Black Widow:
Well past dawn, you finally make it home. It had been an intriguing night all told, rubbing elbows with Seattle socialites and the rising stars of Knight Errant's latest Special Tactics team. The local director of operations had thrown a celebratory gala for their assistance in bringing several of the terrorists still believed responsible for the Crash of '65 to justice.

The synthskin that you had sprayed over your palms itched, but it was better than the burning pain from shaking hands with Chief Anderson and his heavy gold band. You manage to peel the synth-skin off your hands just before collapsing, you vaguely register the message from Angel. It'd have to wait though until you had some sleep.

Copperhead:
The morning brought the cold sweat and shakes with it. Making your way topside, you take a fast sonic shower to remove the worst of the grime. Maybe you could get just a little bit to take the edge off the day. Eight-it could probably return some of the color to the dreary gray of Seattle.

Deciding to have some coffee and food first, you start off down the slick sidewalks. It wasn't raining per se, but the vigorous misting that descended from the sky would probably count against the monthly record.

In the middle of breakfast, your image link pops up with an incoming call just above the potatoes on your plate. Hoping that Eight was proactively calling, you answer and feel a slight sense of loss when it's "Pailfetcher" Torqinelli instead.

"How's your head, chummer?"

Patch Up:
Even with this week's sale of weapons back to the Halloweeners, you think you're going to need a little supplemental income. The Ancients trashed the southside of the building last month, and there was still a draft despite your best efforts to patch the wall. Unfortunately, you don't have the same grace with duracrete that you do with muscle and sinew.

With a sigh, you put out the call and wait for your fixer to call you back with work.
Fixx calls back in about an hour with a meeting. Tonight, 2100 at the Looking Glass.

Vadeau:
Les Jeux sont Faits took a whole new meaning when read through the eyes of a lunatic. Geist was trying to convince his readers that Sartre's existential piece was actually a dire warning of the onslaught of Horrors, Shedim, and the vile practices of Sacrificial magic.

Throwing the book at the wall with a look of disgust, you rise and start walking around the room to clear your head. Through the window, you smell the bakery in full gear. Maybe it was time to get some food.

With a strong cup of coffee and croissant, relaxation finally settles in. You didn't need the Bliss, it was just that one time... Silent self-assurances to ease your own self-doubt. The chirp of an incoming call breaks your reverie.

Fixx never questioned your choice of voice only in phone calls, you were a professional which is all he needed. "I've got a special delivery for a package to be picked up tonight at Nine. Usual location. Are you available?"

Widget:
It always felt good to sleep in until Noon. You didn't do it all the time, but still remembered when you were younger and Jake said you were just like your mother. That was one of the few slips he had given about your mother, mostly you just knew she was a shadowrunner and had a questionable sense of fashion, by Jake and Fixx's standards at least.

Passing the very simian Mr. Bobo on your way to the showers, he nods and mentions that Fixx wanted to see her tonight at the club if she felt up to working.

Black Widow sprawled rather unlady like across her large bed, appropriateness be damned she needed sleep.

A few hours later the reminder she had set kicked in and woke her up.

Flipping through her contact list she pulled up Angel's number and dialed. Voice connection along with a photo more appropriate than her current state.

"Hi Angel, How is the halo this morning? Sorry I did not get back to you earlier, you know how those functions are. You have some news for me?"

16:30
Sensing a lull in the day's activity Patch Up heads from the old GP's offices of the abandoned clinic to what used to be the staff area at the back. PU had a funny knack of knowing when things were going to be quiet, but that might have something to do with the fact that he locks the main door. Locking the second door between the refitted GP's offices that constitute the treatment areas and the old admin offices, store rooms and staff room at the back that have been converted into bedrooms, kitchen and lounge he decided he'd better start doing some checking out. He'd dealt with Fixx before, but as always paranoia ensures that people in the shadows are concerned about everyone and anyone.

Patch Up drops a message on his cheap commlink to Mary, the old "nurse" of sorts that helped out around the clinic on occasion letting her know the clinic would be shut tonight. After that he heads into his bedroom and removes his day clothes consisting of a cheap off-the-back-of-a-lorry labcoat with simple jeans and t-shirt underneath. You had to instill some sense of confidence in your clients after all...

In their place he puts on a fairly nondescript pair of trousers, button up shirt, dark socks in place of the old hiking socks he wears lately to keep off the draft from his feet (I'll have to get that drekking hole sorted) and cheap dark shoes. Reaching into his wardrobe he pulls out his lined trenchcoat, thrusting his arm through the right sleeve before swinging it round to meet his back and similarly inserting his left. Into the pocket of the coat he transfers his commlink, checking the connection to the subvocal mic and earbud he uses. He also pulls out his Hammerli 620S and checks it over before reaching for its holster, first inserting the light [pistol into the holster then... Drek, I'm going to have to take my coat off again...

