Deep Vengeance..., ...is the Daughter of Deep Silence Options

[Buddha72]

Eklipse
While keeping your vigil on the rooftop you see a message arrive.

<<@Gunther: I am glad to hear this search may end with her being found alive. I have been able to find a way to help you in your search. I have redirected an asset to your area and have managed to "lose the paperwork" so you should have his aid for sometime. I wish I could do more. MR>>

Attached to the message is number and a name - Fleet.

[Buddha72]

Fleet
The flight has been less than comfortable but every time you start to feel ungrateful you feel the images of your cell in Germany explode across your consciousness. All around you is the gear as promised by Magda. You're still not sure what her angle was but so far all she's asked is for you to help a friend in Seattle and she'll see about getting you out from under the corp's thumb. She was still cagey around how you were found in the prison and why they extracted you. You suspect she doesn't know but you never know with corp types. They go to training centers to work over runners like you.

You feel the cargo plane come to a stop and hear movement outside. You stand and stretch working out the kinks as the back cargo door opens and you see a a worker enter with a crew behind them. You feel the urge to say something harsh upon seeing his skin and face but once again a surge of disorientation passes through you.

COURTESY GOES FARTHER THAN BILE

You feel your mouth open and hear your voice.

"Thanks for the flight all. Let me get out of your way and let you work."

You exit as the dizziness passes and watch as they unload the vehicles Magda provided. You had checked them over before they were loaded in Germany and all the mods had been done as you requested. Seeing the array of resources at your disposal you feel your brain itch to jump in and start driving but you push it aside and wait for them to finish. Your pull up an AR window and look over the information she provided. A club in Seattle called the Looking Glass was where you were suppose to head as soon as you got your gear settled in and unpacked. You pull up the site connected to the club and quickly see the parade of gene expression scroll by - a Changling bar it seems.

[Fenris]

He stretched, once, as the crews finished unloading the last of his equipment. He'd even ended up tipping them, when a gesture to flip on of them off had trigged the 'gratuity' subroutine on his public commlink instead. Damn the Dragon! he curses internally, and winces as the flood of images of the tiny cell in the German prison slammed through his consciousness again. Bracing his hands on his knees for a minute, he panted quietly, catching his breath, glad that the pilots had already chocked the plane and wandered inside with the workcrew.

Glancing down the row of vehicles, his blood sang. His. Breaking out the electronics kit he'd kept within eyesight ever since he'd purchased the items back in Hamburg, he subscribed the scanning devices to his commlink and ran over the vehicles, the gear, and even himself with painstaking detail, dealing with any irregularities that surfaced with a detached but destructive bent.

Satisfied for the moment, at least, he loaded his personal gear onto the bike and climbs aboard, almost instinctively transferring his consciousness into the vehicle. The tarmac around him came alive with overlapping feeds from radar, audio, visual...windows for the scanning subroutines on the other vehicles crowding for his attention at the edges of his sight. Feeling his body rock as the gyro unit spun up and leaned the bike off its kick stand and into a standing position, he overlaid he addresses of his local garages onto a map of Seattle, spinning out a brief script to help each vehicle randomize it's route and keep an eye out for tails, splitting them up between the various locales, and mapping a separate route for himself to each of the locations before moving on to his hotel. He'd need to check each one before he'd feel comfortable enough to try and sleep off some of the jetlag.

Later...
Showered, scrubbed, and dressed in a freshly purchased set of 'casual gear', he tromped down the steps of the mid-range 'extended stay' hotel, heavy boots echoing on the thin plascrete steps. He slipped into the bike and kicked himself into motion, headlights cutting the darkness before he merged onto the major thoroughfare, heading for the Looking Glass that Magda had mentioned.

