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

[Drain Brain]

Looking somewhat like a rabbit in the headlights of an advancing truck, newbie-Johnson stared at his visitors. As they introduced themselves he looked at each, confusion clouding his face. Then, with a resigned sigh, settled back into his chair to waot until they had finnished their pleasantries. As Deuce lit his cigarette, the Johnson cleared his throat.

"Erm, excuse me," he said quietly, " I think I'm meant to be meeting some people here... are you Ms. Jackson?" He faced the elven woman as he spoke, pointedly ignoring the puffs of smoke crossing the table in his direction. Her nod was enough encoragement for him to continue.

"I think I've seen some others in here for our meeting - would you like to help me? I understand you're... fairly good at talking to people. The troll on the far side of the room, aparently called "Fridge?" - he's one. And the other at the table in the back... and, oh... this gentleman here in the soldier costume, sorry uniform and Mr - er, Bandwidth Bob here. Erm..." He took out a small sheet of paper from his top pocket and scanned it once before continuing. "My employer has arranged with the management here for a room to be set aside "out back." If you want to come through when you're ready? I'm sure there will be drinks and nibbles..."

Leaving a trio of astounded and/or confused runners around the table, he picked up his soda and crisps and made for the bar and the rooms beyond.

[Rakshasa]

Piper stopped in his tracks. The dweeb, in agitated conversation with a couple of elves and a strange, blond headed guy in a raincoat, suddenly up and left the booth, heading for the bar.

What was there to do? He turned and looked pointedly at the Troll he had just left and shrugged.

Although there was no doubt in Piper's mind that the dweeb was, indeed, the Johonson. Who else would collect such a disparate band around him and then have them follow wherever he was off to? The Irishman considered it prudent to hang back a little to see where the little party was headed.

Watching them, he felt air pushing toward him and realised that the Troll had vacated his large seat and had joined him.

"Might as well tag along, don't you think?" Piper looked at the Troll, waiting for his approval.

[Kurukami]

"Indeed", rumbled Stone quietly in reply. "Apparently the contact's choice of seating was not as unfortunate as I had originally thought."

"Thank you for the Guinness, by the way. I find it a refreshing substitute for... food." He raised his stein in salute and began to slip around the dance floor, angling to intercept the Johnson's party without disrupting too much of the mass of dancers.

[Mysterio]

Holy drek, is this our Johnson? Can't be....can it? sitting puzzled for a second, Deuce finally figured that it was, indeed, their Johnson. Well at least that'll give me a chance to show Ms Sandy there what I'm made of and he grinned, hoping no one was watching.
Finally, as the Johnson headed towards the back room, Deuce got up and followed him.

[Digital Heroin]

While he was waiting, Fridge had scored himself a pint of the black stuff, and lifted a whole bowl of peanuts. When he sees the others gathering he moves to join them, much to the releif of the stool he'd been sitting upon. No sense in being left behind for a meet, now was there?

[Drain Brain]

For anyone who's actually been in the back of a British pub, the room would come as no surprise. Anyone else would be forgiven for losing their lunch.

The space quite obviously hadn't been re-decorated since the 50's - the Nineteen-50's - and was curiously dimensioned. The ceiling would certainly be no trouble for the trolls at well over 12 feet, but squeezing them all in amongst the stacked red-velvet chairs and folding tables would almost have been an issue were there but a few more of them.

As the Johnson had promised, there was a table of mediocre-looking buffet food, complete with pre-corked bottles of the house wine, both white and red, of course...

It was shaping up to be a party...

The runners entered the room after the Johnson, who appeared to be a little more at ease now, out of the sight of the general public. He was seated at the far end of the room with a glass of wine in hand, munching delicately on a breadstick. He watched them enter and gestured to seats already laid out for them.

"Hi... thanks for coming." He mumbled. His words gave an air of the old cliché: "Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking..." He grabbed his case and pulled forth a top-of-the-line pocket secretary, smartly plugging it into a battered looking wall projector. He took out his little paper note once more and faced the group.