After finally getting the concealable holster comfortably positioned in the centre of his back and replacing his lined coat he gets four spare clips and drops them into his pockets, just in case. After all the Hammerli only has a 6 round capacity... PU considers his snap blades, but decides they would be too much trouble if someone saw them and leaves his bedroom.

Checking the time he notices it is now about 16:49. He heads to the stronger back door and leaves, collecting his Growler after leaving the building. Making sure that the back door is securely locked he jumps astride the bike and drives off on a fairly lazy route that would take him to the vicinity of the Looking Glass in a round about manner, eventually take him past it, and on the pretence of actually having something to do stop off at the nearest Stuffer Shack.

Vadeux smiled at the sound of her fixer's voice as she washed down the croissant with a swig of coffee. Work. She nodded to herself at his question, though he couldn't see, "Certainly. Anything for you Fixx."

Her accent renders his name 'Feex'. She sets a reminder on her commlink after they break the connection and she sits back in her small metal chair. She closes her eyes and listens bakery's early bustle. It is more comfortable here than at her place. The temperature's regulated here. And if it's a bit stuffy, at least it smells good. She stretches, cat-like, and begins running through a list of the gear she would take to the meet.

She arrives a full forty-five minutes before the appointment, parking her car a few blocks away and walking the neighborhood to get a drink and have a quick bite to eat. She passes the kilted changeling bouncer with a wink and heads straight to the 'coat' check. She uncoils her foci and swaddles them in a purple silk scarf that she pulls from around her neck, handing them over with a certain amount of reluctance. She turns with a sigh and automatically scans the crowd, looking for the heavily cybered and the magically active regretful that she can't join the dancers tonight, but supresses a tingly, fluttery feeling about the coming job. She takes a few deep, settling breaths and makes her way to the bar.

She takes a stool when one becomes free and orders a gin and tonic. She sits quietly, feeling the ebb and flow of the people moving through the space. Watching them, reading them. At 5 minutes to 9 she heads to Fixx's booth.

"Shakin' a Deepweed Drag, Miss."

It was always wise to be polite to the Mafia. And the use of nicks was a no-no, unless you happen to be a made man, which Copperhead was not. He took another sip of soycaff and scratched the inlaid copper scrollwork that went from his forehead over his shaven skull. Snake mouths that fades into a nice flame outline. It looked nice against his grey skin. He had less pronounced tusks than most orks, and a more rounded face. With some emergency dental surgury, and some makeup he could probably pass as human. That was only one of the reasons he caught jobs with the Mafia. One was that he was an excellent thief.

He waited to see what the Mafia had for him today. It was starting to become like an addiction, but not one he could shake as easily as Deepweed.

Widget nods as she tries to blink herself awake. Taking a few steps towards the showers, she pauses and turns back around giving BoBo a hug from behind while mumbling her thanks. Stumbling back she hits the showers and emerges finally awake. She smiles to herself as she thinks of what work could mean. There were so many toys out there and not enough nuyen in her account to even scratch her itch.

She spends the afternoon in meditation, or at least trying. Jake has been drilling her since her "gift" had been discovered and stressed the need for her to control her thoughts and emotions. All it took was her losing her cool once and popping half the sound system downstairs. Since then it has been a gentle push to get her act tight and together. She wanted to impress him so much sometimes it made her teeth hurt but she wasn't sure it was going to be today. Grabbing a light meal of noodles out of a cup and some water, she dressed and made her way to the lift to the club below her apartment.

Time to work....

Black Widow
"Halo's as shaky as ever, though the horns have done a good job and holding it up. Listen, I've got a few favors that are coming past due, and I know it's been awhile since you got a taste, so I was hoping you could talk to a man about a job. No strings attached, if you don't like it you can walk. What do you say?"

Angel usually didn't sway one side or the other, just posted offers and let you pick. The incoming pictures though definitely swayed to both ends of the spectrum. An attractive blonde male with a diver's physique sitting at a solidly built table in a nightclub was surrounded by every thrice touched soul bearing the obvious markings of Halley's comet.

"The one in the middle goes by Fixx. He's looking for a team, the word on the street is something corporate and silicon based."

Copperhead
"I've been telling you to nix that stuff since your first time. At least Miss Bliss leaves you in a happy place.

We can reminisce about drug-induced fantasies later though when I'm not on the clock. I'm supposed to make you an offer, you know the cliche so I won't go there. There's a man with a job, if you happen to show up and take the job, my employers would be inclined to offer you some sidework. Nothing you can't handle, but nothing I want to talk about if you're not interested. See Fixx down at the Looking Glass. If you bite, give me a call. Capisce?"

After deciding that all was as it should be, or as close as you get these days, PU picked up a couple of odds and ends at the stuffer shack and rode home.