Parking a bit down the way from the club itself, he sweeps over it with visual and electronic senses, trying to avoid looking at the clustered groups of freaks trailing out the door. Waiting in line was torture, and when one of the club-goers slammed into him accidentally, probably a kid but who can tell, he spun around, words of Allah's obvious judgement against the freak's soul tumbling from his lips-

BEAUTY IS ONLY SKIN DEEP. EVERYONE IS BEAUTIFUL ON THE INSIDE

"No, no problem at all. Would you like a piece of gum?' He turned back to the line, the odd, muted wash of neutral emotions that accompanied one of the breaks flowing through him. He knew he was angry, that hadn't gone way, but it was a dull, colorless emotion, devoid of any anguish or depth...like looking at a 2D black and white image through a fuzzy glass window.

As he finally reached the front of the line, he watched the bouncer size him up. Managing to avoid the obvious comments about the simian-looking man's relationships to the the equally degenerate Africans, he waiting patiently while the man, man? looked him up and down, watching the expression twist when he saw the prayers of the Koran engraved in the hobgoblins tusks.

"We require all patrons to always observe the traits of Courtesy and Respect for the other club goers. Is that going to be a problem?" Fleet caught sight of the two ridiculously large pistols, carved with those self-same traits, tucked into shoulder holsters in the bouncer's jacket.

"Not at all," he answered cheerfully, thankful that the corporate conditioning was useful for that, at least. He struggled up to the bar, constantly changing directions to avoid the worst of the whirling maelstrom of twisted flesh crowding around him, and practically had to yell the fake name he'd been given. He assumed it was fake, Magda had told him Eklipse was a black operative, much like Fleet, and Fleet knew he, at least, would never use his real name. Not in a place like this. Settling back against the bar with some odd cocktail of fruit juices that the bartender assured him did not contain alcohol or pork, he waited for the man he was going to be helping for the next foreseeable future to arrive.

[Notsoevildm]

Eklipse stands in a dark corner, the shadows drawn tight around him. His dark fur works to his advantage and his polo shirt, cut-off cargo pants and even his flip-flops are both UV-absorbing and black. He has been standing there a while.

He watches the partygoers around him. His eyes dart around looking for the S-K employee or his girlfriend.

Not here. Good. No sign of Katja either. Should I text her? She is pretty but she is not my Heidi.

His gloomy thoughts are broken by the sight of the hobgoblin 'dancing' erratically across the room to the bar. He seems tense, uncomfortable and on edge.

Ja, me too.

Moving with a fluid grace, the night elf peels himself from the wall and follows the hobgoblin across the dance floor. Several dancers, both male and female, rub various appendages or parts of their bodies against him as he dances past. He declines several invites, from innocuous to embarrasing, while keeping his attention on the uncomfortable-looking ork metatype.

He orders a beer and then turning to the hobgoblin says with an almost too bright smile, "Guten Abend Herr Fleet. Magda sends her regards and hopes zat all your toys arrived safely and in good working condition."

[Fenris]

He caught the figure out of the corner of his eye, something making the man stand out. Maybe it was the fact that he fit in so well but turned down all the offers, maybe it was just the sense of one professional to another in a crowd full of cattle.

"Guten Abend," the hobgoblin says in return, without glancing over. The language sounds almost mechanical through the tusks, probably a low level of fluency provided through some sort of crash VR instruction course. When he does turn to glance at Eklipse and gets a full, up close look, his eyes widen in surprise and he begins to cu-

A PROFESSIONAL IS A PROFESSIONAL IN MIND, BODY, AND MANNERS...

"Excellent idea for staying out of sight," he says smoothly, offering a hand to the furry elf. And please, assure her that everything arrived safely and in order. Not to be too forward," he says, with a smile that might be just a bit forced, "But is there somewhere we can talk in private?" Behind him, his hair ripples through a number of additional colors, a sort of muted rainbow sheen, the uncomfortable runner's attempt to fit in.

[Notsoevildm]

Eklipse smile widens at Fleet's startled reaction. His appearance often gave him that small momentary advantage over an opponent, although the hobgoblin's features were also rather unusual and his otherwise professional attitude showed that he hadn't been that surprised.

