:: Februrary 15, 2067 ::
:: Seattle Metroplex ::

The feeble morning sun fought valiantly with the low laying fog surrounding the great megaplex that morning, but eventually surrendered by early afternoon as the fog lifted only high enough to spit on the citizens and denizens crazy enough to wander on foot this time of year. For those traveling by car, the traffic was messy enough to make those who walked look like the smarter of the two groups.

While the world faced the ugly late winter day in the Pacific Northwest, in secret rooms hidden in the back of bars, clubs and restaurants the SINless met and traded work. Ex Military Mercenaries, elven faces with silver lying tounges, changelings using curses as commodities, all meeting with corporate and anti-corporate lobyists for jobs against each other.

There was cred just waiting to be collected for the right group of criminals. Corp Executives looking for new jobs, eco terrorists looking for paydata against the local bad guy, maybe even a kidnapping or assassination being planned. The ones who stood the most to gain in this society? The ones who can get the right group of the first kind to meet up with the right job offered by the second. Fixers. You want it, they can get it....for a price.

It worked both ways though, so if she was going to legitimize herself in this new position, it was time to put together a well rounded team. She didn't have the cred for the best, but she had been a skilled recruiter in her corp days. It was time to find the next Rookie of the Year.

2:15:67 10:00am
Seattle Downtown
Pan: Active Meta Link/Redcap Nix


Roc had been working out at the gym. He warmed up with some jump ropping, then moved to the 250 kg heavy bag to work up a sweat. Next up was ten kg speed bag to work on his speed. He looked towards the sparing ring watching some light heavily weights sparing with each other. Nobody would spare with the big troll ever too many good fighters had been seriously hurt. After several hours of working out Roc moved on to the weight room to get some lifting in. A couple more hours there he took a shower and walked back to his doss. It was the start of a good day.

Feb 15, 2067 8:00 am
Seattle Tacoma

Shensahti lurches from bed, hands swatting and grasping for the alarm clock going off on the nightstand. Just behind the shrill scream of the clock, the sounds of a couple arguing can be heard and the sounds of morning commuter cars chugging along. A long suffering sigh issues from the tossled bundle of sheets and a blanket when the alarm shuts off. With an effort that shouldn't quite be so hard, he throws back the tangled mass and tries to get everything to wake up. A look of disgust and irritation passes over his face as he slams his fist into the wall next to his bed.

"TAIS TOI, TU PEU DE MERDE!"

The voices drop off for a second then resume louder than ever. Another digusted noise and he rolls from bed, standing up and looking around at the general chaos of his studio. He moves around, picking up bits of clothing and roughly piling them off to the side. He makes his way to the kitchenette and starts the coffee machine while sweeping a pile of food wrapppers into a small trash can in desperate need of being emptied. He reaches for his commlink resting on a small shelf and accesses it. A look of denial then followed by resignation flashes across his face as he reads over his available balance.

I'm barely going to cover rent at this point.....

February 15, 2067 8:00 am
Touristville, Redmond
Clothing B

Tad sighed in ironic contentment as he sat in the ubiquitous coffee franchise and watched the sararimen head for their offices. He was sipping soykaf that he'd have shot himself in the foot before putting to his lips two years ago. Now it was ambrosia. It was only a month now since he'd moved into his squalid walk-up tenement studio here in Touristville, but he was still savoring its sense of luxury and security compared to the deep barrens squats he'd been subsisting in for over two years.
A month since he'd finally earned enough nuyen brokering deals between gangs and negotiating ransom payments on low-level kidnappings to buy a decent commlink and passable fake SIN. Not to mention the presentable clothing and accessories he was now wearing.
But it was still a long way to the top. Which was exactly where he intended to be.
He started scrolling through a few of the unregistered 'help-wanted' sites he'd tipped to over the past year, looking for work.

Die-Gun Adept
2.15.67 2:12PM
Southern Seattle Barrens
PAN: passive

As Die changed positions in bed for the third time this "morning" she finally worked up the energy to open her eyes and glance over at the digital read out of the time on her nightstand. 2:12 PM ?? I gotta stop staying out so late, im barely gonna catch any sunlight. She then glances out the window to check on the weather only to discover another grey dreary day.

As she did a combination of stretching and yawning, the covers of her bed were pushed aside revealing naked tan caucasion elf skin. Die sat up and slid out of bed. What kind of fun can i get into today? I guess its time to work my magic on a few of my contacts and try to scrounge up some work, my bank account is almost empty which means no more partying, not unless i get somebody else to pay for it hehehe.

Die went through some morning yoga stances and then decided to go for a jog around the neighborhood while she networked with her contacts. She puts on some workout underwear to hold her reasonably in place and slipped into her urban explorer jumpsuit that snugly fit every curve of her body and decides to go with black with neon green pinstripes to match her hair, which was also black with neon green streaks running through it. She clips her commlink on her hip and then slaps on all of her commlink gear: her smartlink glasses,a trode net, earbuds and sub mic. Die throws her two Hammerli's into an over the shoulder backpack and secures them so they are not bouncing around, along with only the clips they are loaded with(regular). She takes a small knife and places it along her underwear's lining so it wont move. Thats the price you gotta pay when you want to live in an apartment that is not in a safe zone constantly monitored by the law

With that she finds an appropiate music feed and and then she is out the door for a hopefully uninterrupted running session while she trys to snag a job from one of her contacts. Before she starts though she closes her eyes and looks up into the sky letting the rain hit her in the face with her arms outstretched palms up. Wash away all of my sins.......so i can start sinning all over again hehehe.

2.15.67 15:48
Downtown Seattle; International District
PAN: Passive


Johnny lifts and flips up the collar of his armored jacket in an attempt to ward off some of the afternoon rain. The neon signs above and around him begin to reflect in the standing pools of rainwater, well, rainwater and whatever other liquids are present as the cloud cover, vehicle exhaust, and shadows from the looming buildings darken the streets. Johnny hurriedly eats Yakisoba from a styro-form bowl with chopsticks as he maintains an eye across the street. The Yakisoba is hot and comforting but so is the cold beer Johnny’s using to wash it down. The beer is placed on top of an old data terminal between the pattern of eating then swigs on the bottle of beer.

A movement in the shadows of the doorway across the street catches his attention, and stops the set pattern of eating and drinking. Johnny watches patiently for a moment, like he has for the last half hour. The suit of the emerging figure shimmers and illuminates in differing colors and effects according to the whims of the neon lights. The Japanese man walks a few steps in the openness of the sidewalk and looks around, like he needed to try and spot Johnny, he was always in this spot, at this time a day, on this day of the week…but the Yakuza if anything, are a traditional sort. Once the slick suited man "spots" Johnny he motions with a nod.

Johnny leaves his meal on the data terminal before walking across the street teaming with people walking about the district. Johnny rubs shoulders with the masses as he moves through, some step out of his way upsetting the ebb and flow that makes up the natural order. It isnt the stares, but lack of them that is disheartening. The Japanese can be by nature so courtese that it borders on cruel, especially to a kawaruhi-to, a changed person, the name for metas. It is as true in this life in the light as the life he's about to enter into, just below the "seen" life of the district, the one they call the underworld. Johnny has been living in both these worlds, part of what they are, yet seperated from it by being born an Ork.

Johnny enters into the dark doorway and lifts his jacket up at the bottom front while turning around. The Yakuza who motioned for him to come over slides his hand with practiced ease to remove the Colt from Johnny's back holster like he did every week. Johnny removes his glasses as the Yak doorman gives him a tap on the back to let him know he could enter. Once it used to be a full on shove, years ago that seemed...guess familiarity brings a softer touch, and why not I've shown all due respect Johnny smiles slightly as he enters the dimmly lit club. In the corner smoking, is his patron Kenji. Kenji had once thought of dealing with Johnny a chore, something that must be done, now the two often spoke more than about Johnny's duties and limitations, sure they came up, but not as often and not to the exclusion of anything else.

Johnny waits by the bar as Kenji finishes his business with a pair of rough types, rough and unpolished, most likely gangers. Several minutes pass before the rough pair pass by the bar on the way out. Johnny waits for the familiar Eh! Johnny approaches Kenji's corner table and stops short 6 paces where he bows, his left hand rests on his left thigh which is behind his right leg. His right arm is extended along the line his right leg makes, with his palms upward (the traditional bow of Yakuza, or those dealing with them to honor them)"Johnny Yen, your humble charge, Kenji-sama" Johnny says in Japanese. Johnny maintains the bow until Kenji tells him to sit, which is only a few seconds. Johnny reflects as he takes a seat across from Kenji, that at one time he'd wait in the bow for long minutes before being granted permission to sit, if at all.