Aftrer eating a ready meal he checked over the south side of his building, shaking his head. Don't people simply knock any more? He'd done what he could by rearranging the rubble, adding some boards he'd picked up to try and fill in the holes left, but he simply didn't have the tools or know-how to do any more. After he'd spent half of the night after it happened trying to put things into some semblance of order he'd had to give up and get some sleep.

Patch Up sighed heavily, not being able to bear being near the sight of something he couldn't fix for more than a minute or two, and left to get ready for the meet proper with the draft playing at the bottom of his lined coat as he went.

Patch Up simply switched his coat for his actioneer he uses for arranging business, moving all the items in the coat to the actioneer. He made sure the safety was on and the smartlink was functioning before transferring his Hammerli pistol, instead depositing it with his other weapons along with the ammunition. PU instead took his Raecor Sting, loading it and slipping it into the hidden holster that was a part of the Actioneer, along with a couple of clips. His Actioneer was fairly clean for someone from the Barrens, but this was a necessity when he had to regularly purchase medical items without causing suspicion. Out of habit he slipped a trauma patch into his pocket, probably not even realising he'd done so, before leaving on his Growler.

PU tried to time his arrival at the Looking Glass' underground parking at around 20:45, parking his bike in the garage and heading up to the ground floor. Riding a bike at about 8pm had left PU a little on the cold side, so he would see if the club served coffee... then again, in a rave club you probably wouldn't need it...

"Hmm sounds interesting, not my usual social circle but change is always good. Could be fun. Send me the address and time I'll take a look after my beauty sleep. Horns are fine just make sure you don't start sprouting a tail too."

Black Widow crashed back onto her bed and passed out for a few hours.

Dragging herself out of bed she headed for the shower, half an hour later she extracted herself from the hot spray. Doors swung open revealing a dressing room almost the same size as her bedroom.

Lets see, leather would be good, but not too much. A simple black evening dress, knee high leather boots and a pair of leather gloves. Bags were useful but this was one occasion where one might get in the way.

Calling ahead for a taxi she headed downstairs.

She arrived at the club shortly after eight. Might as well see what the place has to offer before getting down to business.

As PU made his way up to the ground floor he removed his earbuds and subvocal mic, putting them in his pocket. He didn't want to be disturbed in the meet after all. He also set his commlink to reject any calls, but left it on so he could pull up a time display in the corner of his AR vision.

After entering the club he took a minute to acclimatise himself to the new temperature, then headed to the bar. Since everyone in a club would either be drinking or dancing he opted for the former, and sat at the end of the bar so he could see into the dancefloor without turning his back on the bar worker(s). Also not wanting to get drunk he simply ordered an orange juice, good enough to blend in assuming he wasn't overdressed. This wasn't the typical sort of location that PU would normally conduct business anyway.

PU was dressed like any office worker might be, but his manner gave him away as not being an exec and not quite a wage slave. He had a clean cut appearance, but didn't have the air of someone powerful or someone meek.

Watching the time display in his AR he waited for 20:58, then picked up his glass and walked over to Fixx's booth. No sense in being anything other than prompt.

The Looking Glass
Shortly after sunset the bass starts rolling, a quiet thump of subsonics to give evidence to the force of the stereo system inside. Inside, a raver's paradise unfolds in the manifest blackness of the converted warehouse. With a single bar along the north wall, there are scattered chairs around the edge of the main room and ringing a recessed dance area.

Artwork ranges from classical interpretations of Alice in Wonderland, past American McGee, to the truly bizarre. Passing from the lift to the bar, you pass through zones of curtained music. Without physical barrier, the music has sharp transitions in the space of a few steps, changing the ambience and mood. Bodies decked out in this season's raver-chic gyrate to the music.

Within the recessed area, dancers begin to congregate as the night moves on. Drug dealers and pill poppers press their bodies against fur, leather and scale as the music overtakes them. Over head, drones circulate and swoop down to collect empty glasses and deliver drink orders to outlying tables.

Augmented reality lays an entirely new layer over tha club as emotional sub-tracks push along threads of music and the question is asked "who is real?" The dance floor and walls show reflections of dancers as they used to be. Changelings see human and elf faces lost to them forever, while illusions of possibilities reflect back on those untouched by SURGE.

Widget steps off the lift, pausing for a moment to lose herself in the flow of AR that moves through the club. She feels the thoughts and feelings of other technomancers reach out to her like familiar lovers. She quickly took messages of greetings and invitations. She looked longingly at the dancing forms and the bodies in motion but sent swift replies that she would have to join them another time. Closing the lift she moved into the club interior and began to make her way to the spot where Fixx had set up shop.

Vadeau
Scanning the crowd through the wakes of light and sound, you see that nearly everyone here is under twenty five and has little to no cyber. Changelings mix with trolls and humans as you move through the building crowd.