Some sort of ork metatype. Not as unusual as some of the surged here at the club, but still it's good to know the old Nightcrawler routine works.

"Of course! I vill get us a booth. Mr Bobo has them swept regularly for bugs and discretion is his middle name."

He turns to the barman and gestures vaguely with his beer in the direction of some booths against the far wall, which are mostly empty despite the club being busy. He leans over the bar in hushed discussion and then slots his credstick to hire the booth.

He leads the way to the booth, the sound dropping in volume as they enter it's dampening field. Eklipse sits on one side of the booth, takes a sip from his beer then sets it aside.

"From what Magda tells me, you are a rigger. This would certainly be a useful addition to our operation." He rubs his arm where the drone had tagged him subconsciouly. "We recently had an encounter with some drones, so I am painfully aware of how effective ze can be."

Note to self: remember to inform Widget that we have a new team member if he seems on the level. Be diplomatic about it.

"Now, how much do you know about ze current operation?"

Ha, 'operation'. I wonder if he knows I have gone rogue.

[Notsoevildm]

<double post>

[JxJxA]

Back in his home, Zerone mulls over the results of the mission. While he is happy that the people responsible have been dispatched, he is disappointed that they could not come to some form of nonviolent solution. He had underestimated the bloodthirst of some of his companions, and noticed with some dismay that the hands of those he had put to sleep joined the pile of those harvested from the deceased. Still, the beauty of Free Will is the freedom to embrace His Will or eschew It. He has made his choice, and he stands with Him. Zerone prays that He will stand with him as well.

However, a more pressing concern for the elf is his inability to affect the tools of Man---the dreadful drones that harmed his friends. Thankfully, Sister Isabela was there to destroy them, but Zerone is not satisfied with having to rely on ravmalakhim in that situation. As a guardian theurge, he must be able to shield his friends.

He begins composing a message to the Reverend, including a list of magical goods he humbly asks the his friend to acquire. He then remembers his friend, Mr. Fat Man. The mage and his ravmalakh---rather, shen---showed restraint where others might have turned to violence. He might follow a different faith, but it appears to run parallel to His Will. He adds a request for the Reverend to consider assisting his friend in finding magical gear as well...

[Fenris]

Fleet seems to settle fairly comfortably into the routine of 'private, discrete booth for talking biz', none of the nervousness one normally saw with corporate assets stepping into the shadows for the first time.

"I am. Our mutual acquaintanss was kind enough to pro'vid me with some goodss, so I don't think does'll be a problem any more. I should be able to handle transportation for the team as will, unless you've got more then five trolls." A hint of Arabic mixed with the tusks serves to slightly slur some of his words as he references up the age old joke about stuffing trolls into Mercury Comets.

"As for the job, all I know is that I'm suppased to halp you in whateveh it is you're working on. You're welcome to giff me whatever details you deem neccessary. It would be helpful to know, however, if there's a hacker on the team already?"

[Notsoevildm]

Eklipse's grin fades to a genuine smile.

He is rather a strange fellow. He should fit in just fine.

He pauses for a moment, taking a drink from his beer as he sorts his thoughts.

How much to tell him. Hmm, nothing too far from the truth. In fact, as close as possible is probably best.

"First of all, you need to know zat this operation is totally off ze books. If we get into trouble or get arrested, the company will at best declare us rogue operatives. At worst, well...use your imagination. And do not forget zat our CEO has a rather long memory, ja. I assume you were aware of this before agreeing to meet with me but just vanted to be clear."

He pauses a moment, to let that sink in before continuing.

"Second, ze operation itself involves locating a missing operative. I vill mail you her details."

He cocks his head sideways focusing on the unfamiliar AR of his new commlink and forwards the file on Heidi he had received from Magda. He decides not to forward the information Cypher found on the clinic's node.

Need to know. He doesn't need to know that right now. Although maybe we need to get his blood cleaned too. Time for that later.

