IC: TANGO DOWN!, In the pipe, 5 by 5 Options

[TheOneRonin]

@Michael Walker

Friday, February 1st, 2064
1530 Zulu (7:30 am Seattle Time)

Bellevue, Seattle, UCAS. Current temperature: Fragging COLD!

You slam the door behind you as you barrel into welcoming arms of your electrically warmed home. Running 6 miles out in this weather certainly wasn't the smartest thing to do, but at least your eyebrows aren't frosted this time.

The soft green of the blinking message light on your telecom catches your eye as you make your way to the livingroom to watch the news.

"Message...Play" you intone, almost as an afterthought as you settle into the comfort of your synthleather couch.

The familiar texan drawl of the speaker brings a slight grin to your face as you listen intently to the message.

"Hey Mike. It's Deke. Hope you guys have been enjoying your R&R...I'm bettin' that 6 months in the Ukraine was a complete bitch. I know ya'll have just settled back into normal life, but I have a matter that REALLY needs tending to, and ya'll are the best out there for what I need. Gather up the team and meet me in my office at 2pm sharp. Trust me, I'll make it worth your time."

[Grey]

Michael sighs and makes a cross. "Back into the fire."

He calls up the team and lets him know to meet up at the office. 2pm sharp.

[CardboardArmor]

Pale, saffron-tinted morning sunlight filtered through the rice-paper laticework and into the library illuminating shelf upon polished rosewood shelf of scrolls, manuscripts, and parchments resting within their cubbyholes. Many of documents were yellowed with age, well-worn as a testament to how often they were used. Others were new, freshly printed upon rice paper with the inks still vivid.

Many apprentices padded quietly upon the polished hardwood floor, taking parchments from some cubbyholes and sliding then into other slots. Among them all, a woman in a long silken robe of pale forest greens and winter whites went from shelf to shelf, occassionally taking a parchment out and reading over it before handing it to an apprentice. Her long raven hair fell between her slim shoulders and down to the end of the robe's train like a cascade of black. Cheeks slightly colored with rouge, she was strikingly beautiful in the oriental style. A veritable paragon of femenine Japanese beauty. Taking a sheet of yellowed parchment, she smiled to herself as she scanned the poem by Basho.

And was interrupted mid-way by the ringing of a phone.

The deck whirred down as Yoko jacked out of the simsense and grabbed for the phone, almost knocking over a cold mug of soykaff on the cluttered low table. Holding it up against her slightly pointed ear and running the now-free hand through her short hair, she groggily answered.

"Huh? Yeah...oh, hey boss. Yeah...Fourteen-hundred? Yeah...I'll be there, null-sweat, just gotta..." She looked around at the utterly disorganized flat and yawned before continuing. "...Yeah, clean up the place. See you there, boss."

Ending the call, Yoko languidly tossed the phone on top of a small pile of discarded soy-chip bags and shifted in her seat, the overly large T-shirt covering her body near totally. "Yeah...gotta clean up the place..."

She jacked back into her deck and once again felt the smooth touch of silk robes upon her skin, the firm tug of the weight of all that hair trailing behind her on her scalp. Again she moved from shelf to shelf, but with purpose this time.

Five hours, she thought to herself, this thing should be done defragmenting by then...

[Shadow]

Ding! The bell sounded as yet another target dropped. "Hot damn boy you can shoot." The praise from the loud mouth southerner was little comfort to Downtown. He had an arrangement with the owner of the riffle range. He got free ammo and he could use any weapon he wanted, he just had to shoot on the public range instead of the private one. The current targets were spaced every 100 meters starting at 200 meters and going out to 3000. His last bullet and struck the green head of the fiberglass silhouette. As usual a crowd had gathered to watch him shoot. That he didn't mind so much, but the inevitable offers and questions he did. "I swear boy, I have never, I say never, seen anyone drop a target at 3klicks. Hell, we wouldn't even know you had hit if the monitor hadn't shown it. I say you can't do it again, you ready for a wager?"