Ensconced at the bar, you are soon joined by someone as obviously out of place here as you are. Others are lost in the extassy of a life spent between instants rather than focussing on tick or tock.

Patch Up
As you approach the lift, several panels along the floor light up in the garage.

"Excuse me sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave any unexpected party favors in your vehicle or check them with Angie. Rules of Management, there are no weapons allowed inside the Looking Glass."

Nathaniel, as the bouncer's nametag reads, has soft violet eyes and long brown hair. Something about the wet color of his nails, the color of blood spilled under a full moon, doesn't sit right with you. Gentle but insistent, he immediately steps aside after you have deposited the Raecor in your saddlebag or with the gun/coatcheck.

Making your way up into the rave, there's an immediate sense of awkwardness. You definitely are not dressed the part here, but you make your way to the bar and order your OJ. Several steps further down, a young woman also appears to be waiting for something or someone beyond the party surrounding the two of you.

Black Widow
With confidence you stroll past the long line of ravers outside the building, which grows longer with each passing bus or l-train. Leather was a good choice you notice as you pass several groups of goths and leather kids. The corset has obviously made yet another comeback.

You join the VIP line and are awarded with several odd looks by regulars and irregulars as you pass inside. A bit of charm and Fixx's name saved you over an hour of waiting in the cold and rain.

"Cookie?"

Servers young enough to still be called children move through the crowd with baskets of cookies and small treats. Life here had to be better than whoring in the slums of Tacoma, but the shattered innocence in their eyes shed light on volumes of horror that could never be forgotten.

The Looking Glass
At ten minutes before nine, the lift opens again. Two men, one an olive complexioned Italian, the other pale and blonde Fixx, step off the lift and with a touch on the arm that speaks louder than kisses they head in different directions.

While the Italian heads for the door with a gymbag thrown over his shoulder, Fixx makes his way along the edge of the room. With a well-practiced grace that you are sure he learned at the hand of a master, the fixer glides past workers and regulars stopping shortly for a brief word and smile. The longest conversation happens in the space of ten paces as he comes along side Izzy.

A bright rainbow reflects off the trout-like scales of the club manager's skin. Fixx and he chuckle softly as they part and just before nine, the nordic diver seats himself at a small table marked reserved and cordoned off with privacy ropes.

Once the team is gathered together, he looks over everyone and nods.

"One or two more might still be joining us, so I won't get too involved. I need two packages picked up from one place. The first one is silicon based, the second should be self-ambulatory. Pay is five each."

With the music pounding, you are sure that no one could here you from more than a few feet away.

Copperhead rides up the elevator with a dozen assorted partygoers, dressed in one of his better sets of clothing. He taps his foot anxiously, ignoring the general chatter of the others in the elevator car. The augmented reality setting on his commlink got scaled back when he started to see flying furniture and pearly white teeth grinning at him from the shadows of the parking garage.

The elevator doors slide open, and Copperhead can feel the bass, the lights flicker off his head like rainbows in an oily puddle.
Very... trippy...
Making his way through the mass of ravers, shaking off a few that get a bit enthusiastic, he seats himself at the table. The large golden pocketwatch on the wall says 8:63.


"I hope I ain't late for this party. Jill said my experience was needed here."

A grin showing minor tusk, and then to buisness.

"Nice to meet ya." Widget gives a lopsided smile to the late arrival. The AR space around buzzed with doodles and small bursts of color.

Settling down in his seat PU sips his orange juice and says "Personally I would find 5K acceptable, dependant on danger level of course."

PU looks over the team, giving a polite nod to any later arrivals, and waiting for more details. Patch Up also takes a moment to disable his AR feed, time to concentrate on the meat.

If there's anyone PU recognises he'll offer either a professional nod to the more stern types or a slight friendly smile to any more relaxed

Vadeux had been to the Looking Glass before. Her first visit had been an ill-advised and gut-wrenching foray into the club’s lush AR environs. The night still haunted her. She could feel the ruff of rust-colored feathers and see the hungry gold-red eyes, taste the hot-coppery blood that the club’s technomancer AR jockey had spun just for her. Looking Glass was not an easy place for her to be.

The young woman shifts on her stool and looks down into her drink. Generously poured, it looks like ice water, though water is rarely served in a square tumbler with a tiny straw. The order had sounded sophisticated when she'd called for it ‘gin and tonic, please,’ something that would set her apart, above. She is definitely apart. Vadeux glowers and shakes her dark hair down around her face. She is dressed more or less appropriately, but is missing the very real feathers, fur and scales of the dancing menagerie. But mostly she is missing the exuberance. She sighs and looks up, eyes falling on a man across the bar who appears as discomfited as she does, she watches him sitting there. Worrying his drink. She cuts her glance away as he looks up hoping he hasn’t seen her studying him. He did. She gestures with her glass at him, a weak salute and checks the time. She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with smoke and incense and musk.

