Sub-Game 3 of LITS: Salvation IC thread

2230 Jan 4 2063- Paradigm Shift
Touristville, Redmond

A long sleek limo slowly pulled up to the curb of the Paradigm Shift. The line outside the club was quite long, indicating that despite the newness of the place, word was spreading quickly about it. Street punks eager to check out the latest place to party mingled side by side with both corporates and their younger equivalent, the yuppies, eager to slum it down here in Redmond.

Climbing out of the limo, an elderly Chinese man slowly stepped out of the door. Not with weakness borne upon him by age, but rather with that deliberate dignity of those who know that they have all the time in the world, and if they don’t, they’ll make that time. Glancing about casually, he nodded approval. As he had heard, security was tight. Another glance. Very tight.

Striding towards the door deliberately and with purpose, a solitary old man, he nonetheless radiated an aura that said, ‘I belong here.’ The large troll bouncer, in a suit, no less, raised up a hand to stop him. “Sorry Gramps, the line starts there.” He pointed a large finger down towards the end of the line.

With a thin smile, the old man looks up at the troll towering over him and says simply, “Mr. Fan.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. The troll immediately changes his tone. Standing aside and moving the chain blocking off entrance, he gestures, “My apologies Mr. Fan. Please sir, come right in. They’ve been expecting you. Your usual room is ready.” At the shouts and mutters that come at the preferential treatment, the troll glares at them, reminding the assembled crowd that he decides who is and is not good enough to get into one of the hottest up and coming new clubs in Seattle.

Striding through the long security corridor, Mr. Fan smiles at the security guards at the end of the hall and slowly opens his suit jacket, just enough to show that he’s not packing any heat. He knows the sensors will bear him out as well. Nodding at each other and then to him, the guards step aside and let him in. Without hesitation, he heads to the elevators on the side wall, which he then rides to the second floor.

With a nod to the bartender, who gestures to his usual room, Mr. Fan strides in, checking it out. A brief smile of satisfaction. Just as he had arranged. That was one reason he’d selected this place. Security was supposed to be tight, and the place lived up to its quickly growing rep. Taking a seat, he settled into the cushy chair. After ordering a drink via the intercom, he sat back, and waited for the runners to show up. There was nothing else to do. Just wait.

2240 Jan 4 2063- Paradigm Shift
Touristville, Redmond

Blaze showed up packing the only heat he needed. Arviving He stepped out of his cab a few blocks down the road but already he could see the lights and hear the music of the club. Walking down the street he could see that his bright red cloathing was catching people's attention, good, I wore this to ensure I get into this club, now to just act like I belong here. As he aproached closer to the bulding Blaze slid out his Shades, sliding the over his face he slid them into a thermo overlay, and continued to stride toward the building. As he got even closer, now no more than 20 meters from it, he clicked off the thermo, and clicked on the lowlight setting. However, more importantly He opened himself to the astral space around him, taking in all the sights around him he studied the area while still walking forward. Finishing his aproach in front of the bouncer Blaze closed down to the astral. "I was told I could meet a Mr. Fan here, he should be expecting me at 11:00." Now it was time to prep for the meet.

2243 Jan 4 2063- Paradigm Shift
Touristville, Redmond

As Blaze's trained eye scanned the physical and astral planes, one thing that quickly stood out to him was the amount of security present. The two troll bouncers upfront were heavily cybered, and he spotted several watchers and even a few elementals patrolling the place.

Good grief. What kind of freaking NIGHTCLUB has this kind of security? This place is sealed up tight. Well, at least it reduces the chances of a double cross. Starting trouble at this place probably wouldn't be a good idea.

After introducing himself to the troll bouncer upfront, Blaze passes through the front door through a long, narrow corridor. Again, more security, complete with a coat check/weapons locker, another pair of razorguys, and a smiling woman offering to take his coat and any 'personal defense items' he might have. All three of the employees were immaculatedly dressed and stylish; the razorguys in street style cutting edge fashion, and the woman in a corp suit that revealed an impressive amount of cleavage and leg.

