Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:09
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Greg curtailed his response about what exactly he was doing and instead said: "I'll see what I can see."

With that he leaned back into the spot of wall he had claimed and breated deeply letting the stink of the place rush into his lungs. He found himself in the astral miasma that was the room and cautiously flitted through the wall to his left in order to peek into the astral hallway unmolested.

A careful look at the auras of the two occupants of the hall revealed that neither of them had cyberware and that neither had magic. Not significant threats. The emotional read from the first was startlingly acute - greed and fear. Greg felt like it was a dead giveaway.

Returning to his body, he snapped his eyes open and started fishing around for his taser as he said: "We've got two uncybered, non-magical types in the hall. One's wearing a cowboy hat and feeling greedy and afraid, the other is pretty happy."

Rising to his feet and ensuring that the gun was ready he said, "If I had to guess I'd say its some posse chief who's coming to try to extort more money. Given your last run-in with them, it might be wise for me to take the door. I'll let you make the call."

Somewhere on Campus
Tuesday 8/19/70 16:59:24
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

*click*

Adam was suddenly disconnected from Sledge's comm. He didn't know if it was because she hung up on him, because they were hiding out in a lead room, or because Louie's goons finally bombed them - but his job didn't change very much either way. The way this day had been going, it wouldn't have surprised him if it was the bomb, but he was certain that he had at least made a connection. At least not having that conversation with her saved him from explaining what he had been doing all day that wasn't getting gear together.

He drove his bike back towards his dorm-room, dialing a number he had gotten earlier today.

*ring ring*
<<"I don't recognize this number.">>
(a little tired) <<"...Wouldn't expect you to.">>
(a little agitated)<<"Who the hell is this?">>
(apologetic) <<"I apologize. My name is Smith. We have mutual acquaintances.">>
<<"...This line secure?">>
<<"My end is. Encryption program is handshaking with yours as we speak.... there.">>
<<"Smith... That don't sound like none of my 'acquaintances', you sure you don't got the wrong number?... Wait, Smith... that new mouthpiece the Balducci brothers got running around?">>
<<"I make it a point not to discuss my previous or current employers. I deal with a number of people that value their privacy. That said, can you think of another way I would have gotten this number?">>
<<"Yeah, I've heard of you. Some crazy shit, man. They're still talking about that auto-taxi stunt. How's Bruno doing?">>
<<"Not bad. At least, if he's complaining, it aint to me.">>
<<"Heard you had a run in with some Russians that didn't go so good.">>
<<"Some people... no manners at all. Not exactly sure what became of them. My face has healed, but my pride is scarred.">>
<<"So, what can I do for you? Franco wouldn't usually have someone like you do the talking unless he wants something he knows he isn't going to get.">>
<<"Franco doesn't know I'm calling you.">>
<<"Oh yeah? You need something then, or is this a personal call?">>
<<"I need to get a hold of a few things. Like, tonight, if possible. I've got a big date, and don't have time to get the shit together, myself. I owe a couple of favors to some people, and would rather not let them down, ya know?">>
<<"What are we talking about? My boys are fast, but this ain't a pizza delivery service.">>
(reassuring voice) <<"Disguise kits. Like 6. Two of them super-sized. Guns. Nothing big. Couple of shotguns should do the trick, but I don't want them tagged or traceable. Ammo too, better make it a box. Oh, and if you have any high-end comm-gear on hand, I could put it to good use.">>
<<"That it? Most of that shit is legal, man.">>
<<"Never said it wouldn't be. I just don't want any footprints leading back to me, and am in kind of a hurry. If you can help me out, I think I can make it worth your while, and will have a couple bigger orders coming down the pipeline that should be much more interesting to you, I think. If this deal works out, I'm going to be looking for a real fixer. Anyways, you interested?>>
<<"I dunno. Seems hardly worth the effort, I was going to go out and see that new movie tonight. Tell you what, I've got some coupons around here someplace, you can run down to the sporting-goods store and save me the trip.">>
<<"No worries, Fiasco, if you're not interested, I've got a list of mob fixers two pages long who might be free tonight - I just figured I'd give you first-shot. I like your work.">>
<<"I appreciate the thought, really. Thing is, five thousand credits of gear is only going to keep my attention long enough for you to make this interesting. I don't usually start my van for less than twenty.">>
<<"I see. Well, like I said, one of the trolls I'm working for is interested in upgrading his gun. I'm talking about machine guns, internal smartlinks, skinlinks, the works. After ammo, gas-vents, and other mods, you're looking at twenty large, right there."
Johnny: "Okay, so I'm interested. Call it 25-K for the whole package and we'll call it a deal.">>
<<"Hold up. First of all, there's no way you're getting that kind of firepower on such short notice, that's why I'm not asking for it. I'll give you three-thousand for what I asked for, tonight. The deal is, if this meet goes smoothly, and isn't a complete 'Fiasco', I'll put you in touch with this team when they're looking to break the bank on some new toys. I'm looking to add a local fixer to my Seattle contacts - if you wanna be it, this is your audition. If not, we both know you've got a lot of competition and I have a few hours to shop around.">>
<<"Three thousand?!? I couldn't buy that shit at the store, for that.">>
<<"Nor do I expect you to. Look, are you trying to tell me that you don't have two shotguns laying around that warehouse of yours, collecting dust? Its not like you paid for them, so slide them my way and I'll get you something to wet your whistle until the big order comes through.">>
<<"...">>
<<"... and think of it this way, since this ain't a mob-deal, we can keep it under the table, and you end up with a lot more in your pocket at the end of the day."
Johnny: "Alright, fine. I'll see what I can do. Where can I meet you."
Smith (thinking about the damn good question, and not wanting to be ambushed): "I've got a dinner-date. Why don't you work on getting that crap together, and I'll call you when I'm done for the pickup.">>
(suspicious) <<"Oh, and come alone.">>
<<"Right, like either of us is stupid enough to try anything. This might not be a mob-deal, but neither of our bosses would be pleased if it turned ugly. See you tonight, Johnny.">>

Adam finished his conversation as he was rounding the corner to the street his dorm was on. He had plenty of time to prepare for his meeting with Francseca, and had managed to talk Johnny Vasco into selling him those items for a little less than he had prepared himself to have to spend. It looked like every Nuyen was going to count. All in all, not a bad few minutes worth of work. That conversation felt a lot more like the type of stuff he had signed up for, with Franco. It reminded him, quite clearly, of what his life had become recently - a constant stream of bullshitting. He had managed to make a pretty good living by offering people things he didn't have, yet. This whole Shadowrunning mission was just another example. Here, for all he knew, the team had met a horrible end in some wifi-blocked zone, and he was already selling their interest to local fixers, and was about to try to sell their future labor to the very same mob they were on the run from.

Outside the Westen Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:26:24
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

Adam had time to get a shower, get dressed in his "Mr. Smith" suit, and admire himself in the mirror before heading out for his dinner-date. He was very glad to ditch the "college kid" hoodie look, and don something a bit more fitting to the role he was playing. He considering bringing his briefcases of toys with him, but decided that showing up with a buttload of illegal gear, or a ton of cash-money, could put him in an awkward position if the hotel security was tight, or if Ms. DelGato wasn't nearly as friendly as he hoped she would be. He secured his concealed pistol under his suit-jacket, switched out his stack of bills for another, and then hid both of his suitcases in his bedroom closet. With a final, apprehensive, look towards his room, he headed out.

