IC: Public Exposure, The IC board for Public Exposure |
IC: Public Exposure, The IC board for Public Exposure |
Jul 10 2004, 06:35 PM
Post
#1
|
|
Dragon Group: Members Posts: 4,138 Joined: 10-June 03 From: Tennessee Member No.: 4,706 |
:ooc: board
December 19,2061 November came and went quietly. The rain of October gave way to the rain of November, and now it was giving way to the rain of December. The news was abuze with reports revolving around the probe race, Haley's comet, natural orichalcom, and, of course, SURGE. The world of December was different from the world of October by a wide margin, it seemed. The only thing that hadn't changed was the shadows. Sure, the jobs were shifting around, but there were still just as many and just as many hungry runners trying to make the big time. It was barely past midmorning when the phone calls started going out. Fredrick ran down the database he kept encoded in his pocket secretary, the entries only half in the database and half in his own head or in code. The calls, about two dozen in all, were to runners he had used in the past or had gotten from other Fixers in the last month. Given the time of years, many wanted nothing to do with the shadows. The first he called, he hinted that there were two jobs available and felt out which job that runner would best perform. Eventually, he got six for each job. The six runners on the second assignment were to meet a man named Johnson in a small nightspot called Laubenstein Lights, in the underfloor of the posh Laubenstein Plaza hotel. The job sounded like someone needed a bit of extra security for an upcoming event. Fredrick had been vague, but he'd also been as specific as he could over an unsecured transmission. Whatever it was, the meet was in a nice part of downtown, which indicated that discression was going to be a necessity. With almost five hours till the meet, the runners began their preparations. |
|
|
Jul 10 2004, 10:04 PM
Post
#2
|
|
Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,359 Joined: 25-June 02 From: Vancouver, B.C., Canada (go Canucks!) Member No.: 2,904 |
Brick got the call from Fredrick and inwardly rejoiced. If he didn't get work soon he'd have to downgrade his current level of comfort. Security work he could handle. Low risk, moderate reward. Out of habit he had his white noise generator running and his bug scanner checking the line, though there was likely no bugs in his phone. Still, it paid to be vigiliant.
"Thank you for remembering me, Fredrick. I was beginning to worry that perhaps my number had been lost in a move or something. I assume I am to be part of a team, so, what can you tell me about the rest of them and about Mr. Johnson without compromising your own security?" He didn't expect much out of that little probe, but anything was better than nothing. He looked up the Laubenstein Plaza on the telecomp, getting the basic rundown of the place and it's style, as well as any tridshots that might be up. Judging by what he saw, his usual "business attire" would be suitable, though perhaps a little unusual for such a setting. He made the basic inquiries that his line of work demanded, giving a call to a well to do pal of his who had a good job at Metaergonomics. "Hello there. It's me, Michael. I was hoping you could spare a few minutes to chat. It seems I have an engagement at the Laubenstein Plaza. As I have never been there before, I was hoping you could give me an idea of the character of the place and how I should present myself." With that call out of the way, he had an errand to run. He needed a new briefcase. His current one was falling apart. Not the image he wanted to give. He got dressed and hopped on his Rapier, heading out to get one. With that bit of business out of the way, he returned to his place and got in the shower. He washed his hair, pumiced his callouses, self manicured his fingers, shaved and applied aftershave and baby powder. He dressed in his Sleeping Tiger suit with his form fitting half bodysuit underneath. The forearm guards were added as an afterthought. He holstered his W.W. infiltrator and concealed it under his jacket, along with 1 spare clip of HI-C plastic rounds...the only kind he ever loaded this weapon with. He placed his Browning Ultra Power, loaded with regular rounds, in a somewhat concealed spot at the small of his back. This one was supposed to be spotted. Security always seemed to feel better after they found something and thought they'd disarmed a man. He loaded his gear into the new briefcase (an armoured one) and loaded it on the storage rack on his Harley Scorpion. He popped his pocket secretary into his pocket, the ringer turned off, the vibration turned on. He hopped on his bike and away he went to the Laubenstein Plaza |
|
|
Jul 12 2004, 08:39 AM
Post
#3
|
|
Neophyte Runner Group: Members Posts: 2,458 Joined: 22-March 03 From: I am a figment of my own imagination. Member No.: 4,302 |
Johnny is standing high atop a mountain plateau, axe in hand, the winds playing through his long hair when Fredrick's call comes through. Sure, Neil the Orc Barbarian games were dwindling into obscurity, but there was a certain charm to hacking away in virtual at countless enemies, all the while knowing glory awaits you. The vidwindow for Fredrick's call opens off to Johnny the Orc Barbarian's side, hovering over the open air, framed in setting sun. Johnny raises a hand to shelter his eyes.