"Zere we go. She vas investigating ze activities of ze local yakuza. We are aligned with a party zat is actively working against zese scumbags. Frau Widget is our contact with them. She is also a rigger and has been providing some support ad interim. She will likely want to check you out, so I hope your cover is clean."

"Third, ze team. Zere are no trolls on ze team although Herr Fat Man is rather plump. We do have a decker. He goes by ze name Cypher. We extracted him from a facility on our first mission. He is also an ork. Ayo is a shifter or surged adept like myself, not totally sure. He is a combat specialist. Zerone and Fat Man are our magical support."

That should be enough for now. Wait, the new guy, Breeze.

"Oh ja, and ze englander Breeze. We just extracted him from a clinic zat we can now access ourselves. Not sure of his capabilities yet. He does know his way around a maglock and seems to like ze ladies."

He sits back, swirling his beer in the bottle and taking a drink.

"So, anything I missed? As I said Frau Widget and most likely Cypher will vant to check you out before velcoming you on board. I vill of course vouch for you."

[Fenris]

He nods as Eklipse speaks, again, seeming very familiar with the process and somewhat more at ease because of it.

He chuckles slightly at the comment about the dragon, that apparently being universal enough. "Right, crunchy and taste good wiff ketchup."

"So, seven members pluff myself, that shouldn't be a problem. I'll haff to coordinate things with this Widget, since it soundff like we'll be working in the same space. Good to haf so much magical support. Are Cypher and Widget available now? I'ff spent the last 16 hourff on a plane, I'm admit, I'm ready to work."

[Buddha72]

Looking Glass
As if summoned by the mere mention of her name - Widget strolls off the lift to the upper floors and apartments. Dressed in club gear down to the elaborate structure of braids and metallic make up. As she makes her way across the open floor of the club the air around her grows dense with AROs. You watch her deftly handle the flood and the meat world interactions going on around her. She pauses to kiss cheeks and briefly hug a wide assortment of Changlings as she makes her way to your table. She seems completely at ease with the people and the surroundings. When she plops herself down at your table her hair is rippling in dark blues and greens like a waterfall.

"Howdy gents - I got a message that we had a new face here so imagine my surprise at seeing you two snuggled up at a booth."

Her smile is radiant and infectious as she motions in the air bringing up an AR window and promptly orders a drink from the bar. She swats the interface away when done and listens as Eklipse introduces a new runner to the team. She never asks more than his name, what he can do and whether Eklipse vouches for him. She asks nothing of their past associations or why he's here now. She smiles and shakes hands with Fleet.

"My Uncles always stressed leaving shadows where they were unless someone offered to turn on the lights. Eklipse says you're ok and that works - if there's a problem later well then that's between him and the rest of the group."

She winks as she pumps Fleet's hand like an earnest door to door salesman. She leans back and swipe her hand in a lazy arc in front of herself. A series of windows open up in AR and you see her begin to scribe messages with her pinky finger in each - one after the other. She pauses briefly to pose for a small drone that flies up from her hair and takes a snap shot of her - its little flash popping as it captures the image. She pens the last message then waves the windows away upon which the promptly collapse back into nothingness. A server drops off her drink which she sips.

"People should be trickling in."

Breeze
Your commlink chirps alerting you to a new incoming message from Widget. Imbedded in the message is a image of her waving and smiling from a booth in what looks like a club of some sort. She is done up and to the nines.

<<@Breeze: DING! Times up - get your ass down here to the Looking Glass for that drink and meet some new friends.>>

Emilio
An icon flares to life in your visual field - a new message from Widget.

<<@Emilio: You should head down to the Looking Glass for a little gathering and having a life outside of work.>>

Cypher
An agent sends you an alert that an new message has arrived from Widget.