Smiling slightly, Blaze opened his coat, and from the looks of the razorguys, he guessed they already knew he wasn't packing. Must have scanners built into this hall somewhere. Geez this place is tight. The woman smiled at him, a sexy, seductive smile that momentarily made him wish he wasn't here on biz. "He's waiting for you upstairs. Room 7."

Passing through the archway at the end of the hall into the club itself, Blaze took a moment to check out the club. He noticed Andrea Frost's latest hit playing, and he had to admit, he could see why this place was doing well for itself. Downstairs, the club was packed, and the lighting and sound seemed to be top-notch. Air filters kept the smoke from gathering and choking the crowd, and an efficient bartending staff ensured no one was left without their brain-bender of choice.

Arriving at the elevator, he saw yet another guard, who apparently had already been informed of his arrival, because he opened the door and motioned Blaze inside. Riding the glass elevator to the top, he walked out into a decidedly different part of the club. A more relaxed, lounge type area for people who made the cut to belong up here. Apparently, judging by the presence of the guard downstairs, not everyone did.

The center of this second floor was cut out in the middle, allowing patrons on the top floor to watch the action below. Catwalks ran east/west and north/south, intersecting in the middle. Walking along the side of the top floor, Blaze passed a number of patrons seated in small booths and tables along the wall. Arriving at a row of doors on the other end, he walked down until he found what he was looking for. Room 7, here we are...time to meet Mr. Johnson.

Opening the door, he entered a plush, relaxing room. There was a circular table in the middle, and seated in a comfortable looking chair at the end of the table farthest from the door was an elderly asian man. "Welcome, Mr. Blaze. You are the first to arrive. Please sit, order a drink if you like, and we will wait for the others to show up."

2246 January 4, 2063 - a block past Paradigm Shift
Mood: cautiously curious.

Cheng sat, observing, insulated from the cool night breeze by the shelter of her Auslander SUV, as she had for the past twenty minutes. As the daylight hours of the 4th had worn on, she'd found in herself a vague, ever-growing nervous anticipation. It reminded her of the few track events she'd run in primary school -- waiting at the starting line, not knowing when the crack of the gun would sound, trying not to jump out before the start but twitching with adrenaline.

She'd spent much of the day trying to consume her thoughts with the intricacies of coding the new Camo utility, but there were only so many hours she could work on that before her mind demanded variation. Finally, she'd gotten up from the desk, saved her work, uploaded the mapsofts she obtained of the area surrounding Paradigm Shift to her headware memory, and caught a quick shower.

The outfit took her a while to choose. Warm enough for the night's temperature, but not so much that I'll broil indoors. Professional and classy, but not corporate-rigid. Armored, but not restrictive of my movements if quick motion is required. At last she settled on a combination of various outfits -- form-fitting armor first, tight blue jeans with athletic socks and sensible flats that she could run in if necessary, a deep green blouse that was tight but not particularly revealing, shoulder holster for the Predator-III and ankle holster for the vz/120, with her dark Mortimer's greatcoat and a smooth, navy blue cashmere scarf to complete the look.

She'd made a quick stop off at a Stuffer Shack on the way from her May Creek doss to Redmond, taking a few moments to 'wave two spicy burritos that she might eat en route, and then driven northeast. Downing the tortilla-wrapped snacks had been an exercise in balancing hunger and caution, as filling her stomach took second priority to making certain she didn't spill food on her apparel. After all, that would make such an impressive introduction. "Hi, I'll be professionally performing acts of dubious legality for you in a clever and deniable manner. Don't mind the food stains on my jacket..."

