IC: Last Laugh, Spinning dice and a smile full of knives Options

[gobogen]

Winchy is happy with the way Caitlin handles the meet, as usual. He can't help but to think about wether or not they are going to get a free meal on the Johnson's expense or not; but then forgets about it again. His suit is starting to itch and he hopes they'll get out of this place soon; this is not a kind of place that Winchy will ever be confortable in.

He wants us to go to the Underground but first he brings us to the most elevated, rich, and high-class spot in town... What's that all about? he thinks as he can't completely concentrate on the details that they're discussing. The poor ork has lost his son, but the best idea he comes up with is what? To ask shadowrunners to do the job for him? How can he trust us so much? If I had lost my son I'd do it myself. And if I was that rich and smart, then I still wouldn't hire just one team but many more. I wonder where the others are?

[scoundrel]

Warden:

You notice the elf silently glancing back and forth between Slacker and Winchy with a faint hint of amusement on his face. His eyes meet yours as soon as he catches you watching him, and he gives you an imperceptible wink before averting his gaze.

[Glyph]

Caitlin shakes her head, no. "I think we've covered everything. All that's left is the details - getting the information on our contacts down there, the passes, and our advance, most of which you have probably already taken care of with Korbin. We will probably pick up a few things suitable for trekking underground, but we should be able to start soon... the trail is already two days old, so the sooner we get going, the better."

[scoundrel]

Killinger stands up. "Very well then. I have left my personal contact information with your fixer, so if you need anything at all, you can get to me through him."

Before your eyes, his visage blurs and shimmers. A couple of seconds later, your Johnson is once again assuming the guise of an ordinary human man. He walks to the door, thumbs the keypad, and turns around to face you one last time as it slides open.

"I wish you luck, my friends."

With that, he steps out, with his bodyguard following dutifully behind him.

Moments later, a waiter brings you your orders on a cart. He places each of your dishes in front of you with rapid efficiency, performs a polite bow when he's done, and exits the room, moving on to serve other customers.

[Digital Heroin]

`For an activist who calls for integration of his people into society, he seems quick to pretend he isn't one of them...`

Warden only makes the comment after the server is gone, and a thick, rare steak is sitting in front of him. No soy, he never much cared for soy, no in a place like this it was straight from the cow.

[gobogen]

"Da's true, Warden. I also dun' undastand why ask us to find his son. If I wodda lose my son, I'd go find 'im myself. Wod ask no stranger ta do it fo' me. He a healthy ork, he even smart, why ask someone else? He even got a mojo man."

Winchy looks at his plate with disappointment and takes a large bite into one of the small rolls accompanying what seems to be 'confis de canard' - a rather strange choice from your old friend.

"But I don't mind dat. He pays well so no questions asked."

[Slacker]

Slacker chimes in saying, "Yeah, I think the pay is good enough that we don't need to ask too many questions."

"Off hand, I would saying he probably went outside his organization to make sure his enemies/rivals don't use this as an opportunity to attack his power. The elf's reaction to him mentioning getting aid from some OIA members seemed to emply something along those lines."

Thinking back on other runs he has been on, Slacker adds, "Though it could all be a planned ruse. It wouldn't be the first time a Johnson tried to screw me over with a little well planned acting."

"Oh well...So how do we want to handle this? I can tell you righy now that I doubt my contacts will be of much use to us. They don't typically deal with the Orc Underground."

[Glyph]

Caitlin looks up from the mandarin chicken spinach salad that she has been daintily eating.

"Slacker's right. This guy is turning to us because his son's actions put him in a vulnerable position. I don't think he's stringing us along, although he may be expending other means to find his son, and not telling us about them. But I think he's been relatively forthright with us."

She glances around at the others. "Now, I think it's almost a given that we are all going to be fish out of water, as far as contacts, and as far as knowing the environment that we're entering. We will have a guide, and will be just a bit more dependent on him than I would really like, but that's how it goes sometimes. For this kind of money, it's not going to be an easy job. I think we can pull it off, though, using our toughness and our cunning to deal with the dangerous situations we're sure to encounter."

She frowns thoughtfully. "I'll be able to present more detailed tactics to the group once I get my bearings. For now, we need to strike a balance between mobility and having the gear that we might need. We may need to move out of the residential areas on our trek. I suggest survival kits and one or two respirators. Chemsuits I'm iffy on - we can probably go around any really bad areas, and full chemsuits might be a bit much to lug around with us. I'll also be carrying some medical gear. Does anyone else have any suggestions, gear-wise or tactics-wise?"

[gobogen]

"I mite noe someone who can help", Winchy says. "E's an ork fixer in Seattle, but I'm pretty sure e's been doin' buzniss wit the boys down dere before. It's wort askin'."

