[Scarecrow71]

Wednesday, June 1, 2072
12:15 hours


All Characters
Late spring in Seattle is much like late fall in Seattle - it's damp and misty, with a touch of crappy raindrops.  Today is probably the 13th or so day in a row that rain has been falling for at least a portion of the day, with some areas getting more rain than others.  Yesterday, the western half of Ft. Lewis was under a flash flood watch, while today most of Renton is being hit.  Tomorrow...who knows.  As long as the temps stay in the mid- to upper 50s, it won't feel too cold.

It's shortly after noon on this drizzly, semi-cold day, which at the moment means you have been in bed for only a few hours.  The life of a shadowrunner - even those with day jobs - can keep one out on the town and in the bars and clubs well beyond what most normal people call bed time, and last night was no different.  No job, but that didn't matter.  The only way to find a job most days is to go looking for one, and most days the only time to go looking for one is at night.

You lie in bed, dreaming of whatever it is you normally dream, when your commlink starts with its awful beeping to let you know that someone is trying to get in touch with you.  You think about ignoring it for several moments, but that incessant beeping is keeping you from going back to sleep.  When you get up to check it, you see a holo-pic of one of those yellow smiley faces, but this one is markedly different from normal ones.  This one is cocked to one side, with a pair of red fangs protruding from the bottom of the smile and a pair of golden...are those datajacks?...on the left side of its head.

You normally aren't in the mood for answering calls this early in the day, but the look of the holo-pic is familiar.  It's almost as if you've seen it somewhere before, but you can't quite place it.  So you decide to check who it's from, and you see the following email in your inbox:

<<FROM:  MacAllister>>
<<Hoi.  Sorry about this, but proper introductions are going to have to wait for a bit.  You may have heard of me, you may not.  But I got your name and contact information from the fixer you normally work with.  And while this is a bit obtuse and out of the ordinary, I have a job offer for you.

Meet me at The Big Rhino at 13:30 today and I'll fill you in.  It's downtown, corner of Seneca & First.  And because this is odd and I'm in a rush, I'll cough up 100 Y just for you to show up and listen to the offer.

If you're there, I'll see you then.  If not, then good day to you, chummer.>>

MacAllister...MacAllister...now you know why the holo looked familiar.  Every runner in the state has at least heard of the guy.  Old-school decker with connections to everyone.  Retired.  Some think he's still got one last run in him; others think he should just go away.  Whatever you think, he's just reached out to you with a job offer.  Are you in?

[Father_Twilight]

Father Twilight rolled out of bed slowly, scrubbing a hand across his face and through his hair in an attempt to bring his thoughts into order. He stood in a very deliberate manner, slowly, cautiously, stretching his muscles as he rose, bending from one side to the other to ease the tension in his chest and back. A large scar was visible on his back, the exit wound of a pair of hollow point rounds, and a pair of smaller scars on his chest, where those rounds went in. He rubbed his fingers over the scars once again as he attempted to rid himself of the ache of his wounds, and his memories.

A dark, turbulent evening filled with blood and pain. Grunts of exertion from above him preceding a stab of pain from a boot thudding into his ribs. He's drug upright in front of his window, blood washing down his face from numerous cuts and a shattered nose. In a stroke of lightning he sees an orc in biker leathers draw out a chromed pistol, point it at his chest and whisper "For the glory of God." Then, pain.

Wish a shake of his head Dinivin moves for the shower. The damp always made his scars ache, and the ache had ways of resurrecting his old demons. He cranked the shower up to a scalding temperature and stood beneath the flood, letting the heat soak into his flesh, releasing knotted muscle and awakening his mind.

MacAllister, didn't figure on having an old timer contacting me for work. Best to make certain he's not jerking me around.

As he toweled himself off and lathered up to shave he shot off a text message to Slim Jim.

<<TO: Slim Jim>>
<<Greetings Omae, I was awoken by a man claiming you set him up with my information. Let me know if this MacAllister is on the up and up or if he's playing games?>>

That done, Dinivin shaved off the stubble from a night moving through dens of sin seeking work. He was a man of God, but he was the outcast shepherd, protecting a flock that cared nothing for him. Hell, he'd done his share of criminal acts, his only comfort at night was the knowledge that he had never targeted an innocent, and had generally committed crime against those deserving of it.