`Freddy my man, that you?` He knew it annoyed Fredrick, the nickname, but that's partially why he used it. Hell, the guy knew he couldn't do without Johnny; Johnny knew he knew that; so the nickname stood. `What's the score, parking tickets to be dealt with, server go down, or you got some real work this time?` When Fredrick delivers the breif on the meet, Johnny grins. Sure, he doesn't exactly have bills to pay, at least pressing ones, but the lure of nuyen still spoke to him. Ok, so it's security work, which usually implies muscle, but that's null sheen, he can deal. `Your Johnson's got himself a decker my friend. Anything you could toss the way of my inbox 'bout our him'd be appreciated.` Johnny records the relevant information, and after the window fades he spins about to cleave his axe into the skull of one last lurking foe. He makes a note to actually see about getting an axe. Might be fun. Reaching up, Johnny triggers the impulse which allows his mind to release its hold on the virtual reality which grips him. As Neil's mountain scene fades from around him, Johnny's cramped apartment comes to view. Sure, it's tiny, and the neighborhood's a drekhole, but hell, it's his. He'd finally managed to backtrade enough favors and grease enough palms that not only the title to the apartment was his, but the utilities were permanently covered. It was like making the final payment on a car, except a bit illegal, and, well, he could sleep there without the 'Star harassing him, or the hubcaps getting stolen. Even as he shifts in his seat, and grabs an energy drink out of the barfridge under his desk, Johnny's mind is prioritizing. New Johnson means he'll have to do some research. He cracks open the drink, and turns back to his his deck. No VR hook-up this time, he's gonna run pure. Sliding the cable from within the transparent blue casing of his deck, Johnny prepares to shed his mortal skin, and enter a world of pure bliss. As he jacks in, he takes one last draw from the energy drink, and lets it roll down his throat as the digital rush of the Matrix flows over his conscience. In the virtual waiting room of his deck, the styalized representation of his apartment, with each of his programs presented in the form of gear strewn about. He grabs up the representations for his Cloak, Spoof, Validate, and Re-Decorate programs, more out of force of habit than anything. He's just going to do a search, nothing too intense. While he doesn't even have a picture of his Johnson, the locale gives something away, so he'll run a search on the Laubenstein Plaza Hotel and the Lights. First, he sets an timed call for two hours before the meet to be placed to Bruno. The trog drives like a madman, so he'll be good for a punctual ride. That'll give Johnny enough time to set up the search, to be monitored via his cellular network en route to the meet, and perhaps during it. While he's feeding his search routines the parameters he's looking for, informing them he wants info on the hotel and club, the owners, and upcoming events of note, he places a virtual call. He hasn't seen 'trixie in the flesh for a few months, so when she doesn't answer in persona, but instead in meat form, and in a towel at that, well he can't help but let out a little wolf whistle. `Damn girl, you're looking good enough to eat. How's the world treating you? Look, I know I missed the concert last week and all, but I need a bit of a favor. Can you do some poking around for me, find out anything you can about some snob hob might be going on today at the Laubenstein Plaza Hotel? I'll be forever in your debt...` The banter that follows is definitly not your standard shadow associate talk, but then again they'd been on again off again lovers for years. Well, when she wasn't playing housegirl to that Lone Star detective gal of hers. When the call's up, Johnny resumes the search until his scheduled with Bruno. He hadn't even noticed the time pass. Once he makes pick up arangements with the big troll, he checks his own search, and decides to push it a little. He sets some automation in to buy him time enough to shower, and to change into his Armante suit, pinstriped blue, custom tailored and definitly chic. Checking on the search, he rides out the end of it, making Bruno wait a few moments. He downloads the results into his pocsec so he can review them on the way, and he's off to the meet. |
|
|
Jul 12 2004, 12:24 PM
Post
#4
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 409 Joined: 9-March 04 Member No.: 6,140 |
Thor loads most of his gear into his van, the Nautilus, and gets a quick nap. Waking up at 3:30, he eats some beef jerky, chugs an energy drink, puts on his armor and pistol, and drives down to the bar. Arriving at 4:10, he turns off the engine and running lights and observes the area through the van's passive sensors for 45 minutes.