She'd driven a few blocks past the club at first, passing near enough to get a good look at the environs and the front entrance before circling around to park a block or two away. Now, with the burritos filling her belly with warm contentment, she'd watched as the venerable Chinese gentleman had appeared in his limousine. She had almost spooked shortly thereafter when the taxi pulled up just a few meters in front of her and the short-haired man in his full-on red outfit had popped out abruptly. As soon as it became apparent that he was heading for Paradigm Shift and not paying her vehicle any attention, though, her nerves settled down and she slumped back into the driver's seat.

Interesting. He didn't bother to stand in line either, just like the older Chinese gentleman. It might be that he was one of the others contacted for this meeting -- after all, it stood to reason that she couldn't be the only talent on call if they were looking for both a rigger and a decker. How very interesting indeed.

Cheng took a deep breath, blew it out past pursed lips, and stepped out of the Auslander. She'd tried to park in an area that wasn't too run-down looking, that had some other security presence about, and she thought she'd been successful.

Got everything? She ran a quick mental inventory -- Leatherman, lighter, pack of Red Apples, Turner credstick with an additional certified one prepared, pocket secretary, squashed roll of duct tape -- and concluded that she was as ready as she'd ever be. She locked the SUV's doors behind her and walked towards the hulking trolls who guarded the front entrance.

"Good evening," she said, her tone quiet but confident as she stared up into his mirrored cybereyes. "I was sent here by Mr. Fan, for an appointment at 11 pm."

2245 January 4, 2063 - pulling up down the block from the Paradigm Shift ... roughly where the line begins

"Paradigm Shift in two days, on the 4th at 2300. No RSVP's required, just tell the guys up front that Mr. Fan sent you."

Well. Next time she deezed into a place, she'd check out more than just the directions. The Scoot would certainly be out of place, but not for the reasons Alleycat had expected. She'd not seen so much determined corporate yuppie-ism since ... well, actually she'd never seen it. The security, though ... At least her instincts had served her well in her personal preparation. She had a feeling "Anne" would never have been allowed to set foot in the place, personal RSVP's or not.

No matter. Alleycat belonged, with an invite yet. And next time, it'll be on a Rapier.

She watched some latecomers arrive, mostly by cab, two in private limousines and bypassing the line entirely, one SUV that had been sitting at the kerb for quite some time: but a very few had brought their own vehicles and needed somewhere to stow them. Following them, she found the parking building two blocks away. Not bad. She invested a few nuyen in the Scoot's continued health -- debatable, perhaps, whether it was a few more nuyen than it was actually worth -- and pulled her gray-brown longcoat more tightly about her shoulders against the wind as she joined up with the line and began to walk past it until she'd rounded it altogether and nothing else stood in her way but the suited troll talking with the young Chinese --

Almost, her step caught. Only instinct averted her gaze lest the other feel her interest, allowed her to continue smoothly in that wide circle until the other woman was past the troll and inside the building. Not that it mattered, she suddenly realised. She didn't need the overheard words to know what that cool, wry, purposefulness meant. Now, possibly too late, she understood what that poster on Shadowland had meant, when he'd said that Seattle was a very small place. Well, she was Alleycat, the one who walked alone, and all places were alike to her -- so deal, sister!

She'd reached the troll. She knew what he would be seeing: middling tall (for an elf anyway, he'd suppose, probably all elves were the same height to him), dark-skinned, high cheekbones accentuated with three white sideways slashes on each side, wide lips, long neck, all contained easily in jeans that fit snugly and a long, grayish-tan tunic top just visible through the cleft of the longcoat. She stretched comfortably in front of him -- stopping just short of silhouetting the concealed Predator -- turning her lighter-skinned palms outwards and letting the stretch shiver through to her fingertips, before running her fingers through her tightly-braided dark brown hair. His reflection danced lightly in her mirrored wrap-arounds.

"You the person I'm supposed to tell that Mr. Fan sent me?" She let it come out like "you" were the most important person in the world, unique, special, maybe second only to Mr. Fan and maybe ... not.

And then her stomach rumbled softly. She'd completely forgotten to eat today.

