The Warehouse Job, Evolving from Burnt Magna Open IC Options

[grendel]

In a distant part of the city, in a room drowned in eternal shadows, the phone rings.

"Yes?"
"The team is arranged as you requested. They will be arriving at the warehouse tomorrow morning."
"Excellent."

Senate listened the the remainder of his employer's directions before hanging up the phone. Cardinal glanced up as he returned to the passenger seat of the BMW. In response to her unasked question, he shook his head.

"Execute the plan as briefed."

It began to rain.


[OOC] I was going to put up a separate OOC thread, but it seemed wasteful to me to generate two additional topics every time a job evolves from an Open IC thread. So, if no one has any objection, just handle any OOC/administrative business required at the bottom of your posts.

[lodestar]

Renraku flightplan fifty-three delta swam effortlessly through the low scud of the Seattle pre-dawn. Every second, on the second the sea-grey helicopter transponder confirmed this to Seatac ATC whose computers referenced it against the matrix database and verified that fifty-three delta was indeed on flight planned heading and altitude as approved for the requested commuter flight for the helicopter with UCAS registry November six-six-two-three Charlie Romeo. Said flightplan was to terminate upon the helo's arrival to a location in Belvue. Nothing about the proposed flight set off any alarms within the system, for everything about it was perfectly legal. Except, of course, there was no such helicopter as November six-six-two-three Charlie Romeo. In the FAA database there was, it was listed as a 2050 model Hughes WK2. It had two previous owners and was aquired by Renraku as part of a corp aquisition in 2052. The IRS even had records of the purchase. But if anyone had managed to catch a good look, if by chance through a parting in the cloud they might have been able to pick out the stubby quad-finned form of Blue zero-eight, but probably only if said observer was specifically looking for it, and only if the best vision enhancement devices money can buy were in use at such time.

Aboard the lonely bird swimming through the mist was a single occupant. He occupied the pilot's seat, and sat as though sleeping, though strapped securely in the restraints modified to hold his large form. Blue light from the EFIS display, intermingled with the red night light of the archaic "steam gauges" to give him a stony appearance, His inset lenses reflecting a japanese cartoon of seizue inducing light due to the helo's vibration. Twin datacables ran down the back of the bull like neck. On to an R/C deck strapped to his right thigh, the other to a port in the helo's control panel. The passenger slept in electon-space, dreaming pixeled dreams. The stick and collective weaving minutely in tune to his dreamrythm.

The world outside was but a shadow as he momentarily focused on the display in the top right of his vision. It was the view as he were looking out of the front windscreen, a rolling grey sea within the depths of which red wire frame buildings lined its bottom. Over the barrens, only the ocassional orange heatsource of a vehicle or yellow spike of a squatter's fire marred the uniformity. He wished he could leap into that world and feel the mist wash over the grey ferralumin hull, each droplet a micro pinprick of cold. But there was business to attend to. Accessing one of the icons in the bottom of his view he quickly made some notes on the status of some of his gear. Repairs still needed here, a part to be discreetly aquired there. Satisfied, he banished the window of data back to its corner. Another view mentally accessed, its contents small but of some concern to his train of thought. It was a simple LTG number which he had tagged "murphy" in english standard alphanumerics. He filed the data back in its proper spot. He then issued the command for the helo's scrambled cel to make a call. He concentrated to speak one word to activate it. "Elly"

Another window appeared in the bottom corner of his vision. A cartoonish Vidphone flashed garish lights like some child's toy within. She had a penchant for doing things to try to annoy him. But he was the better of the two at the game. He had just termed the programming "unprofessional". Her image appeared after two cyclings of the vidphone's animation. "I trust there has been no problems with your ride comrade captain?" Her voice held her usual mild annoyance.

"Net, and don't call me..."

"Da, da. Don't call me captain." She tried her best to immitate him in her version of his stern warning. While he sensed she meant it jokingly, it came off as bitter. He innwardly sighed, life had been hard for the his last surviving crewmate, and while he could honestly empathize with some of what fueled her thoughts, he knew he would never understand it all. He decided to change the subject.

"The work was accomplished with minimal expenditure, but I was calling, making sure the payment was good. no?"

"Da, it has been transferred to the account as it was agreed in the contract you gave me, and I have already made the arrangement for the fuel purchase through the usual channels. Is that satisfactory Captain?"