He slid on his black trousers, tucking a white button-up shirt into it before snapping it shut. He slid on his black vest and then inserted the small priestly collar in it's place before slipping on a shoulder holster containing a Ruger Superwarhawk. He continued his preparations by swinging on his long coat style priest robes, buttoning up the crucifix shaped buttons slowly and all the while murmuring prayers in latin. With his robes upon his body he now reached out and slid a bracelet of prayer beads upon his left wrist. Upon his right went a pendant of the Archangel Raguel, he touched it to his lips and forehead before slipping it around his wrist. In the slot of his old fashioned coat meant for a pocket watch went a pendant of the Archangel Gabriel, as with the one before he went through his ritual benediction before slipping it into place. He then knelt before his altar, hands held palm to palm as he whispered his morning prayers to the Lord Almighty. At it's conclusion he stood, removing the golden crucifix from it's place on the altar and sliding it into a strap at the small of his back. He slapped on his broad brimmed hat as he turned towards the door, sliding on his lined leather duster and walking out into the rain. Whether this was a setup or on the level he intended to show at the Rhino. The only question was whether it was to listen to a job offer or if it was to mete out punishment to a member of the shadow community who had tried to slip one past him.

((OOC: Unless I learn this is not a legitimate job I am taking no more actions until arriving at the meet.))

[vinnmun]

Dataminer was sitting in his bus / home, surfing in VR, going through his data finding from an early mining op. Stuff that looked good, ended up being a bust as he grumbled through his brawny avatar in his neon overalls and a stylized safety helmet with Asian Dragons being mor l iek racing stripes on the helm, a a flip monocle that is there for style than functionality. He wipes out the info his gathered as the message intrudes on him.

After the message was done, he analyzes it to make sure it's legit and will trace it to make sure it's coming from macallister's comm.

((I'm assuming all is legit so i won't roll unless you want me to))

He figures he needs the money once he finds it's legit and soon kicks out into meat again. Getting up from his cot of a bed as his AR displayed was still up, playing some metal music into his ears as he drives his bus out of a lot in eastern auburn and headed to the outskirts of downtown to get his HQ closer parking in another vacant lot. The back of his bus opens up as he hops onto his Thundercloud, unlatches the straps to and lowers the jack and  drives off towards the Big Rhino as the back end of his bus closes.

[Operator]

Somewhere in Redmond, a commlink buzzed incessantly. A low grumble preceded a meaty arm reaching out for a pair of AR-enhanced shades lying on a nearby bookshelf, snatching them and retreating to their owner's side.

It only makes sense; Tony has a pad in the Underground, so he'd put his weight behind MacAllister. Five score will also cover a warm lunch..

With a loud grunt, Solifuge sat up on the stolen mattress that served as his bed. The abandoned church that served as his hideout was originally lacking in some key material comforts, so the troll was forced to improvise; that was the fate of many who were stuck in the Barrens. He couldn't complain too much, having worked out a few deals with the tech-savvy Spiders which were nested a block away. Those efforts secured him Matrix access and a relatively low-cost rent with basic utilities, like being able to take a shower and run a soy cooker during certain periods of the day.

Today would be different - he'd get to have his fill at the Rhino. Solifuge threw on his waterproofed track clothes, securing his ceramic knife at the ankle while making a search request for the Metro Transit Company's bus schedules. He'd leg it to Bellevue and hop on the next downtown bus, all while taking a tally of the smoothies who gave him odd looks.

[WSN0W]

The entertainment wall...really, the spam wall if you considered the Ads to programming ratio it displayed was set to a low volume so the beep of the message did not get drowned out. The apartment was cramped. Small for a troll, due to the natural inclination for Fomori to be smaller, he was still large. Saving on space, Artair opted for a comfortable couch that doubled as a bed.

Turning off the wall, Artair grabbed his 'link and pulled up the display link on his contact. Hmm. Promising and troubling. While he considered his next move he sifted through the other messages and outstanding notifications. None from LS, which was a problem. Rent loomed and Nuyen was tight.

Rereading the message from MacAllister, Artair debated his next course. Caution suggested he contact his fixer Slipstream to see if the message was on the level. But on further reflection that seemed like a bad move. If Slipstream had arranged the meet, the message would have been from him. So if he brought the sleezy elf into the deal, he'd find a way to take a cut one way or the other.