Downtown lifted his p to a kneeling position with the riffle. He braced his right leg behind him. He raised the riffle so that the but was secure against his shoulder. His thumb flipped the custom selector switch on the MSG-90 to the 'semi' position. With his left hand he pressed the 'release' catch on the Carson scope and held it until the scope popped up. He then placed in on the ground. Next came the specialized after market sound suppressor. Generally an illegal item but Downtown had paid through the nose to receive a permit.

"500 :nuyen: a target, 3 seconds for each target. 2k extra if I hit them all." The southerner looked stunned for a moment, he had money though so he sputtered out an agreement. "Aren’t you going to use the sco..." The last of his words were cut off as the Ork depressed the trigger as he exhaled slowly. The riffle barked, once, twice, three time. The first three targets fell. He re-adjusted his hold and fired six more times. Six targets fell. Another adjustment and ten more targets fell. Another adjustment and eight more targets flattened as his customized riffle barked. Downtown cocked his head to the right after sighting in the final shot, "double or nothing I hit it without looking." The mans response was lost in bark of the round exiting the barrel. The score board dinged as the target fell.

The challengers face was ashen. He couldn't believe the near super human feat he just witnessed. The crowd that had gathered was clapping loud enough Downtown almost missed his cell phone ringing. He carefully put his riffle down on his shooting mat and retrieved his phone. "Listen sir, I don't ant your money, so don't have a heart attack, but don't make bets you can't lose." The man started to respond but Downtown held his hand up, palm first, "save it. Joey, take care of Isabelle will you." The last was said to the range rat. A boy who got paid to clean up after the high profile shooters.

"Downtown, alpha 6, go." Michaels words echo through the phone. "Roger, confirm location, Sierra delta two at fourteen-hundred hours. Wilco." A small smile touched the orks lips, action at last. I'll need to let Jen know I am going out of town for a while. His next call was to Dragos, <Russian>"Dragos, Downtown, yeah I am at the range, you get the call, roger that. Can I catch a ride with you comrade, the Turbo is in the shop. Yeah I know I can bring it buy, but it's not like you have enough on your hands, see you at thirteen hundred."<Russian>

[Grey]

Michael went through the rest of his messages and spend the rest of the morning catching up on the affairs of the world. The world is going to hell in a handbasket.

A 1130 Michael is on the road, gear packed and and ready to head out at a moments notice. He makes a stop by the local surf'in'turf to pick up lunch for himself plus one. Ten minutes later he steps through the giant double doors of the Santa Maria Church.

"Afternoon Father, I thought you could use some lunch", Michael said with a smile.

"Ahhh... thank ya, my boy, that I do", was the reply. Father O'Railey was the kind of man the world needed. Willing to help and give his time to anyone who needed. In all his years at the church there had never been a single complaint logged against him, which in this day and age said something about his character.

"Listen Father, it looks like I'm gunna be called out of town on work again, so you're going to need to get someone to fill in for me on the weekends. Give Alice a call, she mentioned she could run the soup kitchen for me if I needed someone to fill in."

THe Father frowned at the news, concern showing openly on his face. "You be careful Michael. I worry about you. We all do."

Michael stood up and sqeezed the Father's shoulder, "Thank you Father, I'll be careful."

He walked down the aisle and nealed down before the Lord on his cross.

"Sic enim dilexit Deus mundum ut Filium suum unigenitum daret ut omnis qui credit in eum non pereat sed habeat vitam aeternam."

Signing the cross and kissing the feet of the Christ, Michael stood once more and headed to the meet.

[A Clockwork Lime]

Nikolai "Dragos" Rozhenko, Feburary 1st, 1613 Zulu, Seattle Interstate 5

I was tearing through the commuter traffic on I-5 on my way home from Bell's condo in Vancouver and it was as if the Emerald City was howling at me, trying its damnedest to keep me from coming back. The mercury was rock bottom and still falling fast, almost as if the Devil himself was riding hot on my tail and hurling his icy pitchforks at my face. But the joke was on him; sure, the frigid air whipping past my weathered face felt like sandpaper and razors, but it all just reminded me of those warm summer nights back home in the Caucasus mountains. Ol' Scratch would have to do a hell of a lot worse if he wanted to get my undivided attention.

I was about an hour from the marina when I got Michael's call. Looked like we had another tour of duty coming up, but at least I had few hours to catch up on my sleep before the meet. At least I thought I did until Downtown decided to mooch a ride.