2250 January 4, 2063 - Security Hallway in Paradigm Shift

Directing his attention to the attractive Chinese girl in front of him, the large troll glanced down at her. “Go on in.” Lady Cheng walked passed him, down a long narrow hallway, towards yet another security checkpoint, with a pair of razorguys on either side of the door and a woman at a desk off to the side. As she approached the door, the razorguy on the left held up a hand. “Please check your weapons miss. Standard procedure.” The tone in his voice made it crystal clear that he wasn’t asking if she had weapons; he knew she did, and was telling her to check them.

The woman placed a basket on the desk counter, and a small voucher next to it. “Don’t worry, we will ensure your ‘personal defense items’ are safely returned to you when you leave.” She smiled in a friendly, inviting way, but Cheng had no doubt that that smile could change very, very quickly.

“Yeah, don’t make us do a physical search on you.” Turning slightly to look at the speaker, the third guard, the razorguy, or rather…razorelf on the right of the door, she caught the small, teasing smile that left no doubt that while he was serious, he’d enjoy searching her…and not just because it meant he’d be doing his job. Glancing briefly at him up and down, she was impressed by his build.

His well-muscled body, clad it tight street clothes that amplified his physique… his blonde hair that was close cropped and stylish, highlighting those deep blue eyes… those deep blue eyes that held a hint of that razor’s edge, and maybe the promise of a softer side…that hint of a smile that told her he’d been checking her out, and liked what he saw…those long, muscled legs that led to what was from all appearances, a ripped torso, and muscled upper body…and she wouldn’t mind seeing if the reality matched the appearance…

“Ahem.” Blushing, she snapped back to reality, out of her ‘assessment’ of the elven razorguy, back to the woman behind the desk, who’d politely cleared her throat. “Miss, your weapons please?”

Back outside…the troll had directed his attention to Alleycat, and answered, perhaps a little bit more gently that he intended, or maybe even realized, “Yeah, that’s me. Go on in. Down the long hallway, check your weapons at the desk.”

Nodding and thanking the troll, she walked down the long hall, shaking her head slightly. What have I gotten myself into? Watchers, elementals, everyone and their freaking cousin is cybered…what kind of place is this? The answer sprang to her mind, unbidden. Welcome to the big leagues…try not to get killed in the process…have a nice day! On that cheerful note, she reached the end of the hallway, just in time to hear the lady at the desk ask the Chinese woman ahead of her for her weapons.

Pulling out another basket and voucher, the woman at the desk extended it in Alleycat’s direction. “Miss, please check your ‘personal defense items’. They will be returned to you as you exit.” They know? Already? How…scanners…must be scanners…what else does this place have up its sleeve?

2255 January 4, 2063 - Security Hallway in Paradigm Shift

So much for concealment.

A bit sheepishly, Alleycat smiled an I-know-you're-just-doing-your-job smile at the woman and shrugged off her coat, revealing the geometric browns and oranges of the snazzy synthleather belt around her waist and the weapon harness around her shoulders. At least the shadowrunner ahead of her had teased one of the doorguards into a good mood. Shadowrunner. Yes. Did the acceptance of what she had become somehow make the reality more real? Did it matter?

She opted to leave the weapon undrawn, instead slipping off the harness as a whole and letting the loose straps slide through her fingers to coil upon the holstered blued metal. The material felt -- odd -- through the suede of her sheathed fingertips, the dark orange not-leather not-gloves with the dark brown diamond pattern where her skin showed through running up the back of her arms to the elbow. Amazing, the things one can acquire in a few hours in a thrift store. Function almost completely submerged against fashion ... or, possibly, fashion dictated by function: she couldn't be the only person in Seattle less than eager to leave behind unfortunate fingerprints.

She hesitated, heron-poised: "Er -- you don't need me to take off the boots too?"

2252 January 4, 2063 - Security Hallway in Paradigm Shift

Alright, you knew from looking at the security outside that this was likely to happen. But you've still got your wits about you, which leaves you better armed than many. At least they're polite about it. But then, with a new club, they would hardly want to drive clientele away. They're probably checking everyone in just this manner. Cheng nodded to the security woman, offered a friendly smile at the cybered elf, and replied, "Of course."