The odds of it being a trap were low due to the location of the meet. Certainl nothing illegal with showing up. At worst, he'd be out some points on his transit pass.

Risk outweighing reward, the coach groaned as Artair stood. Going to the balcony, he smiled at his elderly Chinese neighbor 'cooking' outside. Grabbing some clothes he had be letting dry from the constant rain, he put the clothes away, grabbed his coat, locked up and headed towards the meet.

[Scarecrow71]

Wednesday, June 1, 2072
1315 hours


Father Twilight
Your commlink starts beeping a few minutes after sending the inquiry off, and checking it you see that the response is from Slim himself.

<<FROM:  Slim Jim>>
<<TO:  Father Twilight>>
<<Yeah, I gave the old ork your contact info.  Told me he needed some noobs for a job, and when I went through my list and your name wasn't one he recognized, I figured you needed the creds.  Not a problem, is it?>>


Data Miner
You run a trace, and this one is probably the easiest one that's ever been done that you know of.  The trace goes back a single route, to an IP address near the Big Rhino.  Based on that, you can guess that the meet is legit.


Oppenheimer
Things never work out the way you want them to, do they?  Your last job was a complete wash - escort some wage slave from his office to his house and then to the airport.  Pretty easy, and you could have used the creds.  Only problem was that the guy was geeked and laying on the street before you even got to the office.  And of course, you show up just as the sirens start ringing out announcing the arrival of Knight Errant, which never looks good.

Your apartment is a mess, and your landlady is always bitching about how you are close to running late with your rent.  Your refrigerator is mostly empty, the hot water has stopped running again, and to top it all off the day starts with a leak in the roof, letting the fresh Seattle rain into your living room, mere inches from your couch.  At least the cockroaches will have something to drink when they come out from their hiding spots, right?

But at least one thing went right today - your commlink buzzed, letting you know about a potential job that might fit you with some much-needed creds.  Heck, you're getting paid a cool 100 just to even show up and listen, so how can you pass that up, right?  All you gotta do is head to The Big Rhino and meet some guy and listen to what he has to say.  With a little luck, this might turn out to be a good day.  So you left your apartment, hopped across town, and...


All Characters
By the time you get downtown, the rain has mostly stopped.  A few drops here and there, and the clouds in the sky shield the ground from the sun, turning everything a shaky shade of grey and turning what could have been a beautiful day into a gloomy, dreary sight.  Traffic is heavy at this time of day, with people walking to and fro from their cubicles to restaurants and back, and the piercing scream of sirens hitting your ears as ambulances rush by taking the injured to one of the several hospitals in the area.  Horns honk as cabbies try to get by slower drivers, and all about is a sense of people generally ignoring their fellow man.  Isn't it nice to be alive in such a world where peace takes a back seat to everything?

The Big Rhino is a Seattle landmark, known for its food, entertainment, and for its sense of fun.  It also happens to be one of the entrances to the Ork Underground, so some of the tours featuring the underground start and/or end here.  By the time you get there, the lunch rush has already subsided, and peering in through the front glass doors you can see that the restaurant is mostly empty.  Pushing the doors open and stepping in you can see that sentiment is just about on the nose.

The place looks like it's been hit by some thriller gang, with scraps of food and trash strewn about the place, waitresses and bus boys scurrying madly to clean it all up.  Broken glasses and overturned chairs litter the floor, and you have to walk around the mess just to get in.  As you enter, one of the hostesses approaches and apologizes profusely for the mess, but she doesn't wait for you to answer as she is pulled away to help clean up.

Looking through the restaurant, you see the lone customer who is still here sitting at a table against the back wall, several empty-looking shot glasses and beer steins lined up on the table in front of him.  Upon closer inspection, you notice the pair of red-colored lower canines protruding from his orkish mouth, as well as a pair of golden datajacks implanted on the side of his head.  His grey goatee and glasses give him the look of an older man, but you can tell that there is still strength in his body.  His demeanor tells another story, however - he appears to be pissed off and deep in thought.

As you stand there looking around, the ork looks up and at you, his irritation clearly showing.  He stands, speaking across the restaurant "Right on time.  Sit - we have much to discuss."

