Hunting in the Smoke IC, British Shadows are dark... mostly... Options

[Rakshasa]

The boy obviously didn’t know much about the actual hit on Borstad. He was a heavy back-up to the Gangers and had remained in the background on a `need to know’ basis, and he obviously hadn’t needed to know.

What he did confirm was that the youngsters who had been at the forefront of the attack came from underground, Trogs as Jace called them. They lived in the long disused Tube tunnels on this side of the Thames where it was always warm and stolen electricity made life fairly comfortable.

The group in question evidently made there base at the old Lambeth North Station at the tail end of the Bakerloo line, It was a nice spot, Piper knew. Central without the likelihood of much in the way of Security patrols, and a clear route north into the heart of London’s West End whenever the need arose.

The case must have gone there for forwarding, of that he felt sure. Whoever was at the back of this wouldn’t demean themselves by collecting the item. So the next step was to find the courier, before he or she also got bumped off.

“Come on my burly friend, we’ve worried these people long enough.! The Irishman headed out of the door, the heavy steps of Tyrone right behind him.

The wail of the affronted Jace followed the pair down the stairs. “Hey, wadd I get out of this?”

“You’re still breathing!” Piper retorted as he stepped out onto the dark street.

[Drain Brain]

Sandy:

The reception desk, though present, was as bare as a roast chicken at a nudist dinner party. It figured, since the low - and very select - traffic levels would not require such a list. If you didn't know precisely where you were going, you shouldn't be going there.

Going for broke, Sandy moved to the first door on the right. Not a sound issued from within, but upon opening the door, she found the room to be occupied!

Along the far wall, in the lower portion on a functional looking bunk-bed was a slumbering human man, mouth agape and drooling. From the looks of the uniform strewn at the foot of the bed he was another "doorman" like the one out front - possible another shift...

Tyen:

Not a light or a sound escaped the grasp of the first floor rooms - testament either to their emptiness or the skill of the designers. With no clues to indicate which door might lead to her goal, Tyen inspected the hall itself.

Carpeted in a luxurious red, the hallway showed signs of the "holy trinity" of the nobility - Lots of money, lots of taste, and the desire to "show off" both of them. Between each door stood a waist-high pillar bearing the weight of some form of ornament - a classically styled vase, a sculpture, a bust of some un-identified figure. At the end, beneath the window, a gilted cabinet contained little of note - a neatly folded polishing rag and tube of metal polish in the bottom. Antiques of such quality should not be sullied by such concerns as functionality...

The doros themselves offered little inspiration. Each was oak, and appeared extremely solid. Each had identical fittings - appearing to be of gold, but more likely highly-polished brass. No keyholes or maglocks marred their finish. Not even scuffing on the floor could tell of frequency of use, since the doors all opened off the hall.

All in all, a mystery... but everyone loves a mystery, right?

[Mysterio]

Bah nothing much here really... Deuce wasn't sure exactly what to look for. He flipped on the over head light and wandered about the room, checking out the book case, casually peering out the window. He fiddled around with the decanter and lightly touched the tables, Nice place though, I wonder who their decorator is?

[Kurukami]

Outside the ganger's apartment...

Bloody motorcycle. First the bedamned Blitzen had sprung an oil leak on the way back from the meet with Crow, then decided to up and slip its drive chain on the way to the apartment. That had left him out on watch duty outside, as Piper and Tyrone went in to roust the ganger.

Stone glanced up as Piper stepped back out onto the street, ground out his Superkings cigarette with a massive boot, and moved forward quietly. "Been pretty quiet out here. What's the word from that bugger?" he asked, tossing his head towards the apartment.

[Rakshasa]

The stolid figure of the other Troll surprised Piper as he spoke. He’d thought that Stone would have gone with the Elves and Tyen as their back up, but evidently not.

“Just as well you’re here. The trail leads to the old Lambeth North Station at the tail end of the Bakerloo line and a nice little gang of tea leaves.“ The soldier pointed north east, toward the long bend in the river. “Lots of warehousing and, according to the youngster in there,” He thumbed back toward the building, “they’re gonna need some persuading to tell us what they did with Borstad’s case. It’ll be their turf remember, so we’d better keep our wits about us.”

The three runners headed for the Station by bike and taxi, adrenaline starting to flow, anticipating a fight.

