Avenger's smile disappears and his professionalism appears, he sits, lightly tapping the table with his fingers.

*gore puts his hands together on the table*

Mr. Crawford, what abilities does this person have to be able to break out of a high security establishment of the law?

what information can you give us aboutthe mark? if any at all ???

As Sebastian enters the room and the door shuts(after utrning off his electronics, Sebastian's face pales and the smile that seemed eturnally of his face stops. His eyes go wide. "I...I... I don't uncerstand... I don't... where.....is everything....." Sebastian mutters barely audably. It looks like Sebastian might throw up and is deadly pale. He take a seat and you are all pretty sure if he had pupils he would be staring blankly. He doesn't respond to the question of what we know of the run.

*gore looks at sebastion and turns his commlink back on setting his pan to broad cast*

That should help one of your ilk,so rumour has it

Sebastian jumps onto the pan, his mind racing around its limited space, clinging to it like a floating spar in a storm. The body lets out a shuddering sigh of releif. His posture relaxes some, but is obviously still not comfortable.
"THank you so much," Sebastian says, at almost a whipser. He pulls himself together.
"Tir... ain't that going to be expesnive? We should have lots of money for supplies and passports and the like." Sebastian tries very hard to focus on the meeting, but is still obvious severelly unnerved

"Well the target, is a criminal who was arrested for stealing rare magical artifacts from corporate vaults, we were actually going to transfer her today to Catalyst Inc. to stand trial before thier court."

He watchs the subtle display between Sebastian and Gore thinking to himself about how hard it's going to be on him in the militarized zone.

"Your target's name is "Jewel" and as far as her abilities go, we couldn't get a good fix on her potential, she wields magic, we know that, but the extent of her abilities are unknown. We do know however, from the security feeds that she opened the door to her cell, somehow, killed the gaurd who was walking by, a good friend of mine I might add, and managed to break into the evidence room and steal, again, the sword and book she was arrested for stealing in the first place."

Jack Crawford, being a man who always knew what to do and what to say, in that brief moment between pausing, like a good speaker, to let the information soak in, looked scared and small. He knew the power of what those objects were, and he knew that these were dire straits to have to hire a bunch of shadowrunners to get them back, but he wasn't going to tell them that they were thier prime objective. He knew a thing or two about the shadows and more specifically a thing or two about the shadowy folks sitting like the knights of the round table in front of him. And that's not far from what they were either, if the sword and book fell into the wrong hands, say someone who had aquired the third artifact, that would spell disaster for life as everyone had grown accustomed to.

"The sword, in case your wondering is rumored to be a powerful weapon that when wielded by an awakened individual would make then extremely powerful in open combat. As far as the book goes, I know very little about it."

"Now I suppose your all wondering about money, since you've got me over a barrel as it were, I am prepared to be very generous in regaurds to payment. I have spoken with my superiors and I am offering 10,000 per member, with a bonus if you manage to retrive the artifacts as well."

He reaches under the table and pulls a briefcase out, placing it on the surface of the table. He fumbles around with the analog locks for a moment, the with two clicks the briefcase is open, and he spins it around revealing at a glance, what looks like 15,000 .

"Fifteen thousand nuyen, cold hard cash, no traces, no paper trails. You'll get the rest upon sucessful delivery of the...merchandise," he says this last bit with a smile broadening on his face.

Avenger finishes his scotch and leans forward a bit listening in more to the conversation. "Sounds pretty fair, but I have 2 requests. 1) Full file on Jewel. Everything that Star's ever scanned on her. We need the info one way or the other, and this way is best for all parties concerned. 2) A vehicle registered anywhere waiting for us in the tir. Even a car from the impound lot, but again, for all parties concerned, this would probably again be best coming from your end, the nicer the car, the easier you'll make our jobs. IF we get that, I'm in and you've got a deal." Avenger sits back again drinking the ice from his scotch.

"Well I have the file on my commlink, so that's no trouble but a vehicle inside the tir, that might be a problem," he looks concerned but not afriad every little bit of the unease he had been expirencing earlier was gone.

"Besides, how would you get the car into the conflict zone," he asked genuinely curious.

