IC Nothing's Free in Denver Options

[Lobo0705]

<<The Augusta Restaurant, Downtown Denver, UCAS Sector 19:45>>

Chapel stepped out of the car as the valet opened the door for him. Sending the boy a generous tip through his commlink, Chapel adjusted his jacket, tilted his fedora back slightly on his head, and took in the sights of the Augusta. It was a classic now - the building having been put up around the turn of the century. The interior had been redesigned once, after an altercation got out of hand - and security had been tighter ever since as a result - but he liked the newer decor better anyway.

He was met at the door by two men the Augusta employed as security. They waved a MAD scanner over him, and a brief but thorough search made sure he wasn't packing anything the scanner wouldn't pick up. As they searched him, his commlink beeped with a request from the Augusta to deduct his cover fee for entering. Mentally paying the 20 nuyen fee, he smoothed his clothes after the pat-down and walked to the entrance. As the security passed him through to the maitre d, the attitude quickly changed. While the security personnel were professional and distant, the maitre d' was far more friendly and engaging.

"Good evening, sir - your usual table?", asked the young man.

"That would be wonderful Charles - it is always a pleasure to come back to the Augusta"

"And it is our pleasure to have you here. Will you be dining alone this evening?"

"No, it will be a party of 6 tonight, myself included. Please make sure they are sent back as soon as they arrive. Oh, and Charles, one of them is a Native American - I don't want any unpleasantness from the staff. If there is a problem, I will hold you responsible."

A faint chip in the smiling veneer appeared for a moment, but Charles made it disappear quickly. "But of course, sir. I will make sure he is treated with every courtesy. This way please."

Chapel followed Charles through the restaurant to his booth. It was of course, packed with diners, all wearing their best. As he was walking he was cataloging information - who was with whom, and who wasn't with who they used to be. While he was routing that info through his simlink, he was already pulling up the winelist and ordered two bottles of 2030 Napa Valley Cabernet - a splendid vintage, and a steal at 100 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) a bottle. As the host, he made sure to select one of the privately owned vineyards, rather than a corporate one so Opti did not become upset before the meeting began.

He reached his booth, took a seat in the middle. The booth was surrounded by a curvy, shell-like exterior - it gave privacy, but it also allowed one to see the rest of the restaurant as well.

Chapel's Booth


As the wine arrived, Chapel pulled up the chronometer in his cybereyes, noting what time the wine would be drinkable after it was allowed to breathe. He made a mental note to keep the bottle away from Slick so he wouldn't just gulp it down before it was time, and slid them both closer to him protectively. He ordered some bruschetta (a guilty pleasure of his), and waited for the others to arrive sometime near 20:00. He only hoped they listened to him when he said to dress appropriately...

[PraetorGradivus]

[/color]<<Outside The Augusta Restaurant, Downtown Denver, UCAS Sector 19:58>>

[color="#F4A460"]Good thing the Melbourne is so close to downtown. Can't believe the pawn shop only gave me 60 nuyen for hocking my crossbow and charged me 99 nuyen to rent this suit. It's ten years out of style for crying out loud. Well, at least it's black and I can wear my bolero with it. Why Raul sent me to an Anglo that insists on meeting in a swanky Anglo place like this is beyond me. I only have 8 nuyen left after the cover: that might not be enough to buy water in this place. Oh boy, getting the steely eye from the doorman for hanging out too long in front of the place. Might as well go in, it's time.

I go to the doorman, cough up the 20 nuyen and pass the screening to get in. Walking into the lobby I say to the host, "I'm here for a dinner reservation with Señor Chapel. Can you point me in the right direction?"

[Opti]

Alllllriiiight. It's about time. Denver was gonna bleed me dry if I didn't get a job soon. And for Chapel, huh? I like his tweed. I hope this goes well...

As Opti is about to leave, his eyes fall on the cigar case on the table. I'd rather make a good impression on Chap and the other cats, I better leave those at home....

Addiction test (Body + Willpower) v. Drug rating (which isn't in the book for some reason, so i reckoned it was reasonably close to bliss at a 5)
Body 3 + Willpower 3 v. 5 (and I decide to spend edge, just to make sure, cuz i really want to make a good impression...
8d6.hitsopen(5,6) → [4,4,3,2,5,5,5,2] = (3)

Well, I guess it can't hurt just to grab a smoke on the way....
And with that, Opti grabs his floor length lined coat, lights up a deepweed cigar, and heads downstairs. His body is having mild spasms as he hops on his Thundercloud Contrail Motorcycle and has quite an intense astral/physical ride to the Augusta. He had meant to arrive a bit early, but it took him longer than he expected to get here, and having to magically influence the Knight Errant cop who pulled him over for his swerving, he is now running just a bit late.

