IC: High Order Options

[Whizbang]

Hmm...a job. About time. Her finances were starting to get on the slim side. But anyways...she had a meet to prepare for. Hotel California...sounded familiar. Now where had she heard it before...

"Mirrors on the ceiling
Pink champagne on ice
And she said
We are all just prisoners here
Of our own device..."

Gah...that's where she'd heard it from. Those old tapes of her grandmother's... And now that song was stuck in her head. As she paged through the phone book looking for the address, she tried to push the song out. But the more she did, the more snippets she remebered.

"And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast..."

Finding it, she headed for the address. Impressive place. Hopefully they'd be receptive to her idea. Heading in, she introduced herself to the receptionist as Niome Weathers. She told (him/her) that she was to meet with a Mr Rakovic on Monday, and that she wished to look over the facilities ahead of time.

"Relax said the nightman
We are programed to recieve
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave..."

Eerie...it gave her a sense of foreboding. But that was why she was here. If this was some sort of set up, she wanted to know where she was, and where the exits were.

[grendel]

The concierge at the front desk, a young man with carefully hidden burn scars on his right cheek, acknowledges your request with a nod before stepping to the doorway behind him. Moments later a distinguished looking older gentleman dressed in a suit and tie steps out. He smiles at you with something resembling genuine warmth, although his eyes remain distant and calculating.

"Good evening Miss Weathers, and welcome to the Hotel California. My name is Mr. Nicholas. I'm afraid that Mr. Rakovic has reserved is in use currently. Please understand that we host a fair number of meetings, and our facilities are by no means spacious. Please inform Mr. Rakovic that he has my personal garauntee that the room will be ready according to his specifications with time to spare. Is there something else I might be able to help you with?"

[Whizbang]

"Ah...I don't mean to be an inconvenience, but while I'm here, might I at least see the way to the room, so I will know it when I return for the meeting?"

[grendel]

"Of course, the meeting rooms are just through there." Mr. Nicholas gestures with his open hand passed the large sweeping stairway that leads up to the mezzanine level to a wide corridor. Brass plaques, about twenty centimeters square, are mounted on the walls outside four ornately paneled doors. The Brandt room is the second one down the hall.

[Whizbang]

"I see. Thank you for your time." Niome said before heading out. Good. It wasn't the maze she had feared. And just the second floor. Not that hard to get out of in a pinch. Perhaps she should stop being so paranoid....but then again, that would be the one time the meet did go sour. Heading home, she proceeded to go about normal life until it was time to return for the meeting.

[Mumbles]

Shrine rides by the hotel, taking a look at the parking garage, and checking to see what type of security it has. He pulls around the block and comes back to the garage, parking inside near the skywalk.

As he walks across the skywalk he glances down to the street below, trying to casually take in as much detail as possible. When he gets inside the hotel he walks down to the first floor, looking for the hotel restaurant.

[grendel]

Security appears to be light, with external surveillance cameras the only sign of a presence. Inside the hotel is no different, although the staff themselves seem to be unusually vigilant. Reaching the head of the spiral stairway that leads from the mezzanine to the first floor, Shrine is in time to see an attractive young woman leaving, watched by a distinguished looking older gentleman who appears to be the head concierge. The hotel restaurant, though, is on the second floor, just past the staircase. The brass plaque mounted next to the double glass doors is engraved with The Sundowner in ornate script. The interior of the restaurant is simple and understated, dark faux wood tables gleaming beneath the diffuse illumination from overhead chandeliers. Most of the clientele, though, appear to be those individuals who make a living on the wrong side of the law. The maitre d', an attractive blonde in a simple, elegant black dress, looks up with smile as you enter.

"Good evening," she says, "My name is Isabel. Are you here for dinner or just meeting someone?"

[Spookymonster]

Melchiorre shook his head. "No, he's on a different shift."

So he wasn't mobbed up (which was good) and Mel trusted him enough to hook him up with Skee (which was better). That probably meant a straight-up gig, with only the bare minimum double-crossing to be expected. Still, Banshee-loads of money didn't come easy, especially if it was an honest run. Skee figured he'd sleep a little better if he did a quick fly-by of the hotel before calling it a night.

"Thanks for the tip," Skee says, polishing off the remains of his drink. "This turns out as big as you say, the next Sonics game is on me."

Skee stood up from the table and fished through his pockets for some spare scrip. Finding a few crumpled Yamatesus, he pressed them into the hand of the passing waitress, a buxom brunette by the name of Siobhan.

"Make sure my friend here doesn't go home dry tonight, 'k sweetheart?" Skee flashed his trademark smile at the young girl. A regular patron of the bar, he'd chatted her up before and figured Siobhan to be a fairly easy-going girl with flexible morals. She pouted for a second, disappointed that he wasn't making the request for himself, before switching on her own well-practiced smile.

"Sure thing, honey," she drawled back in a vaguely eastern European accent before sliding into the booth opposite Melchiorre, "anything for a friend of a friend." A deep chuckle rumbled out of the barrel-chested troll, like distant thunder.