"It is." She was in that mood again and there was no use fighting with her. "I have one more favor to ask of you Elly." He thought he could see her grimace and grind her jutting jaw in the monochrome vid display.

"What is it?" Her accented speech through her short tusks intensified the suspicious tone.

"It is another contact for work, I having already download to you. He will be looking for Boris. Put him through to me if he call."

"Oh! We are Boris now are we? I will make sure I operate switchboard for you to my highest ability comrade. Is there anything else that I may be of service?"

"Net Eliola, I will be home when I am able."

He terminated the connection. Infrared buildings beneath cloudy sea. It was almost dawn.

[Blitz]

:: Arriving at the safehouse, she shoulders her bags after securing her bike in the garage. The small cottage style house is surrounded in tall shrubbary to keep prying eyes away from the already heavily tinted windows. ::

:: Olga uses the garage entrance into the house and punches the 10 digit code into the sequencer mounted beside the reinforced door. A quick walkthrough shows that the house is empty of her regular team so she dumps her bags in the livingroom before moving to the kitchen to whip up a quick snack before bed. ::

:: Two nuked soyburgers, and a bottled Beaver Beer later and Olga shambles off to one of the two sleeping quarters, plopping down on the troll moded bed and falling asleep on command. Ain't technology grand? ::

[Buddha72]

:: Iblis weaves through the city streets. Sliding easily around cars and occasionally zipping up onto the sidewalk when the Star is not around. Her datajack firmly in place, she begins to access her deck and brings up a list of names. Her vision is filled with numbers and emails. In her mind's eye she highlights the icon for composing an email. She mentally composes a quick note to send. ::

"Hey End Run it's me Iblis. Can you see what you can find out about this address? I'd do it myself but I have work starting tomorrow night. You know how it goes. Send me a reply at my usual box. Thanks. "

:: With a quick thought she attaches the file on the notes she took of the place to the message. End Run and his techno geeks at the Peoples Liberation of Data might be able to scrape something about the place, just need to donate to the cause. She closes that one out and pulls up another contact, well more like her personal saviour but hey, details. ::

"Hello my Lady. I will be unable to help out at the Looking Glass this weekend. I apologize for the late notice but an unexpected job has fallen in my lap. I will notify you as soon as my schedule is clear again My many thanks for your patience in this matter."

:: She marks the email to the Red Queen priority and saves it along with the other one. As soon as she gets to the house in Tacoma she'll connect her deck and let it work its automagic. The time passes quickly and soon she's pulling up to the house. She grins at the site of Olga's hog covered with silver stars. Olga is special, that's for sure but she has never let me down. Iblis strides into the house, after entering the access code at the door. She plugs her deck in and uploads her email to the matrix. She takes a quick peek in on Olga and then heads to her room to catch a quick nap. ::

OOC: Level 1 contact for End Run, specializing in data runs and brokerage. Red Queen is her personal messiah (True Believer), saved her from the streets after she SURGEd. Another Changling who runs a mobile rave/club called the Looking Glass. Has an agenda around gathering up Changlings and making them into top-notch runners.

[grendel]

(Iblis' email plus six hours.)

End Run's flashing icon pops up on the screen as soon as you open the message file.

"As usual, Omae, I've got to do all the hard work for you. I'll bet you passed on this one because the first round of encryption gave you a headache. Not to fear, though, master tracker that I am, I have the answers to your questions. Well, mostly. First of all, whoever owns this joint is careful in a way that sets off all the warning bells in my book. I started with the usual stuff: city permits, property assessments, taxes, etc. Nothing, all legit. All carefully legit so that any database searches or random trolling would pass those files by like they weren't even there. Whoever does their datascrub for them is good. Not your usual frag-up that corporate deckers leave behind. This guy was stealth. Took me four hours just to trace back through the thirteen different shell companies and reroutes that they used. Nightmarish. The real owners, though, are an innocuous little group called Labyrinth, LLC. And that's where all of my answers end and all of my questions begin. Listen, this is heavy drek here. These people aren't the type to screw around. If they're hiring you, something's going on. Watch your back."

The screen fades to black.

[Fenris]

It was dingy, dirty, the air stank, and there was no real light besides what reflected off the permanent cover of clouds and smog from the city lights miles away, but he had rooftop access and a place to sleep, so it was enough.

The Westwind, the last taunting reminder of the luxurious lifestyle he had lived in England, was safely stowed away downstairs, and a meal of flavored soy had been choked down.