[Operator]

Solifuge strode up to the Rhino's entrance, checking the current time of day in the corner of his glasses. Fifteen minutes early, and he also avoided the lunch rush - good fortune overall, if he disregarded the muck-up at the front of the restaurant. If the old decker was good for his word, he'd be able to eat a decent meal in a decent establishment. That was a rare pleasure to be savored.

Speaking of the devil, MacAllister was already there and waiting for him. Without mincing further words, Solifuge walked up to the bar and took a seat.

That's a first for me - an old codger of an ork. Short candles that burn bright, all of em.

[jonathanc]

[NOTE: Oppenheimer is an ork, 6'6", 275lbs. His brown hair is beginning to thin in the front, and is cut very short. His tusks are unremarkable. He wears thick-rimmed glasses and his clothing looks rumpled. His eyes look sunken and have dark circles around them, like he doesn't sleep much.]

Oppenheimer walked from his apartment/lab (thank God the landlady hadn't seen his  bedroom during her last visit) with his shoulders slump, reflecting on the bad luck and worse choices that had landed him where he was. He cut through dark alleys with no fear; he was an ork, and a large one, and besides, he didn't really have much of anything to lose.

It was nice to be out of the claustophobic mess of his apartment. He tried to browse the screamsheets on his commlink while he walked, but the damn thing was so slow he just gave up. As he entered Big Rhino, he almost didn't notice the mess on the floor; the waitress' interruption stopped him a split-second before he stepped in it. Maybe his luck was finally turning around.

Oppenheimer eyed the old ork, and nodded with respect. It wasn't easy to make it to old age as an ork, least of all in the shadows. He acknowledged the Troll as well, silently, and sat down.

[Father_Twilight]

<<TO: Slim Jim>>
<<No problem, just covering the small details.>>

Father Twilight entered the Rhino cautiously when he noted the destruction in the foreground. It was not an unprecedented state of affairs, especially in a predominantly orc establishment, but it was the moment when you relaxed your guard that someone popped you right in the keister. He eyed Macallister warily before sweeping his gaze about hte rest of the establishment. He noted immediately the presence of others whose lives seemed tainted by the shadows in which they worked. He moved to the table, taking the proffered seat and eyeing the others who sat with care, making a point to take a seat that did not offer his back the the majority of the room. As he sat his used his commlink to order a water from the bar, before turning his eyes back up to the old ork seated across from him.

I see this isn't a private party, had I known I would have worn my dress robes. How many more are we expecting?

Dinivin said with a small smile as he worked the prayer beads through his fingers, and at the same time opened up his mind to touch the thoughts of the fiery seraphim whom had bound himself to Dinivin's service, at least for a short time. Should things go badly, he intended to burn anyone foolish enough to try to stop him from leaving. Not that he expected things to go wrong, but the unprepared man is the surprised man, and the surprised man is the dead man in the shadows. With that in mind he opened his sight to the astral plane, and tried to get a read on the man in front of him, and others in the room.

((OOC: Assensing check: Assensing 3+Intuition 4= 7d6  http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3674840/  two hits on assensing check. Looking for general emotional state, if he is highly agitated etc etc. Doing the same as I look at everyone in the room looking for any emotions that don't fit.))

[vinnmun]

Dataminer parked a block away in an awkward spot that he makes for himself for his bike. His holo hood is up and projecting over his face, a Tengu's face from ancient japan. He has a stone cold expression as he takes a jaunt over to the Big Rhino, wearing his suually baggy carpenter jeans, some new age chuck taylors, and under the hoodie is just an under shirt. The sleeves of the hoodie are pushed up. He approaches the Rhino, last one in...noticing the mess right away and than the two trolls, and ork, and hey...a human. He felt like the odd man out of the group for a second there.

Hs stone coldness washes away as he approaches the group and the ork, figuring the icon matches just based on looks. He comes up a bit shy, "Ello, was I late for the party or was their stew that damn good?" he jests as he looks around a bit.

Visual Perception just in case. Attribute 5, Skill 1, Spec 2 = 8 dice (8d6.hits(5)=4)

[WSN0W]

Artair hates the buses. The 'troll' seats always the first to get ruined it seemed...or turned into some vagrants bed. He hustled down town as fast as the city transit options allowed. While he waited he scanned news updates and other tidbits of gossip. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, but it was good to keep abreast of the going ons of the city, even the going ons that were utter drek.

