Nigel looks around to all of you in a serene manner [Sweetness, as you know him well it is a look of him being absolutly tired] "Thank you gentlemen, the powers that be shall surely reward you." Nigel sits in an old overstuft leather chair."I shall attend to gathering what I can about the tests, as for you dear gentlemen I have a possible lead...nothing more than speculation at this point." Nigel sips and holds his tea cup to his mouth, possibly as a way to shield himself from the gazes he knows he'll recieve." Gentlemen, any of you heard of the 162's?"

Unlike earlier, Switch is the first one to speak up.

"Sounds like a gang name," he says. He looks around the room.

Nigel nods and smiles. "Yes, that is what my sources say. A particularly nasty gang at that."

Sweetness nods encouragingly, before sipping on his tea, and scanning the others for their reactions. The ezines have been folded and put away in his jacket pocket.

I wonder what ritual they are using? What's the purpose behind the severe restriction on ritual materials?

Zu leaned against one of the bookshelves and listened with half an ear, while his mind raced along the possible uses for such materials.

It was this morbid curiosity that had gotten him in trouble in the first place. His near obsessive need to know, that had sent him places he hadn't like being. Still, he could feel his pulse begin to speed up and felt his finger tips begin to tingle as if he were caressing a live electrical wire. His forebrain told him that he should be disgusted by the suffering of little children but he couldn't really make it real to his emotions. The dead children were objects, he didn't know them, they didn't make any difference in his life, there were lots of similar tragedies every year, etc. etc. While he recognized he should react emotionally to the torture and murder of little children the only passion he felt came from daydreaming about the types and purposes of the ritual.

Each being has it's role to fulfill young one, yours is not the caregiver, it's the knowledge seeker. Do not demean yourself for fulfilling your purpose.

The voice inside his head whispered that small comfort to him and he latched onto it, ignoring the dark sense of enjoyment that came with the words.

"Gentlemen, any of you heard of the 162's?" Nigel asked. While Recoil thought about the name, he heard Switch speak up.

"Sounds like a gang name," he said. Switch's cautious glance around the room after saying that suggested that he didn't know who they were, and was hoping someone else would speak up. But with Nigel's confirmation as the only reply, Recoil thought it would be best to just try and ask for more information.

"Yeah, I can't say I've heard of them. Are you thinking they're involved in this?" he asked as he set his empty tea cup on a table next to him. Whatever information they could get would help in knowing what they were going to be up against.

Nigel looks pensively for a quick moment."All I've able to gather is that they are a rather unsavory lot. My forte'..." He looks around the room admiring the trinkets, some arcane others just wierd enough to be mistaken for occult materials. "...is a little out of the mortal realm to speak of." Nigel sighs lightly showing some fatigue as he does." This is the nature of the task I would ask of you all. I am for all my dealings out of my depth in this matter, and I.. " Slams his hand hard upon the arm rest of the chair "..shan't see an innocent persish for my short comings, if I can avoid it."

Nigel gathers his composure as the tubby grey cat leaps into his lap. "Quite right Pippin, we mustn't lose our tempers, my apologizes gentlemen but i have been long at this and only recently sought to enlist your aid." "I've no other knowledge of these 162's, perhaps this is within one of your numbers perview."

"I've no other knowledge of these 162's, perhaps this is within one of your numbers purview."

Switch listens to Nigel thoughtfully. His fingers rhythmically tap the parcel which is now propped up next to the chair he is sitting in.

It sounds like this old man knows a little bit about the rest of the guests here, he thinks to himself. I wonder what he knows about me.

Switch speaks up again, scanning the other faces in the room as he does so.

"I've never heard of these guys before," he says. "But then again, I'm pretty new to this place."

Sweetness picks up the teapot and offers to refill everyone's cup.

"Outside of my circle as well. I have sources through which I can pursue information, but first, can you tell us what it is that makes you think this organization, these 162's, is related to these events?"