"Who says the car is going in? But, from what I am understanding, is we're gonna be spending time in the Tir, a car already there could come in handy many ways." But in a wry smile that seems to defy his natural demeanor, "But never underestimate the power of conventional spraypaint."

"As far as politics are concerned that's a noman's land, so it doesn't really mean you have to come from the Tir side," he says firmly. "But frankly I don't care how you do it so long as you do it."

"Ummmm... Avenger... I don't mean to be rude, but aren't you being rude? I mean, we were called here to work together, so you shouldn't really be speaking just for yourself, should you? Unless you are planning on doing this alone." Sebasian ask. "I think it would be great if we could discuss this for a moment. If everyone could turn on their PANs... we could discuss this. But not you please MR. Jack."

On the PAN...
Sebastian's person is standing there, in his sculped reality. It looks like the virtual equivlent of a heaven that underwent a halocaust. Once heartbreakingly pure and Ideal landscape has been BADLY corrupted. sections are pixelled or lost in a haze of static, or otherwise jammed or Derezzed. On what might have once been a pedastulle stands a figure that once may have been an angel. It has six wings formed of static and fractured images, stray pixels and simular digital maddness. Four of the wings incased the FIgure like a cocoon, while the other two kept it aloft. you could see past the wings in a few locations. A heartbreakingly pure eye that eturnally shed a crystal tear. A statuest wrist, a glimmer of a robe and behind the robe a chest that may or may not have breathed. And the most Disturbing thing about the persona, was that it seemed completely realistic, rather then the CG style that was common and accepted in the matrix.
Once everyone who is going to be showing up arrives, either via message or submersion, Sebastian asks.
"If we are going to accept this, I think we should ask for more money. The girl killed nine guards escapeing, and there are only 5 of us."

This fragging J, asks me how i'd do it, and trying to pass it off saying he doesn't care... he's lucky he still needs his damn jaw intact before I give him a friendly makeover with my fists. Avenger wrinkles his nose around a bit as if he smelled something bad.

As Sebastian speaks, he politely nods, and unhides his comm persona switching to AR mode, someone paying real close attention could be able to make out the flashes of lights in her cybereyes as the matrix filled his view. Sorry to speak out of turn, if that's how you feel, Sebastian. But yes, I was speaking for myself, and yes, I'd take the job alone anyway.Fragging n00bs, I wonder how long the J reserved the room for.... heh

"Since we have come here together for a job, we should speak together" Sebastian says, "At least, I am pretty sure it should be done this way. It strikes me as profound discourtisy to the rest of us to do otherwise. But let us forgive slights and move on. Nine gaurds killed. War zone, internation politics, and 10k each? that seems like far to little nuyen to me. But I am not good at these things. Can anyone suggest a better price?"

Damned PAN nonsense Al thinks as he hauls out his pathetic commlink and accepts Sebastian's Pan so that he can keep an eye on their discussion on his miniscule viewscreen.
Then he takes the opportunity to speak his fill to Crawford -
"Alright, Boss, got me some question marks.
"First off, I wanna know what you know about any outside help the li'l missy had - an' don't go all quiet-like on me, 'cuz we both know her makin' her play at the exact same time them there revenoor riots jist happen'd to go down is all a bit too neat. Takes some serious juice to start a big enough ruckus to occupy all o' yer boys.

"Next - have you maintained the lock on her commlink? If so, we're gonna need access to the real-time feed. If you lost it, we gonna need the exact when o' that an' the percise co-or-din-aytes, includin' altitude if I can't lay may hands to a recent topuhgraphikul overlay - winter's comin' on an' that's mountain country

"Furthermore, since ya say yer operatin' on both sides o' the war zone down there, kin ya ferry us down to a jumpin' off point? Now, far be it from me ta speak fer everyone, but seems to me we got no dandelion munchers amongst our number here, and we'd best start from the south side. Naturally if ya helped us out this way, we'd make it far enough out so's you could maintain yer all-important deniability. You've made it pretty clear when it comes to bizniss or justice, well it seems clear where yer priorities lie.

"An' speakin' o' justice, you ain't specified what condition you want the li'l lady back in. Right important piece o' infermation, that.