"Not a problem," I remember barking to the phone as I instinctually tracked the call and cross-referenced it on the mapsoft I had in my HUD. He was trying to engage in some idle chit-chat to try and cover up the fact that he was bumming a ride, but I was hip to his evil scheme. "You're about twenty minutes away. I'll see you out front in ten. You're buying breakfast." I flashed a grin at the console's camera before punching the receiver and pulling off at the next exit.

Exactly nine-minutes-and-fifty-seven seconds later, the wheels of my '62 Porsche Winter were screaching to a halt in front of the shooting range. "Ready?"

[Shadow]

"More than," the short ork says as he slides into Dragos smooth ride.

[A Clockwork Lime]

"Cuppa Joes okay with you?" I asked as we peeled out of the parking lot and onto the streets. "It's a small joint about a quarter-click from here. Prices are a bit high, but the food's real at least. None of that fraggin' soy crap that'll clog your arteries."

It didn't really matter what Danny said, though. By the time I was done asking, we were already there. I hopped out of the car and started making my way into the brownstone-turned-diner, and I could hear him slamming his door shut right behind me. I tried my best not to, but I caught myself casing the joint just in case something went down. I guess Bell was right -- I do need to learn to relax more.

Luckily, there was a nice table nowhere near the front window, so that's what I gravitated towards. Before we were completely in our seats, though, a breeder with a beehive hairdo the size of the Spasskaya Tower was all over us.

"Hello boys, what can I getcha?" she asked, popping a bubble while holding her little notepad out in front of her. It was like we had stepped into a bad sitcom from the 1970's or something.

"Cup of coffee, black, whole grain pancakes, and an egg-white omellete, please."

"What do you want in that omelette, sweetie?" If the plastic carnation she had in her blue hair wasn't disturbing enough, the huge wad of gum she was smacking certainly was.

"Nothing in the omelette. Nothing at all."

"Well, that's not technically an omelette."

"Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument over this. I just want the fraggin' protein, all right?"

She just rolled her eyes at me before turning to Downtown, but I didn't care at that point. I guess my blood-sugar level was getting low or I just haven't had enough sleep these past few days. I don't know what it was, but she was really aggrivating the hell out of me and all I wanted was for her to get out of my personal airspace, ASAP.

After she left, I sat back in my chair and looked over at Townsend. "So where do you think we're being sent off to this time? I got five bucks that says it's some god-forsaken desert in Africa."

[Shadow]

"I'll have the same, sans the coffee, replace it with OJ, the real stuff please, soka." Downtown nodded to Drago's question, "Lord I hope not. Last time we were in Africa I had a helluva time keeping the sand out of the weapons. Tell me this Dragos, how come we never go on missions to Hawaii, or Haiti, or some place warm with white sandy beaches and half naked natives. I'll tell you why," the Ork continued, "because people who run around half naked on white sandy beaches don't need mercenaries, they need suntan lotion."

The food arrived a few moments later, the waitress gave the pair an odd look. Danny was short and thin for an Ork. He capped off at just under six feet, and while he wasn't nearly as lanky as the day he joined the army, he was still small. More for the fact that he wore baggy clothes and dressed in dark colors.

"How was your R&R?" He asked between gulps of real Orange Juice and bites of eggs.

[A Clockwork Lime]

"That's pretty much a given. But who knows, maybe we'll get lucky." Who the frell was I kidding? Townsend was right. If people needed our help, it wasn't bloody likely to be somewhere serene. But I didn't want to think about it too much. We only had a few hours left to enjoy our time off, so I was damned determined to make the most of it.

I could feel the breeder's eyes on me as she looked us over when she returned with our orders. I looked over at my pal and realized that we did seem to be an odd couple. Where Danny was a scarecrow of an ork, I was his polar opposite. Dressed in a six-figure silk suit and topping the scales at 200cm and 140 kilos, I probably looked as if I could crush him with a sneeze. But we both knew better... while I could pin him to the mat if he didn't see me coming, we both knew he could take my ass down in no time flat if he really wanted to. It was the irony in that which really warmed me up to him when we first met back on that mission in Georgia.