Once he made it to the street with the Big Rhino, Artair lit up a cig. He didn't smoke much, really. Hated the taste. But the sad truth was the cloying smell of the smoke actually was a general improvement most days to the smells he'd pick up on a bad day of the bus. The faint smell of smoke smothered out the dry booze sweat stench mingled with all other manner of bodily rot to be found without seeming out of place.

The state of the Big Rhino caused some concern. But rent outweighed caution so after a minute or so's internal debate, Artair went inside. From there spotting the group was easy.

And an odd collection of people it seemed to be. "Afternoon," he said as way of greeting with the faint traces of a British accent. "Sorry if I held things up."

Finding a mostly intact seat that could support him, he'd bring it over to the table and spin it around so he's leaning forward rather than backward. Having a watcher spirit seems more and more like it would have been the smart move, but it was time to play the cards on the table.

[Scarecrow71]

Wednesday, June 1, 2072
13:30 Hours
Inside The Big Rhino


Father Twilight
You reach out into the astral plane to take a look at your surroundings.  You don't see anything out of the ordinary, except that most of the people you are seated at the table with happen to have magical auras about them.  MacAllister, however, does not.


Data Miner
You take a look around the restaurant, but don't see anything odd.  Other than the mess from the lunch rush, that is.  You do see a sign or two showing where the entrance to the Ork Underground is, so you can file that away for later use.


All Characters
As soon as you are all seated at the table, MacAllister sits down and picks up one of the steins, draining it easily before haphazardly setting it back down on the table.  He looks at each of you, and you can see that his eyes are both puffy and red.  Whether that is from the alcohol or something else, you cannot tell.  He wipes his brow with his left hand and then begins to speak.

"I'll dispense with most of the pleasantries because I quite frankly don't have time to chit chat.  I got your names from the people you know, and you are all here because there is a job to be done.  As promised, you will all be paid 100 nuyen at the conclusion of this meeting.  Now, as for the details..."

His face tightens, and his eyes squint a bit as he focuses not on you, but on one of the shot glasses in front of him.

"At 09:00 hours this morning, my daughter Rebecca was found dead in an apartment she was renting in the Ork Underground.  I didn't care for her staying there, but she was a grown woman, and she kept saying that she needed to be there for some paper she was writing on the history of the underground.

"Because I know people - the right people - I've been able to learn that the killing appears to be the work of The Mayan Cutter, a serial killer who was supposed to have been killed several years ago shortly after KE took over the job of security for the city.  2 weeks ago a new rash of killings started up, with the M.O. looking a lot like the Cutter, and now rumors are flying that KE got the wrong guy.

"I want to hire you guys to find the Mayan Cutter, I want you to find out why my daughter was targeted, and I want the Cutter brought back to me.  Alive at all costs.  While money would normally be no object, I do have financial limitations.  I can therefore offer you 8,000 Y each for doing this job for me.

What do you say?  Are you willing to do this?"

[vinnmun]

Dataminer pulls a seat, and sits down with the back of the seat being his arm rest, slouching down and putting his head on top of his hands listening in attentively. When he hears the depressing news, it does not flinch Miner. He was more excited about task at hand, being more of a detective for this one than usual.

Dataminer lifts his head and nods, "Well, I'm in." first thing he thought, My money is someone that she knew killed her. He looks over to everyone else before back to Macallister.

[Operator]

The shining Knights are thicker than bricks? That's not a bloody surprise at all.

Eight grand for bringing in the Cutter alive. Solifuge remembered that bit of news, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt; his experiences with Lone Star were far less than savory, and he had actually cheered at their embarrassment in the metroplex. Served them right for trying to send him off to Wynaco.

After several moments of contemplation behind a poker face, Solifuge spoke up in his more distinct British accent. "Alright guv, I'll take up the hunt."

[Father_Twilight]

By the saints, a copycat murderer? The Cutter was an abomination in the first place! This world needs fewer demons not more.

Father Twilight's face hardened as he heard the old ork dispense his sad tale, and an inferno of righteous rage blazed within his eyes as he spoke with iron conviction.

"I normally wouldn't hunt down a sociopath who would rather slice me to bits than speak with me for 8,000 nuyen, but this is a case I will take exception to. Righteous men must stand forth when demons haunt the night. My prayers go out to the soul of your loved one, and to your soul to find solace in this troubled time."