"Which brings me ta my final query for the momint - once we got 'er, where ya want 'er? Seattle seems mighty far if ya got facilities closer ta hand."

just like Davin said, looks like hell in a hand basket but sharp as any there ever was

"Ah yes, we lost track of her commlink, in Scott Valley, it's 41 36'03.52" N 122 36' 17.40" W, at 2723 feet above sea level. The commlink was reported by our tracker to have entered into one of the areas that is notorious for sporatic, at best, matrix coverage, but we've had people watching the matrix to see if she reemerged and theres no track. The last we heard was early this morning."

He inserts a chip into his commlink, pulls it out and tosses it across the table to Al, "That's all the data I have on it, there is a map, but you'll have to get the topography yourself, unfortunately."

"I'm not sure about the outside help angle, the sheer amount of resources required to spring her, and from the security videos she fled on foot and acted along, would be mind boggling. If you want to take it a step further and she's got some very powerful contacts that could arrange a riot, then we're all in way over our heads. But it occures to me that an operation such as that would cost a fortune, and it would be cheaper to let her rot and wait until we transfered the goods back to Catalyst, since until two days ago nobody had every broken in or out of the prision but somebody had managed to access Catalyst's vault. So it would only be logical to just break into thier vault again."

"My heart tells me that you should bring her back simply alive, but the beurocratic side, and the one I'm going to have to listen to in this case unfortunately, says that she needs to be in good shape, that's not to say unscathed but definately nothing serious, I don't want to spend any more tax payers money fixing her up if catalyst decided to just execute her."

"Now about travel arangements, that's something I might be able to do, I've got a friend in the, well it doesn't matter what his buisness is, but I'm sure I might be able to convince him to take you there, just so long as your not afraid of boats. I'd like you to get in contact with me as soon as you have her, and based on your location we'll find the best drop point."

*gore raises an eyebrow, when mr crawford mentions 2 artifacts*

Well Mr. Crawford you can count me in, the artifacts will be recovered in good time, along with the said "perp".

*gore seems to ignore the text message's on his commlink*

Is there anything we need to know about the artifacts?, like bound spirits that protect them? Incantations to activate? General strange goings on when they are in the vicinity?

He looked over at Gore barely able to mask his suprise, for the most part he thought that it was just Al and himself not fully meshed, but these guys were tricky, and full of suprises.

"As I said I know next to nothing about the book. All I can tell you is that it is the K'tala. Now the sword, that's another story. Our initial thaumographic scans of the weapon, revealed that it was inhabited by a type of spirit never before seen, we didn't run too many tests on it, mainly because we didn't have it for long, but also because some of the whizkids claimed it was cursed. They said that who ever wielded it would be virtually undefeatable in combat, but that invulnerability came at the price of your sanity. Of course I think it's a load of horse drek myself, I've seen the weapon, it's nothing but a rusty old hunk of metal."

He stopped now paranoid of other people coming back into the conversation. He placed his hands, which were behind his head, firmly on the table and added on final comment on the subject, "There was an inscription running down the length of both sides of the blade, on side an exact mirror of the other, the strange part is they were written in such a way that they both said two completely different things. One side read, let the lost be found, and the other side read, and let the found be unfound."

Al catches the tossed chip, making it disappear.

"Well Gore, sounds like this is right up your alley, after them yarns 'bout that Divinichi feller. Fer my part, I reckon if she had the dingus when the Star grabbed 'er, and she still got roped, it likely ain't all it's cracked up ta be.

"In any case, at twenny-seven-hunnert feet in November, we're gon' hafta git cold ta git there. Hell, if this place really is a valley, might have to go higher 'fore we kin git lower.

"But that's gon' be our end. Let's talk a bit more 'bout your end," Al rasps, turning back to Crawford. "That commlink trace is our best lead, an' we 'preciate your stayin' on top of it. If your folk're still doin' that, we'd be expectin' a heads up if they hook anything.
"Elsewise, though, would be ta jist give the 'code ya got ta us'n - seems we got some fellas real well cut out fer keepin' tabs on the naughty missy's headware. Either way, we'll thank ya fer that code, assumin' it's not already on this here doohickey," he says, rematerializing the optical chip.