"The limited sources I do have pointed them out as a very likely candidates, at least worth looking into by any account." Nigel looks around. "I am not a young man, and I lack the neccessary constitution to pursue the matter with ruffians of any sort." Nigel chuckles."...but once I was...so very long ago it seems." Nigel takes a quick sip of tea, nostalgia or perhaps just plain painful memories cloud his eyes with the beginning of tears.

"Well... what do you know?" Switch asks cautiously.

He looks away, towards the far corner of the room, then adds, almost to himself: "...and where do we find these guys?"

Leo sits quietly and listens to the conversation paying attention so he doesn't mss anything that might be good info for searching out these 162'2

Hmm interesting name. I wonder if its a wannabe merc gang...

"Sounds like we have a starting point at least. Before we go traipsing off maybe we should handle a few logistical problems first? You know like a base of operations, who is doing what etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

"Sounds like we have a starting point at least. Before we go traipsing off maybe we should handle a few logistical problems first? You know like a base of operations, who is doing what etcetera, etcetera, etcetera," Leo says.

Turning towards him, Recoil replies, "Well, since we don't seem to have a lot of information on thest guys, I'm not sure how much planning we can do until we know more. I can try some of the mercenary contacts I know to see if this gang has shown up anywhere else, but if they're connected to something like this and are trying to lay low I don't know how much info on the streets there may be. If we want to arrange a meeting location for future planning we can, but until then we can just stay in contact and keep each other informed of anything we uncover."

"You all have my card?" Sweetness looks up as he puts his monocle in place over his right eye while fishing out his commlink with his left hand and thumbing the control panel.

"I think we can meet here again, or at my apartment if you like."

"Unless we have more to share, I agree that we should pursue our own research and contacts and meet again."

Nigel speaks softly, as if on the verge of being asleep "You have use of this room as well as my private study." A slight wave of his hand points to a heavy oak door.

"But... how did you hear about this gang?" Switch asks.

He glances around the room, nervously.

"Through a less than reliable source I must confess. For what it's worth...he wasnt lying, of that I am quite sure of."

"Where do they operate out of? What else do you know about them?" Switch asks.

He glanced around the room.

"I'm not sure if any of you know any gangers or anything... but... it's sounding like we may have to find these guys and..."

Switch pauses. He glances at Nigel for second then looks back towards some of the other group members.

"...talk to them."

"Like I stated gentlemen, this is out my element and, while I do not presume it any of yours." Looks at Sweetness. "It is perhaps a far easier task for you to accomplish than I."

"I shall ask them to lend me their ears." Sweetness smiles confidently, as he pitches his voice slightly and his face changes to one with protruding mouth and nose and scaly skin, "Come not between the dragon and his wrath." just make sure we do better then Lear did.

His visage returning to normal, he looks at the others,

"When shall we ... meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

"I'm not certain we should let this one go too long. Lets exchange commcodes and then meet again tomorrow evening, say for a late dinner, at about 0900 hours? I'll bring the Chinese takeout."

Zu felt kind of useless here, gangs and street thugs were not his thing, since he had next to no network in Seattle. He'd spend his time researching the nature of the rituals that might be possible or hit MagicNet to see if the rumor mill had ground anything out about this one yet.

"Do any of us have any data search skills? I think we'll need to run down the tests for the victims and find out where the common connection is if we want to find out how the bad guys got that information. I have the computer skills of an Ludite, so I'm probably not the best suited for that task."

"0900 is a.m.," Recoil commented, "Here's my commcode. I'm not... much good at digging around the Matrix for information, but I have a few people I can try talking to. Hopefully this gang we're after has made enough noise that someone else has found a few things out about them."

As he set his tea cup down on the tray and zipped his coat up for the cold night air, Recoil couldn't help but curse himself over the what happened during the Crash. Had he been more carfeul, he could still be safely tucked away in an appartment or hotel room hacking away at the Matrix, and they could have had all the information they needed on this gang by now. Of course, had he been more careful, he probably wouldn't be in this particular line of work and wouldn't be here anyway.