She closes her eyes and imagines the world as an invisible white speck in the distance. A white speck that grows until it fills her mind’s eye and vanishes. And reappears in the distance. The white speck. Growing. Advancing. Vanishing.

She opens her eyes, they are dark and dilated. Her breathing, her pulse, her movements are all in sync with the throb of the music and the dancers. She flips her hair out of her face slips off of the stool. She flashes a bright smile at the bartender as she wires him a tip and tabs out. She flips the switch on her commlink, the one that sends it – and her – underground. Hidden. She dances her way through the crowd, feeling the pull to stay, the press of hands and bodies, advertent and inadvertent physical invitations. She swallows, wondering how intense the club would be if she could immerse herself in the whole experience. She frees herself from the crowd at last, and takes a moment to steady her breath. To center herself again. A black speck in the distance. Growing. Swallowing. Vanishing. She pulls on the mask of The Professional.

She straightens her jacket and smoothes her hair. She won’t be able to approach Fixx’s impeccable appearance, but she can at least be presentable. The elevator chimes and Fixx steps off with Jake. Vadeux’s spirits wilt, though her face remains carefully expressionless. She blinks and moves smoothly to the booth. Widget, bien. A known quantity. She smiled a greeting and sat, scooting over as PU arrived. Of course, she thought. I should have known. She gave him a nod that acknowledged their out-of-place-comraderie at the bar.

Five thousand. Each. She tilts her head back, turning and opening her shoulders toward Fixx, a posture of interest. Eyes flicker around the table and Vadeux spies a new arrival. A woman emerges from the crowd, dark, self-possessed and confident. And fashionably late.

Vadeux blinks at the woman, preparing to make room if need be. She peels her eyes away from the woman’s striking entrance, “I would like to hear more of zee details now, Feex,” she murmurs.

Black Widow turned to the small child, "No thanks, prehaps a little later", and sent her on her way with a smile and a pat on the back.

She eased her way across the room towards the occupied booth. With subtle grace she eased herself onto the nearest avaliable seat. "I do appologize," she started brushing hair from her face tucking it behind her obviously pointed ears, "some men just don't know how to take no for an answer, I do hope he does not try phone that number. "

Black Widow continued, "Sounds interesting, but lets see what is involved first. ", after a quick recap of what was mentioned.

After returning Vadeux's nod PU watches Black Widow's arrival. At her announcement of unexpected difficulties in getting here he bites his tongue from making a quip, If this happens often I might have more on my hands here than I expected...

The Looking Glass
"The danger is commensurate to the pay. You will need to collect data from a secured terminal and extricate one patient. I have been told that the patient will be willing to come out, however his physical well-being is currently unknown.

"That unfortunately is all I will be able to tell you unless everyone here accepts the job. If you do not wish to accept, simply walk away now."

Fixx leans back in his chair and his eyes flicker momentarily as he retinally activates sub-menus on an image link. Soon a drone swoops down over the table with a collins glass half-filled with ice and a clear sparkling liquid.

Vadeux purses her lips and raises her eyebrows. Five thousand. I need it. And I don't want to say no to Fixx. Her eyes flicker as she does a cursory assensing of the assembled team. Fixx would have have put together an appropriate team, but Vadeux focuses on Widget's response. Widget is a technomancer, and the only one Vadeux knows at the table. With the data we'd need to grab... She looks at the other young woman trying to gauge if she will say yes or no.

Various questions running through her head Blac Widow calmly replied, "I accept, I'm sure we can discuss pay at a later stage once we have all the details but its a start."

Raising his eyebrows at the last statement PU sits back for a few seconds and thinks.

[i]5K for a potentially hot extraction with a guy in unknown condition...[ I do need that drekking wall fixing.../i]

PU barely considers the data retrieval aspect, this not having much bearing on his talents.

"I'm in, but would appreciate any additional details on the patient in case I need to bring any special items to ensure he's taken care of. I know you said his condition was unknown, but I'd like any sort of warnings on what might be expected given the circumstances he's in."

Hoping that Fixx has some sort of lead, and that the rest of the team are up to the challenge, PU takes another sip from his glass and waits for either Fixx to respond or someone else to ask questions.

The Looking Glass
"Well enough."

A small package appears on the table in augmented reality.

"Here's the data. It should give you enough leads to fill in any questions which are not directly answered. Any further questions can be sent to the contact number within. In the best interests for all involved, I don't know the exact contents of the data.

"Good luck. Please, excuse me."

Rising from the table with his glass in hand Fixx nods and departs. Within seconds he is lost within the gyrating mass of flesh which are the ravers.