"As fer the boat ride, sure ta cost us a few days from here ta NoCal, but otherwise I got no neverminds personally, but it ain't fer me ta decide. I reckon they all'll letcha know whut they think once they wrap up their little online chat."

"Yes I took the liberty of putting the commlink code on the datachip, I figured you'd ask for it eventually. But if we pick anything up, and we can contact you, that is to say your in an area were you have matrix access, we'll send it your way post haste."

*Gore Rubs his chin slowly*

I've heard of the k'tala, a very potent magical item indeed, this sword though ... im trying to think which item this would be from legend.

As for this Jewel person, i hope Lonestar will be providing a mage mask and shackles for capture of a magic user, i would aquire them myself but im new in town and havent found the best magical shopping centres yet.

"I will require some items from you. Seeing as this job is time sensitive, I don't have time to go through my normal avenues of acquisition. I will require an armor jacket with a good insulation modification, a quality medkit, and 100 gel rounds with clips for an AK-97. As Al said, it's going to be cold and as for the other two... those are to make sure Jewel makes it to you in good condition."

Patch turns on his comlink. He enters in AR an makes a very blunt statement. "I've asked for specifics I need, but this job seems like a little too much risk for the reward. Someone with a little better skill needs to ask for more money."

Jack rubs his five o'clock shadow and thinks for a moment. When he speaks he seems almost embarassed, "Anything I'd be giving you would come out of a lone star supply room somewhere, and-- we don't use gel rounds," he frowns almost appologetically, "With the Star it's taser or shoot to kill."

"But I can help you with a halfway decent medkit, and an insulated jacket, though it won't quiet be as armored as you'd like, I suspect," he nods making mental notes to himself to get the paperwork for supply room loss on his way back to the office. Was it a PRN-114 or a NPO-926 for shrinkage-- eh, I'll just ask judy, she know how to keep her mouth shut about things like that.

Both the extremes and nothing in between eh?

*Gore looks around*


*he then shakes his head*


Are we set then gentlemen? as it is quite late and i want to get back for my beauty sleep

*Gore Smiles*

"Well in our defense, we do have clubs too," he chuckles at his own attempt at humor.

Al lit another magically appearing Lucky, leaned back in his chair and blew a smoke ring. He'd said his piece and gotten the information he wanted. He was starting to think these shadowrunners were onto something - he couldn't imagine what sort of money they usually earned if Y10,000 plus a possible bonus sounded too low to them. Hell, I'd go fetch this wiz-girl muhself for jist the three-thou ante. The robot guy wanted a better negotiator to step up - If only he knew the kind o' negotializin' talent wuz sittin' right here at the table with 'im - but my Ma din'n't raise no sons to look gift horses in the mouth, nosirree.
He'd been on the docks since five this morning, and right now he agreed with Gore - time to hit the saddle. Hopefully the fellas would agree on their price and iron out the transport details and he could go get some sleep. Jist ain't had the same sorta git up an' go since that dad-blamed ship....

*as Gore stands up and turns to leave, he stops and turns back to the table*

The items that you want us to aquire, are worth much more then what your paying us, not including the capture of a powerful magic user.

Just before i go, lets talk money, ill be frank. The risk factor far outways the money your paying. i believe more then 10k a piece should be given what do you say Mr. Crawford

As Gore pitches the cop for more money, Al picks up his commlink and types a message to the PAN-conference - "Boat-ride? Yes? No? If no, offer alternative."

Avenger thinks for a second in his own mind, then calmly and coolly settles his eyes back on the johnson. His icon also seems to meditate and midair. Soon the pan speaks again, rising to stand. You got a boat? I don't really care what our extraction method is as long as we got one.

"I'm not good at knowing where stuff is... so I will trust other people. Personally, I am not a strong swimmer. In fact, somthing that was done to my bones tends to make me sink... so I would prefere a form of land transportation. " Sebastain broadcats over the linked PANs

"Well Gore how much were you thinking," jack asks, knowing he was going to regret it.