Arriving at the Augusta, he manages to park his bike... somehow... and saunters up to security, and submits to the search, but finding it difficult not to make an off-color joke, while coughing at the same time. Opti is internally frustrated with himself. This is not how he wanted this to go tonight...

Opti pays the 20 nuyen, and heads inside, seeing everything in 4D-astral vision along the way. Seeing Chapel sitting at a booth with an Amerindian guy, he waltzes up, and puts on his best smile....

"Hoi, Chap! I was looking forward to seeing you again. Who's your friend?"







spoken/"quotes"
comlink
<<Texts/email>>
thinking

[Lobo0705]

@Praetor,

Security is perhaps a bit more forceful than necessary with their search, but manage not to bruise you.

You are met at the door by the maitre d' - who manages to smile, be excruciatingly polite, and at the same time give you the clear impression he would much prefer it were you not here.

He escorts you to the back, where Chapel awaits.

Chapel stands up, shakes your hand and introduces himself.

"Ah, you must be Hosepipe - our mutual friend speaks highly of you. Please do have seat - the wine should be ready in a few minutes. And our fellow guests should be here soon as well. If you'll forgive me, I would prefer to wait until we are all here to talk business."

[TheOneRonin]

30 rotates his left shoulder while reading over the invite from Chapel.

Nother close protection gig, I bet. Should be be able to make rent next month.

He goes through his normal stretching routine, easing out the kinks in his not yet fully healed body.

A deep breath brings an instant of sharp pain in his ribs before his Damage Compensators kick in to dull it.

30 shakes his head and instinctively reaches for the bottle of Percocet at his bedside.

Only 10 left? I could have sworn I just filled this a few days ago...

He pops two pills and gets dressed for the Augusta. His one functional tie is a knotted mess, so he skips it entirely.

Buttondown, jacket, slacks and shoes. No GQ cover, but passable.

30 grabs his Light Fire and concealable holster, but then remembers his last visit to the Augusta. The sidearm stays home this time.

He walks out the door, grabs his bike, and heads down to the restaurant.

At the door, 30 thumbs the approval button on his commlink for the cover charge.

"Good evening Mr. Bowland. It's nice to see you again. Can I get you a table?"

30 tries not to let the exhaustion show on his face as he absently runs his had through the stubble just starting to form on top of his head. "Not this time hoss. My party already here."

He walks into the establishment and instantly spots Chapel and two other patrons.

"Chapel, gentlemen. Hope I'm not late to the party..."

[Umidori]

Strewn lazily across what might once have been a couch, Slick is watching some quality trash on the trideo and idly picking stray bits of lint from his ratty tank-top and novelty boxer shorts when Chapel's message arrives. He shoots the memo into his cybereyes and gives it a once over.

Whelp, time to make the friggin' donuts.

With a few lithe movements he's shifted off the couch, slipped into the various pieces of his suit, and started working a few combfuls of pomade into his already greased hair, for lagniappe. He squints across the apartment, checking his appearance in a chipped and smoke-filmed mirror, before stashing his heater in the small of his back.

Damn. Now I want a bearclaw.

Arriving at the Augusta some time later, Slick slinks up to the door and flashes security a sickly grin, making chit-chat as he tries to saunter right in.

"Hey, how you doin'? How's life treatin' ya?." He's stopped short by an immense slab of beef which slowly shakes its head at him before reaching out a meathook to search his coat.

"Hey! Hey! What, you need my piece? Fine, fine. Geez. Alright! Look!" With a quick twist, Slick slips out of his concealable holster, dangling it awkwardly in front of the behemoth. After being unburdened of his firearm and enjoying a brusque secondary patdown, Slick is charged his entrance fee and allowed to preen his ruffled feathers and strut irritably inside. The maître d', having watched these proceedings with distressed fascination, is already settled into an appropriately stony facial expression as Slick approaches him.

"Hey, garçon, tell Mr. Chapel I'm here." The steward, straining slightly to maintain his obsequious air, politely informs 'Monsieur' that he would be 'happy' to show him the way to Chapel's table in person.

"Finally, someone with some respect! I tell ya, those trained gorillas you chummers have at the door could use a lesson or two in courtesy, know what I mean?" The maître d' patiently smiles a thin, wan smile and politely 'agrees'.

