His issue addressed, Josie answers, "Very well, I'm in."

Dr. Alfred Fitzgerald, likely male by the name. Hopefully not elderly, I can't stand trying to extract 80 year olds.

A-in nodded and meakly replied, "Yeah, me too." Inside, he felt as though he was quickly getting in over his head. My first job, and I'm going up against one of the Top Ten. He looked around as the remaining Runners said their bit, and with strangers, no less.

//Calendar

Benji'll have to cover another couple of shifts for me at Hooligans. The Mothers of Metahumans Rally is Thursday, I can set that up to run without me, but I think they'll want me on call even if it's just to come bail people out. Probably can do the UG Spring Children's fair planning committee meeting in AR if I need to, but that holoprojector at the rec center is on the fritz. But for ten thousand, I can manage it.

Josie is in. Don't sound much like a country Tusker when he talk like that.

Chiller grins widely, pausing in his slow head turns, he looks across at Josie inclines his head in an affirmative nod, then turning his head and focusing briefly on the man in the white suit sitting by the elf guarding Mr. Carver, "Tuskers got to work together, I'm in." He then resumes with a slow look around the table, still smiling.

Must be an interesting story there.

Let's see what questions the others come up with. Give a handle on what they care about, maybe a bit on what they can do. Pretty obvious what Josie and I get to do, act as spear carriers for the Man.

"I accept as well."

Mr. Scorpion paused for a moment, not taking his eyes off Carver even as he started to hear the replies from the other runners. After thinking for a second, he continued,

"I just have one question at the moment. How likely is it that Mitsuhama will want the doctor alive and his work intact? That will drastically change both their tactics and ours."

Patrick took his glasses off, polishing them off with a white cloth.

"Well well well; this all seems like a quite a nice deal you bring to the table, Signore Carver.

He blew on his glasses, apparently trying to clear something out of the lense.

"But I unfortunately do not believe that your first offer is enough... As you 've mentioned it" he slid his silver glasses back on his nose "this is a one shot operation; failure is not an option. There is also the restrictive timeframe: you are giving us only 5 days. That means 5 days to get the general feel for one another, do the recon, get the plan in order, get the gear, and pull the extraction. And this is a triple A megacorporation: their resources in guarding a certain subject, or coming after it, can be virtually unlimited."

He gave a quick look around the table. 10 000 was a very good price, but Johnsons always brought more cash than they needed, and Patrick was going to pull as much from this one's pockets as possible.

"All in all, with the high degree of complication of this whole affair, and all the risks involved, I am afraid we" he opened both his arms, as if designating the whole table "will need a higher payment".

Nvwati inclined her head in a slow nod. "I am in, as well."

At least this is a willing extraction. The other kind are just too much work, she thought to herself, remembering more than one bad job of that sort.

Mr. Carver looked as if he expected this sort of exchange. Speaking directly to Patrick, he says:

"As true as that may be, those mission parameters were factored in when I considered your direct compensation. Mitsuhama is certainly one of the larger and more powerful corporations around, but that just means they have more holes for you to exploit. Also, your liability for the client is limited to his retrieval and transportation."

"I'm afraid the best I can do is provide you the full expense allocation in advance. For this project, a maximum of 18,000 was available for approved expenses. I certainly see no problem with giving you the full amount today on a certified credstick. Would this allay any concerns regarding the amount of your payment?"

He looks around the room for general approval, but comes back to Patrick for a response.

A-in euetly watches the two men enter negotiations. He wished his team was chatting online so they could discuss things amongst each other before presentign them to the Johnson, but the Shadowrunner doing the talking seemed to be making some good points.

Then the Johnson responded with some good points as well. A-in could definatly see both men's arguments, and was glad he wasn't in charge of negotiating their compensation. It ended with what sounded like a small victory for the Shadowrunners. Looks like we got him for another 18 K, up front. I suppose he was already planning on letting us have it though. I'm not sure if we actually convinced him, or if he wants us to think he's being generous.