"Try to get us a 60k Nuyen flat rate, plus the gear already named. THat way its not to his advantage that some of us die. I mean, if its 10k per person, and 3 of us die, he is only paying 30k, so he might be included to insure that as few people as possible come out alive, with the job still being done. this way he pays the same, no matter who lives and who dies." Sebastian Broadcasts across the PANs

"I believe a 30,000 nuyen per head rate, plus expenses should be more then adequate, my dear mr crawford

Jack was right in the middle of taking a drink from the scotch he had brought down with him, looking decidedly concerned at the melting ice in the glass when gore spoke up. He almost choked on the fine scottish whiskey when he heard the words "thirty thousand nuyen, plus expenses".

"Well drek yeah that'd be more than adequate," jack said, his voice harsh from his near choking a moment earlier. He looked at his hands touching his thumb to each finger, "You know that's 150,000 nuyen for you to bring her back, right?"

Gore looked unmoving on the subject, "Well there is no way I could swing that by the boys in accounting, unlike some other people you work for this is semi-legit. Now I'll tell you what I can do though, I'll won't pay you per head, I'll pay you as a group and include the share of the guy who didn't show up so that'd mean you be walking away from this, as a group with sixty thousand, that's more than I make a year I'd like to point out. Now as far as expenses go we'll talk about compensation once you bring her back and I see what kind of condition she's in."

Jack leaned back in his chair, in a take it or leave it kind of way, grabbed his glass, and proped his feet up on the table.

"Done," barked Al. "An' o' course we'll be expectin' the gear ya promised, er...this guy," gesturing at Patch.
"Now, it seems we are interested in that there boat option you wuz referrin' to. How do we go about that? And more important, how soon?"

"Yes i do believe we have a deal mr. Crawford, if you could give us the particulars of our transportation and when it needs to be completed by, we can all get going"

*Gore yawns widly*

"Ah, if you look on the data chip I gave you you'll find an entry mark 'Raven', that's all of the information you need to get in contact with a very good friend of mine who specializes in...shall we say circumventing boarders and customs. You can arrange a ride with him at any time you'd like, just know that the longer you delay, the longer 'jewel' has to move about, making your job that much harder."

Jack looks almost ready to leave, when one more thing pops into his head, "Oh, be sure not to mention it's me who's sending you tell him that 'Ark Grueli sends his regaurds', give him this, and you'll be fine."

Jack reaches inside of his business casual jacket, and pulls out a small leather pouch, "It's worth face value to anybody but Raven, he's got a thing for very strange coinage."

"Good!" says Sebastian, grinning for the first time since he entered the room, "Now can I please get out of here? Please?"

"Excellent!, raven you say righto! pleasure doing business with you mr crawford your target will be back safe and sound, as will your artifacts.

*Gore Looks at everyone*


"Well gentlemen, ill bid you good night, but before i depart shall we meet up again tomorrow daytime for discussions on how to proceed?"

*Gore clicks his commlink sending his number to all of the group*

"Unless somebody else has buisness, they'd like to address I don't see why not," Jack said dryly, and got up out of his chair, flipped the switches that he had flipped shortly after arriving in the room, and walked to the door.

"I'm told you ears might pop when this door is opened, I don't know, I haven't been down here since all this high tech stuff went in," Jack almost like he didn't care one way or the other. He placed his worn calloused hands on the wheel gave it one good jerk, and then spun it the rest of the way quickly until the bolts retracted back into the door. He pulled the door with a great amount of strength before it opened and for a brief moment when the two different air pressures equalized everything in the room felt like it was being softly pulled out the door.

"I've got some other buisness to take care of with Mr. Grey, but once you make your apointment for transit, the requested gear will be waiting for you on the boat," Jack said gesturing towards the door casually with his right hand.

Since no one else seems to be doing so, Al grabs the inside edge of the still-open briefcase full of cash and drags it across the table towards himself. Without a word and with the dexterity of a Vegas dealer he separates the cash into three thousand nuyen bundles and tosses one to each of his new companions as they head for the door, pocketing the last inside his oversized brown (real) leather jacket.
"Reckon a body's gotta sleep, but there'll be plenny o' time fer that onna boat. I say we make this little pow wow bright an' early. Big guy - why'n'tcha jist name a spot an' we'll meetcha there 'round eight?"
Al nods at Gore's answer and heads out the door. "So long, gents. Got me some shoppin' to do, an' some of it's best done at night."