At the table, Slick swings his leg over the back of a chair and sits down without a word. He nods slightly to Chapel, acknowledging his presence, but otherwise takes on an air of bored distraction as he begins perusing the dessert menu he swiped on the way in. The merc and the shaman he's seen around before, but the amerindian's a new face, as is the elf with the chrome arm.

Huh. I didn't know they had tiramisu here.

~Umi

[Lowmoan Spectacu...]

The gleaming silver Shin-Hyung flowed gracefully into the valet area of the Augusta. It was far from the most expensive vehicle in the restaraunt's shadow, but somehow Danny's car radiated care and attention like none of the others did. If the elegant patrons and hotel guests could see the driver's apartment, strewn with biodegradable fast-food packaging that was beginning to do just that, drone and vehicle parts strewn over every surface as if the living space were one enlongated workbench, they might begin to understand that the elf jacked into the driver's seat loved that car like a woman, like a child.
Danny disconnected himself from his ride. He couldn't help feel that twinge of loss that always hit him briefly. He popped open the glove compartment, getting a look at his Taurus in its holster. He reached past it and grabbed his comlink instead, slipping it into his jacket pocket. If he were to need any protection tonight, it would have to come from the hired muscle at the door. Not to mention his fully-armored, fully-fashionable Actioneer suit. He stepped his expensive shoes onto the asphalt and came chest-to-face with an eager looking young dwarf in a red vest.
"Parking, sir?"
Danny grinned. With a mental push, he sent the Shin-Hyung to find a parking spot. The wireless link was nothing he'd want to deal with in a real chase, but would get his baby across the street with no trouble.
"Got it covered, kid. Let's not and say we did."
Danny sent him five nuyen with a flick accross his comm, just to be corteous.

Danny lifted his jacket for the security types, meat-faced goons in suits. The stuntman liked their style.
"Hey fellas, take a look, the first one's free."
He timed this to coincide with a little twirl that was ostensibly part of the security check, but which Danny thought he did with panache. They waved their scanner and gave a cursory pat-down.
"You know, I always say the threat of violence really puts off the appetite. That's why I always eat so well here! Keep up the good work, boys."
The bigger of the meat-faces was stretched by a brief smile. Even goons like to get respect. Danny paid the cover and strode on through to the maitre d', Charles, who he'd met once before.
"Good evening sir. I believe Mr. Chapel is expecting you at his usual table."
"Thank you Charles. It's good to be back at the Augusta. You took such good care of us last time, it would be a shame to have our clandestine rendezvous anywhere else."
Danny sent him a fifteen nuyen tip with a gentlemanly wave.
"Don't work too hard now, y'hear?"
The maitre d' smiled with roughly the same lacquered smile he used for all the diners.
"I always work hard for our guests, Mister Black. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask, and have a wonderful evening."
As soon as he was out of the maitre d's sight, Danny grimmaced a little. There was such a thing as laying it on too thick.

As soon as the table was in sight, Danny tightened himself mentally. He was Stuntman now. He was a cool, collected 'runner. He supressed the urge to use his 30? You don't look a day over 25 joke that he'd been dying to say since he had heard about the scary elf, and took a seat next to Mister Chapel instead, shaking the fixer's hand firmly. Chapel liked a firm handshake as he recalled.
"Gentlemen."
It was an introduction as much as anything. He figured the professional thing to do would be to hold off on formal introductions until the gang was all assembled, and by the empty chair Danny gathered that this wasn't the case. He glanced at the wine, noted that Chapel wasn't drinking, and made a note to take a sip only after their host partook.

[Lobo0705]

@30

Chapel's smile is warm as he rises and shakes your hand. "Hello my friend, good to see you again. Please, have a seat - this is Hosepipe. Hosepipe, this is 30."

@Opti

Chapel again stands to greet the new guest. His eyes narrow a moment as he notices the slightly glazed look Opti has, and Opti can see that he is a little disappointed. However, his tone is still courteous. "Opti, it is good to see you. Please, sit, we will order shortly. This is 30, and Hosepipe." He points to each in turn.

@Stuntman

Chapel greets Stuntman with a professional sounding "Hello. Welcome to our little gathering. Stuntman, this is Hosepipe, 30, and Opti".

@Slick

As Slick arrives, Chapel gives him a quick nod of greeting, and unconsciously moves the bottle of wine closer to him. He says "Ah, the last member arrives. Slick, meet Hosepipe, 30, Opti, and Stuntman."

