mr. Buzzcut and told the Johnson (Who was staying with us during planning) that "Amateur hour was over", demanded this guy get locked up, and the rest of the team paid double for the job due to the way we've been treated and for putting that moron in charge in the first place. I have no idea why I did it, but the rest of the runners backed me up. Johnson had no choice but to fish or cut and run. He wouldn't be able to get another team in time, and if we're not paid, our "don't blab about the deal" contract didn't kick in. And feeling like we did, you'd bet every runner on the west coast would know about this guy.
We did it, went fine. Won't say what it was, part of the contract. But he still tried to screw us. We all saw it coming. He had a team ready to take us out, then a team ready to take THAT team out. I had some cousins convince them they took the wrong contract, and he was the one staring down rifle sights as we showed up. We blew up his pretty car and told him to have a nice walk home from the middle of the Barrens. (I won't say which one.).
Don't care if he lived or died on his way out. Mr. High-and-tight should be out of the time-released lock-up my Uncle and Grandfather used to use all the time for folks like him. Me, I figure this cred is dirtier than hell and has traces on the serial numbers galore. It may be double pay, but I'm going to lose a fair bit cleaning it. Luckily, I know a good launderer.
Strange thing, the magician apparently had worked with my Uncle before, and said I did the streetname proud. Made me feel good, even if I was scared as hell being in charge.]<<<<<
-- Murphy (02:00:00/01-25-74)