Still, he had a job to do, and if there was nothing else to discuss here, he would have to make preperations to talk with some of his mercenary comerades in the morning.

"Sounds like its to be a hunt then. Good I like hunting," Leo says. "here is my commcode and no I don't do well searching for stuff on the nets. I like to play but thats about the extent of my surfing experitse."

"I am more than happy to tag along with whomever if it is so desired. If not shall we go about our business and meet back here say tomorrow in the evening? We can then discuss what, if anything, we have found. If we get something important before that we can just contact each other and round up the troops!" Leo says with a smile and looks expectantly at the others to see what their responses are.

"Enough." Sweetness moves his bulk to stand by Nigel's chair. "We shall meet at the appointed hour, after we have done our appointed tasks. Armed with knowledge we will then form a plan."

Placing a hand on Nigel's shoulder, "I shall see my friend gets his rest."

Nigel pats Sweetness's hand with his own."Thank you dear friend but, I'll manage." Looking down at the grey cat "I have Pippin for help after all." He chuckles lightly. "I have imposed on you well enough this night, and We all could use rest I believe."

"Well, if that's that, I'll be going," Recoil says, "I'll see what I can come up with in the morning and let everyone know if I find something."

With the meeting over, Recoil flips up the collar on his coat as he steps out into the cold. It was still dark, but with morning fast approaching he would have to get started quickly if he wanted to learn anything before the trail becomes cold.

Although Recoil had his share of experiences in fighting paranormal foes, the fact that he himself was fairly ordinary always bugged him. Recoil just hoped that this gang they were after was of the more mundane variety and were thus able to be tracked down...

"Very well all I will take my leave as well and see you all when next we meet."

With that Leo rises and departs from the room. Stepping out into the very early morning light and hopping onto his modified Yamaha Growler it comes to life. Casting a quick glance around he takes off down the street and towards his abode to do some sleeping and thinking on how to best track down this first of probabley many leads.

Zu dutifully exchanged commcodes all around and then righted himself from where he was holding up one of the walls.

"Alright then chummers, we'll gather the data and meet. Just so we don't go all walking on each other's toes, I'm going to be calling a friend to see about having a hacker track down the agency that preformed the tests on these kids and I'll be looking into the possible blood rituals. Later."

He trooped up the stairs and back into the fog, his mind already whirling along the possiblities.

..."IN NOMINE PATRIS ET FILII ET SPIRITUS SANCTI"....

The echoes had barely died from the sparsely attended morning mass at St. Peters when Sweetness rushed unseemingly to the door to the priests chambers.

"Your Grace." he puffed as he followed the bishop into the room.

"Oh it's you. What mysterious errand is it this time? I'm still avoiding explaining to Father Reynolds why the entire Boy's Choir was dressed in sailor outfits. Women's sailor outfits no less. And holographic wigs."

Somewhat embarrassed, "Your grace knows full well it was necessary for persuading the new Patron of St Agnes Orphanage. Besides the young men enjoyed it."

"-That- is what most concerns Father Reynolds."

In the meantime, the bishop had swiftly discards his robes of office, with slight assistance from Sweetness and his jogging outfit revealed, jogged for the door, the ork puffing as he followed the skinny dwarf out the door.

Gathering his breath, Sweetness says, "Your grace?"

"Still following me? This must be important. As long as it isn't corrupting more young men of the Diocese, I will listen."

Sweetness nods, then seeing the Bishop has drawn ahead moves to catch up.

"Well?"

"Your Grace... my sources have brought to my attention the disappearance of several children in circumstances that are indicative of the darkest rituals."

"Dark rituals. My my, what are they teaching in Rome nowadays?"

"It matters not what you and I believe your Grace, but what the kidnappers believe."

"Very well, continue."