As always, Chapel refuses to talk business until after the meal. He lets you order whatever you want (a typical entree here is 40-50 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) ), while he selects his own meal of filet mignon from the menu.

After the meal is over, he says, "Perhaps we could start with a quick round of introductions - and once we are through with that, I'll move on to the business that calls us here together today. Please don't mind me, while you talk, I'll be perusing the menu for dessert."

[Opti]

Thank you, Chapel, for the opportunity. Hoi fellas. Name's Opti. I won't pretend to be the best magician out there, but I get by, more than enough to watch your backs. I specialize in... influencing people who don't want to be influenced. I can also throw some spirit backup down when necessary. It's a pleasure to meet all of you.

When he is done, as if in response to some unknown stimuli, he casts a reassuring nod at Hosepipe.

[Umidori]

Slick looks up from toying with the remnants of his meal, although probably due more to the arrival of his fourth order of garlic and cheese biscuits than to any real inclination to introduce himself.

"In case any of you missed it, I'm Slick. But you kids already knew that, amirite?" He flashes a quick wink.

"I uhh... I get things done, and I find things out." Slick pauses just long enough to take a bite of a warm biscuit, then carries on talking out of the corner of his mouth.

"You know how it is. Some rich bozo needs an eye on his unfaithful wife, or his college age daughter's hanging round with some gangland animal, or his school age son is being stalked by some pedophile in a walrus suit, whatever. So I get the dirt on the perp, make a few discrete recordings, and boom, I get paid, the cops get to swoop in, the lawyers get to make a case, and the client gets some piece of mind. Everyone wins. Except the frickin' pervo dressed like a pinniped who gets curbstomped and dragged off to a cell full of big, angry men, of course."

He chews for a moment, possibly even thoughtfully, then dips the second half of his biscuit in the pool of ketchup which he had insisted upon slathering over his medium-rare buffalo steak and buttery mashed potatoes.

"Anyways, by the looks of things we got some interesting characters here tonight. Must mean ol' Chapel's pulled through, got a nice little gig lined up for us."

Had he been sitting closer, Slick would have elbowed Chapel in the ribs at this point, but thankfully all he can manage from his seat is a sort of limp-wristed wave of his biscuit, somehow miraculously not sprinkling kethcup and crumbs all over the table in the process.

"So uh... any one'a you guys with the pointy ears. What're your stories?" He puts on the sort of grin that makes people want to punch it.

~Umi

[PraetorGradivus]

"Hello gentleman. You can call me Jorge- Jorge Goodeman- or if it's easier on the tongue George. Of course, you could just call me Hosepipe. Most people do. I assume I'll be your hacker- it's what I do."

I wonder if Slick's real name is Jimmy. He reminds me an awful lot of Jimmy Bang-Bang, Jimmy No-Nose and of course Jimmy Two-Tones. Seems like every time some mother names her son Jimmy the Spirits step in and give em all the same personality. Whatever, as long as he pulls his weight

My face gets a far off look as I get on Cold VR and start looking around the Augusta Host... and start looking around at the various Icon just in case someone is stupid enough to leave their commlinks unprotected. One never knows, do one.

[Lowmoan Spectacu...]

        Danny eases his posture a little as he flips through the smartpaper menu. He knows that Chapel picks up the bill on these occasions, and accordingly picks out a dish at the median price for the restaraunt, not cheap but not extravagant. He chooses the Sea Bass on a bed of brown rice, a classy-sounding dish that he had never ordered at a meal with Chapel before. With a sliding motion, the order is made.

        The shaman, the hacker, and the... greasy one introduce themselves. As Slick finishes his spiel, Danny can only think, Here's a guy who's good at what he does. If he weren't, somebody would have put him in the ground by now on principle. Danny gives his most convincing fake smile to coincide with Slick's.

        "This pointy-eared guy is Stuntman. I'm the driver. If it's got a rigger interface, I can make it work. If it's got wheels, hell, I'll make it dance. Might as well mention I'm pretty handy with a six-shooter, while we're bragging about outselves. And I can talk us out of anything we can't shoot our way out of, to boot. You may specialize in making folks do what they don't want to, my magical friend, but my strong suit is making 'em realize that what they wanted is what I wanted them to want all along, if you catch my meaning. Not that I mind a good dust-up now and then, but hey, bullets are expensive. 'Specially the exploding kind."

        He takes a bite of sea bass by way of punctuation, then leans back in his seat, wine in hand.