[Silverspur_2020]

Hoping that she hadnt woken him... Sandy moves silently backwords and shuts the door slowly and quietly.... "Frag, Frag, FRAG" keeps running through her mind...she didnt think their target would have an office on the ground floor, people like this never did. time to head upstairs

Pressing the butten on the subvocal mike she lets Deuce know where shes going....

[Blitz]

:: Tyen, now satisfied that there are no camera's about, settles down on her knees in the middle of the plush carpeting. Bowing her head, she gazes into the depths of the shadows that surround her and begins to focus her energy upon them. Her mind stretches out and grasps the shadows like dark putty and by sheer will, she shapes the shadow. The incorporeal form recognizes it's mistress with a thought and waits to hear what is expected of it. ::

:: Tyen's dark eyes make contact with the strange creature on a completely seperate plane of existance and her question was communicated soundlessly. ::

"I am Tyen, Shaman of Shadows, friend and holder of the secrets we possess. A man holds his secrets here under our watchful eye. Can you tell me which room secures them now?"

:: The power of thought was evidenced in that as she imagined the words, around them spawned visions and emotions of that which she referred to. A glimpse into her soul to bare the connection she felt to the darkness. An image of not just the man called Lord Protector (which every informed citizen knew) but also an impression of everything she had learned about his personality or mannerisms. Visions of a mydrid of storage devices, from high tech computers, to hand held storage disks to old fashioned file cabinets stuffed with heavy paper folders to archaic pen, ink and scrolls. The visions conveyed themselves purely from her subconscious with only the hint of effort. Then she awaited his response. ::

[Silverspur_2020]

Walking slowly upstairs, Sandy makes a note of any cameras that may be set up... so that she knows to keep her back to them or obscure her face as she passes.

[Mysterio]

Deuce, using his subvocal, contacted sandy,"Hey honey, did you check out all the doors on the first floor? Nothing much in my room here, more like a meeting place."

[Silverspur_2020]

Letting Deuce know which door she opened and what was behind it, she carries on up the stairs.... knowing that duece will have the other one covered.

[Rakshasa]

The old Lambeth North Station. A darker den of iniquity you couldn’t - wouldn’t wish to find. The pavements and street, littered with the trappings of `civilised society’ gone to Hell along with an odd severed arm and, Piper swore, what appeared to be the skull of some underdog, tendrils of rotting flesh hanging from its cheeks, stuck on the spiked end of an iron railing. Traditional warning if ever he saw one.

“Looks like we wont be welcome here.” Piper nodded at the entrance, easing his preferred weapon from its holster. “Ready?” The question was rhetorical as the Irishman shouldered his was between rusting metal gates at the Station entrance.

The place stank. Not just musty but all of the unpleasant smells he’d ever come across, and he’d smelt some pretty nasty stuff in his time. Ignoring the cloying, penetrating stench, he hugged the right hand wall and edged forward, pointing at the far wall for Stone to follow, Tyrone bringing up the rear.

The old booking hall, with its spacious ticket office, was covered in graffiti and the Tribal emblems of the occupants of the nether regions of the London Underground. Actually, some of it was well done and Piper had to admire the artistic talent that went with total anarchy.

The itch at the back of his neck made him drop, bending his knees and levelling his gun in the direction from which an ugly looking blade had flown. The shadow, fast disappearing around a corner, wasn’t worth the shot. Piper activated his micro-bead. “Escalators. Just around that bend I think.” He watched as Stone eased forward, weapon covering the cross line of fire. The Troll nodded and Piper moved, running crouched, to the partial cover of the far wall.

The knife thrower was long gone, not even footsteps could be heard. But then, the escalator was one of the steep types. He, she or it could be laying prone just a few steps down and be totally hidden. Oh for a frag grenade! Piper wished fervently.

Nothing for it! He signalled Stone to let a couple go at the escalator and made a run, taking the quickest of glances down the old wooden, stationary staircase before crouching between the up and down flights.

He’d seen nothing, but that didn’t mean that no one was hiding at the bottom. Close to his left foot he saw a half house brick. That would do. Grabbing it he lobbed it down the steps, making it ricochet from side to side to make as much noise as possible, watching it fall, his gun trained down at the bottom.

The briefest of glimpses, a dark shaggy head followed by a body, standing and turning, ready to run. Piper fired at the fleeing arse; he needed a prisoner!

[Blitz]

Testing Thread...