"I have the children's names, and a possible organization, a gang called the 162's. Regarding the children, if the Diocese would take an interest for the victims families, both for the sakes of their souls, and to provide me with an excuse to interview them. One item of note, all the children recently tested as awakened, a fact not generally known. For the 162's, whatever information is available is of value, though directions to their abodes would prove the most fruitful."

"You said abodes?"

"Was that not correct?"

"Abodes... very well. The Ladies Macrame Club meets wednesday mornings in the basement of the East Chapel. You will attend in my place and entertain for the rest of the month."

"Macrame?"

"Yes, Macrame."

Switch looked both ways before he pulled out into the intersection.

It wasn't every day that he crossed into the Barrens.

A rickety-looking van full of ork youths with a DethTuskur sticker on the front squealed sat at the corner to his right, engine idling. The leering ork youth behind the steering wheel had waved him through the intersection a second earlier, the other teenagers in the van crowding the driver and looked on eagerly. One or two more youths were hanging out the side windows at well, yelling at him, and pointing.

He slowly eased his bike into the intersection, eyes locked on the driver.

Suddenly, the van's tires spun and the dilapidated vehicle lurched forward, creaking and squealing like some steam-age monstrosity. He could see the punks in the front seat yelling and pointing at him.

Switch gunned the bike's engine, and threw his weight to the left, cutting towards the far corner of the intersection. Switch gunned the engine, giving his bike a boost of speed that let him just barely slip ahead of the van's front bumper.

He could hear the youths yelling at him as the van continued down the street.

Heart pumping, he pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned gas station.

I need some backup, he thought to himself.

This place is worse than Chicago.

Taking out his commlink, he tapped out a text message to the mundane... what was his name? Recoil?

<Switch> Wanna take a ride down Highway 162? I'm in Pullayap now.

After a second's thought, he CCs the rest of the group.

I really don't know my way around Seattle very well, he thinks to himself.

The Bishop slows but does not stop jogging. "Since we have the pentance agreeded upon, can you go over your favor once again?" Through the course of your retelling the Bishop stops and looks frail and pale as he searches for a place to rest. Finally leaning on the greenish iron fence bordering the grassy section of the church he mutters. "Dear blessed Virgin Mother..the 162's?" The Bishop looks dumbfounded as he stares about. "Child, I dont feel much like running today. Will you take me back inside?"

After a very unproductive chat with his fixer Leo decides to just surf the net doing simple google searches and playing his favorite online game.

<Switch> Wanna take a ride down Highway 162? I'm in Pullayap now.

Hmm why not beats hanging out here

<Leo> Sure give me a location and I will be there in about 15.

Leo Then gathers his gear and heads out to his Ymaha and starts it up. Heading out to the freeway and on towards Pullayup to join Switch in what he hopes is a productive hunt.

Very glad to get out of the discomfiting morning light, Sweetness leads the dwarven bishop back to the cathedral.

Child... and I'm twice his size.

"So you've some knowledge of this gang?"

Waking up to a quick shower and a hot mug of soykaf, Recoil decided to get to work in digging up information about the162's. Unfortunately, he wasn't much of a Matrix jockey anymore, so his only real course of action was to see if anyone else knew anything. And if there was anything illegal going on (especially involving firearms), Buzzsaw would know.

Keying up the number from his commlink's speed dial, Recoil a sip from his mug while he waited for a reply. Buzzsaw, despite the name, was Recoil's arms dealer and had quite a few connections around the Seattle streets. If anyone knew anything about a street gang, it would be him.

Eventually, someone answered the ringing. On the other side was a fairly large ork wiping grease off his hands with an equally greasy rag. In the room behind him racks of guns, ammo, and other assorted military surplus gear could be seen, and gunshots occasionally rang in the background.

"Ah! Hey Recoil, out of ammo again?" Buzzsaw asked.

"Not yet," Recoil replied, "Wow, people are starting early today, aren't they?"

"The ork flashed a toothy smile, "Well you know how ...enthusiastic some of my patrons can be. But if you're not calling to reload, what's up?"