Sitting across from Kenji, the formalities began. Kenji fishes out a cigarette from his pack on the table, and as soon as it hits his lips Johnny has a lighter lit and ready for him to light it. It had taken a few weeks, and a few beatings to figure that one out. Suitably lit Johnny returns the lighter to his jacket pocket. Kenji bellows out smoke as he asks the first question." How have been?" Johnny's answer as most always follows." Yes, I have enjoyed the comforts of being in your protection." Johnny takes from his inside jacket pocket a small envelop, which he touches to his forehead then places squarely on the table in front of himself." I hope you will accept this humble gift as a token of my gratitude." While he used both hands to slide the envelop across the table to Kenji. Kenji accepts the envelop and before pocketing it he touches it to his forehead. "You have fullfilled your duty as an honorable man should." Kenji says following the old tradition.

Johnny waits for the wave of dismissal from Kenji, but isnt completely suprised when Kenji speaks instead. "Have you been here at night? During the crowds?" Kenji already knew the answer was no, but it was a formal way of letting Johnny know that he could. The small talk lasts for 10 minutes until another rough and unpolished type walks in. Johnny excuses himself with an apology for taking so much of Kenji-sama's time and bows before making his way to the door. Johnny pauses long enough to recieve his pistol,and store it in the holster on the small of his back. Johnny opens the door while putting his glasses back on, and steps back into the other world he's part of, yet not.

2.15.67 16:20 to 17:45
Downtown Seattle, International District
PAN:Passive


Johnny walks down the street in the neon lit gloom of this part of the Metroplex. The inviting smells of Japanese cuisine (Yaki-niku, Yakitori on sticks basted in Teriyaki, Tempura’ed sea food) mixes with the rank smells of the city streets. It’s the smell of home Johnny reflects inwardly as he strolls along the congested street that no car could possibly pass through. Johnny stops momentarily, interrupting the flow of traffic as he realizes where he’s heading. Johnny spends a moment looking around him and then to the drizzling sky and its overcast gloom before continuing on in the same direction.

The Black Blades aren’t hard to find once Johnny makes it into their turf. The sounds of the street bikes revving at high rpm’s, and the squelch of tires on ‘crete draw him to the area the gang is at. Johnny approaches the long row of street bikes, painted in a dizzying array of colors and the black jacketed gang members. The group of young gangers turns with hard looks and scowls towards Johnny. Johnny slows his pace and then stops short of them speaking one word. “Mickey.” The majority turn away and back to their conversation, as one approaches Johnny with a ‘ghetto hop’ or gait. He waves at Johnny saying. “Mickey’s this way omae.”

The ganger with slicked back hair and oversized sunglasses keeps up the ‘ghetto hop’ as he leads Johnny around the corner to another group of the Black Blades. As they round, the ‘hopping’ ganger calls out. “Yo’ Mickey, Biz I think.” with that he positions himself behind Johnny as they both wait for Mickey. Mickey looks up and does some hand jives and shakes before walking to the corner. Approaching Johnny he smiles, distorting the pock marks on his face to hideous shapes and patterns. Looking past Johnny he speaks. “It’s cool, regular pick up.” Once the other ganger is gone Mickey looks up at Johnny. “What’s your pleasure today?” Johnny gazes about in relative calm. Hell this is a weekly occurrence. “You got sticks of gum?” Gum referring to the drug Bliss sold in a sticky paste for smoking in pipes. “Not in the now Omae, but I will next week this time. Just got it in dust, for the mean time.” Johnny doesn’t need time to think it over before he speaks “Yeh, take 3 for the road.” Mickey fishes in his pocket with his right hand while holding out his left. Johnny slaps the certified credstick in his hand as they do the hand jive switch (cred for small packets.) Johnny and Mickey part company looking like old friends to an observer.

The walk home is long, wet but uneventful. Johnny makes his way up to his apartment via the only way up, the stairs. He can hear the sounds of locks and latches scrapping closed from doors, doors that when he was a child offered him food and occassionally hand me down clothes when his relatives died. Just another part of it. Finally making it to his door, Johnny goes through the process of unlocking the set of locks built into the door.

Johnny slips off his wet shoes in the hallway and hangs up his armor jacket on the peg on the door before entering the rest of the apartment. First the bathroom where he dries his face and hair with a towel, then to the small living room. Sitting on the couch he lights a tea candle in an ornamental brass box with designs cut out of the box as well as engraved. Johnny moves to the kitchen and then back again with a small sheet of tin foil and a spoon in a cup of water. Johnny creases a fold into the foil slightly and sets it upon the box. Next Johnny takes the spoon with half of it filled with water, he mixes the contents of one of his packets, stirring it with his finger to make a light sludge. Johnny checks the temperature of the foil with his finger...snaps it back seeing the center is hot to the touch, he removes the foil from the box.

Johnny leans forward over the coffee table and the candle box inhaling sharply through a tube as the Bliss smokes up white and acrid. Chasing the Dragon they call it. It takes a moment for his pulse to begin to race, followed quickly by his forehead sweating...and then it's the rush, and finally Johnny's arms and head grow heavy. Johnny slumps back in the couch, the pain is gone. The pain is gone

Feb 15, 2067 8:50 am
Seattle - Tacoma
PAN: Passive

He steps from the shower and moves to grab a towel from the back of the door. He quickly drys his body and runs the towel over the mirror. He pauses for a moment and begins to look himself over. A look of disappointment passes over his face as he sees the damage from before. He holds up his hand and watches the tremor. He closes his eyes and will the shakes to stop, to find the stillness he longed for. To push the hunger down and away, the next trip could be his last. He remembers the tests and the closed look on Crimson's face when they got the results. The damage was done and he needed to move on with his life.

Opening his eyes, he smiles bitterly seeing the hand still and relaxed. He quickly moves from the bathroom and grabs some clothes from the small closet. He decided to go with a charcoal turtleneck and some black slacks. He pauses in front of the mirror once again, taking a minute to give his hair that just tousled look that works for him. Snatching up his pants from yesterday, he fishes out his keys and tosses his pants to the pile of dirty clothes. One last look around at his hovel, he pulls the door shut behind him.

Jogging down the stairs, not even bothering to see if the lift works today, he hits the outside with the blood finally moving through his body. He unlocks the scooter and unhooks the helmet, pausing to pull it on he looks around to take in the sights. Nothing new, new day same life. He starts it up and pulls into the street, heading early for work to see if he had any clients.

February 15, 2067 10:00 am
Touristville, Redmond
Clothing B

Failing to find anything particularly promising in the way of employment, Tad drained his soykaf and headed for the small but well-maintained park at the heart of Touristville's business district.
Paying the nominal fee (he thought of it gratefully as a 'bum-deterrent charge') as he entered, he spent a few minutes just savoring the fresh greenery and running water of the central fountain. His brief reverie was broken when he sat on a bench and felt the uncomfortable bulk of the Ares Predator that he carried concealed (but licensed!) at the small of his back. He hated the way it disturbed his sense of security here in the well-policed park, but Carl had convinced him that wearing it all the time was one of the best ways to become comfortable with it. He shifted his weight until he had achieved some modicum of comfort, opened an AR window and settled into the next chapter of Levinson & Stroud's Fundamentals of Awakened Capacities, 4th ed.

Die-Gun Adept
2.15.67 3:10PM
Southern Seattle Barrens
PAN: passive


Damn, everyone is either busy working like normal people do or not responding to my comm messages, i should think about trying to find a secondary job to provide a little more stability into my income. Heh i doubt Seattle needs another stripper and besides i dont really wanna do that anymore, atleast not for work.

Die refocused on the sidewalks she was running along, she looked at the buildings and how dull there outsides were out here in the barrens. Most of them were plain grey or white ferocrete with gang tags and heavily pitted surfaces from what looked like countless street battles. When she would pass the entrances to an apartment complex she could see people siting and mulling about near the entrances to each apartment. Some of them gaurded by local gangs of whom she knew nothing since her recent move. Those apartments always had gaurds to the entrances and she never made it past with getting stares or hearing cat calls trailing after her as she ran by. She figured it was best to avoid them as much as possable.

Checking the clock in her field of vision thanks to her glasses she saw almost an hour had passed since she began so she picked up the pace and headed home in a sprint for as long as she could hold it and then slowing down and running when she couldnt. She was hot, wet, and dirty and she wanted to hit the showers before going out. She was still looking for new contacts maybe one that actually had jobs! and she liked going out to clubs and trying to spot any kind of shadowy type action going on and then try to find out anything about the people she spotted from the bartenders or waitresses, especially the waitresses.

She reached her apartment and raced up the stairs to her unit. As she walked through the door she took the shoulderbag off and tossed it onto her couch next to a dufflebag. Then she headed straight for her bedroom and removed her comm gear and knife and placed them on an entable. After the last piece was placed on the table she started to peel off the jumpsuit to put it back in her closet. Next came the shoes. Then she stripped off her underwear and tossed that into the dirty clothes. She reached into the shower and turned on the hot water as she stood staring at herself in the mirror waiting for the water to warm up. She knew she was beautiful and everyone telling her so only reinforced it as she admired her features and the piercings she had in one of her eyebrows.