<<@Cypher: Hey we have a gathering happening here at the Looking Glass or you can log in and be here virtually if that's easier. We have a new member of the band - thought you might want to look over his gear? Let me know.>>

Fat Man
The small machine in your pocket startles you as it shakes violently. You withdraw it fearing it has been damaged or is broken to see a small icon. You wrack your brain and recall it means something like new call or report or something. You enter the key strokes and a message flares to life before your eyes.

<<@Fat Man: Evening - I wanted to ask you to come on down to the Looking Glass and meet a new friend. There's music, food and drink so join us!>>

Zerone
You have spent the time studying the formulae and can feel the new knowledge rest within yourself and your mind. The foci work as the Reverend promised though your brief meeting with him still troubles you. When you had arrived they all seemed to be in the process of packing to move. You offered to help but the Reverend declined and assured you it was nothing more than a lease falling through. He gave you the items you requested and let you know he would be difficult to contact for the next few weeks while they moved to their new church. The whole exchange seemed forced and awkward - not things you associated with the congregation. Your fretful reminiscing is interrupted by the alarm of an new message arriving - a note from Widget.

<<@Zerone: I hope this note finds you well. I am hosting a small party at the Looking Glass and would be delighted if you could attend. We gather now with intentions of greeting the dawn. I await your reply.>>

[Emilio]

Emilio starts heading to the Looking Glass.

[Notsoevildm]

Eklipse grins a foolish grin, shaking his head at the vision before him. He raises his hands in surrender, shrugs and orders another beer.

"Frau Widget, I must say zat you are looking particularly stunning tonight. Is zere some special occasion I should be knowing about. Your birthday perhaps, or just enjoying ze spoils of our recent endeavours?"

"I vould ask you for a dance, but I am feeling somewhat underdressed. If you would not mind keeping Herr Fleet company for a short while, I will excuse myself and change into something more appropriate. I should be back by ze time ze others arrive."

[UmaroVI]

Fat Man grins at the mention of food.

<<@Widget: I'll be right down exclamation mark>>

He heads down to the looking glass, picking out the familiar auras of his friends despite the confusing mass of AROs his goggles insisted on displaying in the physical world, along with one new one.

"Widget, Eklipse, it is good to see you again. And you," he says, turning to Fleet and offering a handshake, "must be the new friend Widget mentioned. I am glad to see you; I go by Fat Man."

[JxJxA]

With his friends troubles at the forefront of his mind, he does his best to write a quick reply to Widget.

<<@Widget: Thank you very much for the invitation, Sister Widget. I will be there, and look forward to seeing you and the others again.>>

He thinks about asking her about his concerns for the church, but decides against doing it over the commlink. He will mention it to her in person instead.

He dresses as best as he can for the occasion, taking his nicer dress clothes and wearing them over his body armor and under his coat. He also takes his various foci just in case he encounters trouble. He uses the bus, taking as direct a route as possible. He when he reaches the door, he bows politely to Mr. Bobo, and then makes his way through the cacophony of club lights and noise to the table.

"Greetings, my friends," he says, bowing politely to them all. He does his best to hide the concern weighing upon him. When he spots the stranger at the table, he extends a friendly hand to the new member.

"I don't think we have met before. My name is Zerone."

[BishopMcQ]

Stretching once as he stood up, Cypher walked into the small kitchen of his apartment and keyed the autochef to brew soykaf and make the next meal in the schedule that was downloaded from the market. The ingredients all came pre-measured for the machine to prepare food quickly. With dinner preparations started, the hacker laid back in his ergonomic chair.

The Looking Glass node blooms up in front of him. Cypher tightens his security settings, deactivates the sculpting of the city streets, and enters the fray. Navigating the congested matrix feeds, he finds the cluster of nodes that he has active programs running in. The TacNet spools up in the background of each of their commlinks, a small icon blinking on image links to show that it is is Passive mode.

With sensor feeds from across the team, the hacker routes his voice through the table's interactive ordering system. "I am here."

He sends a text message directly to Eklipse.