Halfway out the door, he turns to Crawford, still sitting with his feet on the table. "An' don't you be fergittin' our unspecified bonus fer bringin' back yer gew gaws."

Without a look back, Al shows himself upstairs, bows toward Vivian McLoy up on the stage, and heads out into the drizzly Seattle night.

"Well, 8 o'clock it is then, at The Sombra Cafe around the corner, aparently its new but it does the finest fish and chips."

*Gore grabs the 3000 nuyen, and walks out of the door. He walks up to the barman and asks him a few questions*

"Scuse me there old boy, would you happen to know a good talismonger around town, that i could go and see? either at this hour or tomorrow?"

*Gore Buys the barman a drink before picking up his equipment and leaves the bar on foot*

Very well. I will see you gentlemen at eight. With that Patch exits the Lonely Hearts. He immediately puts in a call to Stubbs.

"Stubs I got a small order, but I need it filled quick. 12 hours max for delivery. I need 60 gel, 60 regular rounds, and 4 clips for an AK-97."

Now to get some miscellaneous supplies.

*Gore steps out and switches on his commlink, brings up sebastions number and sends him a text message

Sebastion Could you please do me a favour and research on the matrix the following 'Sword' and 'unfound', the blade has a spirit bound to it that makes the wielder unstoppable in combat but at the price of theyre sanity. This concerns me and i would like to know more about the artifact before we start handling it, or handling the person weilding it.

Kindest regards

Gore

p.s
Do not be alarmed if a small ninja like thing appears infront of you he is my watcher and he will have been sent to find you!

"AHEM! the file, Jack? background? weapon of choice? mad scans? the full Star file you said was in your comm. I need that info, and without a car as supplemental income, this may become rather dicey. Is there a time limit on this bounty? Doesn't Star insert AOD tracers in their prisoners? did she cut it out of herself? if not, I need that tracker frequency too." Avenger stands from his chair, leaving behind the empty glass on the table. "I can see why the Star wouldn't want to try to run their own team in there. We'll be in touch." Avenger walks to the door, and waits for everyone else to leave before walking through the electromagnetic field himself after reshutting down his internal electronic systems.

"I'll try Gore, but I'm not the best at that kind of thing. Umm... speaking of not good at... I happen to be needing some gel rounds...but I'm not good at getting these things from people. Do you know anyone you could talk to who would be able to procure some for me? I'm thinking at least 90 rounds? I'll pay for it of course." is Sebastian's reply.

Then he takes a seat outside the cafe, after recaliming his weapons, and starts the data search.
He still has a small window open for his cybereyes, so he can watch that his meatbody is safe. before he hits full submersion he reconceals the Styer in the hidden arm slide up his sleave.

Avenger after watching everyone leave, returns to the comfort of his home. He starts by scanning the file that was on Jewel. If there was any actual video footage on it, from the bustout, the interrogations, or anything else. He would study that, to attempt to study her movements and the type of person she is. While he scans the file, he asks his agent to run datasearches on Jewel, any aliases that are on the file, and a briefing on current history in the warzone that Jewel was last known to be in.

Gore

Gerry looks puzzled at first, when asked about the talismonger, but then the drink he was given, seemed to refresh his memory. After taking the syntha-whiskey in one big gulp, almost before he finished swallowing, he says, "Yea, ders a guy who comes in 'ere every once in ah while, think 'e goes by da name cold."

He pulls out a napkin and a pen that looks older than him and scawls a commlink number on it. "Eh, I git a finders fee if you mention my name when ya call so do us a favor and tell 'em Ol' Gerry from the Lonely Heart's sent ya."

Patch

Stubbs obviously upset because you woke him up answers groggily, "Yeah Waddya want?"

After placing your order, Stubbs pauses for a moment, thinking about something very intensely, "Alright, but I'm going ta have to send you to another guy, who keeps that amount of ammo on hand, his name's Flash, you can find him on dock 27, you can't miss him. He's a bit more pricey than I am but he'll have the stuff you need there, and you can haggle with him about price."

Avenger

Jack looks at Avenger and very dryly says, "Everything you'll need or could possibly want is on the chip I gave to Al.