[Opti]

In a strange way, I admire Slick. I have the same ravenous desires, and yet, I try to hide them. Here is a fellow, completely competent, and yet completely uninterested in how he is being perceived. He is himself, desires and all. In a way, his life is fuller of truth than I can ever see mine being. Ironic, really, that I give myself to knowing truth, and here is a chummer who seems to have found it, and doesn't care...

Stuntman, I do believe that we could have some fun together... Jorge, I wonder, do you deck for pleasure... or just business?

[PraetorGradivus]

Taking a few seconds to process that I was spoken to, I go from VR mode to AR and remove the visual from my Image Link without turning off.

"Me? It's all pleasure even when it's business. But like all pleasures you got to be careful not to overindulge. Which is why I don't drink except during the sacred rituals, and even then only mescal. Of course, the mescal we make is from a different subspecies than the commercial stuff. It makes a pretty good food source but I think you got to grow up eating it to like it. But I digress. I like playing Corporations and Dragons- my avatar is 98th level now. Sooner or later she'll bite it cause you know dragons always win."

Those that don't experience VR will never understand how it is. It's like the culmination of the best sex you ever had without the need for foreplay. Of course it's pleasure. Jeeez.

[Lowmoan Spectacu...]

        Danny leans forward and motions toward Hosepipe with his wine glass in agreement. 

        "That's exactly what it's like when you're jacked in, too. Like, goddamn, you ever run down the street at three hundred kilometers an hour, jump over a river on an elevating bridge, and then stop on a fuckin' dime? When you're jacked in you're doing all that, not just controlling it. And yeah, spend too long as a car and it kinda sucks to go back to flopping around in a metahuman body. Moderation. Yeah, I'll drink to that."

        He does.

[Opti]

That's what I've heard. Many awakened speak similarly about stepping into the astral. Of course, each person's experience can vary... and depending on where you go, it can be dangerous. But I suppose the same can be said for the Matrix as well...

[Lobo0705]

Chapel follows the conversation between you with interest – "I have to stick to food and drink as my own source of pleasure - I don't have the aptitude to fly through the Matrix or the Astral. I envy you sometimes." He sighs, a wistful look in his eye for a moment and then calls the waiter over with a mental cue through his commlink, asks for the dishes to be cleared and coffee to be brought.

“Now that our feast is over, to business.” He blinks for a moment, and your commlinks all chirp as they start receiving data. “The picture you are looking at right now is Matthew Atkinson. Some of you may know him.”

The vid file that he sends over shows a man in his late 40s, with brown hair and blue eyes. He is Caucasian, human, with haircut that says “money” There are several different photos of him, some with his wife and children, and some with him speaking to a crowd of people.

“Mr. Atkinson is currently the victim of blackmail. It seems he has been careless in his association with women, and he has developed a substance abuse problem. For the past year, he has been forced to pay fairly exorbitant sums to avoid exposure. Recently however, he has started to run out of money. Whoever has been blackmailing him has taken to accepting favors in lieu of cash, and that is potentially more dangerous to Mr. Atkinson.”


Chapel stirs his coffee and takes a sip. “Mr. Atkinson needs this blackmail to stop. He is looking to have this taken care of quietly – and so he has come to me. If this is resolved to his satisfaction, I am authorized to pay out the sum of 6,000 nuyen each. Before we go any further, I need to know if you are in or out.” He looks around the table, gauging your reactions.

[Lowmoan Spectacu...]

Danny smiles mischievously. This is the kind of job he loves.

Rich boy can't keep it in his pants, somebody in the know demands a slice, rich boy offers that slice to frightening strangers to make the problem go away. Trickle-down fuckin' economics.

"Wouldn't miss it, Chapel."

[PraetorGradivus]

Hmm, 6000, get myself out of hock and keep me in an apartment two months with a little extra nuyen. Not bad And it seems straight forward. Of course there ain't no such thing..

"Yeah, you can count me on this one."

[Umidori]

For the first time all evening, Slick appears to actually be thinking hard and seriously about something. He doesn't look pleased at this development either.

A whole year under the thumb, and now pulling favors? This schmuck ain't no ordinary rube, and neither is the cat holding his leash. Six grand ain't a kick in the teeth, but it also ain't pie in the sky, and this don't sound like no cakewalk to me.

He leans back, hooks his hands behind his head, and stares across the restaurant at nothing in particular, trying to make himself look cool and unphased, but merely ending up looking distracted.

Let's see if any of the other horses bolt before laying a bet.