"Right. Hello everybody, my name is Johnson. You're here because my superiors have a job they need doing, urgently, and you all come highly recommended." It did seem like he was reading from the sheet of paper. "Understand that I can't tell you specifically what it is until you have agreed to the task, so the basics will have to do: You must find something, somewhere in London, as soon as possible. We don't know who has it, but we know a place to start looking. Opposition should be minimal, if at all, and the payment offered is five hundred nuyen per day, with a final payment of two-thousand upon return of the... item... pending confirmation of it's validity. Additionally, for every day under 1 week that you come in, there will be an additional bonus per head of one thousand nuyen."

He looked up at the runners. "Any takers?"

[Rakshasa]

Piper had sauntered into the back room not knowing what to expect. The sight of the manky buffet and the dweeb, sitting like a Lord, at the end of the room made him laugh aloud, but he recovered quickly and turned the bellow into a sort of strangled cough.

He pulled a red velvet chair around, preferring to sit across it, and plonked himself down to listen as the room became claustrophobic, despite its height, filling with two trolls, two elves and three humans all in the same space. Least, Piper assumed the blonde and the dweeb were human.

The brief on the job didn't say very much, but then, Piper thought, it isn't meant to. Even so, Find something, don't know what, who has it or where it is, and deliver it. wasn't a lot to go on. But the money sounded good, and that's what they were all here for - wasn't it?

"Count me in, Mr Johnson." Piper rose and lifted a small triangular sandwich with curling crusts from a plate on the table, opened it and peered inside at the smeared fish paste. He replaced it, shuddering, and picked up a breadstick instead before returning to his seat.

[Silverspur_2020]

lets see if we can squeese a bit more out of this little man... Sandy thought to herself as she flashed one of her brilliant and knowing smiles towards the nervous looking Johnson. "Well, it certainly does seem like a sound offer. but then there are other costs involved... such as petrol, bribing of people if need be to name but a few! how about we increase the amount by a pleasent sum for both parties? by say 50% per head?" Lets start with a high ball and see where we can go from here...

[Mysterio]

Sitting down in the little room, Deuce looked around at the dump that was to be their meeting place. Holy drek, this place should be torn down. Street meat live in better dumps than this
He looked around at the rest of the crew. Amateurs...I'm always given amateurs.
The Johnson began to give his obviously poorly rehearsed speech and terms. "...You must find something, somewhere in London, as soon as possible. We don't know who has it..."
FRAG what do you know!?!
"... but we know a place to start looking...."
Well that's a start
"Any takers?" asked the Johnson
Deuce had to admit, the payoff sounded good. Too good to be true. Minimal opposition, find some item..how hard could it be? Heck was a team of runners needed? He could probably do this on his own and still be home in time for dinner.
"Count me in, Mr Johnson." said someone from behind Deuce. Great...dead weight...
"...how about we increase the amount by a pleasent sum for both parties? by say 50% per head?" asked the lady Deuce had already had the pleasure of meeting.
Deuce was somewhat amazed. He admired her initiative. Most women he knew acted like mindless beings in most situations. just going along for the ride until the money wore out. Hopefully she plays as tough when things get hot as she has so far tonight. he smiled as he threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, extinguishing the butt.
"I'm with her"

[Drain Brain]

The Johnson frowned at the pair of "uppers." "An expense account will be made available with limited funds, in advance, to cover such costs. Two thousand in sterling, since it's for domestic usage. Any expenses beyond that will be considdered pending completion. The fee itself, however, is non-negotiable I'm afraid, and as we're in a little hurry, I'm afraid we can't afford to argue the point."

Possibly, just slightly, a little bit of a harder edge crept into the voice. "Are you in?"

[Rakshasa]

The Irishman crunched his breadstick, "Don't sweat it me little colleen, you neither me dandy friend. In my experience, most runs have some sort of side benefit. You just have to look for them. Besides, an expense account is something I, for one, could get very used to."

Piper finished the breadstick and helped himself to a small glass of, what turned out to be, a passable white wine, to wash the crumbs down.

[Kurukami]

A scavenger hunt. Quite intriguing, that. Having dismissed the chairs as entirely inadequate, Stone stood at rest, eyeballing the food spread across the rather small table and listening to the bartering and bantering. Most of the edibles were of dubious quality, although the devilled eggs didn't look half bad. Ghu only knew how long they'd been out, though, and without any sign of a container of either Tabasco sauce or a fine curry he dismissed what was available as less than appetizing.