He didn't want to let that money leave his sight. Adam knew he was worse than dead if anything happened to it. Most of it was already promised away, and it wasn't even his. From the way the morning had gone, he wasn't even on schedule to be earning it. Still, he had been walking a fine line with the mob for a month or two now, and no one had bothered to raid his dorm-room looking for cash yet. He concluded that it should be safe for another couple of hours. Then he would probably end up giving most of it away - at least, by then, the team better damn well be planning to do the job. Otherwise Adam would be in the market for a last-minute replacement.

He took his bike across Seattle to the Westin Hotel, and found a fortuante place to park. As he approached the building, he put on his most confident smile and prepared to get into the role of Mr. Smith, again.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:12
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

Her hand flickered and tossed out a small roll of scrip to Fortunato. Then it flashed back into her overalls and came out with the shocker as the ork woman shifted quietly along the wall out of view whilst murmuring quietly, with one hand flashed quickly with all fingers extended. "count, give all clear with left hand rubbing nose, or else I'm rolling through door."

Sledge settled on the balls of her feet and waited.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:15
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Fortunato caught the cash and nodded to Sledge. He placed his taser at his hip, lined up with the door and cracked it open wide enough to see the occupants of the hall, keeping a foot posted at the door.

Eyeing the cowboy hat he said "Can I help you gentlemen?"

He kept one hand out of sight, opened wide with five fingers outstretched.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:30


The young man in the battered cowboy hat looked an old twenty. On his chest was pinned a badge that said "Sheriff." The grinning teen behind him wore a "Deputy" star.

Beyond the hat and the badges, they neither dressed nor talked like cowboys. The Sheriff said, "Sorry about your ride. You paid, that shouldn't've gone down. Wanted to come up and say, you need anything from around here, it can be got."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:29:58


The liveried doormen opened the door with a deferent "Good evening, sir."

Halfway across the exquisitely carpeted lobby, the concierge spotted him and came out from behind his desk to meet him. "Thank you for coming sir. Let me escort you personally."

Ushered past the bank of wood-paneled elevator doors to room filled with velvet-upholstered antique sofas and lined with leather-bound books, which contained a single elevator.

Ears popped as the box carried the two men rapidly to the top of the downtown high-rise.

Passed off like a relay baton to the Emerald Room's maitre d', "The lady is right this way, sir. Can I get you anything?"

Double-doors opened, staff tactfully retreating, Francesca delGato stood with her back to him, leaning over a balcony rail looking east at the Cascades, the wind blowing her black hair, her form perfectly sheathed in a verdant ankle-length evening dress that perfectly matched the eyes he saw as she turned to greet him.

"My my," she said, clapping her hands in delight in a way that made him think she'd jumped up and down, although her feet had in fact not moved at all, "you do clean up well."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:31:12
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

When entering, Smith answered the maitre d', ordering a drink that seemed appropriate to the occasion. He was then lead into past the double doors and into the room where Francesca had been waiting. The effect was stunning. Where he has spent almost every day pretending to be a suave professional charismatic, this woman was the real deal. That probably spoke volumes about their respective bosses, as well, and Smith had to remind himself that although she has shown respect and good intentions, she worked for someone at least as scary as the man he worked for - probably more. He somehow doubted that the head of the Bigio family ran things out of the back of a strip-club.

"My my... you do clean up well."

"...and you somehow manage to make an impressive entrance, even when you're not the one entering." Smith smiled, and crossed the room to join her by the balcony. Once there, his mouth upturned into a smirk and he gestured at his suit. "You caught me at a particularly 'rushed' moment this morning. If I had known that I would be meeting someone like you in the seedy back-alleys of Meredith, I would have taken more care with my appearance." He paused for a moment, before saying, off-handedly, "... It appears that I have managed to get the attention of quite a few people, today."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:31:20


"Well, you got mine. And you know what? As tight a spot as you were in, I wasn't worried. I don't know why. Just a feeling. Glad I was right."

She took him by the arm - or rather somehow maneuvered her arm into being taken by Smith - and led him - or rather allowed him to lead her - back into the private salon. His drink - times two - was waiting, although he hadn't noticed anyone enter or leave.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:32:44
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith was happy to lead Francesca to their table. Once she sat, he took his seat, as well. As he sat down he felt his muscles ache, but tried not to let it show. "I wasn't particularly worried, either," he said, stretching the truth a bit, "I actually expected some sort of attack to come, hours earlier, before we ever got to Renton. That probably would have been less inconvenient for you, and certainly wouldn't have required your personal appearance, but then you and I never would have met." He lifted up his glass and took a sip, briefly considering the possibility of poison or betreyal, but going with his gut, as usual.

"I'm sure a great deal of the complexities of your work environment are lost to me, but I find it curious that you were rooting for me, while a number of your 'buisness partners' seemed to want me dead." Smith was pretty sure he knew the answer to this already, but figured he would give Francesca the opportunity to clarify, if she planned to, and maybe let on if she knew anything about his 'day-job'.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 14:40:12
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Fort pretended to sneeze, bringing his left hand from the death count to his nose. He let the door swing open a little wider, his foot still planted at the base.

"Excuse me. Yeah, we're sorry about your kid, but our security system doesn't pull punches. I don't keep track of our day-to-day stuff. Let me get my assistant."

He typed casually:

<<@Sledge: You heard the guy, anything we need? Also, might calm folks down and help the 'ole massah' image if you brought over a couple of brews.>>

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:40
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

She slid the Defiance away, and left the hammer against the wall and walked over to the box fo self chilling soy-beer. Snatchng a pack she brought them over to the door.

<<@fortunato :: Can't trust them, but it's worth the risk asking them to be eyes and ears, it's actually possible they will warn us. Less likely to mess with us if they think they are working for us.>>

Sledge popped a can top and held out the foaming soybrew.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:08


The Sheriff hesitated for the briefest of ticks, but Sledge saw it the way she'd seen it a hundred times before - I don't drink with tuskers. But fear and greed are a powerful combination, and the ganger took the beer with a nod, although he didn't drink from it.

The moment was broken, however, when the new Deputy - Sledge could see now it was the same badge the other thug had worn - accepted his beer and blurted - "Never seen no keeb with a full beard like that."

He was rewarded by the Sheriff snatching the beer out of his hand and breaking the bottle over his head. "Shut the FUCK up!" The Deputy hadn't broken under the blow, and now his boss screamed at him - "Get out! I don't want to see you. Go!"

Turning back to the shadowrunners, he said - "Sorry about that. Anyway, we're a real pro operation, and we got this turf sewn up tight like a virgin's twat. So anything we can do for you, you just say."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:32:55


She smiled impishly in response to his probe, cocked her head and said, "First, we eat. Order for me?" She leaned forward to push a leather-bound menu across the table at him, revealing just enough cleavage to let him know she was hiding far more than she was revealing.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:15
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Fortunato kept his face impassive but sighed inwardly. It wasn't the first time in his life he'd been told that he was the first keeb to look some way. He got called on being overweight, on having facial hair and occasionally on being elbow deep in some perp's blood, bone dust and shit. None of them carried "the grace and elegance" of his heritage.

Sledge, like all orcs, grew thick skin early. They formed revolutionary groups, fought back and clawed their way to equality. Fortunato had no idea how to deal with people just expecting you to be better than them, especially when you weren't.