The Package
Unfolding at the first touch, data streams into open devices within a meter of the object. A commcode is listed plainly amidst virtual pages and photos.

A man, possibly in his late twenties. Blonde hair, blues eyes and nothing remarkable about him. He appears to be in good shape with an obvious datajack. //Target "Finn" aka Joshua Finnegan aka Justin Clark--Status: "Unknown"//

A building, South Seattle Medical Center. 3100 South Airport Way. Satellite photos and ground surveillance depict a run-down clinic. The building has a history of being a bank and coffee roasting plant, though all records show the ovens were removed though the casing remained.

Request all data pertaining to the Tactically Augmented Organism (TAO) project including patient information of TAO 1-10.

Last known condition of target "Finn" was healthy. Warning: target is highly trained in self-defense and the use of personal arms and armament. Do not engage with hostile intent.

"Well that answers one or two questions and asks a whole lot more. Don't know about you guys but trying to extract someone who may not actualy be willing to come with, and is whom is very obviously trained and augmented to be a combat machine is not worth the 5k offered."

Black Widow paused a moment watching everyones reactions.

"Now we have a commcode so contacting the Johnson should hopefully not be a problem, we just need somewhere quiet and private to do so, anyone know of any good places?"

A little taken aback by the general pace of the meet, PU hesitates for a moment but gets back to studying the data.

"Fixx said he would be willing, but if he isn't I agree 5K isn't enough. If they warn a runner team not to engage with hostile intent, and knowing how cybered some runners are, then this guy must be quite something. If he's as tough as this makes him sound there's probably powerful people who ddon't want him to go missing, so 'm guessing the security will be tight. I could try and come upp with somewhere for us to meet up, but it would be seedyy at best so it might not be appropriate."

Offering some explanation PU adds "I do a lot of business with gangs, I'm a street doc, so the places I usually deal in aren't corper Johnson grade if you catch my drift"

Copperhead nods in agreement.

"Of course he will pay us more if there are any difficulties beyond what he knows. Such is the way such buisness works."

Copperhead had been on a few jobs that hadn't gone off as planned.

Widget watches the back and forth between the "team" members. Waving a hand to get everyone's attention. "We can head upstairs, I have a place here at the club. Just keep the weapons to a minimum or security will bounce your hoop with courtesy and respect." She looks around with raised eyebrows to see if they want to take the offer.

"I guess that's why they call them bouncers... Given that they even noticed my little Raecor I don't think weapons are an issue. I don't know how the drek they pulled that one off, those things are built to pass metal scans, but there you go. I'm clean, and I don't know what you others want to do but I personally don't get the impression you're about to start some trouble."

Of course PU didn't consider that Widget could have been bait and there be tougher types waiting in the room, or that Widget be a mage or shaman using a masking spell, but PU also wasn't quite a runner yet despite working in what you might consider the medical branch of the shadows for some time.

"In either case we need to at least discuss where each of us fits into this team. It would be good to know what talents are on hand."

"Upstairs works for me, saves us having to make a trip elsewhere."

"As for what I'm good at, I convince people that my way is the right way." Black Widow smiles sweetly.

Vadeux's commlink chimes and she puts on her shades. Her mouth tightens as she scans the data. She takes the glasses off abruptly after setting her commlink to break the data into a non-AR format. She swallows, looking a little pasty and brushes a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I'd like some air. It's a little stuffy in here."

The young woman scoots out of the booth and follows Widget to the elevator. She scans the crowd for Fixx, eyes roaming across the bobbing, thrashing heads looking for his striking blond hair. She gives up and realizes she was craning her neck and standing on tiptoes. She closes her eyes and centers herself again with the visualizations of fields of black and white. Her face is blank again.

Holding up the lift door, Widget motions for everyone to get in as she follows the last person and pulls the gate closed behind her. She quickly taps some keys to gain access to the living floor where her squat was. Leading everyone down the hall to her door, she opens the door and moves through the small studio. Pausing to scoop some clothes off the floor and throws them into a hamper.

"Enter and be welcome." Her tone is light and friendly as she moves to the small kitchenette. "So I guess we need to figure out more about this TAO thing and who this Finn character might be. I could do some looking out in the great big AR well." As she speaks she begins to make some tea and grab a handful of cups for the people in the room. "I do the machine thing for those of you I don't know, I go by Widget. I'm just starting out so go easy on me." She smiles as she comes back to the main room with a bowl of teas and hot water with cups.

Black Widow eases herself into the nearest chair, placing the package on the table in the middle.

"I think we need to gather our thoughts and questions, make a list then contact the Johnson and get some more details, and maybe discuss our pay."

"Well, as to my talents I'm the perwson who puts the pieces back together when things go wrong... literally. You might have guessed by now, I'm strictly speaking a street doc but I can look after myself in a fight. Name's Patch Up, P U for short. Don't ask, it's a long story..."