Not that I'd really mind being patted down by that one elf... mmmm. She shook herself out of her pleasant reverie and shrugged out of the greatcoat, letting the folds of the garment slide slowly off to reveal the generous curves of her body. She hung the greatcoat on the edge of the counter as she released the straps on the shoulder holster, allowing the synthleather straps to glide across her torso before she coiled them tightly around the darkened steel of the gun and placed it in the basket. She retrieved the Ceska from her ankle in a similarly sensual way, positioning herself in three-quarters-turn away from the elf to show her silhouette in profile as she gracefully crouched and, with her head thrown back, reached down between her legs to undo the concealed leather. A glance at the elf confirmed he was staring with widened eyes and lips slightly parted in what was undoubtedly an unconscious smile... I'm definitely not completely disarmed.

Cheng checked to make sure the safeties were on for both guns, retrieved her coat from the counter, and tossed the elf a knowing smile and a wink as she strolled past the security checkpoint.

2257 January 4, 2063 - Security Hallway in Paradigm Shift

After both ladies had checked their weapons at the counter, they entered the main area of the club. The place was decked out in a distinct ‘street’ theme, clearly aimed at the rich kids and corpers who were here to slum it. The security was discreet and impressive. Well-dressed, professional, employees playing the part of shadowrunners working security while impressively dressed, or relatively undressed, depending on your point of view, waitresses and bartenders worked the bar ledges and the main bar.

On the north side of the club was a band on stage, and while they weren’t Concrete Dreams, they were pretty good. The sound was top notch, and carried the razor sharp sounds slicing through the air in a pleasing sort of way. Lights flashed and danced over the clientele as they weaved and flowed in the sinuous dances that marked young singles trying to pick up a date for the night.

Noticing the elevator on the far side of the wall, the ladies headed towards it, working their way through the crowds easily. Standing in front of it was a large ork guard. Apparently, he had been prepared for their arrival, because the door was already open when he got there. Nodding politely to them, he gestures towards the open elevator. “Ladies.”

Stepping into the elevator together, they ride in silence, the taller, sexy woman with curves all over, and the shorter, petite girl with the innocent smile and aura of sweetness. Both about to step into the shadows, yet another step deeper. The door opens, the moment passes, and they quickly locate room 7 on the far side of the glass catwalks.

Opening the door, they immediately spot the man in red and the elderly Chinese gentleman. Nodding and gesturing to the ladies, he says in crisp, precise English, “Good evening ladies. Please take a seat. If you like, order something to drink. We will wait for the last few members of our little discussion to arrive.”

2300 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

Alleycat tailed the woman into the room. A brief, courteous incline of her head to the man in red -- leashed violence! -- and she moved on quickly to a second nod, this one a bit lower, to the seated Chinese gentleman. Her initial impression of the place had been one of illusion of relaxation, tension against luxurious plush. She chose a relatively stiff-backed chair almost at right angles from the elderly Chinese gentleman, not so much lowering herself into it as poised into seated stillness. She decided to take her cues from the woman: if she ordered a drink, Alleycat might follow ... or not.

And then her stomach threatened again, without audibility, this time. She smiled, apologising without words: "A glass of water, please?"