He brought himself back to the present. This was far from the first time he had worked with racists.

"Here's the deal, we love information. We're willing to pay for you guys to keep eyes on your turf and tell us what's going down. I'll give you 100 to put you on retainer," he pulled a single hundred out of his pocket, "and we'll give you a bigger bonus if you tell us anything really useful. Just keep your eyes peeled and keep us posted on unusual stuff."

Proffering the bill to the gang leader he asked "deal?"

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:25


The Sheriff swallowed hard, but soldiered on, his confidence growing - "Lot of eyes on the street, man. Lot of mouths to feed."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:08
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

Her hand had twitched with the sudden movement, but recognizing it wasn't directed at her, Sledge held still, then slowly backed away to make herself less visible.

A wave of revulsion flashed through her. If anyone had come at her crew, no matter how stupid or accidently, she knew, in her bones, she knew there wouldn't be a knock on the door. The first thing anyone would have known would be the charges going off as the floor supports got knocked out and the people in the room got droped a floor or two. Then send in the crew to clean up. She hadn't been thinking about it at all, but now they were here, and all they cared about was the money they could get, and nothing, nothing about one of their own getting killed. Not just one, but two.

... breathe...

There was work to do, and no matter how much she felt like screaming at this man she kept it all inside.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

"That's what the bonus is for. Good information gets all those mouths fed and might get you repeat business." He peeled off another hundred. "Because I'm feeling generous we'll give you this to ensure proper performance on this first contract. Future contracts will be negotiated at the proper time."

The kid looked ready to talk again. Fortunato cut him off and idly checked the sights on his pistol: "We've already been generous twice today, don't push your luck."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:08
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

200 was going to be well worth it if she didn't have to end up dealing with the Posse, or at least if it kept them out of her way.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:33:15
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

"Certainly."

It actually bothered him. He didn't mind ordering for the two of them, but Smith had a feeling that this was more of a test than a favor. He took the offered menu and glanced at it, and realised why.

It was all in French and, a little to his dismay, there wern't any prices next to any of the incrutable names. There wern't even any pictures. From what he had seen in movies, this was pretty typical of high-class exclusive places like this. It might have been the college-boy in him, but he prefered eating out with his friends at a local sports-bar to trap-laden social maze that he found himself in the middle of, currently.

Luckily, advancements in AR had come a long way, and thanks to his connection with the local node, his contact lenses overlayed some english names. Not that those were really any more helpful - but the descriptions at least told him what would be in it. Smith was pretty sure that a woman like Francesca was used to this sort of place, and would be able to maintain her poise and dignity eating just about any of the delicacies this place had to offer, but if they brought out a trail of snails, or something, Smith might falter.

He paused and took a moment to look up at Francesca and smiled. "I'm glad you were in charge of picking the location." He glanced around the private room. "This place is amazing." He then went back to the task at hand.

Reading over the menu also reminded him of how long it had been since he had eaten. Grabing a soda this morning and a bag of chips during class didn't really do anything other than stop his stomach from rumbling. Now, though, he was actually looking forward to food. Unfortunatly, high-class food was often more decorative than functional.

Not wanting to spend too much time examining the menu, he saw a few things that interested him, and surrendered. He closed the menu and set it down. Immediately the doors to the room opened and a waiter entered, crossed the room, and took the menues from him, and said, "Bonsoir. Est-ce que vous voudrez quelque chose à boire? Un apéritif?" His french was perfect.

Unsurprisingly, the AR subtitles didn't translate the waiter's words. Smith would have needed an expensive program for that sort of real-time processing. In all likelyhood, however, this was just part of the atmosphere. Smith was certain that the waiter spoke English, and would handle the order just fine.

Despite not knowing what was just said to him, he had eaten at a restaurant before, and had a pretty good idea what it was he needed to say. The waiter had probably either offered them wine, appetizers, or asked them if they wanted to hear the chef's special. He had a drink, and, at a lot of restaurants, the special was whatever they needed to get rid of before it went bad, and he didn't speak French, so he figured he would plug on with his order in English. He didn't want to start with a 'yes' or 'no' since it sounded like some sort of question, and he didn't know what he would be answering.

He was also certain he would butcher the order (dispite picking things that were pretty easy to say), and that the waiter (motivated primarily by his desire for gratuity) would say nothing. Francesca, on the other hand, could either think less of him because he didn't speak French or, more likely, get the impression that he was hoping to make, which was that he was a confident kind of guy who didn't mind trying new things, and adapting to situations the best he could. Since she had no reason to think he spoke French, and he didn't see how that was relevant to anything at all, he assumed this was more the sort of thing she would be looking to pick up on - and he aimed to please.

"We would like to start with Brie sur Toast for hors d'oeuvers. Then, I'll have the Beef Crêpe Maison, and the lady will have the Chicken Crêpe Riviera."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:33:50


"Exquisite selection, sir," the waiter replied, changing seamlessly into English. Might I suggest the Maytag salad with Sinsearach pears as a perfect complement? We also have sauteed mahi mahi just in from the Kingdom as a suggested fish course. It is prepared in a sublime plum and wasabi sauce."

Smith wasn't sure how all this looked to Francesca, but it seemed that this waiter was doing an excellent job of smoothly filling in everything he'd missed without making him look bad. Now that was service.

Order taken, however, the man in the apron dropped the bomb. "Shall I send in the sommelier, sir?"

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:33:55
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

What the hell is a 'sommelier'? How about you send in 'our food'?

Smith was mostly just getting tired of this game, and took a long sip of his drink to buy himself a few seconds. The bill was climbing, and he still had no idea who Francesca expected to cover it, so every addition put him one step closer to having to pull off the most legendary dine-and-dash in history. Actually, as he sat there thinking about that, the idea actually started to sound pretty cool - if even remotely possible. Either way, as nice as this place was, it wasn't, as Adam and his college buddies would say, "worth it".

Like most high-class restaurants, it was pricy and fancy because their clientele had money to burn, and a desire to be treated like royalty. Adam had neither of those things. He just wanted a chance to meet Francesca, and maybe see what she knew, or if she could be a source of income in the future. She was hot, but clearly high maintenence. Adam had already ordered far more food than he would be able to eat. Most of it would probably be gross, too.

Changing his tactic, he gestured at Francesca, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to answer the question, if she liked. He figured, whatever the waiter just offered, he didn't want it. Maybe she did, maybe not. There was no point in making either of them pay for it, if not. She probably understood him, and if she made the decision about whether or not they wanted it, right now, or at all, she might feel that much more inclined to put this date on the Bigio family tab.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:34:09


Catching his eye, Francesca seemed to read his expression perfectly. With obvious approval in her eyes, she said, "How 'bout just a couple of Cherry Cokes, Enrique? After all, girls in the presence of dark and dangerous men need to keep their wits about them, now don't they?"

"Very good, mademoiselle."

Once the man was gone, she placed her elbows on the table, interlaced her fingers, and rested her chin on them. Light from the muted chandelier above seemed to dance in her green irises. "So tell me one interesting thing about yourself that has nothing to do with what you do for a living. Oh, and your name would be nice, too. Unless it really is Sugar Lips."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:35:15
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith winced at the nickname. "No, that's just Sledge's pet-name for me. Not that we ever...." He flashed a coy look. "She says I talk to much. I guess she likes calling me that better than 'boss' or the oh-so-anonymous 'Mr. Johnson'. I don't blame her. I can't really complain. I guess its better than 'big mouth' or 'chatterbox' or something like that." He put on a rather large smile. "As for my name, unlike yourself, I don't have the luxury of reputation and association to protect my privacy. And, despite you being nothing but nice to me today, you do work for the same team that tried to kill me this morning. Then again, if a teenage girl was able to figure it out in less than a day, I'm sure you're resourceful enough to do the same, if you really want to know. In the meantime, you're welcome to come up with your own pet-name for me."