The duffel bag containing most of his worldly possessions was already stowed in the old van, ready to roll the next morning.

Funny how when you're planning your escape you forget the little things, like 'Trix access and a trideo unit.

He worked himself into exhaustion as he did each and every night, the cloth bag filled with sand and suspended on the roof a poor substitution for a real heavy bag. It worked, and it was easy enough to imagine Williams face every time he drove a knee or an elbow into it. William was good, but not as good as Marcus, and this was how he would kill him. Up close, personal, and with his hands, watching blood and flesh splinter and break under his fists.

Just like his had when he hit the concrete.

[Blitz]

:: Her dreams woke her and she could still feel the sadness they brought with them. The pain of loss dulled enough for her conscious life, but sharp enough to taint her sleep. Caressing the leather jacket beside her bed, straining to see the much faded sigal of a long extinct gang. ::

"Make me strong dad, make me strong."

:: Heading off to the bathroom, she strips her well worn armor off and steps inside the searing heat of the shower. She paid a pretty penny extra to have hot water at all times, which no amount of money could secure in the Underground. It was a luxury she though was well worth the expenditure. Soaping up, her huge paws gently run over the ruined...no..blessed body. Remembering back when she was 12, she let out a bitter laugh. She had wanted to goblinize so badly. Living underground and still human was as lonely as one could imagine. Combined with her fathers devout faith in the Church of the New Baptism, she felt ostrisized by peers and God alike. ::

"I miss the skin I once had...

:: Almost at once she winced at her thought. She knew better than to think such things. God had chosen her to be one of the blessed. It was not an easy path to walk, but her present form enabled her to concentrate on the beauty within. Sometimes though, she couldn't help thinking, "what if I'm not beautiful on the inside either...will god still welcome me to heaven as a chosen one?" At that, she made a mental note to see Father Durham again. He had a way with diffusing her doubts. ::

:: Finishing her shower, she redresses. The slow process of getting into her form fit and ensuring everything is in it's proper place has a meditative effect on her mind and when she steps into the kitchen, she once again wears the charictaristic grin she's know for. ::

:: She puts on a pot of soycaff and starts making breakfast; a large stack of toast, some tofu-cheez© and a great big bowl of Snap-a-doodles. She also takes the liberty of pouring a smaller bowl for Iblis and then heads off to wake her furry companion. ::

"Morning Ib. We got about 45 min to get to work. Breakfast is ready as soon as you're done showering...."

[Buddha72]

:: Iblis pops her black and magenta mop out of her room. She waves in the general direction of Olga, mumbling something in a fluid tongue. A few minutes later she stumbles out of her room in more raver wear, dragging a large duffel in her wake. She tosses it to the floor with a grunt and devours her breakfast cereal. She mumbles her thanks while shoveling more food into her mouth. The light of true intelligence only then enters her eyes are the sugar works its way into her body. ::

"Hey, I asked around about the place we'll be guarding. I shot a message to End Run to look into the place we'll be calling home and it seems more shady than usual for us. Scan this."

:: Iblis grabs her deck and opens it. Types a few buttons and spins it around towards Olga. The email's contents are read aloud by a synthesize voice. She waits till the entire message is read. ::

"What do you think?"

:: Iblis looks towards her partner, her face asking the same old question before every run. Red light or green light? ::

[Blitz]

:: Olga narrows her eyes and actually growls slightly at the screen. ::

"Hardly a surprise given the circumstances we were given this job. I definately don't like it, but we already gave our consent. Get your heavy gear, we're taking the Jeep."

:: Her eyes twinkle as her pursed lips relax into a devilish smirk. ::

"If there's gonna be trouble, it's best we bring a solution with us."

[Buddha72]

:: Iblis laughs with girlish glee and claps her hands together like a possessed 2 year old. ::

"I was hoping you say that. I'll get Mr. Bang-Bang and bring my party suit layered with all the usual accessories. This is going so much fun. We haven't had the chance to cut loose all girly style in a while."

:: She scoops up her deck and tosses into her backpack. She drags the duffel back to her room and drags out a large over-sized suit case with some effort on her part. She clicks the latches open and begins to inventory the contents. She calls out from the case. ::

"Grab those print outs from the counter by the toaster. I make copies for the rest of the crew so we all have the 411 on this."

:: Her head pops up and she smiles warmly at Olga, the same smile usually followed by a request for a loan of funds.::

"Can you help me get this into the Jeep?"