As she reached her hand into the shower to test the water to see if it was the right warmth she cursed in speritheal. "Damn this apartment!!!". The water was cold but she jumped in anyways and washed as fast as she could. As she stepped out of the shower and started drying off she imagined what it would be like to actually live someplace that had an actual bathtub with warm water, what she wouldnt give. Someplace like the home she grew up in but she quickly threw that thought out. I deserve someplace better than this drekhole.

She walked over to her closet again and selected some black synthleather pants that had visable holes in them covered by mesh letting them remain see through in spots none of which were raunchy. She also picked out a black t shirt that had dark red lettering on the front stating "Im not naughty" and the back stating: "I'm worse...". She also threw on a long black synthleather duster/trenchcoat only it wasnt the armored variety people normally wore, she just loved the feel and look of it. Her favorite thing she pulled out of her closet though was her shiny red,almost black, stiletto pumps. She crossed over to her bed and sat down to put them on. Most people jokingly call them #$^& me pumps because thats usually what a girl wants when she wears them, or atleast thats the illusion girls want to create.

She walks back into the bathroom and applys a little makeup to her face and then she walks back out into the bedroom and slaps on all her commgear paraphenalia going with her image enhancing glasses this time. She walks over to the table where she laid her knife and picks it up and tucks it away in her jeans, nobody could find it there unless they had a metal detector or took her pants off and felt them. She grabs her jumpsuit out of the closet and heads back out into the main room where she transfers her guns from her shoulderpack to a duffle bag resting on her single couch that contains all of shadowrun gear. She folds up the jumpsuit and stuffs it into the dufflebag to.

The keys to a mercury comet are scooped off a coffee table along with the duffle bag and Die exits her apartment locking the door behind her. She walks downstairs and pops the truck on her black comet and throws the duffle bag in the trunk and then shuts it. She pops the driver side door and slides in and closes it. Most people let their autopilot program do all the driving but Die enjoyed the physical activity of driving her car. She back out of her assigned spot and cruised off to her favorite stuffshack in downtown seattle.

2:15:67 3 pm
Pan: Passive

Roc had gotten back to his doss with no problems. Usually once or twice a week a Lone Star squad car would pull him over. Officers would get out and hassle the big troll sure that he was doing something wrong. However they never found anything on the troll for usually he carried nothing no weapons, drugs or anything illegal. They would hit the big troll with their batons trying to get some answers from him. Roc would act like they had hurt him and talk really saying nothing in the process. They would scan his sin number and it always pasted inspection. It was a big hassel to Roc but he followed Madam Lu's instructions and cooperated. After ten to fifteen minutes the officers would leave and Roc would continue on. Such was the life of the big troll.

Back in his doss Roc laid on his big oversized couch which barely fit him. At least it held his weight. He watched the a repeat of last night's urban brawl game between Seattle and Atlanta. "Goz Seattle beatz da hell outs of dem." He had missed the game last night on account of work. Madam Lu had needed him for some negotation with somebody important. He really did not know or care. He was there to protect Madam Lu that was his job. At the end of the first period Seatle was up by two scores. "Da gamez in dee bag." He said to himself. He walked to the fridge and craked open a litter of beer. Weez mights beez in one place ats da tops of da davizion."

The next period started with a a quick score by Atlanta. "Luckyz playz" He said. Seattle could do nothing against the tough Atlanta defense. Altanta had a big troll near the goal with a light machine gun. "Killz dat drekker!" He shouted. Atlanta tried a new play with the ball being passed to a dwarf on the back of the outrider's motorcycle. When the Seattle defense moved to stop ball carrier on the bike, the dwarf through the ball over to the next block where three Atlanta players were waiting. "Wooz wats a pass. Weez gots to stopem. Splatem Seattle." The three Atlanta players a troll and two orks moved the ball forward. The troll and bigger of the two orks moved forward quickly laying down covering fire as the ork carrying the ball followed them. The three were within a block of the goal and only a big troll name Wawz and a slim elf named Slick covered the goal for Seattle. Time was winding down. Wawz had a Ares Alpha with a grenade launch, while Slick carried an Ingram Smartgun. Slick shot a couple of bursts toward the on rushing Atlanta players. One of them caught the bigger ork in the arm forcing him to drop his weapon. "Nize Shot" Roc said. Meanwhile Wawz launched a barrage of grenades at the trio forcing the trio to find cover. Gun fire was exchanged as players from both sides rushed to the area but the Seatle defense held as time ticked away and the game ended. Roc jumped up incelebration hitting his head on the ceiling causing some plater to fall to the ground, though there wasn't much left there to fall. "Yez weez are da champeeions Weez are da champeeions!"

So ended the afternoon for Roc.

2.15.67 19:30
Touristville
PAN: Active

Jonathan glided through the maze of icons, virtual streets stretching out before him, nodes dotting the landscapes in a dizzying array of colors, sights, scents, and feels. Services like zero-g tours of the platform, null gravity sports, and a variety of things you couldn't do with gravity all beckoned as he slid past, each one making their fleeting impression.

He moved up, watching the landscape spread out below him like a neon labyrinth, reveling in the feeling of control, the feeling of power that being in the Matrix as The Green Man gave him. A sense of control he never had in his own carefully scripted life, behind the manicured fences.

He fended off a series of probes, revealed to him as a group of floating eyes, several of them just advertising 'frames designed to gather information about people as they trigged the nodes by noticing them. One, however...it bolted as he focused on it, and he waited a few moments, savoring the anticipation, and pounced. He flowed out along the threads of the electronic tapestry, following the retreating program in ways he still didn't fully understand. Green fire gathered and flickered around his hands as he drew closer, literally creating the program out of the ether as he moved. He caught the 'bot between his hands, watching bits and pieces of the icon flake away under the disintegrating effect of the flame around his hands. He suddenly brought his hands together, crushing the program in his grasp, snuffing out it and whatever information it carried with it. It probably would have dropped the info off at an anonymous node anyway, there was no information to be gained from tracing it. He stretched, feeling the power in his form, the possibilities dancing across his fingertips, a whole universe waiting, calling, pleading with him to move through it, taste it, touch it.

Abruptly, his shoulder slumped, and the figure sighed inaudibly. He'd been in the matrix for almost 16 hours now, and he'd have to eat and sleep. He detested the thought of going back to the meat world, but until someone discovered a way to sever a persons consciousness and leave them in the matrix, he still had necessities.

He blinked his eyes open, watching the trail of disappearing windows as he logged himself out of every system he'd moved through during his excursion. His eyes fell on the commlink, sitting just a few feet away on a table edge. He wasn't sure why he still kept it, nostalgia, maybe? He shuddered as he felt himself settle fully back into his body, the stale feeling of clothes that had been worn for several days in a row, the languidness of muscles that had spent their life behind a desk, the clutter and ruin of the tiny, one room studio he lived in, when he wasn't online.

Climbing out of the chair that he used, specially designed and really the only thing he'd kept from his corporate enclave apartment, he stumbled over to the sink set into one wall, splashing water across his face and trying to tug the rumpled suit into some semblance of order. He sighed again, running fingers through his thinning hair, and looked around for his coat. He'd have to eat some, and then sleep before he could settle into the real world, his world, again for any length of time.

A smile did touch his lips for a moment as he watched the series of feeds from the sensors implanted in the palms of his hands begin spooling their information into his field of vision, displayed on the contacts. He'd had the implants done at a whim, at a point when he'd been craving the full sensory feed of the matrix even when in the meat world. They didn't completely stave off the cravings, or really even substitute for being full VR even for a few minutes, but they helped. It felt a little like being in the Matrix, having the constant feeds and so much extra stimulous at his beck and call.

And, eventually, he'd have to go out and work again, doing whatever jobs he could to get enough nuyen to support him for another month, to pay for the apartment, a place where he could lock his door and, due to his poverty, be sure to be un-interrupted while he dove.

Roc:

:: As the talking heads come on the trid to talk about the game from a hindsight perspective while showing footage of those injured or killed in the frey being airlifted out of the hotzone, an small beep from the comm unit sitting on the table starts beeping announcing a message. ::

:: Apparantly, the noise of the game had washed out the sound of Sam's call coming through and Roc was left with only a message. ::

"Got a job fer ya. Johnson named Mac looking to put together a team. Club called the Underground down on 4th and Winchester. Be there at 8pm if you wanna crack at one of the open positions. Good money to be made my friend."

Shensahti:

:: It never failed to amaze you how Crimson sent her messages. Fairly sure that your pockets were empty when you left your doss, you are surprised when you find a familiar crisp white invitation card waiting for you in your back pocket. ::

There is a task that awaits you. Come see me at your earliest convenience.

Tad:

:: As you continue your light reading, a small incoming message pops up in the left hand corner of your AR. You recognize the small icon as your sometime fixer Ezekiel. Accepting the call, his tusky face fills your vision. ::

"Ho there Tad. Got a line on some longer term work that seems more up your alley than my usual sort. Someone named Mac is looking to put together a regular team. Plans on holding a meet and greet tonight at a place called The Underground downtown at 8pm."