"As for something interesting and non-professional...." Adam thought about it, and came to the realisation that too much of his life had been consumed lately by his job. Between the fact that he didn't want to let her know too much about himself, nor about what it is he actually does for a living, he found it hard to come up with anything interesting to tell her. However, he had a strong feeling that this was another little test. The question was actually very job-interview-ish. If he couldn't come up with anything, he risked seeming admittantly dull, but if he jumped at the opportunity to talk about himself, he would seem like a self-centered braggard. Finally, he finished his sentence with something he thought might be 'interesting' to her. His facial expression was uncharicteristicly serious and thoughtful. "Well, for the last few months, I've been living a lie. That might not actually sound too interesting, to you - the interesting part is that I'm mostly doing it for my own benifit. I need to believe that lie more than anyone else." He paused and then added, "After I took care of things this morning, I spent all afternoon pretending to be someone else, so that I could continue to believe that there is still hope for me."

After his (hopefully) cryptic admission, his serious look faded, replaced by a smile, and he gestured towards Francesca, "Your turn. Why don't you tell me something interesting, that has nothing to do with what you do for a living?"

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:35:35


"Oh, but I don't do anything for a living, so I guess anything is fair game, wouldn't you agree, Sugar Lips?" She had an uncanny way of letting her facial expression convey exactly what she meant - uncanny, or highly developed. Right now her mischievously twinkling eyes were saying, If you don't give me anything else to call you, I'll have to settle for that.

The sodas came, along with the hors d'oeuvre.

"So, as you can see, dining out is about my favorite thing to do. I could show you some really nice places here in the 'plex. This place is okay, but I didn't choose it for the food. Oh, and I like art. Looking, not making. And sometimes I like to just sit back and think about things. Maybe you should do the same, since you're coming to some awfully half-baked conclusions about this morning." She delicately bit into her brie on toast.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:36:30
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

"Oh? Well, I had been thinking myself in circles about it, all morning. I had hoped that you could shed a little more light on things. But, as you said, first we eat." He took a bite of his own toast.

"If it wasn't the food, here, that caught your eye, do you mind sharing what it was?"

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:36:40


"Not at all," she said, wiping the corner of her mouth with a thousand-thread-count Egyptian cloth napkin. "It's the fact that once we do finish eating, this room is a place where we will be able to talk." She loudly slurped down the last of her Coke and said, "Now what say we do get that sommelier in here and I'll find us a good wine to go with my beef and your chicken?"

And then she did it again - he could have sworn she winked at him, but her eyelids had in fact not moved a millimeter.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:45:40


Dinner had been a three-hour-plus flavor extravaganza. True, there was no ball game on a big screen trid, and the only other person in the room was the occasional stealth waiter, but the place certainly had a few points on a sports bar.

Despite her playful probes, Smith had avoided saying anything about his personal life, to the point where he was worried he was being rude. Francesca, on the other hand, had no such compunction - if he wasn't going to talk, she would, regaling him with tales of her time at Harvard studying applied economics, and then literature at the Sorbonne.

And every time Smith thought they were done eating, a new course arrived - clearly she had done some ordering behind his back, which only served to remind him that this was very much her lair.

As enjoyable as eating the food and listening to her talk and...just watching her...were, precious time was passing - he wondered if that in itself was not some sort of trap or test. But finally, she picked up her wineglass, put her feet up on the table, and started to talk business.

No, no, scratch that. Her feet never left the floor. It was just that without even moving her body, her demeanor and voice conveyed such an air of devil-may-care relaxation that forever afterward when remembering this evening, Smith would picture her with her feet on the table, despite the knowledge that no such thing had happened.

"Here's what I know," she began. Her nose was much stronger than any of the models' in the fashion digests, but you just knew that if she was in a fashion digest, big noses would suddenly be in. "Caittie Natome was in the wrong place at the wrong time and now Louie wants her dead. Rothstein wants her alive, which could be interesting if he ever puts together a trustworthy team. Him wanting her alive makes at least two of the Families want her deader even than Louie does. Louie wants the troll thugs dead because they turned on him - over the girl? I have no idea who you or the ork woman are, or how or why you are mixed up in all this."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:30
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith took a relaxed posture as well, glad that the evening had finally turned towards business. It wasn't that he didn't have a good time. In fact, this was one of the best dates he had been on in a while - certainly with one of the most interesting women he had ever met. He just didn't feel like he could open up until the business stuff had been taken care of. After all, in the back of his mind, he still felt that she wouldn't be going through this much trouble unless there was something she was hoping to get out of him - almost certainly information. He wished she would just ask whatever was on her mind, and get it out of the way - but he knew that wouldn't be her style.

"That is all in line with my understanding of the situation, as well." Smith replied, taking note of a few facts that he hadn't been privy to beforehand. "I also understand that Angelo is one of Louie's men, and that Doctor Cline, who was patching up one of the trolls, instead of handing him over, is on the Bigio payroll. I have on good authority that the team of Shadowrunners who attacked the clinic were hired by Angelo, personally." He smiled a bit, deciding to offer up a tiny bit of information before proceeding with the more important question on his mind. Tit-for-tat. "Similarly, the ork woman, who you mentioned, and the elven man, who you hadn't mentioned, were sort of like my hired guns, except that they were both infinitely more subtle than Angelo's team. They threatened Cline's staff, but never shot anyone." He winked. "So, the only ones whose motivations for being there are still unclear, are you and I." His grin betrayed the excess of amusement, not concern, over such a deadly circumstance.

He opened his hands outward, letting his body language apologies for any conclusions he was about to jump to. "My best guess, given your association with the Bigio family, Doctor Cline's allegiances, and the location of the clinic, is that when word reached them that Angelo (or Louie) had located one of their targets, and was planning an attack in a Bigio neighborhood to get them, that you were dispatched to politely ask them why they didn't ask for permission, first. Actually, I can't imagine that permission to shoot their doctor would have ever been given, but perhaps why they didn't just ask the Bigios to hand the double-crossing troll over. Which, actually, is a very good question." His demeanor had become somewhat more serious, as Smith approached the question that had been on his mind all evening.

"So, before we get into what I was doing there, perhaps you would be willing to enlighten me on some of the details I missed in your conversation with Angelo in the limo. The fact remains, as you said, that at least two other families want poor Cattie and her double-crossing troll bodyguards dead. I would very much like to know how the Bigio family, in particular, feels about this particular 'problem' which, by all accounts, I helped perpetuate this morning. Doctor Cline's behavior seemed noble, enough, but he is a doctor after all. Plus I don't imagine he can speak for the family with quite as much authority as you do."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Wednesday 8/20/70 04:00:00


Once the Sheriff left, the rest of the night and most of the next day passed uneventfully, if not peacefully. Screaming babies, fighting couples, intermittent gunfire, and the bored grunts and screeches of whores all pierced the night air. Fortunately, all five metahumans in the tiny apartment were exhausted enough that no one had trouble sleeping.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:50


"Imagining can get anyone who tries it into all sorts of trouble," Francesca purred, raising her arms over her head - yes, she really did that this time - in a catlike yawn/stretch that allowed her green sheath to highlight the lines of her torso. "So rather than make me, why not tell me how you know Angelo was behind those runners at the clinic - I'll admit I'd be very appreciative if you had some proof of that."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 04:30:40
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

It had been a long night, and a pretty boring one. After the posse reps had left, Sledge had crashed while Fortunato kept watch, then Fortunato had taken some more time to sleep. Waking up with a clearer mind, he had decided to beef up the area's astral defenses. A few seconds of concentration netted enough watchers for the immediate future.