|
|
|
Jul 12 2004, 01:58 PM
Post
#5
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 749 Joined: 22-June 02 From: Parts Without Member No.: 2,897 |
Gritz’s pocket secretary began buzzing angrily, skittering and hopping it’s way towards the edge of the workbench. Sure, the bench was slightly less than level, but Gritz had learned to compensate for that years ago. The poc-sec obviously hadn’t. He lowered his soldering iron into its cradle, careful to avoid the flecks of molten solder that fizzed and popped on the iron’s nib, and snapped up the poc-sec just as it tipped off the edge of the workbench.
Several brief exchanges into the conversation with Fredrick , Gritz realized it was rude to be talking in video mode and still have his semi-opaque work goggles on. He began lifting the goggles to his forehead, just as Fredrick was finishing, “…in five hours.” With that, the screen clicked off. “Laubenstein Lights, eh…” Gritz mumbled as he turned off the iron’s power supply and reached for a fiber-optic cable. The cable began here in his workshop, but stretched a solid four city (well, now it was barrens, anyhow) blocks away to the dataline tap he had installed in an abandoned tenement. “Never deck from home,” as they said. Gritz hopped over the Laubenstein Lights public node. This wasn’t a run. It was a hop. He just wanted to get a peek at the trid ads for the joint—see what people were wearing and how. The trick to fitting in is not to figure out how you’re supposed to dress, but how folks want you to dress. Gritz figured he could approximate the more conservative styles seen in the ads. Nothing fragged with human expectations quite like a well-dressed ork. Gritz bathed off several days of decker-gunk (he had been working for what seemed like days, and probably was, getting his board back together after that last run) and dusted off and cleaned his firearms. He was always anxious before runs. He dressed in non-descript, but nice (and well pressed) clothing, donning a secure-shirt, just in case. Some time later he was climbing out towards his garage. He patted the General Lee as he popped the trunk. AK in the trunk? Check. He closed the rust-red boot with a slam. Pred-III in the glove compartment? Check. Gritz fired up the gas-guzzling engine and peeled out into the real world. He aimed to arrive 15 minutes early, get a drink, get a feeling for the club, and its exits, and be all smiles for the Johnson. |
|
|
Jul 12 2004, 10:10 PM
Post
#6
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 993 Joined: 26-February 02 Member No.: 313 |
Sedryk sat at the kitchen table several hundred rounds of ammunition in various piles being loaded in to appropriate magazines. When the phone rang, Mellow reached over and picked it up without looking. "Hello? Just a sec." She handed the phone over to her "father."