But my reverie was broken when he asked about my downtime. "It was pretty good. Spent most of it getting Pavlov back in working order, and I just got back from spending the week with Bell upstate..." I could feel my cheeks flushing a bit as I talked about Bell. I was hoping he wouldn't ask for any details -- he knew how I felt about talking about my relationships. Maybe if I changed the subject back to him, he'd let it slide.

"How about you?"


:ooc: Just so you know, it's Dragos, not Drago. Dragos is a legendary, if completely obscure, figure from Slavic mythology. Regardless, you'd probably refer to him as Nikolai or maybe Nik/Nick when not on the job since Dragos is simply his callsign. :) Just FYI. ;)

[Digital Heroin]

As he listened to the message, Illian couldn't help but muse that the timing was perfect. Wether on his part, or on Deke's one would be pressed to tell. Having just poured a cup of real coffee, after a long, hot shower, Illian is still wearing just a towel. He weaves his way through the boxes of his things to lean on the loft railing, looking over the space below. This was one of the better places he'd stayed in since moving to Seattle, but he was already planning on leaving it behind. To that end, he had packed prior to leaving on his pilgrimage to Japan; a pilgrimage he had returned from only the day before. He had already aranged for storage of his things, and for the movers to come the day after next. The final payment on the lease of the place had been made. He was ready to move on.

It seemed lately he was always moving. When the past could catch up at any moment, it only seemed fitting.

Illian calls for some Tokyo symphony music as he finishes off the coffee, moving to one of the large windows of the loft to take in the view of the city one last time. So much beauty amongst squalor. It intrigued him, how the city had become so familiar to him, despite the time he spent away. Only a few years before he had despised Seattle. Now, it was home.

Upon finishing the coffee he sets the mug down, and moves into his sleeping area, to don his garb of the day. Of habit he slides into his form fitting armor, as one can never be too careful. Atop that he dons a charcol grey silk suit, Italian, authentic. He takes care in tying the tie, and in lacing his shoes just right. Considering the amount of time he's spent in sewers, trash heaps, and any manner of filth one could imagine, he relished the times when he could simply look good. He straps on a shoulder holster under the suit's jacket, sliding his Glock into it. True, he would have to relinquish the weapon before the meet, but it was the time heading there the piece was for.

Pouring himself another coffee for the wait, Illian calls a trusted limo service. First lunch at a chic restaurant, then the meet.

[Shadow]

A smile split the Ork's face, "Oh it was good, I met a girl, we have been hanging out a couple of nights a week. Other than that no much. Tell you the truth I have been kind of itching for an assignment." The Ork takes the last bight of his nada omelette and pushes the plate away. He washes it all down with the last half glass of his Orange Juice. "I'm glad you had a good time Nikolai." He reaches into one of his many pockets and drops 30 :nuyen: on the table. "That should just about cover it."

[A Clockwork Lime]

"So where did you need to go after here? I was just going to head home and crash for a couple of hours. If you don't have anything you need to do, you're welcome to hang out on the boat and I can give you a lift to the meet. 'Sides, I have a few weeks worth of food to get rid of before we head out, so you might as well make that gut of yours useful for a change."

[Shadow]

"Sounds like a plan," Danny said as the duo moved out. The cold February air bit into him like a knife, causing him to pull his coat tight around him. "Wherever we go, I hope it is warmer than here."

[gobogen]

February 1st, 1559 Zulu (almost 8AM, Seattle)

George Maxwell would usually get up at 0600 am sharp (he didn't really need the alarm clock anymore), then he would put some clothes on, drink a whole glass of juice and a whole glass of minaralized water with vitamins, and he would get out for a 5 minutes jog to the gym, which is about one mile away from his condo in Bellevue. After working out for a full hour, he would get back home jogging. Then he would change clothes, take a shower, and eat a complete breakfast. Then, drinking his soycaf and reading the newspaper, he would have received the call from Michael at 8 o'clock in the morning.

But no. This morning Max did not wake up at 6, he did not jog nor work out and he was not reading the news and drinking his coffee, he was taking life easy for once, and that's when life hit him.

DRIIIIING!

By the end of the strident sound emitted by his cell phone, Max was already up, because of reflexes he developped in training and mission. Before answering, he glanced at the person lying down in bed behind him. "I know you're gonna answer it anyways so just go ahead ...", said Amy.