The next task was daunting, not because it was hard, but because it was boring. Warding rooms took entirely too long. However, he was just hoping for a bit of advanced warning for the people he was protecting, not the great wall. He figured he'd talk at Sledge to pass the time. Worse came to worse, someone would wake up and relieve the boredom eventually.

He found a piece of debris on the ground and started to scratch some symbols into the wall of the room with his left hand while channeling mana with his right. It wasn't much different than paininting, in a lot of ways: Precision paid off and every square inch needed to get covered.

"You mentioned that you wanted a debrief of what I'm up to. I don't know how much you know about the astral plane, but assuming that you understand at least that its someplace where spirits fly around, I can launch into what I'm doing here. First I summoned a few watcher spirits, think astral chihuahua, to keep an eye on astral plane for us and now I'm setting up a ward ..."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Wednesday 8/20/70 16:00:00

Despite his own need for rest, Fortunato had periodically reinforced the team's magical defenses, occasionally chatting with Sledge, who handled much of the guard duty throughout the night.

As morning light found its way through boarded up windows, Angel awakened to a wireless desert, her parched mind able only to sip a few drops of relief from the sporadic connection she maintained with the van's powerful receiver.

Once she was up and munching on nutribars, the ork caught several hours' sleep.

The trolls had been by far the tiredest, and it showed in nearly 24 straight hours of uninterrupted slumber. As the afternoon wore on, they woke up one after the other, their bodies complaining loudly of strained muscles and a hard floor, to say nothing of the gunshot wounds their bodies had only just started to heal.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 05:24:18
Sledge - Watchwoman
PAN - Hidden

It was mind blowing. It was both not as much as she thought, and far more then she could imagine. In a series of quiet muttered questions and lectures Sledge had been asking questions on the basic capabilities Fortunato has been going over. The periods where he demanded quiet for the current task he was working on only filled her mind with more questions.

"So there's this whole world out there that only some people can see. the 'awakened', and only a few of those can actually do things in it, and what you can do there can affect the world the rest of live in. Kind of like Hackers can have their own reality all the time. Except not anyone can see it."

"Alright, can you explain again why I can't get the flaming shotgun? And the snake head?"

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:20
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith noted that she didn't answer his question. "Well, I don't know about proof. I said I 'had it on good authority'. What I meant, by that, was that when we were attacked, we didn't kill everyone. My team managed to take one of them alive, and interrogate him. The mage was able to read his mind, and we questioned him about his goals and who it was that sent him. According to his thoughts, he met with both Louie and Angelo when arranging the details of the hit." Smith wasn't sure he could say, word for word, what it was that Fortunato had relayed to him, had come from Rosso's thoughts, but he was fairly certain that he remembered confirming that Louie was behind the attack, and remembered hearing that Angelo was involved as well - just a little bit after seeing him through a drone. "So, I wouldn't go so far as to say I have proof, but seeing Angelo outside immediately after the attack helps confirm the story as far as I am concerned. That's good enough for me to not feel so bad about destroying one of his SUVs on my way out of there. I worked hard to track those guys down, first, and certainly didn't appreciate Angelo sending a gaggle of hit-men to steal my prize." His grin said there was a lot more to this story. He wanted to keep Francesca interested, so she would have incentive to answer some of his questions, too.

Smith decided to try one more time to bring the conversation back around to his original question. "...It's also enough for me to remain very cautious while dealing other mob elements, at least for the rest of the day. So, rather than making me imagine what it was you were talking to Angelo about, and what the Bigios' stance is on this mess, why don't you enlighten me. I'll be just as appreciative, I assure you."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Wednesday 8/20/70 05:30:10
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Fortunato was pleased, the hacker analogy to astral space was a good one even if he would never have thought of it. Sledge seemed to be coping with the central ideas of magic remarkably well; it had taken years to get some of the subtler points of astral operations across to some CIA personnel.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lot like hackers, but I don't know a thing about computing so I can't say for sure." He paused, "It's a little more complex. Hackers occupy things that people have made and that are located firmly on this earth, but the astral plane, at least the complicated parts of it, aren't even here anymore. It's an entire extra universe sandwiched next to ours. But, like you said, not everyone can interact with it."

"The shotgun and the snake head were illusions. Sorry, I don't think I made that clear when I said that I 'made them with mana' earlier. The point is, I was using magic to play dress up like a particularly scary snake. I could also make you look like a particularly scary snake, or just about anything else for that matter, but it wouldn't change in the least what you were capable of doing ..."

He was scratching the last row of symbols into place. It was nice to be near done. The swirling Sperenthiel symbols required agonizing care to draw. He had, on a whim, added some wavy images to the geometric decorations that the text was usually adorned with. Everything in his years of Hermetic training said that this was a bad idea, but it felt right. Besides, Fortunato was starting to suspect that the years of Hermetic training had sent him barking up the wrong tree anyway. Magic felt different now, easier, less hostile. Experimenting a bit couldn't hurt much.

The covnersation hit a doldrums. Sledge seemed satisfied with his explanations.

"So I feel like I've explained what I do as well as I can. I've left out some details about mind reading, spirit summoning ... well about everything really, but I don't want to overload you. I'm curious what it is that you do -- you're certainly not an ex-military knife-in-the-teeth special forces type," Fortunato had known a lot of those in his day, "but you seem to have a handle on running things and on taking care of yourself. It sort of makes me wonder what you do for a specialty."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 05:31:27
Sledge - Watchwoman
PAN - Hidden

The ork woman snorted. After a quick glance to check through the dark room that no one was roused, Sledge shook her head. "Handle the dangerous stuff. Civil Engineering. Was going into management, but ended up here."

Continuing after a pause spent starting off into the darkness outside and the pinking sky, twirling the hammer handle, "This... rough neighborhood growing up."

"Seattle downtown."

Abrupt curt nod and she finishes, "My turn to rest, thanks for the tips. You'll need to speak up when we get to planning for fishbreath. Maybe there's something we can use as an ace to track him, or get to him. But let's wait on that till everyone's up."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:49:00


Francesca delGato smiled. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the conversation, not to mention the company. She looked Smith right in the eyes and managed to smile while biting her lower lip. One finger absently brushed her hair on one side back from her ear, and she took her feet off the table - dammit, they never had been on the table - leaned forward and started talking in earnest.

"I was simply explaining to Angie that the doctor was a close friend of mine and that I didn't appreciate his place being messed up." She shrugged, acknowledging the futility of such a conversation, and continued, "But of course the scoundrel sat there with a straight face and swore on the Virgin that he had no idea what I was talking about. Said he and his boys were just waiting for the girl and the trolls to come out, that they had no intention of going inside." She sipped her wine. "Sure wish you had some proof he hired those people. In any case, you are right in assuming that some of my cousins have a decided policy position regarding this little intrigue, but until I know who you are and what you were doing there, I can't see any reason to enlighten you."