"Aboat gear, I'll bring my 'uge ax from dey old days in street gangs. No one will annoy us too much if I carry it around, dun' you tink?"

You know well how lethal Winchy can be with his bare fists; you've seen him a couple of times with improvized clubs and staffs, but you can easily believe that to see him with a battle ax - or a huge one ? - must be a scary sight.

"Dun' forget dat I will fit in the crowd down dere, too."

[Slacker]

Slacker says, "I'll bring a few gas and smoke grenades in case we need to escape a large group. I guess I'll leave the regular grenades at home. In a confined space like the Underground, it would just be too easy for us to be caught in the blast."

After a little thought he adds, "Probably don't need my demolitions equipment either."

A little bit uncertain of himself, he says"I'll have to go shopping for respirators and a survival kit tomorrow. Not being the outdoorsy type that just isn't something I keep. Any other gear of that sort you think I should pick up? Or any of you want me to pick up the same for you?"

Slacker isn't kidding when he says he's not the outdoorsman type. He can't remember the last time he went anywhere that was without the niceties of civilization. He thinks about it really hard while the others continue the conversation. The best he can come up with is a vague recollection of camping with his folks nearly twenty years ago.

"At least we don't have to be subtle about weaponry and armor down there, right?"

[gobogen]

In answer to Slacker's offer, Winchy says "I don' have any o' dat stuff either. Do we need rations too, just in case?"

[Glyph]

Caitlin nods. "Might be a good idea. I mean, we should be able to find food and lodging most of the time, but we may not always be able to count on it. Overall, we should stick with the kind of things that you can stick in a duffel bag, and not be too encumbered. We need to be mobile. And while Winchy should be okay with his axe, the rest of us might want to not be too obvious with our weapons. We want to look tough, but not to the point that we make people panic."

[Slacker]

With a feigned look of disbelief, Slacker says "You mean I shouldn't be bringing my Panther Assualt Cannon or my Great Dragon ATGM!?! What's the fun in that?"

After a moment of trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably, he chuckles and says "Like I would even have anything like that. You know the heaviest thing I carry is my 227."

"As far as food goes, I could pick up some MRE's or just ration bars when I am getting the other survival gear. They're easily portable and I can them at a army surplus store, like the survival gear."

[Glyph]

Caitlin shrugs apolgetically. "I didn't mean to sound like a 'Shadowrun 101' vid, but even in the Ork Underground, there will still probably be areas where we will need to keep things concealable. Oh, and I wouldn't recommend MRE's. A few soldiers that I've talked to call them 'Meals Rejected by Everybody'... among other things, but that's the only acronym that I can repeat in polite company."

[gobogen]

Winchy teases his friend with a deep laugh, "Hahaha.... when did we become 'polite company' to you?"

[Slacker]

"MRE's aren't too bad, if you know how to prepare them. In my youth, I ate them all the time. Not for any particular reason, just for fun...Now that I think on it, that really doesn't make a whole lot of sense does it?" says Slacker.

After a moment of reminiscence, he shakes his head and continues, "Anyways, they're easily portable and have nutritional value you. Since you said we would probably want to be carrying light, they would work alot better than carrying around a pantry of food."

With a smirk on his face, he adds "I may just get some anyways to remind me of when I was a kid."

[Digital Heroin]

Warden is mighty quiet during their planning. Being that he's a shining posterchild for Humanis, at least in his appearance, he's none too happy about having to go into the Underground. Hell, they can't exactly be too friendly towards firefighters either, given they still hold the Night of Rage so deep in their angry hearts.

`I'm going for bear done there... ain't much use in me trying to walk softly. But don't worry, I won't be burning anything down so soon.`

Going for bear for him meant he'd be bringing his shotgun and MP5, he usually only chose what was appropriate, but in this case either might be.

`I've got survival gear already, rations I'll stock up on. MRE's aren't so bad, but I'm going to see if I can't get my hands on some old Canadian stock. Those things'll last to the end of the earth, and you've never lived until you've had the smoked salmon.`

Oddly, he speaks from the realm of experience.

`And I think I might just be able to get some plans for us... 'least official ones from a while back that might give us a decent idea of what to look out for.`

It won't be much, but it'll help.

[scoundrel]

After you finish your planning session, the waitor comes to take away the dishes and you all part ways, each with your own responsibilities to tackle in the hours that follow.

16:33:05, December 5th 2062

Caitlin:

You notice an immediate difference in the atmosphere as you emerge from the Space Needle. Returning to the smoggy streets of Seattle, you note with mild amusement that the air inside the building is actually fresher than the air outside. However, there’s no time to dwell upon the ironies of life, because there’s much that you have to do to prepare your team for their venture into the capillaries of the Ork Underground. You manage to come out on top in the ferocious battle between the pedestrians on the curb to see who can snag the first cab, and are on your way home five minutes later.