He found his jacket on the floor and opened the ridiculously small cell phone taken from one of the pockets. He made some effort not to show that he was just waking up: "Good morning Mike, what's up? ... Okay, you can count on me."

"So, when are you leaving.. this time, George?"
"Most probably within a few days, dear, I'm really sorry."
"That's alright, you know that I have stopped carring now, I'll just find someone else..", said Amy with sarcasm, even though she would probably do just that.
"Anyways, I really have to leave now, I have to get things rolling, it's an important day and I'm way behind in my usual routine. We probably won't meet again before I depart, so this is good bye. I'll try to write you a few letters, though, love."
"Don't bother, George, and you know I want you to stop calling me like that."

With that, Max went to the shower, got dressed, and left without another word. He was still shocked at how cold this woman who had been his wife could become sometimes, even though she was so warm and loving during the night. Max still loved her deeply, but she seemed to have moved on more quickly than he was able to. When you go through very tough situations for days, you need something to think of, to look forward to, and until recently, it had always been Amy. Now, sadly, he had to move on.

Max took the time to do the routine he hadn't done earlier, then he listened to Wagner's Rhinegold and its brutal harmonies to clear his mind, until it was time to leave for Deke's office.

[Panzergeist]

The world was both dark and colorful at the same time. It was hard to explain to a mundane, seeing two different pictures superimposed on each other at the same time. Contrary to popular belief, infra-red vision, such as that experienced by trolls, dwarves, and countless cybereye users, was nothing like it, for those people merely saw the infrared and visual spectra on the same continuum, with heat appearing as "red" and "orange," rather than a seperate image. While the cavern inside the elemental metaplane of earth was dark physically, or in this plane's equivalent of physical reality, it was full of color on the astral plane. The rich tapestry of life, in all it's multitude of forms, tempted him to stay there forever. But of course he couldn't do that. He had to get back to his meat body before it got tired of living without a soul.

Giving one last, longing glance at the plane of earth, Muramasa Kenjiro returned to his body lying on the couch in his classy high-rise apartment. The first thing he noticed was that while his body hadn't had trouble weathering it's existence as a semi-inanimate object, it had gotten rather low on water, a substance that all physical life depended on. The second thing he noticed was the message light on his telecom flashing brightly on and off, the sign of a message marked as urgent.

Sipping from his thermos of mineral water, Kenjiro listened to the message from his team leader. After three months of alternately relaxing and broadening his spiritual horizons, it was time to bring in some more money. While Kenjiro enjoyed exploring the metaplanes and astral space and researching new spells more than he enjoyed his job, he didn't fight other people's wars just for the money. He appreciated the opportunity it gave him to field-test his magical prowess. Taking note of the time given, Kenjiro set his alarm for 12:30. Taking a lookat the colorful platinum-titanium alloy circlet which adorned his head with it's beautiful engravings and magica aura, and then placing it back on his forehead, he put on his two sustaining foci and activated them. It was just a meeting, of course, but better safe then sorry. Now it was time for a nap, to recover from the exertion of a 3-hour astral vacation that seemed to last a day, and the casting of several spells to boot.

[A Clockwork Lime]

"You need to grow a thicker skin one of these days," I quipped. It may not have been the wittiest thing I've ever said but then again I never claimed to be a worthsmith, either.

After jumping back into the Porsche, I pulled out and headed towards Queen Anne Hill. Now that I think about it, I don't think Townsend's been by the new marina since I moved the Nymph there from up north. Somehow, I think he'll like the scenery. Even in this kind of weather, there's always some scantily clad chica bouncing around the marina hoping to trade her tail for a fat CEO bank account. Fraggin' bimbos.

Unfortunately I felt like a schlub since I didn't have much to talk about, and since Mr. Cold Blood was along for the ride I couldn't exactly put the top back down and enjoy the cold air. A pity. But hey, at least the tunes are good this morning and traffic seems to have lightened up a bit since we left the diner. It only took a good twenty minutes to get home. I pulled into my usual spot and got back out. The sun was already getting high in the sky, and I had to admit it felt pretty damn good on my face.