She raised her eyebrows in an expectant challenge.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:51:30
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith allowed himself to frown slightly, but quickly erased the emotion. "Understandable position. As for your 'proof', I don't think you'll be able to find any hard documents linking either Finnegan or Angelo to the attack. The payment was going to be handled through an out-of-state fixer, who was also going to verify that the job was done." Smith paused as if thinking about something. "I expect that he got a call, this afternoon, telling him not to bother coming."

"As for what I was doing there... I believe I can be honest with you. Not because I feel particularly safe doing so, but because if one of us doesn't lay some cards down on the table, we will never get to the point where we raise the ante." He smiled devilishly. "Besides, caution has never been one of my virtues."

"Before I do, though, I should explain who I am and what I do..." Smith still wasn't sure just how much of the truth he was going to let her in on. "... you might call me a 'professional opportunist'. I have a certain knack for the job, as opportunity knocks on my door more often than most. Today, it has knocked at least three times, called once, and sent at least one email. I suppose opportunity is sort of stalking me, so I couldn't ignore it, this morning."

"That was when I found the opportunity to do something quite extraordinary. Three opportunities, actually, as I was able to track down the two trolls and the little girl that were on Louie Finnegan's list, before he or his men did. Honestly, if we hadn't spent a half-hour dealing with Dr. Cline's secretary, we would have been long gone by the time Angelo and his discount hit-men arrived." Smith looked as though something bothered him. "I don't blame her, though. She was just doing her job, and my representatives were quite a bit less respectful than I would have liked."

"You see, unlike Angelo's attempts to finish them off, rather than showing up, shooting up the place, and sending them scurrying back into the shadows, I decided to take a different approach. I explained their situation to them, laid out their options (there weren't many), and invited them to come with me. It is like they say, 'you'll catch more flies with honey, than vinegar.' Besides, other than the price-tag he put on them, they're not very interesting to me, dead. They were quite a bit more interesting to me, alive, though. In fact, together with some of the other people that are working for me, they open up quite a few more opportunities."

"Even if I wanted to collect on the bounty, though, I don't believe that was ever an option. I spent all morning doing all the hard work and gathering everyone together, and rather than offering me the money he had put on their heads, Finnegan and Angelo hired a team of 'deniable assets' to swoop in at the last minute, kill everyone in the clinic, and make sure nobody collects. Very unprofessional. If I was actually after the money, I would have taken that very personally."

"Anyway, that's what I was doing there this morning... taking an opportunity, when I saw it. However, the plans I had this morning, which has already come and gone, shouldn't be nearly as interesting to you as my plans for tomorrow, which hasn't yet happened."

After his long-winded speech, he took a long drink of wine, giving Francesca the opportunity to speak, again.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:51:50


Francesca rounded her red lips in a mock pout, scrunching her shoulders like a disappointed child, half bowing her head and looking out from under her lashes at Smith. "What a meanie you are! You get me all excited with a speech about laying cards on the table and then manage to use a lot of words telling me absolutely nothing. Well, I suppose we're both guilty of that, this evening. I'm ordering another dessert - this may take a while."

The waiter wheeled the sumptuous dessert tray back in, and although his stomach was quite full, Smith couldn't pass up trying something else. After all, he didn't have to finish the whole thing.

As the waiter left, Francesca added, "By the way, you never said what became of the fellow you mind-read."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Wednesday 8/20/70 16:00:00
Cerberus - Street Samurai
PAN: Hidden (earbud, subvocal mic)

breathe, something wet is on my arms ewww its drool. Owww the throbbing in my head...oh thats right..roll over onto my back, where did this blanket come from? Who cares it feels nice, normal. Whats that smell..oh yeah..oh crap i gotta go to the bathroom bad better get my shit online asap. Think about turning your ears on...done. Can hear some of the others and some electronic noises. The time being displayed in my eyes cant be right... wednesday 8/20/70 15:47:31....that like more than 24 hours ago.

Cerberus opens his eyes to see a ceiling falling apart with heavy water damage in several spots or what he hopes is water damage...but before he can even take in the entire view of the room windows start popping up give status reports on various parts of his cyber. Everything was good to go but a couple of things were saying they wanted some preventitive maintenance. Cerberus dismissed the windows with a thought. None of that mattered right now. Right now he had to take a shit bad.

It had taken him and his muscles awhile but he was finally getting use to waking up and moving his extra heavy frame around ever since it had been laced with an aluminum alloy which made it heavier than normal. It was kinda cool, like having a built in weight lifting system. He had only had nightmares about not being able to lift or move his body once or twice and they had went away and not come back. Sitting up he noticed a few electrodes stuck all over his body and picked them off along with an IV needle stuck in his arm. Reaching over he shut the medkit that was monitoring his signs off. It looked like Rocky was hooked up to the machine also but he hadnt seen him yet. He got to his feet. That was Rocky laying over there, had something happened while he was asleep? No time to wonder about that now. Cerberus's first few steps were slow in coming but he eventually picked up speed and was out of the bedroom.

He thought he had remembered seeing a bathroom earlier. Caittie was in the living room sitting on one of the few pieces of furniture this dump had, she immedeately saw him enter but quickly returned to looking straight ahead, probably playing in the matrix. Somebody had decorated the walls, floor, and ceiling with wierd scribbles and designs, were they that bored? Why not just use paint. Sledge was in the corner of the room where she could easily see the door and the rest of the room and as they made eye contact nether of them made an effort to greet each other. Continuing his walk to the bathroom he looked around for Fortunato and saw him laying down on the bed in the other room of the apartment. Cerberus couldnt tell if he was asleep or just resting.

Finally. Cerberus was at the bathroom........it was the filthiest, smelliest, bathroom he had ever seen. There were a few new additions to the room like some new rolls of toilet paper and a bundle of freaking air fresheners that people put in their car. He couldnt help but laugh. You know how in most public restrooms you just cover the toilet seat with toilet paper to have some kind of protection from the place well this bathroom made you want to put on a biosuit. None of that mattered now. He unzipped his pants and sat on the toilet and let out a fart that probably sounded like a bomb going off to the others who could hear it, quickly followed by several large plops and then pissing sounds and one very large long sigh of relief. That was one of the best things to happen to Cerberus in the past couple of days. After he finished wiping his butt he stood up and pulled his pants back up and secured them.

He turned and pushed the flush button on the toilet and it acted like it was going to work but it was clogged, not from his troll sized turds but just from god only knew what. Spotting the newish plunger next to the toilet he grabbed it and started to do battle with the toilet. After a few more flushes he had managed to get rid of most of his waste. Damn thats nasty..when i get home I'm....oh thats right...

Cerberus stretched and looking into the spiderwebbed mirror. Same ugly troll was staring back at him, he knew he was not soft and normal looking like a human but he wondered how attractive or unattractive he looked to other people but quickly dismissed the thought as other things started filling his brain like there was a mob guy trying to kill him and he was in a craphole building with a group of people he barely knew. Looking over his body especially at his wounds most of the cuts and scratches had healed fine and most of the gunshot wounds had scabbed over and begun to close with only small bruising around them. The one in his foot though probably still had a ways to go as he still felt pain in it.