"Well to make a long story short, I'm on the job to track down a particular street gang, but there doesn't seem to be too much info out there on them," he paused, "I'm looking for whatever info you can get on a gang called the 162's..."

As he asked his question, Recoil got another call on his commlink from Switch, one of the other runners from last night.

<Switch> Wanna take a ride down Highway 162? I'm in Pullayap now.

In between Buzzsaw's words, Recoil sent back a reply.

[I]162? Is that some sort of clue? Just let me know where you are, and I'll be there."

With his active commlink transmissions routed to his eye, Recoil gathered his things and headed for his van, it looked like things were off to an early start.

Buzzsaw's face scruches up for a second before his whistles. "If you're taking on the 162's maybe you should load up...I got a special going."


The bishop rummages through a filing cabinet looking for a file (in hard copy no doubt)

The File

Against what was probably his better judgment, Switch got off the bike.

The rumbling engine of his Yahama Prowler died as he killed the ignition. Swinging a leg over teh bike, he stepped away from his vehicle, simuletaneously removing the specialized headphones he wore over his ears. While riding the bike, they had helped filter out his own vehicle's engine sounds, but they weren't needed now. He stowed them in on of the saddle bags on the back of his bike, the one which contained his medikit.

Standing there, he looked like something out of Mad Max 7. He was wearing the same moccasins, leather jackets, and jeans that he had worn the night before, but now the jacket was unzipped, showing off his body armor. Slung over his shoulder was a large-diameter plastic tube, the kind that is normally reserved for carrying posters or blueprints. His cargo was significantly... different, however.

He surveyed his surroundings. The asphalt he was standing on had long since lost its fight against the brutal combination of Seattle's climate and the seismic forces that rocked Pullyap over the years. Weeds sprouted through the spiderweb of cracks that stretched out across its neglected surface.

The building of the gas station was worse. The boarded up windows and doors looked like they had first been covered by graffiti, then broken into, and, finally, set on fire. The fire hadn't destroyed the entire structure, though.

The entire site looked almost as if it was too neglected to be part of Seattle, but too unnatural to be reclaimed by the countryside that flourished in the lands of the NAN.

Suddenly, his commlink beeped. He touched a button on it, routing the text messages to his smartglasses.

<Leo> Sure give me a location and I will be there in about 15.

<Recoil> 162? Is that some sort of clue? Just let me know where you are, and I'll be there."

Switch fished the small device out of his pocket. He quickly tapped out the exit off of Highway 162 that he had taken and directions to the intersections he was at, which was only a block or two away from the highway. He hit "Send."

Looking at the chronometer displayed in his field of vision, he figured he had time to exercise a bit before his compatriots got there. Time for some kata work, he thought to himself.

Unslinging his poster carrier, he drops it on the ground in front of him. Stripping off his leather jacket, he glanced up and down the street, alert for any immediate threats.

He lays the jacket over his bike and turns to face the intersection, his face an expressionless mask. Standing with the carrier in front of him and the bike behind, he quieted his mind.

Legs joined together. Fists were loosely clenched and brought up the sides of his body at chest level. His feet spread out, first by stepping with the toes and then the heels, leaving them shoulder-width apart. His arms crossed in front of himself, low, forming an "X" with his hands open. Then he brought the "X" up in front of his chest. His arms then jerked back to their original position.

Switch began the familiar movements of the Sil Lum Tao form as he waited for his compatriots to arrive.

Leo was tearing down 167 and had just turned onto the 410 before making the final ramp onto rt.162 when his comm beeped. Viewing the exit and directions he smiled an almost feral grin at the prospect of running the gauntlet of the barrens stretch of freeway. Opening the throttle further the appropriately named Growler leaped forward and sped down the freeway entering the section of 162 patrolled primarily by go gangers. As if to underscore the point a sign, obviously used regularly for target practice, whizzed by reading something about proceeding through at ones own peril.