"Sup? ... Yeah sorry about the lack of vid, not a good time. Laubenstein Lights? I'll be there." Handing the phone back to Mellow he continued loading explosive rounds. "Looks like I'm working tonight. Lets finish this up and head out for dinner." "Okay dad." came her reply as she finished up the 9mm hollowpoints. An hour and a half later the odd couple of a ork in Vashon Island suit and a young elf wearing a hooded sweatshirt and long coat entered Gracies for Ribs in downtown. After leaving the restaurant the odd couple headed to a small lore store near Pacific university. "I should only be a couple of hours, with luck we can grab some ice cream on the way home." With a smile Sedryk handed Mellow a certified stick with 2K on it. An hour before the meeting, Sedryk enters the Laubenstein Lights, finding a nice quiet table. Casually he orders a drink and sits smoking cigarettes until the time of the meeting. |
|
|
Jul 13 2004, 12:33 AM
Post
#7
|
|
Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,362 Joined: 3-October 03 From: Poway, San Diego County, CA, USA Member No.: 5,676 |
Receiving the message, Swift Eagle cooks up some chemicals with his handy dandy chemistry set. He mixes a small amount of DMSO and atropine and puts them into a small spray bottle, the kind commonly used to spray harmless water into one's hair before combing it. Adjusting the nozzle of the bottle so that it will not spray, he puts it into his pocket. After gathering his gear, he heads over to the meet.
|
|
|
Jul 13 2004, 12:46 AM
Post
#8
|
|
Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,359 Joined: 25-June 02 From: Vancouver, B.C., Canada (go Canucks!) Member No.: 2,904 |
Arriving a little early, Brick circled the block of the plaza, twice in each direction and twice through the alley (once from each circling direction). "What's a guy gotta do to get a parking spot around here," he mumbled under his helmet. He pulled up in front of the hotel and waited for someone to pull out. He didn't want to park in the underground...it takes too long to get away if needed. Finally, someone un-parks and he sneaks his Harley into the spot. He removes the helmet and unzips his coat just enough to reveal that he was apropriately dressed under his cycle gear.
He entered the Laubenstein Lights Plaza Hotel and asked for directions to the washroom. The security guard looked him over for a moment, then pointed. Thabnking the guard, Brick headed over to the washroom and into a stall. He took off his cycle gear, checked that his weaponry was properly placed and "took care of business" before the meet started. He washed his hands and checked his hair, then went to stow his gear in a locker. Finally ready, he entered the night club (?) and looked around the place casually. and checked his Browning Ultra Power with the security guard. He took the ticket and went to the bar and ordered himself a Shirley Temple while he waited for Mr. Johnson to arrive. |
|
|
Jul 13 2004, 01:35 AM
Post
#9
|
|
Dragon Group: Members Posts: 4,138 Joined: 10-June 03 From: Tennessee Member No.: 4,706 |
Around eleven pm, the time of the meet, the Laubenstein Lights has gone from a small crowd to a only a few patrons. The Laubenstein Plaza is a subdued place, all gilt and elegance. It takes the mention of a meeting at the Lights to get many of you through the door, and no one gets through without a walk through a MADs and a Chemsniffer. The guards don't seem inclined to call the Star, but they do confiscate everything illegal or dangerous and pass out claim tickets.
The Lights is a trendy nightspot that looks to seem much of its business in the early evening. This being a week night, the crowds are less than they would be on the weekend, and the piano jazz is softer that it might be. Several tables are arrayed at the front of the room, and Fredrick is seated at one of them. He watches the runners come in and directs each to one of the large private booths near the back of the room. |
|
|
Jul 13 2004, 07:54 PM
Post
#10
|
|
Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,362 Joined: 3-October 03 From: Poway, San Diego County, CA, USA Member No.: 5,676 |
Swift Eagle silently takes a seat.
|
|
|
Jul 13 2004, 08:10 PM
Post
#11
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 749 Joined: 22-June 02 From: Parts Without Member No.: 2,897 |
Gritz settles down in the designated booth.
|
|
|
Jul 13 2004, 10:48 PM
Post
#12
|
|
Neophyte Runner Group: Members Posts: 2,458 Joined: 22-March 03 From: I am a figment of my own imagination. Member No.: 4,302 |
Through some passed on shadow wisdom, Johnny had embraced a simple philosophy for the meet. Go in armed with nothing but a smile. A place as classy as the Lights wasn't about to skimp on security, so to show to a meet packing would be uncool. So passing through the security checkpoint, sans gun and deck, had been easy. At least they didn't ask about the 'ware.