With an mental sigh, he turned his full attention back towards the discussion. When he spoke, he kept his deep, rumbling voice relatively soft, letting the syllables roll precisely out of his mouth. It would not do to leave the others with the impression they were dealer with the usually dull trollish individual.

"I conditionally accept your offer, based upon the quality of the information you are able to give us. At the very least, it is important to know the item's dimensions and details, and the last place you believe it was located. The reasons why your superiors believe it went missing would also be useful."

He fixed the small Johnson with an inquisitory stare and waited, motionless as his nickname.

[Digital Heroin]

`Look 'ere, I'm inclined to think that if you're in a rush, it can't be such a simple thing, and you'd be willing to give some jockey for the consideration that we're all professionals here, and professionals don't expect to be goin' under the lamp.`

Tyrone manages to say this around a mouthful of food, and to keep the disain from his voice as well. He's not exactly seasoned, but a slide show and lecture notes hardly seem pro.

`But if you're gonna be a dicky die doo about it, well I guess I'll have to settle, once I've got some info about what we're looking to haul away with 'ere.`

[Silverspur_2020]

Sandy supressed the smile that she had managed to squeese some more money out of this guy..."Yeah im in, assuming I am happy with the further details of what you want." With that she simply goes silent, the balls in his court now, and its time to see if he can use it.

[Drain Brain]

The Johnson regards the runners with growing ease, the "bumbling idiot" receding into the background as a guise more resembling a college lecturer surfaces.

"Very well. It seems that we shall progress no further without more information, so here goes." He taps a few keys on his P-Sec and an unpleasant passport-style 2D image appears on the wall depicting a late-middle aged caucasian man. The Johnson clears his throat and enters into a "briefing."

"This man is Robert Borstad, formerly on the household staff of a prominent member of British High Society. Three days ago, Mr Borstad left his employer's home with a satchel full of documents and other items. It is this satchel that you must retrieve.

"Unfortunately, Mr Borstad is no longer in possession of the case, being as how he suffered a mild case of death."

The Johnson looked around for any response to his hard-sought joke, but returned immediately to the briefing when it wasn't forthcoming.

"It would appear that Mr Borstad was taking the case to... someone... and that that individual wanted it urgently, as he travelled at night. On foot. We can safely assume that he was not of sound mind in so doing, because he entered through the Lambeth Containment Zone. From what we can gather, he encountered a gang therein, who pursued Mr Borstad - probably with the intent of robbing him. Various items of CCTV footage show him fleeing into an abandoned building with them in pursuit." Another keystroke, and a 5 second sequence shows a form resembling the man from the photo enter a building, followed by approximately six adolescents dressed in denim and leather clothing.

"In the morning, a high threat response unit found Mr Borstad lying in an alley adjacent to the building, stripped of any possession of worth, directly beneath a fire-escape which has come away from the wall - recently, it would seem."

"We want that case."

[Silverspur_2020]

Listening intently to what is being said Sandy starts thinking.....and then when Johnson is finished giving the brief, she says in a bussinesslike tone of voice, "I think I already know the answer to this question... If we take this job is there any chance you would give us the information as to who these members of high society are? because if we can find out who would want to act against them then we will immediatly have a short list of who might have that case. Also, has the body been confirmed both visually and DNA as Robert Borstad? because it has been known for people to do this sort of thing after having left employment"

[Rakshasa]

The more he saw of the dweeb, and listened to him speak, the more Piper thought there was more to this nondescript man than met the eye. It was almost as though he was putting on an act for the assembled runners. The Irishman had been on enough film sets to recognise a consummate actor when he saw one, and Mr Johnson seemed to be such.

Having already agreed to do the job, Piper felt free to contemplate what the run would entail, despite the lack of actual information. Way back in the early part of the century, there had been several similar cases. A factotum nicking gear, or important papers from the old Royal Household and then selling to the highest bidder. Nothing new there, then.