In any case, with 6 of us here, that 18,000 won't go far. 3,000 each for supplies for a run like you see on the trids.... and with 5 days, we're not going to have a lot of time to go shopping. A-in began to day-dream about what gear he'd want if he could get his hands on it within 5 days, and he kept seeing price tags well above 3,000 nuyen. Probably best just to use it as a group for one really nice thing (something that will actually help us pull this off), rather than each of us getting something cheap. Wonder if these other Runners see things that way? I better not bring it up right away, they might think this is my first time.

After hesitating a second, A-in speaks up, "Do you have a commlink ID for this 'Dr. Alfred Fitzgerald'?... and if he is in on this extraction, will we be planning it with him - or simply informing him of how it's going to happen? or is it best that he not know anything about it until it is happening?" He then seems to notice that his question was drawn out, and shuts up.

Mr Death
Mr. Money
Mr. Commlink
Josie Spear carrier 1
Myself - spear chucka 2
leaves the woman, process of elimination makes her Mz Mojo...

and I think the extraction target might work out as a rigger. Something to think about.

On the outside, Patrick was all smile.
On the inside, he was cursing in all the languages he knew.

It was obvious that the man was used to this kind of dealing. He almost hadn't flinched at Patrick's statements.

18 000... that makes about 3000 a head. Leftovers of about 2 000 after buying the gear...

Worst came to worst, Patrick could always make sure that all the needed gear was procured through him. Of course, he'd have to take his cut.

Leaning a bit back in his chair, both of Patrick's hands came up, joining finger in a pyramid shape. A slight smile crept up on his face.

"Eighteen? You've been allowed a maximum of Eighteen? You're already deploying 60 000 just for man power, and you're going to expect us to believe that you've been allowed 18 000 for equipment costs? I am not saying that this isn't doable for such a salary. You and I know very well that 10 000 a head if quite generous. What worries me is this fixed 18 000 issue. Since we know nothing of the target, it is a rather difficult thing to already estimate the kind of funds we will be needing. Extraction are best done when they are quiet, fast, and almost undetected. Unfortunately, stealth always costs more than blowing up the door, popping everything that moves and going back out. "

Uncrossing his hands, Patrick looked at Carver from over his glasses, fixing his deep brown eyes on him.

"This advance is generous... but does not cover the reality of the current market prices. Weaponry is starting to dry up, and electronic gear is getting more expensive by the day. Especially since the crash."

His gaze stayed on Carver for a few more seconds. Patrick than broke into a large smile, sitting back in his chair.

"But then again; we will make with what you give us."

He smiled at him.

At last, Mr. Carver finally looked ruffled. Patrick's acute negotiating tactics had backed him into a corner. He tapped at his commlink a few times, in silence, and then looked back at him, saying:

"I'm willing to go as far as 30,000 on the equipment. Obviously I want to make sure that you have everything you need to be successful, although as professionals you should already have at least a few tools. Your point is carried, but that is sincerely as much as I can provide."

Turning with pleasure to A-In, he replied:

"I am in contact with Dr. Fitzgerald, but certainly our communications with him must remain limited. I have an opportunity to meet with him once more in a public place, and one of your, uh, more discrete professionals can join me. I get the feeling he is being watched, though, so the less contact the better. There is no doubt he will be fully cooperative, since he is paying for this operation."

The girl inclined her head a few more times, once in appreciation of the smooth talking negotiation which had increased the upfront for the job by a significant measure. Her eyes wandered from person to person in the group and she tried to figure out how they fit together.

[OOC: Using names though she doesn't know them yet for clarity.]

Patrick had just shown his colors. He was a face, through and through, and would likely be an important part of the on-the-ground for this mission if subterfuge was chosen. She found herself forgetting what he looked like in the time it took her to glance to another person and that was the halmark of a good operative.

Chiller and Josie were both tuskers and there was only one reason you hired on tuskers for a sensitive job, unless one of them had some mojo and she hadn't had a chance to notice yet.