Similarly selecting a chair PU adds "Like I asked Fixx it would be useful to know anything about his medical situation. Special care needed, whether he's likely to have been subjected to tortures or drugs, that sort of thing. I can probably deal with most eventualities, but it's better to be on the safe side when this much is at stake."

Then he adds again, remembering the earlier concerns, "We also need to make sure he's willing. Like I said downstairs, if he's tough enough to warn a team of runners not to make hostile moves he probably isn't someone we want to tangle with if he doesn't want to come."

Vadeux ducks into the room and leans against the wall as the seats get taken. She listens politely to Widget's chipper banter and smiles when Widget hands her a cup of hot tea. She warms her hands on the outside of the cup and relaxes into her leaning perch as Black Widow and PU speak. PU? Like smelly? I'd like to hear that story some day... She purses her lips, On second thought... She smiles and clears her throat quietly, "I am Vadeux and I, like, Widget," her accent softens the edges of her words, elongates the vowels, "Am still new at this. If Fixx has brought me in, it probably means we will see magical opposition. I am how you say...? Slippery, to mages."

She nods at the others, "I am also interested in finding out about the TAO program and this Finn. His past, his expected condition and willingness to come with us."

"PU," she looks at the street doc, "Is this South Seattle Medical Center known to you? In truth or in rumor?"

Widget sits down on the floor with her back leaning against a wall. "Give me a few minutes to see what I can find out about the clinic, our package and this TAO reference." She takes a few sips of tea before setting it down on the floor. She breathes deeply and opens her mind to the AR world all around her.

At once she is floating in a void of light and sounds. She quickly opens her soul to the pulse, the beating of the machines all around that she feels just beneath her own heart. She sings out a note that carries across three tones, it echoes out around her and she soon hears an answering note. She struggles for a brief note to harmonize to the note but quickly finds the key its in.

When the note dies off a small swirling ball of light and sound forms in her hands. She soothes the small sprite as she whispers her needs to it. She lets it go and off it flies out into the void. With regret she drops back to her small body and her studio with the team. "Done, we should have some answers in about 30 minutes. This is the part where I shine so let me know what else we might need to know."

Copperhead leans against a convenient wall.

"The Widow and I are gonna need a full rundown on this building. Holographic views of the outside and the surrounding block, employee lists, utility information. The works. Don't worry about the inside, I think I can get a handle on that.

In a nutshell, we need to know if we have to walk, talk, or sneak into this building, and what the options are for all three of those scenarios."

Copperhead had not gotten to being an old thief by being a bold thief. The value of planning was not measured in nuyen, but in blood.

Widget nods at the request. "You got it, I'll need to wait for my friend to get back but after that I can see what I can dig up." She pauses to take another sip of tea before going on. "Also for planning I have several drones I can throw into the mix. A couple of tiny watcher types, one eye in the sky variety, and one for when things get tough. My only problem is I'll need someway to transport them. So who here is calling the Johnson about pay and the like?"

"The Johnson is probably expecting a call shortly, even if its just to make arrangements for a proper meeting, we can't take to long."

"More than one source on maps is always a good idea, people tend to cover things, with more than one reference we may be able to pick up discrepancies that might cover something."

Wow... Vadeux hadn't known what to make of Copperhead and and finds herself impressed by his straightforward rundown of what they needed. When the mention of calling their Johnson comes up, Vadeux's eyes move between Widow and Copperhead.

She holds up a hand, "I agree that we should check in soon and nail down the arrangements. But I think we should wait to see what Widget turns up. So we don't walk blind into the negotiations."

She pulls out her commlink, it has a small screen that she peers at closely, letting her mind rove over the quite good Seattle mapsoft she has, hoping to spur some thoughts about the area. Nothing inspiring comes to her. "I have nothing about the area, it is on the edge of and industrial zone, with the requisite warehouses and heavy equipment." She smiles weakly.

I wonder what is this business about the oven casings... she does a quick impromptu search on oven casings to see if any relevant data reveals itself.

"Word on the street is that it's getting more funding than it looks like, which seems to fit the bill of our info so far. There's suggestions that it's some company or corp who's had a merger to increase their capital. Other than that I don't know a lot. We can wait for the search to come back, or we could always try contacting the Johnson and make the meeting at a time afterthe search will have come back and we've had time to discuss it."

Whilst mentioning the Johnson PU glances over to Black Widow, since she as much as said her profession is dealing with people.

"There's a lot we need to work out, either ourselves or from the Johnson. I'm still to be convinced this guy will come willingly, which is more or less at the centre of this whole thing." PU gulped, he'd suddenly had a hint of the runner Paranoia, though his imagination is probably just running away with itself "I hope the drek this isn't the company trying to test this guy's abilities out..."