Johnny doesn't approach Fredrick upon entering, instead stepping up to the booth. He takes a moment to make first impression mental notes. Orcs the pair of 'em. Looks like he'll be the prettyboy, which, hell, he always is anyway. One with the sense to dress to the occassion, the other looking like he came right off a hunt. Well, it takes all kinds. Spotting the placement of the one orc's datajack, Johnny tips him a professional nod. Removing his sunglasses to reveal his subtle circuitboard eyes, Johnny looks to the pair, chosing to sit next to his fellow decker (or so he asumes). `'lo boys. Name's Jett, Johnny Jett.` He leaves it at that for the moment, if they want further, well that'll come after the meet. When the inevitable waitress comes by, Johnny orders a plain old coke. No sense in drinking during the meet, and the caffiene'll keep him attentive. |
|
|
Jul 13 2004, 11:54 PM
Post
#13
|
|
Dragon Group: Members Posts: 4,138 Joined: 10-June 03 From: Tennessee Member No.: 4,706 |
Fredrick seems particularly happy to spot Swift Eagle and Thor as they straggle in. "I see you made it in. Didn't say much earlier, but you'll know the J. He slotted the last one for you. Seems on the up and up, so far, at least. Anyone who slots cred for pay like he did a couple months ago has got some gold stars by his name in my book."
When he counts off the last arrival, he rises from the booth and hows slightly. "Gotta get going. I've had a long day. I see the J comin' in now." The Johnson is, in fact, the same gentleman as instigated the run back in October. His attire seems to have taken a turn for the better, however, and his bodyguard is conspiciously absent. He carries a briefcase in one hand and seems to be, all in all, as confident as confident gets. He moves to the back private booth and takes a seat near the door. The booth itself is nice, with polarized glass masking much of it, but still allowing the patrons seated inside a view of the bar outside. Framed original artwork by Laubenstein himself covers the back wall. The Johnson places his briefcase on the table and nods to everyone. He seems to recognize Thor and Swift Eagle though he doesn't make any overt signs of it. |
|
|
Jul 14 2004, 12:27 AM
Post
#14
|
|
Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,359 Joined: 25-June 02 From: Vancouver, B.C., Canada (go Canucks!) Member No.: 2,904 |
Brick smiles as Fredrick points out Mr. Johnson. He opens his briefcase before making his way to the table, retrieving his white noise generator and bug scanner, pocketing the second, then snapping his case shut. He ambles over to the table politely nodding his head, setting the generator on the table as he sits down. His impressive size makes for a tight fit, but he manages.
"Good evening Mr. Johnson. I believe we have a mutual aquaintance." He watched for any indication of surprise regarding his english skills. Not many orks spoke with his level of refinement. "Perhaps he mentioned my name? I go by Brick." He calmly observes the Johnson. Guys like this rarely made mistakes, but on occasion...anything that would hint at an identity could be usefull. His vision magnification and flare compensation cyberwear didn't hurt when it came to checking people out. |
|
|
Jul 14 2004, 01:10 AM
Post
#15
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 749 Joined: 22-June 02 From: Parts Without Member No.: 2,897 |
Gritz watches the J approach without a word. Lots of things come in briefcases: some good and some bad.
|
|
|
Jul 14 2004, 04:12 AM
Post
#16
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 409 Joined: 9-March 04 Member No.: 6,140 |
Thor briefly shows a hint of a smile as he sits down. Familiar johnsons are more dependable, and this one paid well last time.
|
|
|
Jul 14 2004, 03:11 PM
Post
#17
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 993 Joined: 26-February 02 Member No.: 313 |
Sedryk leave fifty nuyen tip on the table and makes his way over to Fredrick's booth in the back. He gives a nod to Swift Eagle and Thor.
|
|
|
Jul 14 2004, 06:43 PM
Post
#18
|
|
Neophyte Runner Group: Members Posts: 2,458 Joined: 22-March 03 From: I am a figment of my own imagination. Member No.: 4,302 |
As soon as the Johnson approaches Johnny's writing a mental picture of him. Won't do to be snapping a photo, so he'll re-create the image later to accompany his next round of searches. Information, after all, is power.