That just left A-In and Mr. Scorpion. The second one looked like a killer, so that was probably his role. The former was probably a rigger or techie. That was certainly a capacity missing on the team otherwise.

Three pieces of muscle, a face, and a maybe little bit of technical support. And I specialize in patching up big holes in people. This doesn't look like it's going to be a finesse operation.

When Carver practically doubled his price, Patrick could do nothing else but beam at him. With a bit of luck, the rest of team would appreciate what he had just done for all of them, and thank him later.

Maybe they'll let me pocket some of the surplus... After all, I got them the creds...

Taking a cigarette case from a breast pocket, he clicked it open.

"Well Signore Carver, that is a very generous offer. "

He slowly took a cigarette out, the closing metallic *click* of the cigarette case echoing in the room.

"You will not regret your... investment signore."

With a lighter matching his glasses, the irishman (passing for an italian) lit the cigarette.

"Count me in."

Looking at the "Italian" man as he talked with Carver, Mr. Scorpion thought to himself,

Of course. The first thing to come out of his mouth would have to do with the payment.

But then again, he did have a point. 18000 was a bit low, especially if they had to procure some more expensive methods of tackling the situation. Getting Carver to almost doulbe the up-front payment was impressive. Mr. Scorpion was going to wait until he heard all the details before worrying about the payment, but it was nice to get that out of the way up front.

Of course, Mr. Scorpion wasn't thinking about the money exactly. 15000 per person was pretty good, but he was more concerned with what they would need to simply complete the run. Going against a major corporation like Mitsuhama would take more resources, and would be a lot mroe difficult, even with the supposed "additional holes" to exploit. As he thought about this, Mr. Scorpion turned his attention back to Carver.

Josie was floored, but kept his mouth shut. His idea of negotiation was to simply say 'no' to a job that seemed unrealistic. He had done a good job up until now of sticking to contacts and employers he could trust. Oso and McNader understood him, and knew that cheating him meant losing a useful resource. He quickly realized that these one-shot Johnson's had no such issues, and played by completely different rules. He was glad someone was looking out for his interests.

Gravy, these guys are squeezing Carver like a ripe melon. 5 large buys a lot of insurance.

Chiller continuous his slow metronomic scanning back and forth, pausing at various moments in the interchange to focus a bit on the speaker if they happened to be whom he was looking at.

Mr Money is really sharp, give Streets a challenge, except he'll need to run that trick against four or five people at once. Labor and equipment is all the same to this Tusker, I am the tool. I got the equipment.

Chiller smiles wider.

Must be something tough behind this, Mr Carver caved. Mr Money has got to do the bail hearings for the MOM protesters next week.

Chiller almost laughs as his glance passes across the slick signore. But almost immediately he pauses thoughtfully.

Better chill myself.

Frag! The extraction target is footing the bill, this could go really bad, someone is going to think about turning him over. Megacorp on one side, and this doctor going independent doesn't balance. When fighting the megacorps men, you need to get them working against each other. One man alone don't cut it.

Chiller comments, "And now for all the stuff we haven't been told yet."

Tuskers used to being kept in the dark... let's see what we are allowed to know.

Carver continued,

"Well, I have a datachip prepared with Dr. Fitzgerald's lab location in the Mitsuhama complex, as well as some basic building diagrams and layouts. I'm sure most of you are familiar with their 6-building corporate center out on the south side. The Drone Research Center is located in Building 5."

"Also included is a list of code letters and colors, with their corresponding meanings. Please use a great deal of discretion when contacting me: use the codes and make sure your comm has a decent encryption cipher installed. The safehouse drop point location is also included. You will be taking Dr. Fitzgerald to a basement apartment in Renton, where my agents will meet you at 17:00 on Friday and take custody. The chip has an access key necessary to enter the apartment."

Delicately reaching into his suit pocket, he produced a credstick and then tapped it to his comm. He then removed a datachip from his comm as well, and slid the two items over to A-In.

"I trust you, A-In, will make a suitable custodian of these items for the group?"