"The boat's not far from here," I said as I started to lead the way. "You haven't been by since I got her painted, have ya? Lemme know what you think of the detailing. Cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. Don't have much work left to do on her now at all."

When we got to my dock, I pulled my keychain out and turn the alarm off. Hoping onboard the Sea Nymph, the pitter-patter sound of Pavlov running towards us was unmistakable.

"Heya boy!" I called out, the sound of happiness more than slightly abundant in my voice. I leaned down to pet the Siberian huskey as much as he so desperately wanted and smiled up at Danny again. "Looks like that new personafix is working wonders, huh? Who woulda guessed he was a hardcore recon drone, eh? Gotta remind me to thank Yoko for hooking me up with that chip sometime."

I gave the robotic pooch one last scratch behind the ear before standing up and heading down below. "Make yourself at home. Plenty of food in the fridge, and all the Matrix channels you could want. Just try to keep the volume down if you check out some of the porn channels -- the neighbors tend to frown on that this early in the morning. In any case, I'll be in the captain's quarters taking a shower and then a nap. If I'm not up in time, just pound on the door until I get my lazy ass out of bed."

[CardboardArmor]

Friday, February 1, 2064
1000 Zulu

"Kiiii-yaaaaaaah!" A loud thud resounded through the flat. "Hah! I win again!"

Yoko stepped away from the dangerously over-stressed closet door with a satisfied smile on her face. It had taken the better part of her morning, but she'd managed to clean up her apartment in preparation for her leaving to go to work. Clean was a relative term, since that just meant the majority of her junk went into the closet, but the elf woman could really care less.

Yoko's deck still whirred patiently on the table, its owner having left it to its own devices as it ran some diagnostic or another. With a resolute tone, the vox program announced the completion of the self-maintenance. Yoko finished opening the cream-colored blinds at her windows by this time and slid to sit in frond of the deck, a few keystrokes later and the deck's tricked out sound-systems were blaring the latest in 2064's variations on gangsta-rap. Grinning widely, Yoko hopped into the shower while the music played.

As the bass-rich backbeats and overly-violent lyrics rumbled through the apartment, shaking the picture-frames with images of Yoko and her family in it along with the small Japanese porcelain curio-dolls in their display case, Yoko added in her own voice to the rapping whilst in the shower. Her bathing done, she proceeded on with the clothing.

A baggy shirt, a pair of non-descript jeans, a woolen ski cap to tuck the tips of her ears into, and the bulky winter jacket. Shutting off the music, Yoko hopped into some Timberland workboots and jandered outside into the cold and to her car, a late-model Americar.

"Yeah!" She said, sliding into the seat and starting the vehicle and muttering the next few words to the beat of the song she just left behind. "Job-ja job job...Uh yeah...Gotta make that meet..."

[Shadow]

"Wow," was Danny's only response. The Nymph looked like a brand new boat. "That detail is amazing omae, I would say you got your money's worth." After Nikolai retired Danny grabed some juice out of the fridge and a plate of coldcuts. He settled himself in front of the trid and turned on the news. Please let there be a revoilution on Guam or something.

[TheOneRonin]

<Posting as Callidus until he returns>

Feb 1st, 1630 Zulu (8:30 am Seattle)

Ophelia groggily regains consciousness to the incessant beeping of her telecom. The shots from last night danced around her head like a dozen bowling pins after a perfectly tossed strike.

"What was it my mum used to say....one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor..."

The beeping ceased, and the voice recorder took over. "Hey Ophelia, it's Mike. Deke's got some work for us. Be at his office by 1400 sharp."

"Bloody hell! Why's that bloke gotta ring me at the crack of dawn? Someone needs to spike his wheaties."

Ophelia rolled over, determined to sleep off last night's drunken revelry.

[TheOneRonin]

February 1st, 2150 Zulu (1:50 pm, Seattle time)

@ALL

You pull into the partking lot of Ares Arms Seattle, and the well-armed secguard clears your vehicle to park in the visitors section. The heavy, low-slung 10-story plascrete building looks more like a bunker than corporate office building.