[grendel]

The ringing of the bells of the Cathedral of St. Jude carries clearly through the crisp morning air. It's 0900 Wednesday, 10 January 2063.

[Fenris]

The drive is frustrating, arguing with the early morning Seattle traffic. Even at 7am in the morning, the streets are clogged with wage slaves starting their twelve hour days, and commuters that don't have the luxury of ignoring traffic to arrive at the office whenever they want.

He arrives at the appointed address a mere 15 minutes before the appointed 10am deadline, still silently cursing the lack of knowledge about his new home. He presents the passcode as required, and pulls into the perimeter, just another step closer to finding William.




:ooc: Gear: FFBA, Forearm guards, Secure vest, secure longcoat, normal clothes x2, handset cellphone, microtransceiver, mod'd sunglasses, Antidote patch x2, Stim patch x4, tranq patch x2, survival knife, Shockglove, stun baton, extendable baton, Browning, Remington, Flashpack x2, Conc x 2, Landrover

[grendel]

In response to the code, the gate slides open on silent hinges, allowing you access to the small parking lot. The building looks exactly as the Johnson described it, although up close it's easier to see the random spots of discoloration on the plastic sheeting. The area reeks of diesel exhaust and the dirty smoke from trash barrel fires. In contrast to the urban grit surrounding it, the small guardshack seems almost new. The three plastic chairs are stacked neatly in the corner and the self-powered cooler has the faint aroma of packing disinfectant when you open it. Nothing strikes you as out of the ordinary and absolutely nothing isn't as the Johnson described it.

[Blitz]

:: Olga grins as she gathers up Ib’s bag, lifting it like a sack full of feathers before snatching the flimsies off the counter before heading out to the Jeep. Packing it up around the mechanisms that make up the base of her turret, she checks her own equipment to ensure nothing has been forgotten before lifting her bulk into the modified drivers seat. ::

“Come on Ib, I wanna get there early!”

:: Once her friend takes her seat, Olga activates the garage door and the soft sided jeep spits out onto the quiet suburban street. Olga dons a pair of ultra black shades and flashes Ib a toothy grin as she speeds off towards the freeway and on to the job that waits for them. ::

“You wanna talk contingency plans? I’m thinking it might be a good idea given the info you’ve found so far. We should consider as many possibilities as possible. For starters: set up. How do we protect against it and what to do when it happens?”

[Buddha72]

"I'm not sure. All we know for a fact is that this property is well guarded in the matrix. If it's a triple A then it's some weird ultra secret thingie and I doubt they'd hire people like us to guard it. We're usually the one's who hit those places. Also the way we were selected was a little strange, even for me."

:: Iblis plugs into her deck and stares off into space as she dials up a wireless connection. She quickly opens up a program and composes an email to End Run. ::

"I'll ask End Run if he knows anything about this Senate fellow. Maybe if we know a little more about this MO, we'll have a better idea of what might be waiting for us on this job. I'll include his description and see what we get."

:: She sends the email along with a notification of payment of 1,000.00 nuyen to PLOD's account.::

"We'll see if anything pans out. I say we be ready to be screwed royally from both ends. I am going to pack the heaviest heat I have and hope for the best. When we get on site we can share intel with the rest of the team and see if they have anything to offer or add."

:: She reaches across the Jeep and lays her hand on Olga's shoulder. She makes brief but meaningful eye contact with her. She smiles warmly and sincerely. ::

"I know this, we will walk away from this together one way or the other. You watch my back, I'll watch yours. That always been our plan B and we're still here."

[lodestar]

He wakes up to the bitter taste of and stickiness of slight dehydration. It has always been a problem since the surgery. His eyes focus quickly to the alternating dim light of that filters in between the rotating vents in the corrugated densiplast that make up cieling. There is no normal lighting in the vast space of the warehouse turned hangar. A quick search finds his trouble light still hanging on the IFF antenna of one of Blue Zero-Eight's vertical stabs. But he really doesn't need it. Running one large flat hand along the surface, he hopes that his rushed inspection if the old Kamov revealed anything the gremlins might have chewed on since the last one. The old bird had to be ready for action. He turned away to in search of the old stryofoam cooler which he still hoped held one last surviving bottled water. His eyes fell on the GMC Bulldog which shared this hideaway. The old van had grown on him, but in a different way than Blue Zero-Eight. While Zero-Eight could almost be considered museum quality with the exception of its multitude of modifications that kept it flight worthy if not combat ready, the Bulldog was a reminder of another friend. With its mismatched burnt orange and metallic blue colored doors and bondo-patched bullet holes, the van was an acurate metaphor for his present, unlike Zero-Eight's preservation of his past. He reminded himself to fill it up the next time he took it out.