A-in nodded and responded, "Yes, thank you." Then he hesitantly took the chip and the credstick. He couldn't remember if he had used his name or not when texting the Mr. Carver earlier, but he was a little surprised the Johnson knew it. Perhaps Open Casket had mentioned it. He hadn't used anyone else's name, at least, and this made him feel a little bit special. He was also holding 30,000 in his hand. What if this isn't okay? He quickly added, "...if it is alright with everyone else, that is."

He then looked around to see if there were any objections.

Why does Mr Commlink look familiar?

Chiller shrugs in response to the question.

We need to get out of here and start working things out. Looks like we got all the basic information that we can. Time for the legwork.

"Fine by me, for now," Josie responds, "I don't have anything else to ask. If the rest of you are ready, we should swap comm codes and choose a place to plan."

Nvwati pauses for a moment, as though trying to think of anything else she can ask but comes up short. Then she nods and rises. "Sounds good to me."

She flipped her commlink into passive mode and prepared to exchange numbers.

A-in put the credstick and the datachip in his pocket, along with his commlink. A second later a passive wireless node appeared in AR, as A-in wirelessly changed the device mode of his commlink. With the difficulty he was having communicating with the Matrix outside the walls of this room, A-in felt confident that his commlink was safe from prying eyes not privy to this meeting. Sure enough, in his vision in AR, he saw a red icon blinking connectivity icon informing him that his commlink was unable to locate a wireless Matrix access point within range.

Noticing the appearance of the various icons in AR, Chiller kicks off the routine of exchanging commcodes.

Focus on what's real. AR can tell you a lot, but in the end it's going to be a bullet that hits you in the gut, and it's only in the trids that everyone has AR bullets.

Both palms on the table, Patrick got up from his chair. He looked at everyone around the table, assuring to make eye contact. The irishman gave a subtle nod to A-In, and settled his attention on Carver.

"I we don't have any further inquiries... for the moment. We'll contact you if anything should arise."

Straightening back up, Patrick picked up his hat and turned his attention toward Josie.

"Indeed Signore, that would be the thing to do."

Seconds later, Patrick had his commlink out, and running in active mode so everyone could pick up his signal.

Puffing some smoke toward the ceiling, Patrick smoothed some imaginary wrinkles out of his suit, as he walked around the table. Slowly he paced up A-In's back, his eyes obvious looking for an ashtray.

"Unless someone has some objection, Signore A-In" he rested one of his manicured and smooth hand on the young man's shoulder "and I will go secure a safehouse right away, so we can start this operation as soon as possible."

He gently tapped on the young man's shoulder and smiled at him... as if trying to transfer his own composure and calm.

This way, I can always take a little cut off the top

Carver stood up again, personally greeting the ones around him as they prepare to leave.

"Very well, our deal is concluded. Please keep me informed of your progress. As for tonight, Mr. Hawthorne will see you all back to the club. Best of luck."

He seemed relieved to have something going on this project, and somewhat confident in your abilities to get it done. The elf in the corner continued to observe what was going on, although his cigarette was long gone. Hawthorne, on the other hand, stood up as well and opened the door, expectantly waiting for the characters to file out.

A-In

With the meeting over, Mr. Scorpion took one last look around the room as he stood up. As he got up, he flicked his commlink over to active, just long enough to transfer comm IDs with everyone else before switching back to hidden.

Before leaving, he turned to Mr. Carver and asked,

"I'm assuming Mitsuhama knows nothing about your connection with the doctor and thus nothing about this meeting. I would hate to have our planning go to waste due to an early ambush."

When the "Italian" man offered to go secure a safehouse, Mr. Scorpion nodded as he walked to the door. He figured the man was going to try and worm some extra cash for himself from the supply budget, so he made a mental note to independantly check whatever expenses they rack up.

As Mr. Scorpion was escorted by Mr. Hawthorne out of the room and back to the bar, he turned back to the group,

"Just let us know when you've found a secure place. I think it would be best if we worried about planning tomorrow."