Leo was a bit disappointed that he hadn't run into any sort of trouble by the time he came upon the designated exit. Slowing to a more manageable speed he followed the directions until he came upon a dilapidated old gas station with a familiar figure doing what could only be a kata. He pulled up next to the other bike and killed the engine. While waiting for Switch to finish he kept a close watch for trouble and checked his gear.

You must control your excitement else it will blind you and change you from the hunter to the hunted

The dwarf took steps to calm his innerself and felt his focus return. Yes its a good day for a hunt.

"I am not bound to please thee with my answers." Shylock in the Court of Justice, Act 4 Scene 1

Sweetness smiles ruefully, "Your Grace. If you will inform me when matters are arranged I will attend to it."

As his van turned onto highway 162, Recoil moved the vehicle's data feed to one corner of his mind while he continued the conversation with his fixer.

"If you're taking on the 162's maybe you should load up...I got a special going," the ork said.

"So, you actually know who they are?" Recoil replied, "And what are you trying to sell this time? I don't need more decorative ammo bins."

In between words Recoil got another message from Switch, listing the exit and directions to reach him. Moving that data over to the navigation computer in the van it continued to drive itself towards it's new destination.

In a few minutes the rather unimpressive looking van pulled off the street and onto the cracked parking lot of an abandoned gas station. This part of town certainly wasn't the nicest, but at least his van appeared to fit in. Stopping next to a pair of motorcycles, Recoil sent a command to the van to shut down the engine as he stepped out.

Walking around the van he spotted one man doing some martial arts exercises while a dwarf waited nearby. Switch and Leo from last night. Not wanting to interrupt whatever Switch was doing, Recoil waited along side his other fellow runner, "Nice day, isn't it?"

While waiting for Switch to finish the kata teh same beat up van Leo had parked next to the previous night pulled up next to the bikes and shut down. Recoil came walking around the van a moment later and stopped next to Leo asking "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes its a good day for a hunt. You manage to find anything about these 162's cause I haven't."

Sweetness composes a brief message and transmits to his newly met companions.

<<162's are a ghoul gang in Redmond. Once more into the breech my friends!>>

Time to get some rest, but first I must practice my Forms.

The seconds, minutes, and hours all faded into one infinite continuum as Switch practiced the movements that had been passed down by martial arts from various countries for hundreds of years. For a few moments, he and the universe were one.

As he finished his movements, he let out a quiet sigh as he turned to address his friends. A smile came to his face as he recognized the Recoil and Leo had both made it out to the Barrens to accompany him.

"Hoi, chummers," he said. "What's kickin'?"

Before they could answer, his commlink buzzed. He sauntered over to his bike, retrieved the comm and looked at the message on it:

<Sweetness> 162's are a ghoul gang in Redmond. Once more into the breech my friends!

Switch frowned at the message. On a hunch, he had taken highway 162 out to Pullayap thinking there might be a connection...

But no, these were ghouls from Redmond. Switch remembered staying briefly with a group of ghouls in Chicago during the Containment Zone era, and they had seemed like decent people... although with questionable eating habits.

He also vaguely had some memory of the number 162 being connected with them in some way, but at the moment the significance of the numbers escaped him.

"Well that's a let-down," he said, looking back at his companions. "Looks like we're in the wrong neighborhood. Do you want to go and try to find where these characters hang out, or should we wait until we meet up with the rest of the group first?"

<Sweetness> 162's are a ghoul gang in Redmond. Once more into the breech my friends!

"Well that's a let-down," he said, looking back at his companions. "Looks like we're in the wrong neighborhood. Do you want to go and try to find where these characters hang out, or should we wait until we meet up with the rest of the group first?"

"Lets do some advanced recon," Leo said trying to avoid a nasty case of deja vu that suddenly swept over him. He hadn't had a flashback in a long while and sure as drek didn't want them to come back. Not being able to sleep due to vivid nightmares was not something he wanted to revisit.

"Roger that," Switch says, getting himself arranged on his bike.

"Off to Redmond. Uh, do you guys know where in Redmond these guys hang out?" He glances quizzically towards Recoil.