You barely have time to settle into the cheap synthetic leather seats of the taxi before your cell phone begins to buzz like an irritated wasp. Flipping it open, you find a text message waiting for you from your fixer:

>>Hey Cait, ya gotta tell me how that meet went down. I’m glad that the big time finally found you, as it should have a long time ago, but guys as high up as this Johnson usually don’t meet with the people they hire in person, and rightly so. He didn’t even make any attempt to conceal his identity when I backtracked him. I don’t think I need to tell you that this job has piqued my curiosity, and I ain’t letting you off the hook until you give me the details.<<

16:31:05, December 5th 2062

Winchy:

Shortly after you step out of the Space Needle, you come across a small group of razorheads congregating on the street in front of you. They see you coming, and shoot you a barrage of toothy grins. Wanting no trouble, you check the road for incoming vehicles, and cross to the other side of the street when you spot none.

You haven’t walked a hundred feet before the gang catches up to you. They spread out in a circle around you with smirks on their faces. You count them. Five. One of them steps forward and stares up at you with cool blue eyes. He’s a human male in his early twenties; his head is shaved bald, and tattoos seem to be inscribed on every square inch of his body. A single spike piercing is nailed dead center into his forehead. He pats you amiably on the shoulder with his left hand while flicking out the blade of his folding knife with his right.

“What’s up, big man?” he asks, grinning.

You say nothing, and his smirk widens.

“My dear old ma always tole me that I got no brains, but I likes to think otherwise,” he says. “I sees a tub o’ lard in an Armanny walkin’ outta a fancy pansy dive like da Space Needle, and I says to myself, that old boy looks like he be packin’ green on him.”

He shakes his head. “Yous must not know that it be dangerous for a rich kid like you to walk around Seattle wit so much money stuffed down his boxers and no protection. So tell ya what. I’ll be generous and help relieve ya of some o’ that cash so that ya won’t run into any…trouble…on yer way home. Whaddaya say, omae? Good deal, no?”

17:31:05, December 5th 2062

Slacker:

When you return to your apartment in Renton, you find a large crowd gathered outside the hallway above. They’re speaking to each other excitedly, though you couldn’t pick up what they’re saying. You quickly run up the stairs and tap the nearest person on the shoulder. A fat man with a poorly shaved goatee turns around and gives you the fish eye.

“Hey man, what happened here?” you ask him.

He shrugs. “Apparently one of the apartments just burned down. Heard it was 502.”

Holy shit, 502 is your apartment number! You quickly run down the hallway, pushing and shoving your way through the extremely viscous medium of human bodies. When you reach your apartment, you find the doors opened. Stealing a glance inside confirms that your dive has been completely totaled. The walls are charred black with soot, and what little remains of your furniture are still steaming with heat. The faintly burnt smell of things left in the fire for too long emanates conspicuously from the insides of the room.

You spot a large black "P" enclosed inside a circle spray painted on the wall next to your apartment. Before you can gather your thoughts, you see a lanky human man in a Lone Star uniform step out of the room and approach you. His eyes are wary as he comes up to you.

“Sir, are you the owner of this apartment?”

22:31:05, December 5th 2062

Warden:

Living alone sucks, but you've gotten used to the lonely quietness of utter solitude. Understandably, you're having second thoughts about the job, but it's too late to turn back now. You've always been good at making the best of things, and there's nothing like a good round of Urban Brawl to take your mind off the many sources of stress in your life.

Later at night, you turn on your trid to find that the Screamers have won yet another match, pegging an amazing 10-0 victory against the Cincinnati Lasers. This complete wipeout was probably due to the fact that the Lasers lost their best player to a kill penalty ten minutes into the first quarter, after he accidentally blew the Screamers’ medico into a thousand bite-size pieces with a grenade launcher.

After the match, a brief interview with one of the ISSV representatives reveal a bit of interesting news. Apparently, they have recently been invited by leaders of the Ork Underground to host an Urban Brawl competition down there. They’re currently scouting the place out for suitable brawl zones; the match is scheduled to be held sometime in the next few days.

Interesting info...will this have any impact on your job down in the Underground? Only time will tell.

[Slacker]

"Huh..What's that you say?" Slacker is obviously a little distracted to see his apartment burned down. He tries to think of any gang in the area that might use the letter 'P' as a calling card.

Then he realizes it's the Star asking him questions. He quickly tries to focus on what's going on around him, especially the Lone Star officer. "Uh...yeah. At least, it used to be."

"What the hell happened? I went out for a date and when I come back I find this. Who could have done this? Dammit, I even had the place paid up for the next six months. Now where am I going to stay?"