With that, Mr. Scorpion walked out of the room and back to the bar, to finish the drink he ordered before they went in.

After Mr. Scorpion's query, Carver, looking insulted at the suggestion, replies:

"I can assure you, I have taken the necessary steps to keep this operation discrete. Like you, I make a living of this business."

Josie's comm activity shows up even though he doesn't seem to be physically doing anything more than getting up from the table. He shows very little interest in socializing, and steps out to trade his tag in for his weapon.

Something does not bode well here. Not merely the mission, I won't have a sense of that until after I've seen the contents of that chip.

Chiller follows Josie, stationed the usual pace and a half behind. He grins widely at the interchange in the back room, then composes himself as he trails Josie through Matchsticks.

This could be rough work, let's see if we can settle before do a run against a megacorp.

I think the kid will at least be able to count the money. Be intersting how the numbers turn out though.

Why threaten the Johnson? Maybe Mr Death knows him.

I might have time to get back to Hooligans tonight and see what's up.

Josie speaks with Chiller as they leave.

"Interesting group. The kid doesn't bother me, guys younger than him used to lie about their age to work where I used to. Don't know where his skill lies yet, though. I couldn't get any kind of reading from the woman. The other two... Euro goon and Grumpy. They've got their own thing going on."

Josie unlocks his helmet from his motorcycle.

"I'll ask Oso if he's heard of anyone having much success with the Mitsies, McNader too. While I'm at it, I'll make sure Dr. Yes has his blood bank fully stocked."

Nvwati realized that her lips had suddenly gone dry as she made her way out of the club. She'd just agreed to pull a job on the main headquarters of a major megacorp. Drek. This ain't going to be amature hour. There wasn't going to be any room for error, and complications could well prove fatal.

She didn't want to go all the way back to her place. In fact, she'd prefer to keep a wide distance from there while the job was going on. Instead, she was thinking about a particular coffin hotel that she knew of that didn't ask many questions as she walked out the front door of Matchsticks.

As Mr. Scorpion finished his drink, he couldn't help but think of what happened at the meeting. He got the impression that the rest of the people there didn't like him much. Carver's response to his question certainly wasn't in a friendly tone. Oh well, it was still a valid concern. The talk about being able to meet the doctor in public before the actual job meant that they all needed to be extra careful. And even if Carver was, it was still a good idea to at least ask.

As for the others, well he didn't expect them to like him, they just had to cooperate for the job. He'd just have to wait to hear back from A-In and the Italian guy about a safehouse before they worried about planning. After they looked over the data Carver gave them, this team would have to figure out what other information they needed to dig up before the run, and Mr. Scorpion was already thinking about what to do from there.

Paying the bartender for the drink, Mr. Scorpion headed outside to hail a cab.

Chiller grunts as Josie speaks to him.

Cancel Hooligans, pretty much everything for this week.

While replacing his taser in his arm sliding holster, "Better not head home, or any of the usual places till this is done. Given what we are dealing with we could already be tagged. Tuskers are on the clock as of right now."

A-in nodded at Patrick, and it took him a moment to form the right words. "Sure, we can go do that. I'm afraid I don't know mcuh about securing safehouses - but if you can handle that, I can certainly arrange the finances." He patted his pocket where he put the credstick.

In AR, he recorded everyone commcode IDs as they come online, so he could contact them later.

"Shall we take your car, or mine?"

As he followed the young man out of the room and back into the club, Patrick chuckled at his question.

When he spoke, his tone of voice definitly sounded different. The italian accent was completely gone, and so were all the mannerisms that had been his for the past minutes.

"I hear ya mate." he said thru a heavy irish accent. If he wasn't irish, he was damn good at faking it.

Patrick ran a quick hand thru his hair, undoing them in brusque manner that would have been out of place for an italian businessman.

"That sure does depend on wyer or not ya got yserlf a nice ride mate."

As he started walking toward the door, the flipped his hat in his hands, putting it back on his head. He turned slightly toward A-In, making sure the young man was following him.