Die:

:: The drive is relaxing, the sights wizzing by the windows, yet remaining detached enough not to see the gritty grimey state the city is truely in under the surface. Your meditative reverie is broken however by that nagging flashing icon in the corner of your AR. Seems Felix has something to offer you. ::

"Hey beautiful. Busy? I sure hope not, got word there's a meeting being put together by a local J looking for a regular team. If you can get in, could definately offer some steady work."

Johnny:

:: The buzzing of your comm unit barely makes it through the cloud of drug induced euphoria occupying your mind and before you find the energy to lift yourself off the couch, the buzzing stops and is replaced by the occasional chirp informing you of a message left waiting for your attention. ::

:: When you finally manage to retrieve the message, it's a voice only recording from Marcus. ::

"Hoi chummer. Got word of a team being assembled by a fem named Mack. I was able to rope you a seat at the table if yer interested. No idea what the work is, but from what I hear, could turn regular. Nuyen to be made my friend. The Underground, Downtown. 8pm."

Jonathan:

:: Almost as if the call had been waiting for your release from the Matrix, your AR lights up almost as soon as you put it on. The identifier reads MacKenzie. Accepting the call from one of the few people who usually end up putting nuyen in your hand, you see the familiar delicate features of a startingly beautiful elven woman, halo'd by dark mocha hair. Despite her initial impression, Mack was always and forever about business. ::

"Good Afternoon Jonathan. I hope the day finds you well. I am putting together a team this evening with the intention of having a regular crew. Your skills are definately in demand and I would appreciate your attendance. If things work out well, this could be a steady source of income."

:: She was wary about his ability to perform reliably, he didn't look good. He was obviously spending too much time in VR and his addiction if left unchecked will probably kill him like any chemical addiction. If he wasn't the only unemployed Technomancer she could find, she wouldn't be calling. Then again, giving him a purpose might shake him lose of this spiral he's in. ::

2.15.67 19:32
Touristville
PAN: Active

Internally, he blanched at the concept of regular work. Inevitably, demands on his time would be made, and requests made of his time. The only mitgating factor was that regular work meant regular pay, which mean he was free to enjoy any and all downtime he had. The selfishness of his addiction warred with his good sense for a moment, and for the first time in the two years since his experience in the AR arcade, good sense won out.

"Sounds good." He says, taking the time to moderate his voice as it went out over the Matrix. One of the good things about having your commlink in your head was the ability to take care of little things like that.

"I'll put on my good suit. When and where are we talking?"

2.15.67 18:30 to 19:08
Downtown Seattle, International District
Johnny's Apartment
PAN: Passive


Johnny's movements off the couch mimic the coordination of a moon or space walk. His eyes stay focused on the trideo show, sure Johnny's a little old for cartoons, but...they went great together with the high. Johnny picks up the commlink with fumbling fingers."Hello little birdie, have something to tell me?" He says to the small plastic case.

[Message from Marcus plays.]

Johnny stands there pondering with a dumb look upon his face, then text messages Marcus back.

Got the message, will attend...Thanks Omae.

No use in calling or leaving a voice mail, Marcus would know I'm fragged up for sure

Johnny walks to the back and turns the shower on, cold water only and steps in. Hanging his head below the nozzle, the cold water makes his breathing sharp and heavy. The water begins to work as some of the fuzziness wears off...What a waste of 30 yen, hope this job interview is worth it.

It's long minutes, ten to be exact that Johnny stands in the shower shivering, trying to regain some sobriety when he realizes he's fully clothed. The effort to disrobe the wet clothes that had the tendency to cling to him, coupled with the effects of the opiates in his system made it laughable. 20 minutes later Johnny emerges from the shower shivering,and goosed-bumped.

The towel wrapped around him provides some warmth and no small matter of comfort as Johnny sets about getting noodles going from his Nutri-soy processor and some soy-caf. The soy-caf machine brings a smile to johnny's face, like it always did. A clear score of 100 large, and all you got was a caf machine he could still hear the gruff dwarf who had set up the hijacking say in his head....but what the hell did I know about parking brakes back then

Die-Gun Adept
2.15.67 4:00PM
Downtown Seattle
PAN: active


Die was only a few blocks from the stuffer shack she had planned on eating at when the blinking light in the corner of her AR enhanced vision signalled an incoming call. The ticker tape of scrolling text to the side of the flashing icon read Felix. Before clicking on the icon she sends some commands to her car to activate the autopilot and set the destination to Felix's shop. She mentally clicks the flashing icon which is passed along to her comm via a trodenet and the face of Felix expands until it looks like he is actually there in front of her.

Felix: "Hey beautiful. Busy? I sure hope not, got word there's a meeting being put together by a local J looking for a regular team. If you can get in, could definately offer some steady work."

Die: "Hoi Felix! Nice to see you. I'm never to busy to come say hello to a friend. I will be there in a nano."

Felix: "Ok, see ya."

And with that the image of Felix disappears from her field of vision. He called her beautiful but she could read his face as plain as day. He just wanted his finders fee. She was new in town and was only able to meet Felix through another contact. He was not impressed by her. She tried to lay on the charm but it didnt seem to work on him. Maybe he didnt think she was capable of being a shadowruner. This kinda irked her off but she hoped if she kept kissing his hoop he might warm up to her.

Die put her hands on the wheel and cancelled the autopilot and headed over to where Felix worked. On the outside it looked like all the other little shops lining the street. A small holographic sign proclaimed the store to be a commlink store. On the inside the front of the store was indeed a commlink store that had as many different commlink styles as a person could imagine and then some. There were also common software that was completely legal.

Die reached the parking lot entrance and drove in, pulling into a stall in front of the store. She got out of her car and locked the door and proceeded into the store. As she approached the door seperating the front of the store from the back where Felix did his fixer thing the single employee at the counter greeted her and asked if there was anything he could help her with.

Not anything I bet you wish you could help me with she thought, but she only said one word, "Felix" and then continued to walk into the back of the store. The employee understood perfectly and went back to doing whatever it was they were doing when she walked in, probably playing some new AR video game.

As Die walked into the back of the store which was a mess of electronic papers, commlink parts and various sized packages she nodded to Felix who was chatting away on a commcall. Apparently negotiating with somebody on the other end about the price of something. As he finished the call Die walked over to him and sat on the edge of his desk facing him.

Die: "Details?"

Felix: "Hey be careful where you sit i have alot of important papers on that desk. The johnson goes by the name Mac and is holding a meet at 8:00pm at a club downtown called The Underground."

Die: "But im just a little elf girl i cant hurt anything" she says talking in her best little girl voice. "Thanx for the meet Felix, how do you want your payment, and what do you know about this Mac person?"

Felix: there is a pause as he wiggles in his seat a little uncomfortable as he looks to be contemplating the offer but answers, "As much as i would like to take you up on that offer Die a lap dance will not pay my bills so just wire the nuyen to me. As for Mac i dont know anything about the person although it seems like she is looking to form a group for the long term. Now get out of here i have work to do.

Die: she pouts for a second and then becomes serious. "Thanx again Felix." She mentally access's her back account and wires over 100 nuyen into Felix's account. She then stands and starts to walk back out of the shop. As she reachs the door between the two halves of the store she turns and winks at Felix. "You dont know what your missing".

As she walks out of the store she checks her clock. Wow 4:00pm, thats plenty of time to get food to eat and get some clubbing in. Should I goto the underground early and try to check things out? Nah this Mac person was probably already there meeting other groups of runners. Its probably better to show up only a little early.

Die walks over to her car and gets in and before she can start the car up and hear its growling engine she hears the growling from her belly. Oh shut up im working on it!! You'd think i was a 700 pound troll or something. She heads back to the stuffer shack she had to pass earlier. Business before pleasure. She goes through the drive through and starts ordering food, by the time she has finished someone would think that she was ordering for a car full of people.

2.15.67 7:50PM

As she pulled back out onto the road she activates the autopilot again and programs it to take her to the club where her semi girlfriend Cali works as a bartender, Club Rain. She manages to wolf down most of her food by the time she arrives at the club and has to interrupt her meal to finish driving the car into a parking stall. She didnt trust an autopilot program to be able to park her car, she paid to much or it. She sat in the parking lot and finished eating the rest of her food which didnt take long and then she collected all the trash and stuffed it back into the bag it came in and then she got out her car and looked around for a dumpster. Spotting one she grabbed the garbage and shut and locked her door and then proceeded to walk over to the dumpster and throw the garbage away.

She walked back around front of the club where there was a line but she walked by them and up to the bouncer. After she drops Cali's name on the bouncer he lets her in. One inside the club she finds Cali and they talk and flirt with each other and the guys who hit on them. After 3 and half hours Die decides its time to go. Club Rain is 3 stories tall and has a gigantic illusionary hole in the first and second floor. Its completely see through but you can dance on them making it look like your dancing on air. However the kool part is they also have an illusionary waterfall flowing through the hole and for those with simsense you can allow the club to connect to your PAN and when you walk out into the dancefloors that are the holes you get the sensation of real water flowing over you even though your totally dry. Die leans across the bar and gives Cali a kiss on the cheek and then heads for the front exit. As she uses simsense decides to walk across the dancefloor and experience what it must be like to walk underneath a real waterfall as she leaves.