2300 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

after taking his seat Blaze sat waiting for the others to arrive, thinking to himself This will be a run I can Handle, Max wouldn't have given it to me otherwise, but above all else I will protect the women from harm, and I will prevent the corps from further destroying our society. Looking over at the two women Blaze slid his senses over to the astral plane, the slight unfocussing of his eyes hidden behind his shades. Examining first the chinese woman, noting her posture and her confidence in her self, her emotions showed experience, and a light playfulness. Odd that, wonder what she just did? taking note of her cyber, mostly for decking Blaze guessed, although he couldn't tell for certain, Blaze passed his gaze on to the other woman, the one who spoke. for some reason assensing her was more difficult, something wasn't quite right. That's it, that small spot of nerves combined with the look of confidence, she's new to this. She's put on the face she thinks a shadowrunner would have, but doesn't have a clue what its really like, I can't tell if she's awakened or any cyber, but she's never done this before. Shutting himself down to the astral plane Blaze slid back into the real world. Nodding his head towards the chinese woman he said nothing other than, "ma'am". Looking over to the other woman he stood up from his chair, and moved towards her. Extending his hand as if to shake he spoke to her, "Its a pleasure to meet you," standing just taller than her he radiated warmth and confidence, an extreme difference from just 30 seconds ago, when all one could feel from him was cold violence.

2301 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

Where have I seen her before? The familiarity had nagged at her from the time they'd stepped into the elevator in near-unison. Cheng searched her memories for where she'd last seen those particular elven features, an unconscious crease forming between her eyebrows. Dark skin, hair's dark now, but still slender as a reed, and I know I've seen that face before, so wh-- ah. The firing range.

Trying to be unobtrusive about it, she studied the young woman's features. It seems unlikely she's trailing me. For one thing, she was at the range before I was -- and for another, if she actually meant me ill, she had more than enough time to inflict it. Coincedence is the most likely conclusion. She casually leaned backwards into the seat, trying to let any tension on her exotic, mixed-ancestry countenance slip back into impassive neutrality.

Her voice, when she spoke, was a clear contralto. "Thank you. Apple juice, if you have it."

2301 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

Taking Blaze's hand lightly in both of hers, Alleycat stood up again to accept the greeting with a slight smile: "Mine also."

And then she hesitated, including Lady Cheng in the sweep of her gaze: "Do the two of you already know each other? Are we three to be working together?"

2301 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

Smiling lightly Blaze responds politely, "not that I know of, but yes we most likely will be working together; however, that is up to Mr. Johnson, or Mr. Fan," looking over at the only other man in the room, "depending on your preference sir. And I'll pass on anything to drink."

2301 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

"This is the first time I've ever spoken with either of you," Cheng replied, with a cryptic half-smile, leaning forward. She threw a glance towards the young woman -- was she taller than she'd been at the range? "We may have crossed paths at some time in the past, though. I'm pleased to make both your acquaintances."

Settling back into the chair, she turned towards Mr. Fan with a gracious smile. "Are we awaiting the arrival of any others?"

2302 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

Mr. Fan nods. "Yes, it is my understanding that at least a few more individuals were to come. My apologies for their tardiness. In the meantime, please, enjoy your drinks on me."

Touching a button on an intercom panel located near his seat, he places drink orders for those who have requested it, asking for tea for himself. Very shortly after, a waitress arrives with their drinks. Serving them, she nods and excuses herself.

2303 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

Taking the glass of ice water into her hands, Alleycat settled herself again on the light chair, left foot on the richly textured carpet, right foot hooked around one of the chair legs; and drank deeply from the sweating glass, a few stray droplets running down her throat. When she set it aside, the remaining ice clinking softly, the glass was almost empty. To Mr. Fan, she said simply, "I give you thanks for the drink." Then her head tilted half-quizzically at Lady Cheng: "Seattle is a very small town, yes?"

And then, with a very slight shrug: "I'd wish to hear more of why I am here, but I will respect our host's wishes and wait. I can understand why you would not wish to repeat yourself, xiān sheng."

2303 January 4, 2063 - Approaching the Paradigm Shift

A rumpled figure limped his way up to the club. Bloody long leg subway stairs!

I can't believe I agreed to this meet, I should have told Gianelli off. Getting told half an hour before the meet while I'm on the other side of town is no way to do this, so what if that Voodoo curse finally caught up with Johnny three thumbs.

He stopped in front of the Troll bouncer and waited.

...And waited.

"Ahem!"