The Fox shaman shot a wink back at the girl before turning and heading to the door. He patted Mel on the shoulder as he passed by, the troll already engrossed in small-talk with the petite waitress. The sound of polite laughter faded from his ears as he stepped into the dark Tacoma night.

A gentle breeze whipped around Skee as he lifted off the ground and rose above the empty street. With a casual thought, he turned north towards downtown Seattle, fast-approaching the Hotel California.

His left hand reached into the folds of his crushed red velvet jacket and punched the keys of his Saeder-Krupp C-Pod jukebox. His conscious mind was instantly filled with an account of every social event planned for this week in the Metroplex; names, dates, addresses and other countless minutae he hadn't known 10 seconds ago were suddenly at his fingertips. He searched his memory, both real and synthetic, for anything regarding the Hotel California or a man named Rakovic as he glided over the neon canyons of the Emerald City.

[paul_HArkonen]

"No, thanks Squall, that's all I needed."

May I be blessed with great strength and power to do what must be done. With this Shadow leaves the meeting. Heading out he takes his standard precautions and catches a cab about 3 miles from the meeting site. Having it drop him off about 4 miles past his neighborhood he begins his jog back. I have to visit this Hotel California anyway, see what's there and figure out exactly what I'm going to be asked to do.

After a night's rest Shadow begins his day with his standard warmup, a combination of a serries of marshal arts, blending together to form a style that is almost unique to him. Grabbing his nice day gear Shadow picks up a map and finds where the site is. Reaching into his pocket he checks to make sure that his two credsticks are there, one for common things, one for those less so. Stepping outside he heads for the hotel on foot.

Upon his arrival Shadow begins looking through the building, finding the desk of the concierge he continues to stay on alert, expecting to be ambushed on the spot.

"Hello, my name is Mr. Fan, I'm here to enquire about a room for the night."

[grendel]

The young woman behind the concierge desks nods, a faint smile on her lips. Shadow notices that her hair is actually a very fine mane of feathers that extends down the back of her neck and disappears beneath the high collar of her uniform.

"Of course, Mr. Fan. We have single, double, and penthouse rooms available. How long will you be staying with us?"

[paul_HArkonen]

"I'll be taking the single for one night please. And would it be possible for you to tell me if you know about a meeting set up by a Rakovic-san?"

Picking up his shadow bussiness certified credstick Shadow pays for his room as he asks his question.

[grendel]

"Of course, sir, just a moment. You are in room 407." Her fingers dance across the touchpad. Electronics hum from behind the desk and she passes you a slim keycard embossed with the Hotel's emblem.

"Mr. Rakovic has reserved the Brandt Room for a meeting on Monday."

[paul_HArkonen]

"Arigato, and what time is checkout tomorrow?"

Pausing to look around him Shadow begins trying to figure out the best methods of escape should that become necesary.

[grendel]

"Checkout is at eleven hundred, sir."

She smiles again, just a little more, and Shadow gets the impression that she's been working on her body language. Upon close inspection, he notices that her eyes are cybernetic, but very high quality.

[Mumbles]

"A table for one please" Shrine replies with a slightly regretful smile, "unsless you'd care to join me. I hate to eat alone"

Once he's been seated he leans back in his chair and waits for his waitress to show up, casually taking everything in. He glances around, using more than his physical senses, curious to see what this place looks like on the Astral.

"I'll have a Blue Mountain Pale Ale, please" he says when the waitress arrives. He looks at the menu, orders a small steak, steamed vegetables and a salad and sips his beer until it arrives, He takes his time eating dinner., curious to see who hung out in this place.

[paul_HArkonen]

"Arigato"

Sliding his keycard into the pocket of his jacket Shadow steps back away from the counter giving the Concierge a small wink.

Walking through the hotel to the elevator Shadow finds his mind wandering back and forth between work and pleasure.

Ariving at his room Shadow opens the door slowly and carefully, his senses on high alert.

Stepping inside he begins the check over the room causually looking for any sort of security cameras.

[grendel]

Isabel chuckles. "Perhaps another time, my shift doesn't end for another couple of hours. Enjoy your dinner."

The food, when it arrives, is excellent, if unremarkable. Shrine counts thirty people total in the bar, including Isabel, the bartender, and three waitresses. The remainder appear to be mostly working class individuals, although almost all of them carry the unmistakable air of street trained operators. A couple of people in particular draw Shrine's attention. One of which is a red haired woman seated in a booth against the back wall, a portable data terminal open on the table in front of her. Periodically, individuals will visit the table for a brief conference. Often a chip or credstick is exchanged before they leave. The other is a large African-American seated at the bar. A steady stream of people seem to take the stool next to him and confer briefly. Opening his vision to the astral, it seems at least two or three individuals in the crowd have some sort of access to the manasphere, while a hearth spirit in the form of an old time bartender hovers over the bar.