She hops in her black comet again and fires up the engine and then asks her comm to display a street grid of downtown seattle and pinpoint this club The Underground. As a map fills a portion of her vision she see's a red blip representing where she is and then a green blip appears on the other side of town. Then a thin yellow line starts to flow from the red blip through the grid and finally reachs the green blip showing the quickest route and telling her the distance and time it should take.

She pulls out of club Rain and makes her way to the red blip. By the time she arrives its 7:50pm. Driving around the green blip looking for a way to pull into the parking lot she noticed that the side of the building facing the street was unexpectedly blank. No big flashy signs, no big flashy doors, heck no line line of people waiting to get in. The entrance must be facing the parking lot she thought. As she found the parking lot entrance and pulls in there doesnt seem to be alot of vehichles either. She picks a parking stall and jumps out locking the car behind her.

Looking at the building all she sees is what looks like a tunnel leading down so she walks over to it. Sure enough its a wide set of stairs going down what looks like two floors and then running into a set of double doors with a big "nicely" dressed troll standing outside. This place looks like a death trap. What if there was a fire inside.

She takes a deep breathe and then starts to descend the stairs. Its an uneasy descent as the troll never takes his eyes off of her. Oh great i hope he isnt one of those mentally messed up metahumans who hate elves for being beautiful. She is finally at the bottom of the stairs and out of the trolls reach as she looks around. "Is..is this The Underground club?? Im looking for an associate named Mac?"

February 15, 2067
Touristville, Redmond
Clothing B

<That's outstanding news, Zeke. Listen, there's something I've been meaning to bring you over, anyway,> Tad lied smoothly, <Why don't I swing by in about an hour?....Great. See you then.>

Tad cut the connection. Cool. Work. Maybe real work. There were lots of avenues into success in the underground economy, but he reckoned the high speed shadowrunners were the fast-trackers. Of course their attrition rate was exceptionally high, but that would not apply to him. Association with a really professional team was undoubtedly the quickest way he could amass cred and contacts. No guarantee this would be that team, but definitely worth checking out.

He made his way over to a nearby liquor store and paid Y100 for a good bottle of Scotch - anything better than that would be pearls before swine for his thuggish fixer, but the ork had his uses. Then he started the short walk over to Crusher 495. It would take him out of the safety zone, but at midday and on bigger streets, well, not exactly safe, but if he couldn't handle that he had no business on a shadowrun team.

Arriving at Crusher, he made his way straight back to Ezekiel's booth. "Friend of mine from my old life sent this to me. Thought a fellow of your sensibilities might appreciate it. And here's a token of my own appreciation for turning me on to tonight's opportunity," he said, sending Ezekiel Y100 from his commlink. "I'm hoping you can tell me a little bit more about this Mac character."

2:15:67 5 pm
Pan: Active

Roc saw his commlink was blicking. "Drek! Mist a call." Roc listened to the call an call back Sam. "I gots your message. I ill be dere." He put the commlink back down. He only had a couple of hours till the meet, he should get ready and case the joint he figure. It was always good to to make sure one knew what they were walking into.

Roc showered and groomed himself which included shaving and polishing his two horms until they shined. Madam Lee always demanded the big troll look his best when on a job. This included being well groomed. Roc then put on his his best dress shirt and then his actioneer business suit which was black. Lastly he put on his best tie which was black also. The socks were next. One had a hole in them and his big foot stuck out. Well he couldn't do anything about that now. He polished his black dress boots, built for comfort and the occasional kick to somebodies head. Looking in the mirror he acutally looked pretty good. Lastly he but on his mage sight googles made to look like black sun glasses and his commlink. Damn he looked good he thought. On table was his last piece of equipment his Ingram. Normally if he expected trouble he had a sling he would attach to the gun and sling the weapon over his head and shoulders. The weapon would be accessible if he needed it, however it was not very concealable. He shook his head he would have to weapon at home. Besides it was not like he was defenseless.

Moving to the garage he got on his Mirage and started it. Roc was way to big for the bike but it was his only transportation. He drove out of his apartment building and headed for the club. He figured he would arrive about a half hour early just enough time to case the joint both outside and inside.

Feb 15, 2067 9:00 am
Seattle Renton
PAN: Passive

His face screws up slightly as he reads over the card. He quickly changes his route, one to take him to Crimson's and not the House of Night Blooming Flowers. He quickly accesses his commlink and dials out to the Body Bag. He waits for the answering message to pop up before entering his employee code. He downloads his schedule and merges it with his calendar. Closing out that call and calling the House next, he waits for the call to be answered. Madame Yin insisted on someone manning the phones 24/7, it was some sort of distinction to her. A way to elevate her business above the others.

"Good morning." The voice is cultured and smooth, it hints at a woman lounging in silk and smoke. There is a light teasing in the tone that suggests familiarity, a note to draw the caller into a secret they only share. He smile as he answers, always amazed at the tricks the operators employ with just voice and pitch alone. "Hey, it's just me Lotus. I was calling to see if I had any clients lined up." There's a pause then the woman answers, this time sounding bored and tired. "Sorry hun, nothing yet but it's been a slow week. Everyone's feeling a bit of the pinch. The boss lady talked about throwing some sort of big party to drum up some business." He curses under his breath at the mention of no work but keeps the need out of his voice, everyone working there needed money for one thing or another. "Great idea, can you leave her a note that I am more than willing to work the event? Hope things pick up, see ya later I have to go. Driving and chatting are not a good mix for me." He ends the call as he weaves through the traffic in downtown.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a quick stop, Shensahti gets off the scooter feeling small and swallowed up in the industrial area with its large buildings and grey tones. He attaches the the helmet and locks up the scooter. As he makes his way to the entrance of the Velvet Garage, he's once again struck by the oddity of the club being here in this area and not downtown but he was certain Crimson had her reasons, not that she'd share them with anyone other than Remy.

He walks up the steps, pausing outside the door before ringing the bell. As he waits he makes small adjustments to his clothes and checks his hair one more time, his body language screaming nervous and uncertain.

2.15.67 1910
Downtown Seattle, International district
Johnny's apartment.

Johnny hurriedly slurps up noodles and sucks down soy-caf, stopping only to huff out the heat from both as needed. The noodles are gone in mere minutes, as well as the soy-caf when he abandons them to the kitchen counter. His coordination is returning as well as his sence of balance as he walks to the back room and his closet, where he picks out.......having a thought he calls out to the commlink."Underground club, Seattle downtown.....club review search."

Johnny waits as the commlink runs through his query.


Johnny looks through his closet, and picks out dark colors. Hurriedly he dresses, including his "accessories", the pistol in the holster on the small of his back, and the folding knife in the same pocket as his commlink.Heading out the door, Johnny uses his commlink to hail a taxi, to his attended area he wants to be picked up at. Out the door and down the stairs, Johnny takes a moment before he exits the building to do a once over in the reflection of glass on the door. Johnny peers to the reflection of his eyes...like cat piss in the snow, lovely. Johnny slips the AR glasses on and dials the tint up through his flare compensation option on the glasses.

Johnny walks a the 2 blocks, to his point of hail for the taxi. Johnny is in the cab, before the cabbie can decline him. I'd never have caught one without a commlink hail...racist motherfraggers . Johnny is blunt with his request to go to the Underground, knowing full well the cabbie is about as happy dealing with his kind as Johnny is with his.

The trip is as short as the cabbie could make it, and uncomfortably quiet, for both of them. Pulling into the parking lot at 19:50, the cabbie seems almost suprised as Johnny pays. Perhaps he thought he'd just run off . Johnny thinks to himself as he walks across the lot Fragger could have dropped me off closer. Johnny begins the walk up the stairs to the big Troll. Once up top Johnny smiles as he asks."Do I need to check my coat to meet the lady?

2.15.67 19:59
Touristville
PAN: Active
Gear: 'Runner gear

Tugging the suit around his shoulders, he headed for the unwelcoming looking building. It had taken a fair chunk of nuyen to get the cabbie here fast enough to make the meet time of 8:00pm, but the quick hack of the cab that had shown the man on shift for two additional hours had cut quite a bit off the cash price of the trip.

The suit sat well, having been custom tailored, and was above and beyond the most expensive thing he owned. At least, it is now. he thought bitterly. Sometimes, being conscious of his addiction wasn't really a blessing. Mac had insisted that he buy it though, after he showed up the first time in the rumpled remnants of one of the suits from his old life. She'd sent him to a tailor she knew, maybe even the same one that did the crisp, custom thousand nuyen suits she always wore.

He looked at the building apprehensively, and moved towards the door. He still hadn't slept or eaten since yesterday. Even worse, it was going to be hours, probably, until he could get back in the Matrix.

Jonathan:
February 15, 2067 - 7:35 pm
Touristville

"The place we're meeting is a club called The Underground. It's on the corner of 4th and Winchester. It's a bit rough and tumble, but you'll do ok. Just let the bouncer know you're there for me and he'll direct you to my booth."