Walking back out into the living room he saw some basic supplys on the single table like some foodstuffs and water but he only wanted the water. Pressing a tab on the side marked as lemonade a colored liquid dispersed into the bottle and after a few shakes it turned into a bottle of lemonade flavored water. He popped the cap off and downed the whole thing at once and then grabbed another.

Looking at Sledge he finally spoke "I'm gonna go outside and stretch my legs and get some fresh air alright?". Sledge shrugged her shoulders and replied, "Alright, but The Posse", she spit out with disgust, "doesn't like meta's". Cerberus grunted and then popped the security bar off the door and made his way down stairs and through the filth, both garbage and people, to the outside.

While he enjoyed the weather and fresh air one of the first things he noticed was that their van had been tagged with a sheriff star symbol. He laughed. The previous day had been sooo long and sooo draining and sooo painful, today he felt like a new man. He set his bottle of water down and began doing fighter stretches in the grass. He stretched his arms, his legs, his back, his neck. When he was done he looked at his chronometer and marked the time and then started running around the building. Not a hard run but enough of one to get his blood pumping. His foot hurt him at first but it eventually went away. After about 10 minutes and what had probaly been a mile run he downed the rest of his water and went back up to the apartment.

God have mercy on any mother @#%^er who gets in my way today, he thought as he knocked on the door and fired a message off to sledge to let her know it was him. A final look at the time said it was 16:00:00.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:52:10
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

"Intentionally," added Smith with a smile. "Because, honestly, I don't know. We didn't kill him, if that's what you're asking, but he knows better than to stick around, I hope. Louie's not a big fan of letting witnesses walk away. He has my number, if he needs anything."

"Let me ask you a similar question. What has become of Angelo? I lost track of which vehicle he was in when they tried to close us in, but my trigger-happy friend seemed to think he might have been in the vehicle we shot a path through."

"Also, I don't think its fair to say that I've told you nothing, but I've certainly done most of the talking. Maybe there is something specific you were hoping I would address, or perhaps you would like to show me how to put my cards on the table, properly?" Smith grinned and leaned back slightly. Despite enjoying this date, he did have other things to get done today, and Francesca wasn't helping by stonewalling every time he asked her to reciprocate.

Hotel Hell – Posse Turf, Redmond Barrens
Wednesday 8/20/70 16:01:22
Angel – Technomancer - Hidden
PAN – Hidden

Through the happenings, the sheriff encounter and Fortunato’s impromptu lesson on magic, Caittie had feigned sleep at the table, whether real or not. Into the wee hours of the morning, the elven girl had mentally strived to train bits of her ability in a bid of a greater chance at survival. By the time she had finished working her mind with the aid of Cid, the redhead was exhausted and faded into true sleep almost immediately after coming out of her virtual reality session.

Later in the morning, at eight when her commlink’s preprogrammed alarm when off in her head, the girl groaned and raised her head from the backpack she had used an improvised pillow. Taking a full intake of the air in the room, she could still smell the stench of the building and, even though more subdued due to her time in the room, recoiled and coughed. Settling down quickly, the technomancer said a quiet greeting to the other elf on the team who was watching the door before grabbing a nutra-bar for breakfast.
Caittie wanted to stay ‘awake’ as little as possible in the disgusting hellhole of a building they were forced to take refuge in; and as such jumped into VR once again, thought this time with a fully different purpose in mind. The girl had seen, well figuratively, the grand usefulness of the sprites she had called upon all of yesterday and, with more thoughts of self-preservation in mind, wished to have more she could count on being able to call on other than just Cid and Wedge.

Hours later, she roused once again, though this time it was to the sounds of Fort and Sledge having quiet conversation. Rubbing her eyes clean for the second time this new day, Caittie looked around the room as she reached down to the table to pick up another nutra-bar. As she slowly consumed it, ignoring the bland flavor it had, her green eyes recognized the symbols their mage had scratched into the walls. Or at least recognized what they were and what some of them meant, though the way things were, she could only fully understand bits and pieces of the text as a whole.
What happened next was something she wished to erase from her memory, however. Cerberus walked through the main room into what was left of a bathroom, thankfully with a door of some sort on it, but the sounds and smells were hard to shut out. Unfortunately, even after he left, the aftereffects of his efforts lingered, to her disgust.
“Damn…�, she muttered loud enough for Fortunato and Sledge to hear, “I didn’t think this place could smell any worse…� As they looked at her, they could see her face clearly scrunched up in disgust. “How long are we staying here? I feel like it'd take a shower or three to get clean...�, she asked to the current leader.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:52:20


"Oh yes, Angelo was in the SUV you blew up, and although the slippery goombah got away clean, he is none too happy about the experience. And speaking of getting away, you just let this hitman that tried to kill you go?" Although she had seemed surprised by things Smith had said this evening, this time it was evident she really was taken off guard - making Smith wonder whether he'd told her anything all night she hadn't already known...

"If he has your number...does that mean you have his? Do you know how to reach him?" She watched his face closely as she waited for his response.

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:52:30
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

"Not exactly," Smith tried to think back to earlier in the day to see if anyone on his team had bothered to get the commlink number for Rosso. He remembered setting up an urgent message on it that would give Rosso his number, but not the other way around. "... we didn't so much 'let him go' as 'drop his body off', but basically, yes. I don't have his number, but he's not conscious to answer it, either. I suppose I have a fairly good guess at where he is at, right now, though. He won't be waking up for some time, but, when he does, I'm hoping he'll give me a call. I could use another guy like him."

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:52:45


Francesca gave Smith an odd look, as though she was seeing him for the first time, or at least just now realizing something about him.

"You have a fairly good guess about where he's at? You're protecting him." She raised her eyebrows in a mix of incredulity and the pleasure of a mystery. "He took money to try to kill you. You killed his friends. Now, although my people would have no trouble dragging evidence out of him that we could use against our...mutual concern, you are bending over backwards to not tell me where he is."

The desserts arrived. As the waiter poured fresh cream over her honied Loganberries, she ventured, "Long lost cousin?"

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:53:30
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith smiled as though laughing off the implication. The truth was, she had called him out on it. He knew she wouldn't be this interested in finding evidence that Louie was behind the attack unless she wanted him to pay for something. Smith was hoping to bait her enough to get her to admit that that was what she wanted, and maybe why. It seemed he had partial success, but she was also aware that he was being deceptive. Now, he figured he needed a new strategy since she seemed to be on to his last one, and she wasn't going to be very forthcoming if she thought he was being evasive. At least she seemed to enjoy the mystery inherent in their little dance.

"You're close, but you've missed by an inch." Smith took his desert and thanked the waiter. "You see, I said a 'fairly good guess' because I cannot garuntee that he is still where I left him. Of course I know were that is, because I was there when we did it, but whether or not he is still there, I can only 'guess'." Smith was genuinly pleased with himself. That hadn't been the reason he had said it at all, but it sounded very good to him, now.

"As for why I might protect him,if that were, in fact, what I was doing.... Let's just say that I see something familiar, if not respectable, in him. Unlike Mr. Finnigan, he wasn't trying to kill me for any personal reasons or to cover up any professional fuck-ups - he was just trying to do his job, and make a living. Once he failed at his mission, he had as much reason to fear Mr. Finnigan as me or my men did, so he ceased being our enemy, and even became something of an ally. The enemy of my enemy and all of that...."