There was no water. A mild letdown. Contemplating a trip to the local stuffer for something that might resemble breakfast, he opened the rear doors of the van. There sqatting like model insects sat the tools of the trade. They were ready for work again if necessary. He carefully climbed in amongst them, careful of their various rotorblades packed away, antennas and camera lenses. Slamming the doors behind him he made his way to the driver's seat. Briefly he considdered calling Eliola to see if she had anything to report, butquickly swept that thought away. She is no longer your subordinate he thought, Just the only one you can trust in this world. His secrets were her secrets. He wondered whether the new contacts he had met the night before, correction, early this morning would request his help. He glanced up towards the large star in the safety glass of the windshield his head had made one day and reminded himself about the rules of trust and strangers. Still, they had seemed professional at least, and their type would always be loyal to the almighty nuyen. One day he'd replace that glass, but not yet. He placed his hat in its customary place to conceal the scarred scalp, patted himself to make sure the revolver, phone, PDA, multi tool, spare speedloader and wallet were all in their places. He shrugged the still damp coat into its place on his shoulders, hiding away his surgically made monsterous form.
The old analog watch said it was 0930. He did not feel like using the datajack right now, so with a stab of a flat finger, the warehouse door slowly began to scroll open amid a cacophony of metal on metal sound. The Van eased into the chill damp Everett morning, turning down the street by the cookie cutter similar warhouses that stood like grim sentinels in the grey morning. The pale sunlight that would ocassionally filter through the van's windshield gave no indication of warmth, or that it would stay. There would be rain again tonight.

[Fenris]

Marcus scanned the property as he drove in and parked the van, already anticipating likely locations and patrol routes, rooftops and corners that would be shadowed from the lights come night.

He almost wanted to sigh with relief as the familiar mental gears clicked into place and took over this thought processes, drowning out visions of Fix lying dead, or kidnapped, or whereever she was that was keeping her out of contact. Replacing those were the questions, calculations, and analysis that had made him so good at what he did.

[MrSandman666]

The streets where wet and glaring. Streelamps and car's lights staring at him, piercing his interior. As he was speeding through the sour rain of Seattle Ohanzee was already cursing himself for taking this job.
God, I could be with Lilly tomorrow but instead I'm gonna be sitting next to a warehouse probably getting shot up 'cause there is certainly more to this job than our dear Johnson told us. Where are my principles? What was this about only taking jobs from Jack?
O what a night!

As he arrived home he unloaded everything he had stored in his bike to his appartment, even though he would probably need most of it the next day. The next waypoint was the kitchen. A good warm Earl Grey would help to get his mood settled. While the water was cooking Ohanzee stands in the living room. Breething... being... He then starts to go through a series of smooth motions... always breething quietly, slowly... being... just as Kangee has taught him to. When he finished the short and lonely dance Ohanzee returns to the kitchen, pouring the hot water onto the bag of tea, settled neatly in an old looking can of china.
He takes the can and a matching cup back to his favorite arm-chair and places them on a little table next to him. Leaning back and relaxing a bit he activates his headphone. A little phone symbpl pops into the lower left corner of his view. On mental command it dials Lightnings number. Promptly after dialing the symbol morphs into a rather abstract lightning. She was online again. Good. Ohanzee didn't feel like seeing anybody right now. Of course he could have just turned off video transmission...
"Hey Lightning"
"Hi Sweety!"
His interiors clenched as she said this. Especially since she seems to be doing it with great pleasure. At least she is in a good mood...
"Listen. I need you to dig up as much info as you can on this place and these guys. I have an address of the place as well as a photo of the guy who employed me. The upload is already running. This guy calls himself Senate. See what you can find. And then there are a few other people I want you to dig up stuff about. They call themselves Ibis, Overkill and Murphy. They are the ones I'm running with. And this guy Boris. He's not on the team but still seams interesting. I know it's a lot of work for you especially considering the fact that I need the info by 10am, but I'm sure you can do it."
"You're not putting a lot of trust into your fellow runners, buddy."
"You know just as well as I do that trust can kill you in this business, Lightning. However, these guys are not priority. I need to have the info on the Johnson and the warehouse first. Especially what's stored inside it is interesting. If you find any more info after 10am, you can always reach me via headphone."
"Well, well... that's really a lot of work. You know I have to push another job aside for that?"
"Oh come on! I don't ask you for favors that often!"
"Definately often enough! I gotta make a living too, ya know? Although I'm not in as deep shit as you are..."
"Allright, you get 500 but I expect some exeptional work from that!"
"As usual, my brother."
After that, she hung up, the small icon fading out of view.
Back in the days she didn't ask for payment that often...