"Were going to have a grand quare week... so we'll go and hit the pavement this night. There's no point in foosting about the rest of the group's time. What dyou think mate?"

Sat 12 April 2070 21:35 - Exterior Matchstick’s, 4th Ave N and Denny Way, Downtown - Seattle, UCAS

Nvwati, Chiller, and Josie, exiting at about the same time, notice the scene outside the club has changed for the worse. A Mercury Comet convertible, black with flames painted on the hood, is parked roughly 20 ft from the entrance at the curb, its engine idling with a noticeable grumble. Two individuals, wearing black and orange leather jackets, are seated in the passenger side seats. Three others, similar to the ones in the car, are standing next to their bikes, parked behind the car. Their helmets on and visors up, they appear to be chatting.

Down 30 ft from the entrance next to the building, two men are having a heated conversation with two human females. At this distance, you can certainly hear some yelling, and it doesn't sound nice. One man has a pure orange jacket and matching mohawk. The other is wearing a black long coat and has Kool-aid red hair.

Mr. Scorpion, Patrick, and A-In are still passing through security, but are just on the other side of the front doors. The two bouncers are handling a small amount of club traffic, and seem to be ignoring the problem for the moment.

A-in follows Patrick along and, although he notices the drastic change in accent and demeanor, he keeps his mouth shut about it. I'm not exactly sure what advantage is gained by making the Johnson think you're Italian - especially if this Johnson already knows a bit about us... but I'm sure this guy knows what he is doing.

"Yeah," he answers as they are crossing the bar. "It is a pretty nice car, I'll have it meet us out front." Then, with a moment of concentration, he send a call out through the matrix commanding his sedan to pull up out front.

Chiller looks along the street, then at Josie, and finally at Nvwati.

"If this Tusker had a ride like that, he'd have to fight the honeys off."

Admiring the convertible, then grinning broadly he asks, "Shall we take a closer look?"

Ones in the car are out of it, take em out first if we initiate. See which way the ones on the bike break, gangers are hard to predict. No reloads, probably need to break a few bones then.

Josie will back the play either way, let's see what how Mz Mojo wants it.

Chiller checks his arm slide, ensuring the sleeves of his suit jacket are clear, while he looks directly at Nvwati inquiringly.

What is Chiller up to?

Ordinarily, Josie would be perfectly happy to let the gangers be and not get involved. He wasn't happy with what the two were doing with the girls, and might be willing to do something about it. Joygirls usually knew where to find a nice out-of-the-way hotel with surprising privacy. He'd have to make at least one trip back to his apartment to pick up his tools, having company along would certainly help.

Guessing at Chiller's intentions, Josie has his smartlink chamber a round in his Fichetti and turns off the safety.

"Messing with those guys ain't what we're being paid for. Don't do anything that's going to get our faces on a star watch list or land us in the tank," Nvwati said. "If you think they'll listen to reason... then feel free."

Silently, she called into the depths of the astral, urging her summoned spirit to present itself on the astral but not to manifest. When the cloaked, eerily silent figure appeared there, she suppressed a shudder. The hooded ones always came to her call, but she was never quite sure what they were. Over the years she'd come to suspect that they were dead men who had failed to find their rest.

Nodding once, Chiller keeps grinning, "Yeah, good to hear the smart play lady. Too bad, but I guess a convertible doesn't make much sense with the amount of rain here. Have to keep the hood up most days. Not a reasonable car."

Pointing back at the bouncers, "I can hang around chatting to Tiny a bit, make sure everyone else gets clear. Give the word to the others."

Chiller begins to drift back to the Matchsticks entrance.

The arguing continued, in more heated voices. Suddenly, the one of the females said clearly and loudly:

"Get lost, drekhead!"

As if on cue, he laid into her. You could almost hear the thud from here, then a soft yelp. The man in the orange mohawk had hit the blonde, hard, knocking her off her feet. She staggered backwards and then braced herself against the brick wall. He then grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and started dragging her dazed form over to the car. The brunette, the other girl, seemed to be interfering as much as possible, but the second man in the red hair and the black long coat was holding her back.