"Speaking of which, that's twice you've mentioned being interested in evidence that Louie and Angelo were aware of the attack. If you're looking for ammunition to use against Mr. Finnegan, you've certainly got my attention, and I would like to hear more, but I can't say I care for the phrase 'dragging evidence out of him'...." Smith raised an eyebrow. That was the first time he had heard her admit to having people, much less suggest that she would use them to 'drag' what she wanted from someone else.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Wednesday 8/20/70 16:03:00
Rocky - physical adept
PAN: Hidden

Rocky wasn't sure what had woke him, and he didn't move at first, knowing that his muscles were going to have allot to say about being in one position for way to long. He wasn't really sure how long he had been asleep, but knew it had been along time because he actually felt rested, really rested, the most he had since the day before his last fight as a professional fighter. He slowly opened his eyes to see the same dirty, stained wall he had fallen asleep staring at right where he had left it.

It was time to get his body moving and nothing could be done about it. The coming pain was nothing new, but the fact he couldn't just grab a pill and roll over for an hour till it fully worked its magic was the tough part. He decided to keep it simple and just rolled over on to his back straightening his legs out and laying his arms flat against the floor at his sides. As expected his entire body screamed at once, but he just gritted his teeth and let his muscles adjust on their own. One thing that did surprise him was the wires and IV stuck in his arm coming out of the med kit. For the moment he left those where they were and just focused on his breathing and trying to center himself, using his meditation to take his mind off his body, as he had been doing allot since his run from bad choices.

After two or three minutes Rocky started to feel almost normal again, he slowly sat up and removed the connections for the medkit. His body really didn't like the movement but Rocky wasn't giving it a choice. Looking around the room it looked like he was the last to get moving, and based on the light from the window it was close to the time he had laid down, which meant he had been out for close to twenty four hours. Well that would at least explain the sore tight muscles.

"Morning chummers, thanks for letting me crash. So whats the plan?"

As Rocky addressed the others he started to stretch, visibly winching occasionally, but working through it and starting to make some progress in getting a full range of motion back. As he worked out the kinks in his muscles he checked his wounds from the last few days, he was surprised to see that they were actually starting to look a little better, no where close to fully healed but headed in the right direction.

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Wednesday 8/20/70 16:13:42
Cerberus - Street Samurai
PAN: Hidden (earbud, subvocal mic)


Cerberus walked back into the apartment and began looking around. After his little late evening exercise he was feeling great but he could still see and feel some of the wounds from the day before. It suddenly hit him why he was even still around, the others. Leaving Sledge to shut and lock the door back up he looked around. Rocky was up and about but Fortunato was still not around. He was still in the bedroom he was in before. Stepping into the bedroom he called to Fortunato, "Hey you up dude? Rocky is up and I would like to say something to all of you, so could you come out to the main room unless your doing your magic thing in which case its cool." Fortunato sat up, resting on his elbows. "Sure kid whatever you say. Lead the way."

Cerberus let out a sigh of relief, it was strange knowing somebody could do all kinds of shit that just defies logic. Cerberus walked back out to the main room with Fortunato in tow. Sledge, Angel and Rocky could tell he had something to say and were waiting expectantly. As soon as Fortunato had found a place to stand Cerberus turned so that he could address all of them equally. "Well first and foremost I just wanna say thanx for rescueing my ass from that hit back at the clinic. I wasnt really with it the other day going in and out of conscienceness so much but today while I was outside I had alot of time to think back over the last few days and I was pretty bad off. I wouldnt be here today if it wasnt for all of you guys, so thanx."

"I used to work with Doc Wagon in a combat recovery team. Me, two docs and our driver would go into hotzones and pick up clients. I manned the machine gun and it was my job just to clear a path and keep everyone's head down long enough tolet the emt's grab the target and split. Apparently my team pissed off this corporation by rescueing some runners and they decided to get some revenge by setting us up for an ambush. My whole team died and I was mutilated and left for dead. I survived though. It took all the money I had saved and some illegal cyber to put me back together again. Now I can no longer get a normal job so thats why I tried to do this not so legal thing. Loui wanted to kill Angel and so he hired Rocky and myself and sent us after her, but he told us that were hunting a mage so we didnt really know what we were getting into. After we had found out that Loui lied to us, the three of us escaped from a coffin hotel and split up and thats when Loui wanted us all dead. He nearly got my ass but i survived again only to end up at that clinic. We have to flatline this dude or we will have to be looking over our shoulder for life."

"As you can see im not really good with anything other than light machine guns. I was...am a pretty good martial artist. I used to fight in mixed martial arts competitions, you know those matches that take place in fenced in octogons where you try to knock the other guy out or make him submit? I Havent had the chance to do it much since my implants though and I dont really wanna compete anymore now that im not 100% troll. Besides fighting and shooting i've seen my friends stabilize enough people to start studying to be able to do it myself. I think im catching on. Im not as good as my friends used to be but I think I can be of help if its needed. Those are my skills and the things im good at. I owe a debt to each of you and will use my abilities to help pay each of you back for what you have done. Assuming we can eliminate a small nuisance named Loui Finnigan."

Cerberus walked around the room and looked each person in the eyes and gave them a handshake to let them see his sincerity and erase all doubt that he meant that he owed them a debt and would gladly do whatever it took to pay up. Shaking Angel's hand was like holding a pool stick it was so small compared to his own hand. Sledge had an iron grip and Fortunato's hand shake was confident and measured. Rocky's hand was the only one that had felt normal and it was equally as strong as his own. Walking over to the single table in the room Cerberus grabbed a box of nutrient bars and started eating them one by one like they were bite sized candies. This was hell living like this. Cerberus was more than eager to get this shit over with and be able to get another apartment with real furniture and real...well semi real food.

"Has Johnson contacted us? Any word on our list of toys?"

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:53:59


Guiltily dabbing cream from her chin, the woman said, "I am glad to see a keen understanding of the difference between business and personal interests. Your opportunistic streak speaks well of you, as well. And I am especially delighted to hear you finally admit - or at least imply - that you may have issues with Fishbreath. Perhaps that is the ever-so-mysterious purpose you are so interested in gathering talent for? I'd very much like to know your intentions regarding dear Louie - it might save me the trouble of having to track down this precious hitman of yours, a process which might put your ability to separate business and personal to a sore test."

She smiled disarmingly. "But that's a line of thought I'd very much prefer to avoid. Let me try and loosen your tongue by letting you know in the clearest terms possible that all the Families find Louie a complete pain in the ass, and that my own little branch has very different ideas than the others about how that pain should be eliminated."

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Wednesday 8/20/70 16:13:18
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Cerberus' speech was surprisingly moving. It was worth waking up to hear it. The big guy was growing on him in spite of his coarser moments. Knowing an EMT was always a useful thing as well, shame that he hadn't learned more about patching people up.

He shook the troll's hand and said "Don't worry about it."

He eyed Sledge briefly, but she seemed her usual tacit self. He decided to take the lead briefly. "We don't have much time before Fishbreath goes to work. I was thinking that we could either jump him as he arrives. The mob doesn't seem to have much magical support so if we distract him long enough we may be able to kill him with a spirit."

He scratched his beard absentmindedly. It still itched. "The other, and probably safer, option is to hit him while he's making his rounds. We leave someone the mob doesn't know at the restaurant Cerb mentioned then we tail him and wait for an opportune moment."

"Opinions? We'd best make a decision quickly."