After sitting there for a while Ohanzee takes the bag of tea out of the can and places it on a small saucer, the scent surrounding him.

This next call wasn't one he was looking forward to.
He had his headphone dial Frank's number.
Frank's happy face and equally happy voice greet him:
"Hey, Johnny old chap! So you made it back alive?"
"Yeah Frank but I'm gonna be leaving again soo. Can you keep Lilly for at least three more days?"
The smile vanished off Frank's face immediately.
"Sure, but I don't know how she's gonna handle that. She's really been looking forward to seeing you, John."
"I know. I got some more work to do. Just tell her we had some complications and the job is taking me a bit longer. You know how I need the money, Frank!"
"I know. When are you finally going to get out of this, John?", Fank adds with a sigh.
"No, please don't start on this again. You know I'm not doing this for fun! If I could get a real job...! But you know how Amerindians are not too favored by the corps..."
"Well, at least you haven't grown tusks! Always remember that! You're still pretty well off."
"Yeah, I suppose..." Ohanzee sighs, "Well, thank you mate. I owe you."
"I know"
"Tell Lilly I love her!"
"I will. Bye."
"... Bye."

After hanging up Ohanzee takes the cup of tea and feels the warm liquid run down his throat and fill his stomach as he drinks and broods over dark thoughts, tears welling up in his eyes. After a short few moments of supressing his feelings Ohanzee mental barriers brake apart once more and he collapses in his armchair, sobbing until he falls asleep....


At precisely 6am Ohanzee returns from his inner darkness as his jolt alert his waking him instantly.
Allright... breakfast

After having eaten he goes to pack his gear.
I'm take the heavy machinery, just in case...
After sorting everything he decides that it might be a better idea to take the car. There won't be any chasing anyways and it's a lot of stuff to cary.
After that he sits there waiting for a call from Lightning.
He will drive towards the warehouse so that he's there 15 Minutes early, no matter whether he got the call or not.

:ooc:
Sorry guys for taking so long but I just returned from vacation...

Equipment:
Ares Monosword, 2 Tomahawks, 2 Cougar Long Knifes, Ranger X-Bow, 10 Cyanide drenched arrows and ten normal ones in seperate quivers, 2 Savalette Guardians with six clips of regular and six clips of gel ammo, fully loaded Remington 950 with 10 spare rounds, grapple gun, stealth grapple line + Catalyst stick, climbing gear, pocket secretary, chipreader, maps of the area (on chip), Electronics kit, Secure Ultra Vest, Secure Long Coat (both made of black leather)

Contacts:
Jack: Fixer, Level 1. Started Ohanzee in the business
Lightning: Decker, Level 2. They where a quite close team once but are on different tracks now. She's pretty slick and has a reputation to be a real man-eater.
Frank: Street Doc, Level 2. A good friend, who is taking care of Lilly whenever Ohanzee is 'on duty'

If the GM has further questions, PM me. I can also mail you the character sheet with complete background, if you want me to do so.

[Blitz]

:: The drive is relatively short, given the time of day and the traffic that goes along with it. The music pumping from the gargantuan speakers is quite eclectic changing from raver electronica to hard core troll thrash to pop culture synthetic. All of it is played at max decibles earning the pair quite a number of waving fingers as they pass by. ::

:: Finally arriving at the facility, Olga frowns at their late arrival. ::

"Looks like we're not the first."

:: Parking the vehicle just outside the small guard shack, Olga hefts the large duffles up and out of the jeep and unfastens the majority of the soft top's connections allowing for a quick removal should the large weapon stowed inside need to be utilized. ::

:: Dropping the bags in the small shack, she frowns at the flimsy stacked chairs and then takes a moment to assess what security this facility holds, checking off all the possibile assualt vectors that may be used against them. Mostly, just thinking about how SHE'D assualt this facility. ::

"What you think, Ib?"