[grendel]

Room 407 is spartan in its simplicity: a single window in the far wall, a bed, a small circular table and chair, a three drawer dresser, and a narrow bathroom. A sign next to the sink indicates that water will be available during the following periods: 0900-1100 and 1800-2000. Shadow's search turns up no indications of security or monitoring devices in the room.

[Mumbles]

After dinner, he got up and let, heading back to the parking garage for his bike. He had toyed with the idea of attempting to learn more about the people in the restaruant, but had changed his mind. He had enough on his plate for the moment.

[grendel]

The hearth spirit hovers in front of Skee, dressed as a hotel bellhop with dark, unreadable eyes. Skee shakes off the slight headache from his conjuring and asks his question.

"No, summoner, I do not see that."

[Cthulhu449]

Sif woke up around noon, but took her time getting out of bed and getting ready for the day until it was about 12:30. Fixing some food she sat down in front of her large screen TV and picked up the days news papers that had printed out earlier in the morning as she slept. Despite the hundreds of pirated channels she had managed to aquire for herself, Sif was a loyal viewer of KSAF news, even if their programming had suffered in the past few years.

After an hour or so of eating, reading, and watching Sif got up from her chair, and walked over to pick up the broken drone from yesterday. She took it into the other room and set it at her work station to begin repairing the faulty convenience appliance. Electronic work always made the time pass quickly for Sif, and in very little time by her reckoning it was time to head to the meet. Grabbing her helmet out of the closet she exited her home and took her motorcycle over to the Hotel California.

[Ecclesiastes]

The next two days pass with Wraith preping for the run. He does some homework on the Johnson so see what his contacts dig up. He picks up his phone and gives a call to his Snitch contact.

[grendel]

The voice on the other end of the phone is short and weasely, just like its owner.

"No, man, I ain't heard of this Rakovic fella, but the Hotel California is a working class joint. Your kind of work, if ya know what I mean. I've heard some mean rumors about the place, though, about the owners. Streets say one of 'em's an ex-runner, scored big time then retired and bought the place. Another one's supposed to be ex-corporate. But if ya ask me, though, it's a load of bulldrek."

[Ecclesiastes]

Wraith transfers 100 :nuyen: over the line. "Thanks pal. Keep your noise clean."

The day of the run, Wraith gathers his gear and heads over to the place. His clothes appear to be standard black slacks and a grey lock sleave shirt, but anyone worth two cents on the street could guess its nicely armored. After a quick chat with the bartender, he heads over to the meeting room to get a look at the bussiness at hand.

[grendel]

2000 Monday, 12 March 2063, Hotel California, Seattle, UCAS

Even for those who arrive fifteen minutes early, the Brandt Room at the Hotel California is open. Not large by any means, it is filled with an oval conference table surfaced by a dark faux mahogany. Datastations inset into the plastic surface allow any of the eight people seated at the table to call up information from the matrix, and manipulate the data on the trideo display in the center of the table. The lone occupant of the room is a human male, of average height and weight, wearing a non-descript gray suit. You'd guess his age to be late twenties to early thirties, but he has an effortlessly anonymous look to his face. He could be as young as twenty one or as old as forty. As each team member enters, he rises and greets you, offering one of the remaining seats around the table.

Once the entire team has gathered, the Johnson straightens his tie before addressing the table. His voice is level and pitched to carry no further than necessary. As he speaks, his gaze moves from face to face, never flinching away from eye contact. You have the unmistakable feeling that he’s done this on a number of occasions.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for accepting my invitation. I appreciate your promptness. All of you come highly recommended in your chosen fields. As for myself, you may call me Rakovic. The task that I have is simple in concept, but may prove difficult in execution. These images here are surveillance stills of a new anti-tank missile under development by Raytheon, codenamed Pave Lance. What little information we have indicates the weapon has an advanced guidance system, possibly incorporating both passive GPS and inertial guidance with electro-optical terminal homing. Pave Lance is armed with a powerful dual-stage warhead capable of defeating the armor on all current main battle tanks. Raytheon has managed to develop the Pave Lance with remarkable secrecy, which is why we must resort to this kind of operation. Five prototype weapons have been manufactured. All but four of them are being kept at the Ares China Lake Weapons Development Facility. The fifth is in Seattle, at the Ares Integrated Solutions Research Building in Everett. The missile will remain there for two weeks while it undergoes a final operations evaluation prior to commencing live fire exercises. It arrived at the AIS building this morning at 0800 under armed guard. What my employer seeks are the detailed specifications that arrived along with the missile. These specifications will be loaded into the AIS mainframe, allowing their technicians to conduct all the required tests of the OpEval. As you might suspect, matrix security is extraordinary. The AIS mainframe is accessible only from the Ares Corporate PLTG via a vanishing SAN that opens only twice daily. Because of the compressed time schedule that you’re being asked to work with, my employer has authorized me to offer you forty thousand nuyen each, half up front. In addition to that, should you be able to actually acquire the fifth prototype missile, that would be worth a one hundred thousand nuyen lump sum bonus. Before I distribute your initial payment, though, I’m sure you have some questions for me.”