But getting croaked whilst in the process of nicking, that was new. Borstad was either a patsy and had been set up to acquire the satchel, or he was working alone, despite what the dweeb had said. To Piper's mind the former seemed the more likely. Why else would the man go into the less than salubrious part of town where, allegedly, his body had been found. If he'd been working for himself, he'd have a ready made bolt hole and a ready made way of making the satchel turn into cred sticks. But then, fencing the gear might require him to have a meet where he was found. It'd be easy enough, either way, to pay the young thugs to bump him.

On balance, Piper's gut feeling was that there was a Mr Big, somewhere in the background. A trusted flunkey for the Aristocracy wouldn't know too much about the underworld.

The CCTV footage had seemed familiar to the soldier. Finally he placed it. Warehousing along the Lambeth Bridge Road. Well over two hundred years old, some of them were, despite the various re-developments, and between them was a rabbit warren of streets and alleyways. And, across the river, Horseferry Road, the Embankment and the old MI5 building. not to mention the Ministry of Agriculture. Not that either had anything to do with the run, it simply meant that Piper could visualise the area more clearly.

[Blitz]

:: Having listened quietly from the shadowy corner, the stacks of rubbish and discarded supplies assisting the shadows in concealing her perfectly, Tyen considers her options. ::

:: The money was fair, if he was upfront about the arraingment. If he was holding back, which they all do, then it could turn out to be moot how much the pay was for. Still, the assembled group seemed capable and the job seemed right up her ally. ::

:: The rich were a hotbed of lies, trickery and conspiracy and perhaps these documents would help her even more than the Johnson. Who knows what secrets lie in those pages. The more she thought about that fact alone, the more she was convinced that she, too, would take the job. ::

:: Sliding silently from her hidden spot, the shadows seem to dwell on her before releasing just enough for her to be seen less than a meter from their host. Her silence, making her appear almost out of nowhere. ::

"Da. I too, weell take job."

:: Her accent is heavily russian influenced, and she definately is not a native english speaker. She stands in real leather pants and vest over a charcoal sweater and a long black secure coat. Her boots are unusual, up to the knee in what seems to be waterproof leather with all maner of buckles holding the bottom heavy soles to the boot. Her hair is long and straight and though it shadows her face, her image is impossible to determine due to a pair of black shades and a black mask over her nose and mouth. ::

[Mysterio]

Two women eh? deuce raised his eyebrow at the sight of this mysterious woman I could enjoy this run quite immensely
Not really needing or caring about the money, Deuce lit up another cigarette
Find a simple briefcase, pop a few bad guys, show this team how to do things...too easy

[Digital Heroin]

`You wonts a case? Well that outta be no problem. Y'don't have to worry yourself over that none.`

Tyrone doesn't seem to notice the grim details, but he does. He simply doesn't want to appear bothered. Not that a little gang violence and murder's a new thing to him.

[Rakshasa]

"Looks like you got yourself a Team, Mr Johnson. One way or another." Piper drained his glass as he looked at each of the assembled Company in turn, getting anything between toothy grins and shrugs.

"So now all you have to do is let us get on with it. Unless there's any more intel you can give us first?" Piper eyed the dweeb's bulging briefcase, guessing there would be some hardcopy in there for distribution, and pointedly nodded at it.

[Silverspur_2020]

Sandy sits still... watching everyone else say their piece, this was her chance to evaluate who did what and what they were like. She was happy that the team all seemed to be more professional then amature.... certainly the mage (or whatever she was) that had just stepped out from some sort of cloaking spell.

[Drain Brain]

The Johnson seemed pleased with the outcome, nodding sagely to himself.

"Very well. That being the case, here is all that I can give you." He pulled a small chip case from a pocket and handed it to Sandy, the closest runner. "This chip contains all the information we have access to - mortuary report on Borstad, police report, witness accounts and the CCTV footage. There is a number stored there also at which you can leave reports for me if necesary - although I'd be pleased if you could leave one every 24 hours to update me on your progress." From the same pocket he produced a credstick. "And here is your expense account. Use it wisely. And I think that's all - unless there are any questions?"

[Blitz]

:: Tyen remains motionless and silent, even her breath is hard to distinguish as she waits for the either the party or the johnson to leave. ::

[Mysterio]

Deuce watched as the johnson handed Sandy, seated next to him, the chip and credstick
Lucky it went to her, I think she'd be the only other person here I could somewhat trust..