OOC: Gear: Secure Jacked, Form Fit Full Suit, Forearm Guards, Personal Comm Rat 4, Survival Kit, Respirator, Savior Adv. Med Kit, 5 Antidote Patches Rat 6, 5 Stim patches Rat 2, Armtech MGL-12 with Rangefinder, 5 each of the following minigrenades: WP, Off. AP, Off HE, Def AP, Def HE, Smoke, IR Smoke. Ares Thunderer shotgun SL2 with 30 slug rounds, Colt M22A2 with 2 clips (80 total) Explosive rounds (also uses listed minigrenades). 100 Reg rounds for LMG, (Just got the LMG in the last game session and I don't have my notes...it's turret mounted to the Jeep's rear section under the soft cover). 5 Flash paks. Tons of stuffer shack snacks, soy bars, chokolate nuggets, cheesy poofs, laffy taffy (you know that stuff is still around) and enough soda to kill a horse.

[Buddha72]

"Well, it could always be worse. Looks like everyone is here."

:: She drags the suitcase out of the back of the jeep and lugs it over to the guard shack. Pops it open and begins to suit up. She pulls out 4 guns and 2 knives. Plugs in gear to 3 datajacks. She leaves the helmet off to talk. She gestures to the other gathered runners to come on over for a little tent revival. ::

"Heads up, I did some digging on this site and it looks like we are in for an interesting time. Take a look at this."

:: She hands out a print out of the email from End Run with the addresses deleted out. ::

"I want to know if anyone else found out anything about this job, I have someone looking into Senate right now. Also we need to figure out how this is all going to work. What comm channels, who's in charge, what we all can do, etc. The usually temporary team debriefing. Me, I'm an action decker. Running, climbing trees, and I can actually shoot a gun with some skill. If it has wires and chips then I'm your girl. What about the rest of you?"

OOC: Light security armor, form fitting body suit, her deck in an armored backpack, 2 custom made heavy pistols, 2 Cougar Fine Blades (long version & dikoted), 2 custom made light pistol, she's plugged into her deck, her speed loader for her pistols, and her skates. In the case is a Saviour medkit w/ 4 refills, micro-electronics kit, and computer kit. She has 2 clips of gel/Ex for each gun and 2 clips of APDS.

[Blitz]

:: She grins at her little friend ::

"My skills are mostly stealth and negotiation."

:: She manages to keep a straight face for about 30 seconds before the look in Ib's face causes her to burst out in loud booming laughter. ::

"Ok...so maybe not. I'm here for muscle and guns. And snacks!"

"As far as leadership, Im not your gal, I do much better when Im following rather than leading, though I usually just do my things my way and let everyone else take care of themselves. Ib's pretty smart though...she's got my vote."

"As for this Senate guy and this job, I think it's gonna be either super boring, or more exciting than I'd care to see, but there's really no going back now. Let's just cover our asses and hope for the best."

[grendel]

Lightning's call comes at precisely 0900.

"Morning, sunshine!" Her good mood seems to have persisted, although you can hear the fatigue in her voice. "I've got good news and bad news for you. The good news is, I found some data on the names you left me. The bad news is, I found some data on the names you left me. First of all, that warehouse location? Trouble with a capital 'T'. Only serious criminals go through the kind of scrub and reroute routine that's protecting that site. I finally locked it down to belonging to a Labyrinth, LLC. No idea who they are though, and it'll cost you more than five hundred to find out. Next, Senate. He's a runner, that's about all I can tell you. Dropped out of sight two years ago under a dark cloud. No further info until now. I can go for more detail if you'd like, but I had a lot of ground to cover. Two of the names you gave me, Overkill and Murphy, came up blank. Do you know how many people in this city are named or use the alias Murphy? Too damn many. What else? Oh yeah, Iblis is dead, so if you're working with her you might want to check for a pulse. Never can tell these days. As for that last guy, Boris, I'll need more info if I'm going to get a solid lead on him. Watch your back out there."

[MrSandman666]

Just as Ohanzee wants to get into his dark red Ford Americar there is a blinking icon popping up in the lower left corner of his view: it reads Lightning underneath it, causing his mood to raise slightly.
After hearing what she had to say he keeps silent for about a second.
"Alright. I might ask you to dig around on my colleagues later. I know that some of those names are quite common but I was hoping the photos would help. Of course, any runner who's worth his money will make sure there are not many pictures of him around. So that might or might not be a good sign.
For now it's more important for me to know about the background of this business. No idea what we're be guarding here? I'll give you another 2.000 if you can find out within the next 24 hours."
"Alright buddy", she answers with a sigh of exhaustion.
"Alright. See ya. And, Lightning?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"Frag off!", she adds with a clearly audible smile.