[Glyph]

Caitlin smiles at the text message, then frowns. How odd... the details were supposed to be worked out through Korbin. So why would he need details from her? Unless he just means he wants to know how the meet went. She's probably paranoid about nothing, but she still makes a point of calling one of the secure numbers that Korbin gave her, from a public telecom, to set up a quick meet with him - just in case the text message wasn't from Korbin.

"Korbin? It's Caitlin. The meeting went well, although we're going to have to hit the ground running on this one. Why don't I swing by, and give you the details? Our employer should have left some things with you, so I'll pick them up as well."

The only other stop that she needs to make is at an REI outlet, to pick up some ration packs (she breaks down and also gets a pack of moist wipes - who knows what the sanitation will be like down there). She already has the other gear that she thinks she'll need.

[gobogen]

5 against 1. The odds were pretty damn bad for the gangers, he thought. He's already sad that a fight might be unavoidable, it wouldn't even be a challenge after all.

Winchy did not want to have anything to do with those idiots, but he is corenered and his options are limited. Of course when he was crossing the street he thought immidiately of turning on his reflex trigger - just in case. Unfortunately, he also knows few ways to get out of it easily. These arrogant goofs should know better than to try to impress Winchy. At least dey're kind o' polite..., he thought amusingly.

The troll keeps his distance from the main guy while talking to him.

"Oh I see what you mean, chummer. But I'm no sure it's dat great of a deal. The only green I been packin' today are my lefty here and my goodol' righty."

Saying that, he shows his green fists to the punks and then hit his metallic skull with his forearm in order to produce that echo he's always enjoyed since his bones were replaced with titanium.

"If I were you, I'd go frag with an easier pray. It should be clear dat the first to fight me is gonna get 'is neck broken. Now wo's it gonna be?"

Winchy has all of his senses ready. Alert, he will face any threat coming his way with a swift blow, making use of his better reach to keep them at a fair distance.

[scoundrel]

Slacker:

The cop gives you a hard look, and says, "As you can see, your apartment has been the victim of a fire. An induced fire. One of your neighbors reported it about fifteen minutes ago. Apparently someone outside shattered the window with a rock and tossed a Molotov cocktail through it. We're lucky that the flames were contained before they can spread to the rest of the building."

A bald, wiry man with a beard comes out into the corridor and whispers something into the officer's ear. He nods, and turns back to you. "Looks like I'll have to take you back to the station for questioning. This way please."

He walks past you and starts heading down the stairs.

Caitlin:

Five minutes later, you receive a message back from Korbin.

>>Sounds good. Meet me at the Hellfire at 8 o'clock. I should have your things ready by then.<<

Winchy:

The smile from the ganger's face slowly fades as he realizes that you're not going to cooperate, and his expression turns nasty.

"That wasn't too smart, big guy," he says. "There be five o' us an' only one o' yous. Woulda been much easier to just han' over your wallet. Lookit like we's gotta teach ya a lesson 'bout how dese streets work. Get 'im!"

His comrades exchange uneasy looks as they remain stationary. One of them swallows, and speaks up, "Trev, didja hear that sound when he hit his head? I dun think he's a bitniz man."

"Shut yo' hole," the leader snaps. "I don't care what he is, we is five and he is one. Now kick his ugly fat ass!"

Weapons appear out of clothes, and they leap.

[Digital Heroin]

The first reaction Warden has upon seeing the news, despite the victory of the Screamers, is to mutter a few choice curses to no one but himself. He'd had Tennison on his fantasy team, and now he's scragged. Hopefully that'll buy him the chance to get a better medico in, Tennison's been slipping this season anyway.

The interview at the end of the piece causes him to forget he'd actually taped that match, and a few others. So, the ISSV is scouting the Underground. A smile crosses his features. He gets up off the sofa, and heads out of his apartment and down to the nearest Stuffer Shack. For a call like this, he's not overly concerned. Hell, being as how he's calling Caitlin he's usually use his own telecom, but this is a business call. After making sure no one's snooping in on his call, he slips into the booth, and dials Caitlin's cell.

[Glyph]

Caitlin is heading out of REI with her purchases when her cellphone emits another rasping buzz. "I really have to program in a more aesthetic ring one of these days," she thinks. "Hello?"

She listens to Warden with intense concentration, immediately seeing the same possibilities. "Yes. It could complicate things, but we could really use it, as a distraction, or even as a potential cover story for our own presense. Very interesting."

[Slacker]

A little unsure of himself, Slacker says "Yeah, sure thing." He follows the officer out.

On the ride to the station he asks, "Hey, how long do you think this is going to take? I'd like to try calling some of my friends before it gets too late to see if I can find a place to stay the night."