Tad:
February 15, 2067 - (need to know your timing)
Touristville

:: Ezekiel busts a huge grin at the proffered liquor and barely a nod at the actual nuyen. ::

"My my...ain't this a sight for sober eyes."

:: He waves at a passing waitress and orders two empty glasses delivered. The very bored looking scantically clad ork sighs and turns to retrieve them. Some woman should NOT be scantically clad. Turning his attention back to Tad, he means forward resting his large forearms on the worn table. ::

"It could turn out to be nothing special, but the buzz is that it could turn into longer term employment. You know your J ain't trying to smoke ya when he's gonna need ya later."

:: The glasses arrive and Ezekiel pops the top and pours two very generous portions, sliding one towards you. Taking a long pull and savoring the lack of burning fire the crap brands produce, he sighs as if in heaven. ::

"Now THAT is a beautiful thing. Anyway, not too much is known about Mack. She's an ex-corper I think, drek hot elf but don't tell her that. She used to run with a crew a while back but is now looking to work the other side of the fence. Should be null sweat, but don't trust her. She's an Elf, a Woman and ex-Corp. Top o' the list of untrustworthies. Just watch yer six and you should do fine."

Shensahti:
February 15, 2067 - 9:32 am
Touristville

:: The old Victorian style building was an annomoly in the artistic void that is Renton. It was unknown how the building survived the countless evolutions of the neighborhood around it, but the land was bought and paid for and you'd have to pry the deed out of Crimson's cold dead fingers before that would change. ::

:: The sun shone brightly on the heavily draped windows, casting reflections that dazzled the unprotected eye. The moments after the bell was sounded were long and nearly torturous before Maddy, or perhaps Molly opened the door. ::

:: The twin wore her white hair in dual braids as usual and her welcoming face smiled it's recognition for the young prodigy. ::

"Good morning, Shen. So good to see you again. Please, step inside. Crimson is expecting you."

:: As you enter, you see the other half of the sweet bartending pair working behind the bar as she checks over supplies and generates a list of needed orders. The grand foyer was dark and warm despite the bright chill the outside winter day bestowed on the city. Tables sat scattered and unattended and the two large waterfalls flanking the staircase were not currently active. ::

:: Glancing upwards, you see the arresting image of Rumy walking along the upper balcony. He seems to glide down the stairs silently as he extends a hand in greeting. ::

"Crimson is glad you could arrive so quickly. Please, come. We're having breakfast in the morning room."

:: Leading the way up the stairs, Rumy turns left and approaches the door occupying the end of the walkway. As the double doors open, the light floods the darkend interior. The windows here are covered with gauzy white curtains rather than the familiar velvet ones and two large sky lights infuse the room with gentle light. ::

:: Crimson sits at a small dining table centered in the room surrounded with 4 wingback leather chairs. As usual, her beauty is bested only by her grace. Dressed in a long silk sleeping gown covered with a heavily embroidered robe of dark reds and greens, she smiles as you enter. ::

:: The table is ladden with fresh fruit, cheeses and fresh baked bread. Rumy indicates the seat next to Crimson and after Shensahti takes a seat, Rumy settles into the opposite side. ::

"Please, have something to eat Shen. I wanted to talk to you about a potential opportunity I have been able to set up for you. There is a woman in the city looking to create a team from a motley mix of castaways. Those who have been invited thus far all seem to be even with your own abilities and potentials. I would like you to attend this meeting and procure a spot on this team. I am very interested in knowing more about this woman's activities."

2:15:67 7:31 pm
Pan: Passive

Roc rides his bike around the block the club is on trying to get a layout of the outside. He pulls up and parks the bike around a corner from the front entrance. He checks out the building as he walks around to the entrance. Stopping just before he goes down the walkway he peers around scanning the others street for anything out of the ordinary trying to look nonchalant about it. "Drek I shuda checked da place outs on da comm link. I za ways over dressed." he says to himself. "Toos lates now." He then proceeds to walk down the ramp twards the troll. "Hoy Chummer. I needs a beer dis place any good?"

Feb 15, 2067 9:32 am
Seattle Touristville
PAN: Passive

He sits taking care to keep his movements slow and relaxed. As he moves through the club he feels the strange sensation of being both at home and an outsider. He had hoped to work as one of her personal staff but fell short of the mark. He was simply too damaged after his years overseas and there was nothing to be done about it. With a sigh and a wistful look he follows in Remy's wake. At least I can start to repay my debts.

He takes a moment to savor the sight and smells of real food before beginning to prepare a modest plate for himself. I'm looking at money in food form..... He listens with a neutral expression as Crimson speaks.

"I'll certainly do my best to get the job, god knows I need something a little more steady in the way of income but is this woman going to be ok with me along for the ride. Does she know about our connection? I don't want to ruin my chances for more work on my first run out." He makes the tone of his questions passive and concerned.

February 15, 2067 1:00 pm-ish
Crusher 495
Clothing B

"Cool. That's exactly what I needed, and I appreciate it." Tad downs the whiskey. "Guess I'd better go get changed - busy afternoon ahead."

He makes his way out past the glaring troll and ork clientele, already looking for whatever he can dig up with his paltry computer skills on this club. Sounds like a rough place - tempting to dress down - but if the J is ex-corp, best to go in speaking her language. And best not to let his future coworkers get any mistaken impressions about where his expertise lay, in any case.

As he walked to Carl's place, he caught himself unconsciously rotating his wrist, elbow, and shoulder joints. The next couple of hours would not be fun.

4:00 pm

Back at his hovel, Tad stripped down and headed straight for the luke-warm shower. He was covered in sweat and bruises. At least he was getting his money's worth from the old cop.

After the shower on went his Actioneer business suit and best tie. That mean swapping the Predator for the more discreet Hammerli.
Donning his obscenely expensive shades, he looked at himself in the mirror and for a moment was his old self again.

7:55 pm
Clothing A

He'd splurged on a cab - no point in smelling like the bus for the meet. He'd hurt it was a rough place, so he knew going in his expensive corp suit was going to stand out. He took a moment and put himself into the mindset of someone who'd been there and done that, and now no longer had the need to show how tough he was with his denim and leather and kevlar - someone who'd graduated to finer things after a hard life.
Once he was satisfied that he had adopted the proper demeanor, he went down the steps and approached the troll doorman. "Ezekiel sent me. Here to see Mac."

2.15.67 20:00
Touristville
PAN: Active
Gear: 'Runner gear

He moved down the stairs to the door, internally balanced between apathy at being the real world and anxiety about the meet. He comforted himself with the sensor feeds, feeling the information flow, multiple windows and information inputs about everything...weather, temperature, the material composition of the trolls clothing.

"I'm here to see Mac."

Feb 15, 2067 9:35 am
Renton - Velvet Garage

:: Crimson nibbles daintily on fresh sliced strawberries as she listens to Shen's querries. ::

"No, she does not know you are one of mine, and I do not wish her to. I will not ask you to betray your newfound teammates or your employer. All I ask is for you to keep me informed of her activities."

Feb 15, 2067 9:35 am
Renton - Velvet Garage
PAN: Passive

"Fair enough. Done and done." Shen eats lightly and ask questions about the club and the local party scene. Keeping things friendly and public in scope. He finishes and excuses himself. Returning home, he spends the afternoon trying to relax and cleaning up his place. Looking for some sort of release for the nervous energy buzzing around him.

Grabbing a light coat he leaves to arrive at the meet at 7:55 so as to appear professional but not too eager. He locks up the scooter once again and makes his way to the troll working the door. He takes pains to avoid making unwanted eye contact with anyone else hanging around the door.

Location: The Underground. Downtown Seattle.
Weather: Overcast 48° F - Slight chance of rain.

Roc:
7:31 pm

:: Arriving early, you have the time to familarize yourself with the layout. The building is a basic block shape with two visible levels and a small parking lot with half a dozen used and beat up vehicles taking up the spots nearest the building. The bottom floor has two sets of double fire doors, each with prominant signs declaring them exit only. The windows of the facility are confined to the upper floor and are so caked with dust and grime that they are completely opaque. There are several large entertainment oriented satellite diskes on the roof and a small beat up sign on the front corner of the building titled The Underground with an arrow directing you around the side and down the stairs. ::

:: As you descent the stairs, your brother of another mother grins at you toothily. ::

"Nice threads, Chum. Bar's owned by one of us. Gots the good brews, none of that elfish drek here."

:: The entrance appears to be at the corner of the rear wall and after travelling down a short corridor you enter the darkly lit bar. A smokey haze hangs throughout the open space filled with rough wooden tables, an assortment of large and small chairs and lined with booths on two sides. Attending the bar is a large troll, bald on top and each tusk chromed and shined with pride. He wears what looks like old cammo's and a short waist apron around his impressive middle. He is leaning on the bar, having a conversation with an elderly looking ork, but sees you approach and moves down the bar in your direction. ::

"What cin I getcha?"