~Umi

[Opti]

Resolved to his satisfaction, hmm? That sounds an awful lot like wetwork. Not sure I like the idea of offing some politician's ex because he is a slotter and chooses the wrong dames to have picadillos with. Still, maybe there's more to it than that.... And whatever info the blackmailer has on the poli-face, it must be good, and therefore worth knowing.



Count me in, tentatively. I wanna know more specifics about the possible resolutions to this. If this is straight wetwork, $6,000 may be on the low side, Chap, and I'm sure Stuntman would agree.

[TheOneRonin]

30 sits quietly as the rest of the guys introduce themselves.

He raises an eyebrow when Slick introduces himself, but is calmed by the slight nod from Chapel. The fixer has always been a scary judge of talent, and so 30 would just trust in his record.

This is most certainly not another protective services gig. The skillsets here are way to varied for that.

All eyes turn to 30 after the last of the intros are done.

"Name's 30. Prior service Marine and Military Contractor for the past 15+ years. Specialties are site security, counter insurgency, foreign internal defense, CSAR, Special Reconnaissance, and Direct Action. My guess is I'm here to make sure you guys keep breathing...and anyone opposed to that...doesn't.

When Chapel sends over the vid file, 30 taps a few commands on his commlink to bring the image up on contacts. He listed to Chapel's spiel and the feedback from the others.

"Look Chap, you know I have no qualms about wet work, but I'm with Opti here. 6k per head is a little anemic, especially for a gig like this. Some things just ain't adding up. For example, if Atkinson is going broke, how can he spare the 30,000 nuyen asking price to get this fixed? Who's bankrolling him?"

[Lobo0705]

Chapel listens to your responses, noting each in turn.

"Gentlemen, I understand your concerns, and I appreciate your reticence with regards to the payout." He turns to 30 and says "My friend, the 30,000 is from my understanding, the vast majority of what he has left as far as liquid assets. I am not sure what he has had to liquidate to get these funds available, but it is the money available, such as it is. I can, however, sweeten the pot. Mr. Atkinson has also assured me that he would be willing, shall we say "owe you one" - as long as it is a reasonable request. Mr. Atkinson is an influential man here in the UCAS sector. He one of the Deputy Commissioners – which makes him an extremely valuable asset to have in play."

Chapel takes another sip of coffee, and turns back to address the rest of the group. "This favor would apply to each of you. Now, for me, I think a man given my position can take better advantage of such a favor, so here is the offer I will make you. You can either take the 6,000 plus a favor in the future, OR, I will give you 16,000 and that favor is now owed to me by Mr. Atkinson. The choice is entirely yours."

While you mull that over, Chapel looks over at Slick, and he seems genuinely interested in the greasy, unkempt man in front of him. He hands Slick a datachip. “Slick, you are an expert in these matters – can you please take a look at these files, and tell me if you think they appear doctored? I do not believe they are, but mine is not as – ah, practiced as yours.”

He turns to the rest of the group. “What I’ve given Slick is some of the blackmail evidence against Mr. Atkinson. For security’s sake, I do not want this on anything that can be accessed wirelessly. If these get out, and can be traced back to you, then our association is over."

"Mr. Atkinson gets his blackmail requests via email from a dead drop account that cannot be traced back to anyone. When they blackmailers were taking money, that money was to be transferred to a certified credstick, and left in a particular location in the Aurora Warrens. The drop location was changed each time."

Chapel finishes his coffee and sits back for a moment. "Now, however, the requests are not for money, but for favors at the governmental level. Approval of certain buildings for liquor licenses. Zoning restrictions changed to allow certain businesses to be placed in residential areas. Denial of permits to other businesses. Changes in waste disposal requirements - the list goes on."

"Mr. Atkinson feels that he may now be putting himself in danger of pushing the interests that put him in office to the breaking point, and he does not want to be caught in the middle."

He folds his hands in front of him. "That is really all I'm prepared to say before I have a firm commitment one way or another from you. What do you say?"

[Lowmoan Spectacu...]

Liquor liscences? Pushing out the competition? Sounds like Atkinson might be in danger of more than losing his job and reputation. 

Danny makes a mental note to probe his mafia contacts after this meeting.

If they're not the ones squeezing the Comish, then they're probably among the injured parties. Hell, play our cards right and I might could get paid twice for this job!

Having already agreed to the job, Danny simply nods at Opti, hoping to reassure the magician. He had learned quickly that the only thing worse than facing magical oposition was not having anyone on your side who could respond in kind. 

[TheOneRonin]

30 eases back into his chair.

"6k plus a marker from well-placed politico? I'm all in."

He looks over to Opti.

"That reset your meter to zero, hoss?"