Looking down the bouncer finally notices him. "Back of the line"

"I'm here for Fan" Durin replied

"You're late, Mister Fan has already started his meeting."

The corner of his mouth raised "Not as late as the guy I'm replacing. Shouldn’t we let MR. Fan decide whether he wants me or not?"

2303 January 4, 2063 - Approaching the Paradigm Shift

The troll nods and speaks into what is apparently a communicator, possibly via headware. After a moment, he nods. "Hurry up. Room 7, second floor. Check your weapons at the security counter, and no funny stuff."

2305 January 4, 2063 - Approaching the Paradigm Shift

Club this hot attracts a certain type even in a part of town that's less than desirable. Then again, as the Barrens went, Touristville was tame. Still, with all of the sleek cars and extra long limos disembarking their charges, the last thing anyone would expect would be for a three year old model pickup truck with CAS plates a fair amount of road dirt on it to pull up in front of the Valet. It doesn't take but a moment and the engine's cut and the driver emerges. Jeremy Steele, the man known in the shadows as Tin Star, wasn't the tallest man in sight, not by a long shot, but he surely projected himself with a certain aura. Maybe it was that, amidst the fashionistas and a the glamorous people, he was dressed like he'd just stepped off the ranch. A simple pair of faded jeans, worn in cowboy boots (sans spurs), a tight black ribbed shirt, and a ten gallon hat, black, to top it off, that's about the extent of his outfit; nice and simple. Then again, maybe it was because he didn't even bother to hide the fact he was packing, the Manhunters holstered at his hips plain to see. He reaches across the driver's seat, pulling out his duster, and he slides it on with a bit of a flourish for the crowd. Tossing his keys to the somewhat dumbfounded valet atendant, 'Star tips him a nod.

`Treat her real nice, she doesn't rightly like when strangers drive her.`

That said, he walks right on down the line, headed for the large troll bouncer. If the guy before him was late, well, Steele reckoned he was fashionably so. That's what people were tryin' for at a place like this after all, fashion. Stopping in front of the bouncer, Steele tips him a nod, seemingly unphased by the difference in size between him and the troll. His voice bore a casual confidence to it, and he spoke before the troll could say a thing about lines.

`I reckon you've got you a fellow in there goes by the name of Fan. Word is he's looking for a few good men.`

Enough to get him in, not enough to get people being nosey.

2304 January 4, 2063 - Paradigm Shift

Durin didn’t pause on his way through the security hallway, just tossed his gun across the weapons desk and quickly limped his way into the club. The razor boys instinctively moved to grab him, but stopped as the weapons sensors indicated no other weapons.

Hurrying through the club he swiped an untended beer and left it empty on another table. The dwarf used the moment in the elevator to straiten his suit -no tie, collar open- and comb his brown hair back into place. When the elevator doors opened he hid his limp as well as possible and strode into room 7.

Hopping into a chair, Durin took in the rooms occupants before speaking: Large read clad man still wearing shades (Probably to make up for his weak human eyes), an attractive woman wearing a pleasant shade of green (Must be wearing armor or she'd be showing off her cleavage), an exotic dark skinned woman shades covering her elven eyes (now that is surprising, than again people commonly keep their shades on nowadays despite cybereyes), and finally an old Chinese man reeking of self dignity.

Durin turned the old guy (no mistaking the Johnson here, even without the racial Fan name).

"Mr. G sends his apologies, Johnny has been permanently detained by some devil rats. I have been sent in his place."

2305 January 4, 2063 - In Front of the Paradigm Shift

The troll raises an eyebrow at him. "You like packing heat huh? Let's get this clear. What you do outside the club, that's your biz. In here, it's our biz."

He steps aside. "Room 7, upstairs. Check your weapons at the security counter."

2305 January 4, 2063 - Room 7

Mr. Fan nods. "We will wait a few more minutes for our few remaining members. In the meantime, if you like, please, sit, and order a drink."