:: After he's supplied you with your brew, the two of you have a quiet dialogue before one of his beefy fingers indicates a booth along the right side, a figure can barely be seen through the smokey haze. ::

:: Approaching the booth, you see one side is designed for larger metahumans and sits unoccupied. On the other side sits a strikingly beautiful elven woman with a serious pokerface masking her thoughts. She smiles business like and indicates the bench across from her. ::

"I take it you are Roc. Glad you could make it. The other will be joining us shortly."

Die:
7:50 pm

:: As you descent the steps, you definately get an unwelcome feel emminating from the troll. His sharp eyes take in the too tight jeans, flirtatious tee and the inappropriate shoes and assumes some schmuck inside decided to buy some company for the night. When you mention the name Mack however, his eyebrow raises. ::

"She's waiting. Booth on the right."

:: As you enter, a number of heads turn your way, some hungrily wondering if they have enough cash to convince you their table is more fun. After only a moment, you see the only occupied booth along the right wall, the occupants of the booth obscurred by the rather large head of a troll facing away from you. ::

Johnny:
7:50 pm

:: As you approach the entrance, you can see what looks to be an elf seriously out of place speaking to a slightly irritated troll at the entrance. She disappears inside as you start down the stairs. The troll seems to relax as you approach. Your type is expected to frequent here, even if you aren't a face his mind remembers. At your question, he looks slightly confused, momentarily thinking the "lady" you are referring to is the tart that just preceeded you. His mind puts 2 and 2 together and then carries the one to realize you weren't talking about your coat at all. ::

"Naw chummer. Bossman figures if everyone is armed, makes folks less likely to start violent trouble. Settle your problems with your fists here...else it'll get ugly. Lady you're lookin fer is inna booth on da right. Follow the tramp."

Tad:
7:55 pm

:: The troll bouncer has no trouble recognizing business when he sees it. The bar is rough and tumble for the regulars, but it's also no stranger to shadow business and he doesn't seem suprised to see the typical armored suit showing up. Instead he nods once in understanding and fold his hands in front of his waist, his muscles buldging in a subtle warning to behave. ::

"Booth on the right side."

Shensahti:
7:55

:: The bouncer watches your descent over the shoulder of Tad's and notices your active avoidance of eye contact. That makes him slightly apprehnsive as it could indicate either trouble or could be as simple as someone not comfortable in this type of neighborhood. His always judgemental mind realizes you are the type of human that makes his kind dislike breeders in general. When you ask for Mack, he gruffly tells you the same thing he's said 5 times now. ::

"Booth on da right."

Jonathan:
7:59 pm

:: Being the last member to arrive, your appearance indicating business, the troll knows what your purpose is even before you open your mouth. His perceptive eyes take in the signs of down and out addict, btls he assumes, not seeing the discolored skin of an alchy or drug addict. ::

"She's in a booth on da right."

:: He shakes his head in pity as you dissappear inside. He never quite understood how wage slaves born into safe happy little sheltered families chose to let one substance or another eat their lives. Sometimes he wishes he could drag em down to the real underground and show them lives truly worth trying to escape. ::

Die-Gun Adept
2.15.67 7:55PM
Downtown Seattle- The Underground
PAN: active

As Die walks out of the hallway and into the actual bar she is assaulted by the thick smokey haze but manages to not gag. She stands a little bit past the entrance out of the way of any traffic and takes a second to take in the club in detail by sight, sound, and unfortunately smell.

She can feel lots of eyes watching her, some with lust and some others with hate. Normally she might do something theatrical to acknowledge all the looks but this was not the time. This is business and if the johnson picked this place it is best to give respect to it and its patrons. So instead she keeps her face nuetral and walks casually over to the bar continueing to look the place over as she does.

She finds a place to stand at the bar and makes eye contact with the bartender to let him know she wants to order something. The bartender slowly makes his way over like he wishs he didnt have to serve her and eventually arrives in front of her.

Die: "I'd like a cup of soycaf with sugar and creamer if you please"..........

Feb 15, 2067 7:55 PM
Downtown Seattle - The Underground
PAN: Passive

"Thanks." He moves through the area, keenly aware that his is not his normal stomping grounds at all. He looks around, again taking pains to seem inoffensive and not giving off any body language that speaks of aggression or defiance. The last thing I need is a bar brawl.... He approaches the table and stops, taken aback by the elven woman seated there. Not quite what I imagined when I heard the name Mack... He catches himself staring and quickly moves to take a seat, giving a nod to the woman who asked him to come.

2:15:67 7:50
Pan: Passive

Roc nods his thanks to the bar tender. "I za likes da bar. Mights hav ta come back agin." Roc leaves a tip via his commlink with the bartender. He did like this place he would have to come back again soon. Roc looks over at the elf in the booth. No guards and to Roc that was a bad sign. Either she couldn't afford them, was running scared and had not thought of that, or she could take care of herself. Roc did knwo which was worse.

Roc walks up to the elf lady and sits down in the both. "I seez uz already knows meez. And uz iz?." He tried to act just like he had seen Madam Lu conduct business many times. He squeesed in the booth designed for the lager metahumans like himself. He remained quiet sipping his beer to pass the time. He did not like sitting down for business, especially in this booth where he could not get out quickly. Besides talking business with somebody was not his specialty. Hurting people was.

Roc glanced at the lady. He wondered if maybe she had been in the escort business. Good enough looking to.

2.15.67 1950
Club Underground
PAN: Passive

Johnny smooths out the front of his jacket at the Trolls words, then gives him nod of understanding what was implied as he walks through the door. Johnny dials down the tint on his glasses. One of the few actual perks to being a meta, was the acute sense of sight it granted.Long years of instinct or just the practice of larceny has he eyes scanning the room....exits, numbers of people, security devices all are run down in a quick mental check list as he walks slow and purposely to the back, back and right the troll had said. That, and follow the tramp. The tramp?.... Johnny's concentration is interrupted by the swaying of hips in front of him.

Johnny approaches the table, taking care to remove his glasses as he gives a slight bow, mostly its a quick nod but it conveys his respect. After his slight bow he locks eyes with the "J" before replacing his glasses. A further sign of respect, he'd learned from his time working around the Yakuza...of course he made sure his glasses were on before the discoloration of his eyes from chasing the dragon could be realized. Johnny makes further quick bows (nods) to the others, without removing his glasses however. During his greetings Johnny pauses on the Troll...this one I have seen, but where?

Die:

:: The big man just blinks at you as you order and pauses a tic, making sure he heard you right. Without a word, he then turns his back, picks up a dirty mug and fills it with a thick black liquid from an ancient pot. Setting it unceremoniously on the counter his rough gravelly voice speaks to you for the first time. ::

"We don't got sugar or cream."

:: He nods to the cup. ::

"Thats three bills."

Shensahti:

:: Mack nods in return as she takes a drag from a cigarette before turning her attention to a small handheld computer, her fingers flying over the controls ::

Roc:

:: The bartender smiles again and extends his big beefy paw. ::

"Names Wulf Brewster. I's my place. Glad ya like it. Come back anytime."

:: Once you take your seat, Mack replies to your question without looking up from whatever work she is concentrating on. ::

"Name's Mack. We'll wait till everyone arrives before getting down to business. Feel free to introduce yourselves to one another. If all goes well, you'll be working together."

Die-Gun Adept
2.15.67 7:55PM
Downtown Seattle- The Underground
PAN: active

Its a good thing i left my guns in the car or else i would be very tempted to take them out and blast this troll right in the face. Get it under control, I have to put up a good front. Die accesses her comm and wires 3 nuyen to the bars account. "Nuyen's transferred. Thanx for the drink its cold outside."

She takes the drek the bartender presented as soykaf and...... proceedes to walk over to the table the troll at the front door had said. There is an elf on one side of the booth and a troll and human on the other. Die sets her cup of soykaf on the table while looking at the human. "May I?" with her hand she gestures to the booth seat. As he begins to slide over she sits down next to him. She gives a friendly smile to the human and then to the troll and then turns her attention to the elf woman sitting across from them using some small device that looks like a personal computer.

Die: in sperethiel: "Greetings, it is a pleasure to meet you." Die takes off her glasses and slips them into a pocket on the outside of her coat and gazes at the elf woman for a few seconds judging how attractive she is.

As she sits waiting with the other two she plays with her cup of soykaf turning the cup in place wondering if it would be worth the doc wagon trip to the hospital to find out what it tastes like. She is annoyed at having her back to the exit, not the gunslinger arrangement she preferred which would have allowed her to have her back to the wall and see anyone coming through the entrance. Bonus points for the johnson for knowing something about staying alive.

February 15, 2067 7:56 pm
The Underground
Clothing A

Once past the doorman, Tad walked slowly to the booth to which he'd been directed. Slowly to be able to get a feel for the place (and it was never seemly to hurry anywhere wearing a suit this nice), but he kept walking - he didn' want to stop at the bar because he didn't have any hard cash on him and didn't want to leave a commtrail. He'd paid the cabbie Y50 in advance while they were still in Redmond, and now he had his link on hidden. He'd set it to be able to pick up incoming funds only - any other pre-authorized callers (there were way to few of those at this point) would go straight to message mode. But he'd set it so that any incoming funds info would scroll across his shades in big bold alphanumerics.