He nods the way of the Johnson, looking to the breifcase. For the moment, he plays it quiet, observing Brick's conversing with the man. |
|
|
Jul 15 2004, 02:25 AM
Post
#19
|
|
Dragon Group: Members Posts: 4,138 Joined: 10-June 03 From: Tennessee Member No.: 4,706 |
The Johnson projects cool and calm during the brief stint of small talk. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to radiate the arrogance of most Johnsons, almost as if he didn't reguard all runners as scum. After a moment, he speaks to matters more directly.
"I asked Fredrick to get me some pros on short notice. Something big is coming up in downtown and I have a feeling that it will require individuals less," he pauses, as though searching for a word, "Constrained by social norms to handle it." "As you might be aware," he says, looking toward the two runners who know him, "I work for Mitsuhama-Benguet Mining. There is a major conference being held at the Seattle Expo Center and I fear that certain groups do not wish to see it come to a peaceful conclusion." He pauses, waiting for questions. |
|
|
Jul 15 2004, 03:15 AM
Post
#20
|
|
Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,359 Joined: 25-June 02 From: Vancouver, B.C., Canada (go Canucks!) Member No.: 2,904 |
Brick listens quietly, deciding to get a handle on everyone else first. Let them ask the rate and relevant questions. He'd fill in any gaps with questions of his own. He was mildly surprised that Mr. Johnson had mentioned who he worked for. Usually rule number 1 was noone knows your name! He'd have to check that out. Could be a swerve.
|
|
|
Jul 15 2004, 08:41 AM
Post
#21
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 409 Joined: 9-March 04 Member No.: 6,140 |
"You talkin' security, or a little preemptive strike?"
|
|
|
Jul 15 2004, 07:41 PM
Post
#22
|
|
Dragon Group: Members Posts: 4,138 Joined: 10-June 03 From: Tennessee Member No.: 4,706 |
"For lack of a better description, security. There aren't any specifics that we have uncovered yet, but the conference is still three days away. It is possible that whoever is going to be moving is simply under our radar. Which is one reason I want professionals on this."
|
|
|
Jul 15 2004, 07:46 PM
Post
#23
|
|
Moving Target Group: Members Posts: 749 Joined: 22-June 02 From: Parts Without Member No.: 2,897 |
"Now what, exactly, is the nature of this con-ference y'all planning? Is the target of the threat the con-fer-ence participants, the or-ganizers, or, uh, other?"
|
|
|
Jul 16 2004, 11:22 PM
Post
#24
|
|
Neophyte Runner Group: Members Posts: 2,458 Joined: 22-March 03 From: I am a figment of my own imagination. Member No.: 4,302 |
While he listens to the conversation, an old Nancy Sinatra song playing to his ears only from his headware memory, Johnny is considering. He's cooking up a wishlist, as is custom.
`Nature of the conference is going to be key for us to know Mr J. We, as you've pointed out, are professionals, which means we don't like going about things blindfolded. And, as I'm sure you're aware, the Expo Centre isn't exactly air tight. We're gonna need an idea where out key assets are at.` He takes a draw from his pop, and weighs in with a charming smile. |
|
|
Jul 17 2004, 04:27 AM
Post
#25
|
|
Running Target Group: Members Posts: 1,359 Joined: 25-June 02 From: Vancouver, B.C., Canada (go Canucks!) Member No.: 2,904 |
Brick keeps quiet and listens, while keeping an eye out for anyone that might try to crash the meet. For something like this he really should check with Eugene. He would know all about this kind of thing. Perhaps he'll even know a few who are attending.
|
|
|
Lo-Fi Version | Time is now: 13th January 2025 - 02:25 AM |
Topps, Inc has sole ownership of the names, logo, artwork, marks, photographs, sounds, audio, video and/or any proprietary material used in connection with the game Shadowrun. Topps, Inc has granted permission to the Dumpshock Forums to use such names, logos, artwork, marks and/or any proprietary materials for promotional and informational purposes on its website but does not endorse, and is not affiliated with the Dumpshock Forums in any official capacity whatsoever.