2307 January 4, 2063 - Entering the Paradigm Shift

`Man'd be a right fool to be in a neighborhood like this unarmed.`

Steele tips his hat the way of the Bouncer, smiling.

`I reckon I might as well not bother hiding the fact I ain't no fool.`

That said, he heads on in, giving his weapons up at the proper checkpoint, and ultimately heading on inside to the meet.

2310 Jan 4 2063- Room 7

As Tin Star walks in, the room seems to stop for a moment to take in the…unique nature of the latest arrival. Mr. Fan just smiles slightly, one might even say a little indulgently. Gesturing to an empty seat, he says, “Please, sit down.” After their latest arrival takes a seat, Mr. Fan stands up, clasps his hands behind his back, and begins speaking.

“Thank you all for coming. I hope that we will have the opportunity to work together, to come to a mutual understanding, and hopefully, to make the world a little bit better place. As you may or may not be aware, recent events in California have brought about the rise of a new regime in the San Francisco Bay Area. The self-appointed General Keiji Saito has, among other things, embarked on a systematic program of oppression and removal of, shall we say, ‘undesirables’ in his military state. Essentially, these ‘undesirables’ constitute any metahumans, and to a lesser extent, non-Japanese. However, at this current time, his primary focus remains metahumans.”

He pauses for a moment, and takes a sip of his tea. Looking over at Tin Star , he frowns slightly. “My apologies. Would you like something to drink?” Taking note of his request, as well as the other runners’ glasses, he presses the intercom. “Please send refills of drinks and something for our latest arrival. Oh, and if you would be so kind as to send some refreshments as well, that would be excellent. Thank you.”

Turning back to the assembled group, he continues. “My apologies for the interruption. As I was saying, General Saito’s latest programs have resulted in numerous metahumans being forcibly relocated from their homes, their property…needless to say, numerous ‘incidents’ have occurred, as the local metahuman population is not taking this lying down. The party I represent has a vested interest in dealing with these events, and would like to hire you to do so.”

A knock sounds at the door, and slowly, a waitress pokes her head in. Silence descends on the room as she serves the drinks, and places a small plate of assorted appetizers in the center of the table. After she leaves, Mr. Fan waits for the group to help themselves before proceeding. “Your task, should you choose to accept it, consists of one primary objective and two secondary objectives. Your primary objective is to extract a metahuman citizen from one of these ‘relocation camps’. Your first secondary objective is to rescue, if possible, as many people as you can from this particular camp and bring them back to Seattle. You will have to come up with the transportation to do so if you attempt this. While my employer is willing to provide a bonus for this, they are unable to fund this fully. Finally, if you were to render the camp ‘inoperative’ and prevent it from being used for this purpose in the future, that would complete your second secondary objective.” He pauses a moment, as if unsure if this is proper grammar. He shrugs off the moment and proceeds.

Placing his hands on the table and spreading them slightly, he leans forward a bit. “I will not disclose any further details about your target until you accept the job. As far as pay, there is separate pay for each of the objectives. My employer is willing to pay each of you 5000 nuyen up front, with an additional 30,000 nuyen for the successful return of the target. This is per person, so it will neither increase nor decrease depending on how many of you survive. For the first secondary objective, you will receive 100 nuyen for each survivor you return that is properly documented and observed by me. Finally, for the second secondary objective, you will each receive a bonus of 10,000 nuyen. Please note that the only thing that is important is the completion of the primary objective. The other two objectives are simply…bonuses to account for the fact that you are there, and if you would like to take justice a step farther than perhaps was outlined in the primary objective, you should be rewarded for it. Do we have a deal?”

2315 Jan 4 2063- Room 7

Looking up Blaze kept his face blank but inside his heart soared, this is just up my alley, no matter what Max says, Helping these people will be a help for all, and this extra cash is just what I need perhaps to fund my own run to retrieve Melissa.
"I can't speak for any of the others but I'm in, one question though, in regards to our second objectives, which is the higher objective, rescue extra people or render the camp in operable?"