As Patrick shiny dress shoes hit the sidewalk outside Matchsticks, he noticed the "argument" going down. Three of the operatives he had just met seemed to be contemplating the scene with a certain.... Well, he wasn't sure what they were thinking. The whole situation surely wasn't any of their business.

As he lit himself another cigarette, he turned his attention back to A-In, completely ignoring the gangers.

"Shiny mate. Let's get on the road. I gotta make some calls."

As A-in's car rounded the corner and made its way up to the bar, he pointed at the gangers as if in answer to Patrick's comment. "But, look!"

Kind of insulting really. Right in front of a crowd.

Revealing gleaming tusks with his grin, Chiller takes a few steps back to the club, where hearing A-in, responds, "Noticed the car then, nice, but very impractical."

Better commit soon, once they are moving, it's going to be much harder. Unless...

"But if you like the car, you might want to find out whom to contact about it."

Hopefully they stop someplace quiet that isn't filled with more of them.

Nvwati watched the incident, but little else. To anyone nearby, she remarked, "Orange mohawk's got some wires, but I can't get a read on the other one. They don't look like the friendly sort."

Otherwise, she shows no inclination to get involved, even with the escallation.

A-in nodded at Chiller and Nvwati when they seemed unconcearned about the fate of the woman. "Right... we've got a mission.... Got it."

A-in walks out to his car and two beeps sound just before his hand opens the driver's side door. As the door opens, loud techno-trance music blares out of the vehicle, in sharp contrast to the Jazz coming from within the bar.

A second later, the music cuts out, and A-in looks a little red in the face.


Once they are both inside, A-in asks Patrick, "So, got an image-link, navagator?"

Being held up by everyone else who checked weapons meant that Mr. Scorpion was one of the last to leave Matchstick's. As he tapped an AR icon to call a nearby taxi to pick him up he noticed the "incident" unfolding off to the side, as well as the fact that most of the other runners from the bar were observing the scene. He couldn't tell if they were planning to do something, or were just shocked by the opennness of it all in a more upscale part of town, but he certainly didn't want to get involved.

Great. The absolute last thing we need is to get Lone Star involved here.

The sudden blaring of techno music caught Mr. Scorpion's attention, as he saw the Italian guy and the kid get in a car that pulled up.

Good idea.

Right now, leaving was probably the best course of action, as he didn't want to be anywhere around here in case things with these gangers got worse and attracted police attention. With a small beep, Mr. Scorpion's commlink indicated that a taxi responded to his request, and that it was on its way. Until it got there, though, Mr. Scorpion setpped back towards the club a bit, trying to keep himself out of sight and thus not likely to be dragged into anything.

In a few moments, the blonde was "helped" into the backseat of the convertible by the two goons already in the passenger side seats. The brunette was back at the side of the building, looking disheartened by the turn of things. Once the yelling stopped, the few people in line for the door failed to pay a lot of attention to what was going on.

The man in the orange mohawk took a seat on the driver side, while the guy in the black long coat stood next to the car, taking a look around at the entrance to the club and the patrons standing on the sidewalk. He reached into his pocket for some smokes, and lit one up, watching the crowd and the characters closely. His vision centered on the tusker in the suit, while the engine of the convertible revved up again.

The three men standing next to their bikes get on, and start their engines as well.

Chill it. Kid's out.

Don't look him in the eye.

They probably won't chop her into little bits. Most likely she'll live. Let them move out.

//wires OFF

Chiller forces himself to slow down. Sighing as he looks down the street, peering over the very light traffic, as if looking for his ride.

Make like a statue. Think calm thoughts.

//wires ON

Convertible doesn't really conceal much, 25 ft, they won't be moving very fast when they roll by, let them roll, but watch them. They usually show something just before they pull a stunt. Ignore the bikes, too many separate targets, and they need the rider to handle them, not like the car, lots of extra hands in there.

Just don't look right at them.