[Rakshasa]

[This is Tony's Post (DB) not Dave's (Rak)]

Piper and Stone (since I want to move it on...):

Piper wildly swings his beretta in the direction of the fleeing posterior, the shot ricocheting off the ground below. Footsteps echo around the escalator shaft as the ganger dissappears into the depths. As the pair move to the head of the stairway, Tyrone joins them, a throwing knife jutting from his bull-shoulder. "Next time, irish, don't duck!"

Carefully, at the head of the steps, the trio peek out over the edge. Nothing is moving in the darkness - even to the trolls' natural thermographic vision.

With Stone in the lead, Piper leaning out over the central divider providing cover, the trio descend into the darkness.

Half-way down, they are stopped by a voice.

"Fek off, dirty topside scum! And take your damn trogs wiv ya! There's more trouble down here than ya' want, scan?"

----------------------------------------

Tien and Sandy:

Taking form, shadows coalesce into floating apparitions as of a child's nightmare. Silently they drift amongst the furnishings, pausing at each door as if to listen - or to discern the contents.

Starting at the window, they move along the corridor toward the stairs, until they are interrupted! The delicate arrival of the ebony elf sets them reeling, as if she had interrupted the rite of their concentration. Without even a sound, they swirl as if caught in a whirlwind and vanish into the corners that spawned them - but not before imparting their knowledge to their mistress as she feels drawn to the door nearest the stairs.

Although perhaps a little disconcerted by the amorphous black forms, Sandy steps into the hallway, peering into the gloom to try and pick out the invisible shaman. With her practiced eye, she quickly assesses the area and, most noteworthy, decides that whoever decorated was indeed of high class and impecable taste - probably with a massive budget behind them...

----------------------------------------

Deuce:

With Sandy's failure to answer adequately, the American's exasperation grew. Would he have to search the entire floor by himself? With a little sigh in the dark, he turned to exit the library room. Even as he was easing the door closed, however, his delicate elven hearing discerned a faint click behind him, and his body threw a faint shadow onto the portal in front of him - a light had come on!

[Blitz]

:: Tyen rises silently, but lifts her head high enough for the deep cowl to reveal her face to her companion. ::

"Dis is the one."

:: Her gloved hand takes hold of the door handle and gently applies just enough pressure to test the mechanism for an engaged latch or lock of any kind. ::

[Mysterio]

On impulse of the light that come on behind him, Deuce turned around. he gave the door a light knock, "Hello?" he said, trying to appear as if he had just lost his way. he pushed the door slighty ajar and looked back in the room.

[Silverspur_2020]

Not quiet being able to spot the shamen, Sandy calls out..."Tyen? you there?"

[Blitz]

"Shhh....the door by the stairs...don't step on me."

:: Her voice is a soft whisper, barely brushing on the Elf's ears. ::

[Silverspur_2020]

For the benifit of any cameras that were in this building (which there doubtlessly were) she resumes the act of knowing where shes going. Walking towards the door with confidence she carefully avoids the shadows and reaches for the door handle, pressing down on the leaver she makes her way in.

[Rakshasa]

"Fek off, dirty topside scum! And take your damn trogs wiv ya! There's more trouble down here than ya' want, scan?"

“We scan.” Piper shouted. “No ruckus. Just want info. Innifor!”

There was a momentary silence and the runners waited for an onslaught. It didn’t materialise. Instead the reedy voice floated back up at them. “Was innifo?”

“Cansa. Lossa cansa. ‘N gear too, mebe blades, fer right info.” Again the pregnant pause.

“Come ahead. Jus you. Leave em trogs upside.” The tattered person, there was no way to tell if it was male or female, appeared briefly at the foot of the stairs, showing willingness to talk but dodging back immediately, expecting shots.

Piper nodded at the two Trolls. “I’ll go down. Give me two minutes and then move down as well - quietly!” How quietly a Troll could move, when he had to, the Irishman well knew, and it would be nice to think he had backup close at hand.

Carefully dropping down the thirty or so steps to the lower concourse, Piper peered about in the gloom. The dwellers here were picking up juice from somewhere, probably a hook back across the river, and there were three old neons filling the place with guttering light, the 50Hz buzz loud in the ears.

“Whereya?” Piper sidled to the left hand wall, Beretta trained ahead. A soft sound of cloth to his right swung the gun in that direction as a small body appeared, lank long brown hair that hadn’t seen a comb in a decade, topped what must once have been a gaberdine overcoat flapping around cowboy boots that seemed two sizes too big.

“Where’s cansa?” Eyes flicked from side to side and back up the escalator.