Approaching the booth he saw on one side an effete-looking human with a an attractive (to some) elf woman, and behind them a huge, well dressed troll looking uncomfortably hemmed in. On the other side, another attractive elf female - no trouble telling which of the attractive elves was the J, and which a runner - along with an ork.

With the booth looking crowded, he used the excuse to sit where he wanted to anyway. Pulling up a chair from an empty table, he took his place at the end of booth's table where he could see the faces of all the players without turning his head much, sitting down slowly and wordlessly with a smile and removing his shades - no one trusted anyone if they couldn't see their eyes. He held the shades casually on the table in front of him in his left hand - hopefully there would be some big bold letters to see soon enough.

2:15:67 7:58
Pan: Passive
The Underground

Roc nodded politely to each person as thay sat down. He did not exactly know what to say so he figured the best solution was to be silent until asked. Besides Roc knew he was not the best conversationalist. Trying to get his mind off of feeling trapped in the booth he looked over each person as they sat down.

For those looking over the big troll, he is wearing a suit probably armored. He looked good in the suit for a troll your guess, at least he took time to groom himself. The few black hairs on his head were combed and his teeth and horns looked clean and polished. He does not apprear to have any weapons on him though a weapon could very easily be concealed with his bulk. He looked very muscular and his fists looked bigger than some peoples faces.

2.15.67 20:02
Touristville
PAN: Active
Gear: 'Runner gear

He moved into the building with a nod for the bouncer. He wasn't much for faces. Mac had done business here before, but he had no idea whether or not the troll at the door was the same one that had been there before.

He could feel the oppressive weight of the building settle onto his shoulders as he stepped into the bar. The feeling sprang not so much from the physical presence of the building as the effect being under several tons of plascrete and alloy did to wireless transmissions. Cut off from those was as much underground as being physically buried in the earth. He noted with a small smile the lack of nodes in the bar, despite the number of people.

Walking over to Mac's table he was surprised at the number of people settled around. In the past he'd worked with her and one or two other people, and always on short jobs that he could do from home. Inwardly he groaned...it would probably be even longer before he was free to dive again.

On the bright side, this group would probably be less then judgemental. At least 2 of them looked like they might have sympathy for an addiction, the troll looked dumb as a box of rocks (nice suit aside), and the trollop in the jeans and tee obviously wasn't going to be the brains of the operation. It was a far cry from negotiating corporate deals and department coordination, but he was a far cry from that man, so it seemed only appropriate.

Outwardly he smiled his best corporate smile at the group and Mac, and moved to take a seat.

2:15:67 20:04 pm
Pan: Passive

It seemed to Roc that everybody was here and the silence was killing him. "Wellz I za suppose weez culds gets da show goin. Mack heerz said we should introduce ourselves. I za wills starts. Da names Roc. I likes to hurt people withim my fists, elbows, and feets."

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Roc." And I'll be particularly glad to have you between me and anything harmful, thought Tad.

"You can call me Tad. I can't cast spells, I'm not really much good with computers, and am not especially skilled with firearms or" - smile and nod of acknowledgment to Roc -"my elbows. These are all crucial skills, but for my part I hope to minimize how much we have to rely on them. And when that's not possible, help make sure their use turns us a tidy profit." He shrugs his shoulders - "I hate to be a cliche, but I guess in this business I'm called a face. Personally, I think facilitator is a better term."

Die-Gun Adept
Downtown Seattle- The Underground
PAN: active

What the frag? This has got to be a trap. Do these guys honestly expect me to be like "Hi my name is Die and i like to shoot and kill people" in a public resteraunt? Maybe its a test, not even newbie runners would be so unprofessional. This johnson does seem to be pretty quite. Lets play along and see what happens. Note to self, download some linguasofts to edit Roc's speach so I dont get a headache everytime he speaks.

Startled from watching her cup of soycaf at the troll's voice, she looks him over as he introduces himself and then the human guy who pulled up his own chair as he tells the whole world about what type of shadowrunner he is. After Tad finishs she chimes in. "Greetings, you may call me Die. As for what I do, I dont like to advertise it in public. All i will say is that you will be very glad to have me if this works out."

She looks to the other human sandwhiched between her and Roc to hear his introduction when she also notices another person approaching the table out of the corner of her eye. She reaches a hand slowly towards her belt. Stay calm, nothing out of the ordinary has happened yet. Felix said things rarely go down at meet and greets.

2.15.67 20:05:00
Club Underground
PAN:Passive

Johnny looks around as the others start introducing themselves. Roc, I've heard of him, a pimp by trade Johnny believes."I'm Johnny, or Johnny Yen if you'd prefer." Johnny says matter of factly. "And I also am a facilitator of sorts." He smiles at Tad as he finishes that last part of his sentence. Slowly Johnny takes out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. Best not to startle any of them, especially the big one Johnny thinks.

Johnny shakes the pack till one emerges, where he then places it in his mouth. Before closing the top on the cigarette pack, he motions the pack to the others as an offering."In our line, we'd be lucky if these are the cause of our deaths." He smiles as he says this.

Feb 15, 2067 8:05 PM
Downtown Seattle - The Underground
PAN: Passive

"Shensahti or Shen for short." He declines the cigarette as it's offered. "I am the magic end of business I suppose. Spells, spirits and the all that. Nice to meet you." He settles into his seat as the introductions trickle out while waiting for the host to start the meet.

2.15.67 20:06
Touristville
PAN: Active
Gear: 'Runner gear

Nodding at each one of them in turn, Jonathan balances his commlink up on the edge of the table and looks at the group.

"My name's Jonathan, and I'll be handling the technical aspects."

Die-Gun Adept
Downtown Seattle- The Underground
PAN: active

Die holds up her hand in a gesture of refusal to the offered cigarette while shaking her head no.

Feb 15, 2067 8:07 PM
Downtown Seattle - The Underground


:: With a flip of her wrist, the data unit snaps shut as she looks up and surveys the group. She maintains a rather adept poker face as she judges the competence of the runners she was able to pull together. She's not particularly impressed or happy about it, but there are one or two who seem professional enough to carry the others. Pulling out a small electronic device, she presses a series of buttons and sets it on the table. The jammer instantly raises a white fuzz that blocks out all AR as well as any personal communications devices. One by one you each receive error messages on your personal comms telling you they have lost connection with the wireless network. ::

"Good evening and thank you for coming. You have each been invited to the table because you have skills that make you valuable assets to a team running the shadows. My goal is to test your abilities while giving you some opportunities to form a working relationship with one another. I have a number of business opportunities that will need the services of a well formed group and I am willing to invest a bit to get you up to the level of competence I am looking for."

"I will pay you per mission I assign and you will always have the opportunity to decline a job, though it will most likely mean the end of our professional relationship. I will also make available to you any gear I can reasonably obtain, the cost of which will be reimbursed only if used while completing a mission for me."

"If anyone finds these terms unacceptable, I would invite you to exit before further negotiations occur."

Die-Gun Adept
Downtown Seattle- The Underground
PAN: jammed

Several things spring into Die's mind as the johnson finishes her obligatory warning that the employment she is offering will most likely be dangerous and/or highly illegal and that any pantywaist wannabe runners should leave now.

What Die wishs she could do is put her hands on the table and stand up while saying something along the lines of "I find these terms....." and then sitting back down and relaxing followed by "acceptable enough to hear the rest of the details" just for the sake of getting some attention and maybe putting people more at ease after a tense situation.

Another less flamboyant thought is just to answer the johnson directly and wait for her to continue. Show some initiative and balls, figurateively speaking of course.

Instead Die just leans back against the back of the booth folding her arms across her chest communicating silently that she didnt plan to go anywhere. It might be useful just to watch how the others react to the johnson and see who was willing to step up and be the leader. She knew she could probably do the job but she abhorred responsability. She kept her eyes locked onto the johnson so there would be no mistaking the fact she was calm and relaxed instead of nervous and worried about the job.

February 15, 2067 8:08 pm
The Underground
Clothing A

Tad raised his eyebrows and gave a shrug of assent.

2.15.67 20:08
Club Underground
PAN:Passive/JAMMED

Johnny holds his gaze on the 'Johnson' and nods his head in agreement with the terms. The Yen is getting tight and he hadnt any other jobs lined up, and he always ran the risk of imprisonment or bodily harm in theft jobs, so why the hell not.

2:15:67 20:09
Pan: Passive
The Underground

Roc listens to Mack's offer. "I'z gots no problems wifin you settin up a team ands I'z glads you asks for me. Buts I'z gots a question. Whats kinds of jobs uz talkin abouts?" He tried to sound and look as professional as he could be. He did not slouch and he kept his big meaty hands on the table to show the others where his hands were. He gave a quick look around the table. All of them looked alright. Nobody looked like they were going to start any trouble right away which Roc thought was a good sign.