6:00am The day of the meeting, coffin motel

Gore gets up slowly, stretching as he walks over to the communal shower it activates as he walks in he stands there, water running his aching frame.

i swear to all that is holy i need to get out of this place, blasted hotels.

Gore finishes up and gets ready and puts on his shades seeing he has a message he opens it up.

Gel rounds, what the hell are they? Gore thinks to himself


Sebastion unfortunatly im unable to find you what you need, as i new in seattle and my web of contacts is very limited. maybe you could ask patches or Al?

Kindest regards

Gore



Gore starts off towards the meeting place taking most of his kit with him.

6:00am The day of the meeting, At the Cafe

Vast amounts of datasurge around Sebastian as he glides the information thermals on two of his swix wings. the other 4 are unfoled slightly and the front two dip into the datastream, and he absorbs it, searching for a few key phrases. the last two weave back and forth, creating a digial wake, obscuring all the his persona's datatail. then a message beep and he pulls up a HUD were he reads the text. Damn.

Still browseing, Sebastian composes a quick missive for Al.
"Sorry for the short notice, but do you know anyone who could find me some gel rounds? I was hopeing to Gore would be able to find he some, but he couldn't. I will pay for them of course, and I need about 90 rounds I would think.
I will see you at the meet!
Sebastian"

Lonely Hearts 0130 11/6/70

Chilly Seattle rain washed over Al's face and beaded on the decrepit leather jacket, gathering in its many cracks and fissures before running in rivulets off into the grimy street. What a freakin' circus he mused. Hell, even Hollywood won't likely be as weird as all that were. But three grand is three grand, a job's a job, and my word's my word. An' NoCal's half the way from here ta LA - if that ain't destiny callin' Ma Guthrie's little boy, well I don' know what is. Feeling better than he had since arriving in Seattle nine months ago, he hailed a cab and headed for the docks.

Seattle, Dock 27 0145 11/6/70

Word in the longshoremen's watering holes was that if you ever found anything that had, say, fallen out the back of a shipping container, you might get a quiet and fair price for it from a guy named Flash on Dock 27. When Al spotted him he was talking to a couple of well dressed orks - Mafia-connected union enforcers, he reckoned - but that was no problem since he wasn't going to be needing work on the docks for a spell.
Al walked right up to Flash, interrupting his conversation, and barked in his usual coarse and strident voice - "HEY - reckon you must be that Flash guy I heard me so much about. Heard you could get weapons.
"Well, I'm yer guy," he concluded, waving a wad of cash.
Right away the orks were making all sorts of elaborate and grisly threats. At first Al thought he might have offended them somehow, but as their voices became louder and more agitated, and their threats more grotesque, he realized they must be kidding, just playing around. Or maybe it was some sort of shadowrunner hazing thing. So Al just grinned up at them and tossed back even wilder and more crazy threats, and back and forth it went until Flash got either bored or greedy.
After that, things went pretty fast. They had what he was looking for. It was in terrible shape, but after thoroughly satisfying himself that it wasn't anything an expert cleaning wouldn't fix, money changed hands and he was on his way.

Seattle, International District 0215 11/6/70
Huh, left 'er open agin. He was always doing that. 'nuff ta make a body wonder why he'd gone ta all that trouble with the locks.
Al slogged through the perpetual six inches of standing water covering the concrete floor of his basement apartment, tossed his new/old rifle on the bed-cum-shelf, and plopped down on the mouldy sofa. By two-thirty he'd found all the maps, weather info and other crap he needed to plan their insertion, at which point he loaded all of that onto the optical memory chip he'd gotten from the cop and took it out of his commlink, making sure none of it had actually been stored on the 'link's memory. Slipping it into his pocket, he gloated to himself - No better firewall than the pocket of yer 501s.

He woke up at seven to find an hour-old message from Sebastian. Nice kid. Weird, but nice kid. He hammered out a quick reply on his way upstairs - "No time to do anything right now. I'll be there a half hour early if you wanna chat about it man to man, then we'll see what we can do. Al."

Hun wasn't in his apartment, but Al got one of his kids to let him use the printer. After making hard copies of the maps, he grabbed a cab (Livin' like a freakin' king!) and was pulling up to Gore's hoity toity eatery by 7:30.