“Topside. Getcha ten fer right info.” Piper lowered his weapon slightly.

“Nahway. Fifty or no deal.” The rag tag moved back into the darkness leading to the platform, waving a dismissive hand.

“Haggle later. Gotta know if’n you got right info furst.” Piper took a slow step toward the troglodyte. “Gangers took a dapper, two nights ago. Left im dead. No worry whatcha got offen, but gotta briefcase too. I gotta fine da case. Whatcha know?”

[Drain Brain]

[OOC: Muahaha! Fixed it! Something about a non-deleted cookie and Daylight Saving time...]

[b]Piper, Stone and Tyrone:

The emaciated looking ganger seemed thoroughly enraptured by the idea of bargaining with the ex-soldier. It looked to Piper as though he was on teh home stretch with this kid when, at the corners of his perception, movement set his scalp tingling.

Stonen was there with him instantly, the both of them aware of multiple bodies in the dark of the station. The negotiating ganger started to whine, mumbling to himself, as four bodies launched themselves from side-alleys to attack the runners. "Dammit! Never lemme bargain! We gonna starve, twits!" But even as he spoke, he knew a fight was inevitable, and ducked away from what he expected to be an iminent bloodbath.

[ooc: roll initiative, guys...]

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Sandy and Tyen:

The women were bumping into each other in the hall, invisibility and impatience getting the better of them. Eventually, however, the door opened and they stepped within.

The room was a traditional style office - if you were traditionally a stinkingly rich Victorian gentleman - with multiple concessions to the modern era spotted around the room in subtle compliment to the decor.

The central item was, of course, the massive desk. Almost spartan in appearance, the inset terminal was cleverly concealed. Multiple bookcases adorned the walls, but mostly contained fiction and recreational reading material. The question was, though, where could the paydata be?

------------------------------------------------------------------

Deuce:

No response issues from the room. Peering back into the gloom, the yankee spiv notices that the glow is coming from a small table in the corner of the room - a small flatscreen linked to a telecom unit has come alive and seems to be displaying an email - but from his current viewpoint he cannot read it...

Crosssing the room carefully, he reads the message:

"Dear Shadowrunners,

I would offer my congratulations for finding your way in here, but I know precisely how easy it was. Equally, I would urge you not to do anything rash, as the armed gentlemen at the front of the building would be most displeased - and I assure you that you would have quite some difficulty making it out of my home alive.

Whilst I have your (undivided?) attention, might I be so bold as to request that you cease your investigation into the late Mr Borstad. I have the situation in hand and it will be resolved shortly - so there is nothing to worry yourselves about.

Rest assured that failure to comply with my request will not go well for you.

Kindest regards,

JC"

[Mysterio]

Dammit Deuce hated the idea that someone knew where he was and what exactly he was up to without him knowing who they were.

Or maybe he did know who....

How would this Charmichael guy know exactly what they were up to unless he had inside info? Was their a mole or something amongst them? If so, who? The runners seemed legit. He thought a bit more about that Bob cowboy. he was always at the house it seems, and he's doing his thingy in the 'Trix, would he be in cahoots with this guy?

He contacted Sandy on the subvocal, "Hey sugar, things okay?" She said that the two of them had just entered the room upstairs. "Great," replied deuce, "but be careful. I get the feeling that we're expected, and are being watched. Scratch that. I KNOW we are."

"Why? How? Who?" He could hear the concern in her voice. Deuce gave her a quick rundown of the letter that was still on the screen in front of him.

[Blitz]

:: Tyen hisses under her breath. She knew it had been too easy getting in and she had forgotten the first rule of high level government conspiracies, always assume they know more than you. ::

"There wont be anything here worth the effort. We need to leave and soon, did you come armed?"

[Silverspur_2020]

Sandy is annoyed, she hates it when she can't talk her way out of a situation.... "Yeah, but its only a hold out pistol because I figured we wouldnt get anything bigger past rent-a-thug. I still say we have a quick scan of the area, he may be sending that email because we are close, and besides, what have we got to loose if security know we are here?"

[Blitz]

:: Tyen smiles slyly as her eyes refocus a moment, opening her inner self to the secrets the room hides. ::

[Mysterio]

"I'll wait for you two at the bottom of the stairs back in the lobby," he tells Sandy. Deuce was still pissed. He figured that they were close to something, and this guy was just nervous. He straightened his hair, gave a crack to his neck, and walked back to the door.