<@Eklipse [Cypher] The files on Breeze were erased from the clinic system, the same way that Heidi's were. Data retrieval tools haven't found anything. Do what you will with it.>

[Hamagen]

*Beep Beep*

*Metal Music in the background*

*Beep Beep*

Something flashes in his eyes and his own recorded voices scream out at him from his commlink

"HEY WANKER!! YOU'VE GOT A MESSAGE!!"

He stops thrashing his head up and down for a moment and looks at the message that has been waiting for him for the last few minutes, he had a script ready to set off a pre-recorded scream at him after 5 min of not answering a message. He reads the message thinking a bit, trying to remember the name, he was never good with names, then he saw the picture, his eye lit up and smiled whispering under his breath...

"Ah tha pretty lass who I owe a favor to"

He pushes his way out of the mash pit, tapping a friend of his on the shoulder as he makes his way out, his hair done up in spikes, colored purple, piercings in his tongue, his lip, ears and nose, he was wearing ripped jeans and a raggedy faded blue tank top. He walked over towards the place he left his leather jacket and looked around, he couldn't find it, he started eyeing the room, then saw it, a few tables over some guy was wearing his jacket, he turned to the troll that followed him out of the mash pit...

"Hey GT...That bloke over there is wearing my jacket...mother fucker trying ta steal...MY jacket, tha fucken nerve..."

Breezes cracks his knuckles as he walks over, taps the man on the shoulder and lets a fist fly straight at his jaw.

[Fenris]

He eyed Widget with a brief moment of distaste as she sauntered over, but the reaction was wiped from his face so quickly...artificially quickly...that only the smile is left by the time she actually greets him.

He greets each one of the runners in turn, the conditioning flickering across his mindset with every Caucasion addition, regards of race. His tone is courteous, polite, and professional, making room for those physically present in the booth, and even keying up a round of drinks and snacks, slotting his cred stick and allowing everyone to order what they like.

"Nice to meet you all, my name'f Fleet, af far as your concerned." It's delivered with a small chuckle. "I work with Eklipse, and he's filled me in on the basics. Cypher, I understand you're running the electronics end of things...what do you need from me to get me up to speed with whatever you're running? Same with you, Widget, what do you need from me so we can play nice? As for my skills, I'm focused on aerial drones and vehicles, so I should be able to fill in whatever niches Widget isn't already, and I've got a pretty good head for EW and ECW. I've also got access to a fairly well equipped automotive and aeronautics shop, so if anyone needs modifications to their vehicles or drones, we can probably get it done with the right parts. Now, all tat being said," he glances around to the assembled group, "When do we get started?"

[Strangeglove]

"Hey GT...That bloke over there is wearing my jacket...mother fucker trying ta steal...MY jacket, tha fucken nerve..."

Breezes cracks his knuckles as he walks over, taps the man on the shoulder and lets a fist fly straight at his jaw.

Following two strides behind Breeze, Strangeglove's possible courses of action narrow conveniently when a fat metal-head stands up from the table with a shout.

Sensing his increased heart rate, Strangeglove's dreadlocks switch from their usual slow pulse to a stroboscopic red flash, and the metal-head's hollered objection is lost when Strangeglove's open-hand slap knocks the man backwards over his chair.

[Hamagen]

Breeze continued a quick assault, it contained a quick punch to the gut and an elbow to the face, the man fell down and Breeze took the Jacket from him, looking at the other people around.

"Tosser tried to steal ma jacket"

He gets up and walks over to Strangeglove as he reads the message from Widget again.

"Hey GT, remember I told about them blokes from tha clinics, ones who saved my skin? Looks like they got a job for me, lets see if they need some more muscle"

Breeze smiles as he send a message to Widget

<<@Widget: Hello Love, your pretty face is a sure fire way to make me join you at the club, I also have a friend who is looking for some work, good man, good muscle, mind if I bring him along?>>

[Strangeglove]

Breeze continued a quick assault, it contained a quick punch to the gut and an elbow to the face, the man fell down and Breeze took the Jacket from him, looking at the other people around.