Shaking it off PU adds "We'll need to know how the Johnson found out the guy will come willingly, I don't think his current benefactors would exactly let him call up their competitors. If they've someone on the inside maybe they can offer help with internal layout and entrances."

Widget looks to Widow. "I think that's an excellent idea. So call the boss and address our immediate concerns then meet at a time when we have more info on the job so we can bargain with more authority. Do you want to do our talking?"

"Sure, lets make a list of immediate concerns and questions. " An AR notepad appears infront of Black Widow. Text scribbles out as she goes through a couple questions.

"Just how willing is Mr Finn to leave?"

"Who is the benefactor for this project?"

"What is the expected security?"

Black Widow continues to note down addition questions as they are brought up.

"What are Mr Finn's special abilities"

"This fragger's dangerous for some reason. Or we wouldn't be hired to get him. I want to know why"

Vadeux's eyebrows raise at the mention of a benefactor and PU's fit of paranoia flutters over to worry the young woman for a while, she says "Do you not think our employers would want to remain anonymous? Or that they would truthfully represent themselves?" She shrugs, "I will bow to the group's thoughts, but I think zat question is better left unasked. The other questions are good." Her accent thickens at the end.

"I'd never ask who's employing us, but I don't think asking who's behind the clinic would hurt. We wouldn't want to walk into the middle of an Ares-only party, and it would give us something to check. I know corps play it more subtle than the gangs I'm used to dealing with, but still we might be able to catch them on the hop if they're not playing it straight and we find something they've lied about. Knowing what they don't want us to know is almost as useful as the actual truth occasionally."

"I personally think it might be best to consider the possibility of Mr Finn not being willing to come either way. The company behind the clinic could be the one hiring us, or they might have fed our employers bad information leading them to think Finn wishes to defect."

Looking to Copperhead when he asks about Finn's capabilities PU adds "Like I said he must be pretty dangerous for them to warn runners against approaching with hostile intent, anything we can find out about his capabilities would be useful. Also if he's that dangerous the security must be pretty high to make sure he doesn't simply break out on his own. I'm guessing the company's not using Lone Star or Knight Errant for this, they must be big enough to have some of their own security forces that they can trust in a sensitive setting."

Widget seems to relax further into her self, her eyes take on the unfocused look of someone using AR. She holds up her hand to get the group's attention before she speaks.

"Ok the South Seattle Medical center began as a free clinic helping with industrial accidents and worker's injuries in the industrial areas south of Downtown Seattle. Following the Crash of 65, psychiatric facility began seeing a lot of patients with Artificially Induced Psychotropic Schizophrenia, at that point they received a corporate grant from Ikekara Inc. Ikekara shuttled the acute psych patients to a mental hospital and helped update the failing technology within the clinic. That's all I have on that."

"Alright this Finn fellow is up next. Mention of a shadowrunner named Finn comes up a few times. He has a diminished matrix presence, but he is said to be a professional gun. Specialties are longarms, with a special penchant for sniper rifles. Methodical, he's been seen most frequently with a fixer known as The Suit. The main thing that stands out is a shift in MO. Whereas previously he had been completely money driven, something happened around the time of the Comet to cause him to re-evaluate his position. Now he seems to have a strange moral agenda that is backing the runs he and his team take. I have no info on what may have changed his mind about criminal work but the comet fragged with a bunch of people so that could be reason enough. Maybe he SURGEd?"

"Here's the dark and twisted content. Tao Project - Tactically Augmented Organisms. No one has ever been able to prove the existence of a specific super-soldier program, but there has always been speculation. During the Crash, secrets were leaked from several hundred minor hosts that had become compromised. At that point, program goals of a Tao Project were leaked from a Takara Corporate host. Many people believed that the reference was to the Greek letter Tao, but conspiracy theorists within the shadows are saying that they might finally have the proof they need. Whether or not Finn was a part of the project is not clear but that might explain why he wants out. No one likes being a lab rat. Give me a second....."

She drops back into the void, feeling herself supported bythe pulse of the machines around her. The small concentration of light and sound hovers around her head. She draws a breath and humms several tones to the small sprite before sending it back out. Reaching back out and up she returns her awareness to her studio. "Ok I have a search going on the Ikekara name and we'll see what turns up.

Vadeux's looks approvingly at the young technomancer, "Mon dieu, nice work Widget," she looks down at the tiny commscreen in her hand, "I managed to find something out about the ovens that might help us. Or, rather, where the ovens used to be. It is possible that the ventilation the ovens required is not used anymore and can get us in quietly. I do not have any solid data on the building itself." She shrugs and sips at her tea, "Something to conisder."

She looks up from the screen and deflects any comments about her hand-held device, "The augmented reality... it makes me woozy." She flaps her hand near her temple.