Right outside the entrance, you meet up with the rest of the team. Walking into the lobby, you pass dozens of Ares employees, moving about their daily routine. A few of them flash smiles/nods your way, recognizing you from work you've done in the past. The receptionist asks you to place your palm on the biometric scanner to sign in, and then gives you a lanyard-bound key card labled "VISITOR". From there, you take the elevator up to the 7th floor, then down the hall to Deke's office. Before you get within 10 meters of the door, you can hear Deke's booming voice echoing out into the hall. Apparently, he isn't too happy with SOMEONE.

When you reach his office, you notice his door is wide open. Deke is standing up, leaning over his desk with his face inches away from the telecom. Without even turning his head, he holds up a single finger in your direction. Wait one second is the message he is sending.

For the next thirty seconds, he proceeds to tear several new assholes into the person on the otherside of the line. Finally, he keys the telecom off, and eases back into his chair, letting out a big sigh and proping his snakeskin boots up on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that," he says. "Them boys down in deployment are dumber than a Dallas call girl cruising Beaumont for clientel. Come on in and set for a spell."

As you all file into Deke's office, you notice there are several fully packed travel bags at the corner of the office. Looks like Deke is about to take a trip somewhere, or has just returned from one.

[TheOneRonin]

"I'd love to chit-chat and catch up with you all, but the clock is ticking on this job, and if we don't move the ball fast...well, let's just say it's gonna be a big loss for the home team."

Deke taps a few keys on his terminal and green-tinged holo-map materializes inches above his desk. The map is of the middle east, specifically the countries between the Black and Caspian Seas. Bordered in red is the country Azerbaijan.

"Aaazurr-BYE-jan," Deke mumbles. "We have some local trouble. Some rag-head and his boys are trying to destabalize the country. Wouldn't be none of our concern, 'cept they think blowing up corporate property is their day job. I don't reckon they are a big outfit, but the Azerbaijani Gov't has given us the old 'Interfere in our country's affairs an' we'll boot your sorry asses out,' routine. We deploy troops, they revoke our MCB (Mandate to Conduct Business). That's where you come in. Once in-country, you'll disrupt rebel operations, track and locate the leadership, and erase them. 3 month deadline from the day you arrive, and the pay package is 650,000 nuyen. I have a lot more details I can release AFTER you sign the contract."

650,000 is a big pay package for a 3 month contract, you think to yourselves. That Ukraine contract paid out just a bit more, but had twice the timeframe. Sounds like Ares is between a rock and a hard place. This might be a good haggle opportunity.

[CardboardArmor]

Friday, February 1, ~2150 Zulu

<Japanglish>"Konnichi-wa(good afternoon), guys." Yoko says cheerily, walking up to the group with a dark green wool scarf she'd found in her car hanging loosely around her neck and a steaming cup of soykaff in her hand.</Japanglish>

Nodding to everyone in turn, she sticks to the back of the group out of habit as they procced to Deke's office, greeting the Ares employees she knows in turn. Her mood dampens slightly when she picks up on Deke's shouting.

"Sounds like the boss isn't any too happy." She says with a nervous grin.

Heading inside, she listens to Deke's briefing attentively, partaking of the soykaff every now and then to keep her awake after a night of decking.

<Japanglish>"Ah so..., not a lot of time on this one, Deke-sama. Rush job, gotta compress everything and keep the government happy so it's all kosher an' stuff, right? What's going to be our cover on ground? Maybe we can talk bottom-line?"</Japanglish>

[TheOneRonin]

Deke digs around in his desk for a bit, finally withdrawing a can of dip from its depths.

"It will be the usual...you'll be civilian consultants brought in on an Ares visa to work in country on an internal project. All the proper credentials will be supplied before you get on the plane here in Seattle. That is, of course, IF you all agree to the contract. Remember, ya'll aren't indentured servants anymore."

He finishes by tucking a handful of the ground tobacco just inside his bottom lip. You stifle a chuckle...the "dip lip" combined with Deke's cheesy grin always paints a comical picture.

[Grey]

"Exactly. Which is why the normal pay doesn't cut it anymore. We got bills to pay now, right?

I'm sure I can speak for the group and say we'll take the job, but 650 ain't gunna cut it. Make it 800 and you've got yourself a team... and you know we're worth it.

Once you agree to it, we can get down to signing and intel."