Strangeglove helps Breeze retrieve his jacket, taking the opportunity to subtly relieve the would-be thief of his commlink.

Standing up, Strangeglove surveys the crowd in case the two fools have more friends, before turning to Breeze, "We goin'?"

[Emilio]

Emilio looks the Looking Glass up on his commlink, and realizes he won't fit in so well. He decides to grab his club cloths from his trip to the AGS – some atrocity in neon pink, neon yellow, and black. It however looks like it should be under neon lights, so it has a chance of fitting in. He then drives to a near-by car park and sends Widget a text before starting to walk over.

<<@Widget: honey bunny, is there anything I should say or do to get in? I'm going to stand out as much as the crowd would stand out at the Battleship Mormon. And I so don't want to blemish my cute face before seeing your radiance!>>

[Notsoevildm]

As Eklipse makes his way back to the team's booth in his dancing clothes, he ponders the message from Cypher.

What does that mean? Is there a link between Breeze and Heidi?

He composes a message to Cypher as he makes his way through the club's distinctive patrons.

<<@Cypher: Was it only the records from Breeze and Heidi or were others also deleted? Do you know who did it - the yakuza or a third party? Danke for the information but it only seems to raise more questions than it answers.>>

Deep in thought, he accidentally bumps into one club's more radically surged and outrageously attired individuals.

"Sorry, miss, I mean sir, err.." he stammers, giving up and backing away with an apologetic grin.

Over the last few weeks while he has been living at the Looking Glass, he has been watching the locals and gradually adjusting his wardrobe to better fit in. He has noticed that less is more, particularly for the 'furry' patrons amongst the surged. So his outfit is a pair of short shorts in luminescent aqua matched to a equally bright half shirt that ends abruptly just below his ribs. His fur sparkles with glitter and his hair has been spiked up with the same treatment.

This time he does pause to respond to the various messages he receives, returning compliments and politely declining invites to get various 'things' on by explaining he has some friends to meet. He even sends a message to Katja letting her know he is at the club with some business colleagues, but that he may be free later for a drink.

As he slips into the booth next to Fleet, he grins, "Please, no comments about meine lack of attire. It seems to be ze norm for ze 'furry' crowd here."

[Buddha72]

Breeze
The music pounds away and the crowd quickly resumes its frantic dancing after the hiccup of your retrieving your jacket with Strangeglove's help. You see a reply from Widget pop up while you gather your jacket and prepare to leave.

<<@Breeze: Sure. the more the merrier. I don't have any work from HR right now but heavy lifting is always somewhere in temp work and having friends to do it for you is always a good thing.>>

Emilio
You walk your way up to the club and see the surreal crowd gathered outside. Changlings and probably genespliced wannabes are clustered together in trendy club wear. The air around the establishment is filled with lurid color and images as AROs dance all around. As you approach an ARO pops in front of you along with a text from Widget. It materializes into a a small neon green orb with complex DNA strands woven in on itself. It pulses and contracts to the heavy base beats coming from inside the building.

<<@Emilio: This bunny rabbit is anything but sweet. Just follow this pass to the door and to my table. As for fitting in - well we call can't be blessed by the comet.>>

Eklipse
Widget smiles and nods as you slipped away to change outfits. Her open and radiant smile upon your return expresses her approval of your choice of attire.

<<@Eklipse: If we weren't working together I would lick you from head to toe - you look yummy!>>

Fleet
Widget nibbles at some food and takes a healthy draw on her brightly colored drink through a twisted structure you think is a straw.

"To clarify Mr. Fleet I'm support staff. I handle getting the information to you all about the jobs and I have to double check your work to make sure you get paid. I can offer logistical support - gear, garages, some area based knowledge - you get the drift. I helped out in the beginning to frankly to pad my paycheck but with you here I can resume my original duties."

She waves and hugs people as they arrive or blow kisses as the alcohol begins to works its magic.

"As now right now there is nothing in your IN box."