Such a nice girl. And always playing tough...

Ohanzee races along the streets of Seattle best as he can, struggling with the last remainders of business traffic as he heads for the warehouse, ignoring the honks flying into his direction.
As he arrives he finds some of his companions already there, leaving him positively surprised.
No amateurs, definitely not.
The large Amerindian get's out of his car, wearing all black clothing. Comfortably but rugged looking pants, a black shirt (100% cotton) and a neatly fitted leather vest. Reaching to the rear bank he grabs his black leather long coat and puts it on. He then goes to the trunk to get his equipment. The two tomahawks are tugged under his belt, as usual. The two massive combat knifes are strapped to sheaths on his arms. The guardians are put into two holsters under his arm pits, which you haven't even noticed till now. He then proceeds to carry the rest of his stuff into the guard house, on the way giving each of the present runners a friendly nod and a "good morning, gentleman" where he arranges everything neatly in one corner of the room; rifle, bow and quivers leaning against the wall.

A few moments after he's done the two female semi-members of this semi-team arrive.
When it's turn to introduce himself, Ohanzee courteously does so:
"Well, my specialties are stealth, close combat and silent kills. You could call me a hunter. And I like to do some break and entering as well, but that will likely not be required here, I suppose. However, my knowledge on the technical side of security might come in handy. And... I'm not that great on team tactics... So if anybody want's to take the lead, I'm not gonna stand in the way.
About the background info on this job, I can second that. About Senate I only found out that he's a runner who went under-cover about two years ago."

[Fenris]

Marcus steps into the hut as the introductions begin, towing no equipment in his wake.

He wears loose canvas slacks, and an equally light shirt, although the vest and longcoat he wears over those are familiar to most in their make and purpose.

He gives a nod to Ohanzee as his turn to speak arrives. "I've procured no additional information about the Johnson or our current location. I specialize in close combat and stealth, although I'm an excellent marksmen with pistol or rifle.

As for who's to be leader, I do not know any of you well enough to speak for one or the other. However, I can tell you that I've already done a bit of scouting around, and have located some potential weaknesses we'll want to negate. My training was designed to stop people like Shadowrunners," he gives a thin smile, "from doing precisely this sort of job."

He takes another quick moment to review the flimsies that Iblis has handed out, and mentally compile it with the reports Ohanzee gave.

"The information from both of you is impressive, although not surprising to many of us, I'm sure. What corp doesn't hide it's dealings to some extent? Does this information suggest any specific threats we may want to be alert for? It would strike me," and he glances up at the rest of the group as he continues, "That if this Senate gentleman was a runner before, he might be less likely then most Johnson's to hire expendable runners for suicide missions?

Iblis, do you have the equipment here for making more of these? They would be most useful in mapping out the compound and some of the surrounding area and providing each of us with such details."

His speech is precise, clipped, and very much in tune with the briefing atmosphere about the meeting. He focuses on each of the other members of the group in turn as he speaks, evaluating and assessing, the process subtle but noticeable.

::ooc:: I'd like to use my knowledge skill to try and deduce obvious assault routes and some basic security weaknesses, now that I've taken a look at the compound. If that's covered under the skills and background I have. I'm assuming a bit of leniency here, since cinematic resolutions allow for a slightly more realistic spread of knowledge and experience then pure die rolls would :D .

[MrSandman666]

"Seems like we're in the same niche here, Marcus. I am actually quite good at shooting too, though I prefer other methods. I have some experience as a security consultant, especialy when it comes to security systems and devices. I would appreciate it if you could show me around to see what we have to our disposal and what to take into account. Also, if anybody here", Ohanzee gives a very clear look to Iblis, "could see if they can come up with a digitalized map of this thing I'd be very grateful. Satelite images will be fine as well. But don't stress yourself. It's not that important.

"I also think that it's a good sign that our Johnson was a runner before for the reasons you mentioned. However, we should keep in mind that will most likely only act as a middle-man and probably doesn't know more about the job than we do. So it might still be a suicide mission, for all we know. It's just that the Johnson is not to blame."

He turns to leave
"Ready to roll?"