<Sweetness> 162's are a ghoul gang in Redmond. Once more into the breech my friends!

Well, it looks like we're in the wrong part of town. Though that does partially explain the lack of information on them. Recoil thought.

Trying to get specific information from his contact wasn't proving too easy, either.
"Yeah about the 162's, well--" Buzzsaw was interrupted by something happening outside of view. "Hey! Read the sign! No Panthers!" Turning back to Recoil for a second he said, "Hang on, I'll have to call you back," and the comm channel shut down.

Sigh.

"Off to Redmond. Uh, do you guys know where in Redmond these guys hang out?" Switch asked.

"Sorry. All I've gotten so far is that we'll probably need to be ready for anything." Recoil replied as he tapped off message for Buzzsaw, asking about any general information that may be useful, like where they tend to hang out.

"I suppose we can start heading in that direction. If nothing else we'll be closer to where we need to be if we find out anything helpful."

"Sorry. All I've gotten so far is that we'll probably need to be ready for anything." Recoil replied as he tapped off message for Buzzsaw, asking about any general information that may be useful, like where they tend to hang out.

"I suppose we can start heading in that direction. If nothing else we'll be closer to where we need to be if we find out anything helpful."

Firing up his bike Leo nods and activates his comlink for active conference mode and syncs with the others.

"Ok sounds like we just need to get to the area and have a look around. Anyone know where ghouls regularly hang out? If we can figure out where other ghouls usually hang then we increase our chances of coming acrossed this gang."

While speaking Leo moves out and down the street towards the nearest onramp heading towards Redmond.

"Switch and I can take point with you following Recoil unless you want another formation?"

Not waiting for a response Leo accelerates onto the freeway and heads for Redmond. On hs way there an idea pops into his head to try a bar that he has gone to several times in the past that brings in a variety of types from all over the city and all over the Barrens.

"Hey guys follow me I have an idea," Leo calls over the link while calling up a map and setting destination for 124th Ave and 143rd St.

Traffic was smooth and it did not take long to get to the locale known as Crusher 495. Pulling inot an empty spot Leo hops off his bike and heads into the establishemnt. The bouncer, rather burly even for an ork, asks for his weapons.
Transfering 50 nuyen to the bouncers account gets him admitted without further ado. The Crush was pretty empty that time of day but not entirely. Walking up to the bar Leo gets the bartenders attention.

"Whatcha havin?" he asks.

"Cheap beer... just not too cheap'" Leo replies cracking a grin.

Chuckling to himself the orc barkeep pulls a glass from what looks like the clean stack and pours what looks and ends up tasting like a decent cheap beer. "Anything else?" he asks.

"As a matter of fact I am looking for a small bit of local information on the local, lets call it wildlife," Leo says. The barkeep leans in and Leo whispers, " Heard of a gang called the 162's by chance?"

Judging the barkeep is tough but Leo thinks he see's a slight tensing of the barkeeps body at mention of the name. Judging this to be a sensitive issue he decides to zap the barkeep a very generous 100 nuyen provided the info is good.

The barkeep registers his new balance and still leaning in close whispers back " Don't know much about them mate but I will tell you what I do know." They are found mostly in the northside of Glow City and they sport a 162 with three slash marks. Oh and they are really bad news. Being you are a generous guy I would hate to see such a good tipper as yourself get eaten if you catch my meaning," he says.

Downing his beer and getting up Leo nods his thanks to the barkeep and walsk back out to his waiting teammates. After relaying the information they decide to split up so as not to draw too much attention to themselves.

Leo after riding around for a bit spots what can only be a 162 sitting outside a low slung building that looks like it might have been a grocery in another life. Residents moving about looked a lot like people living in an active warzone might. Constantly casting about with furtive glances looking like they might literally jump out of their skins at the slightest noise.

Activating his link Leo forwards the location info to his team and finds a good place to covertly watch the area and await the others arrival. Upon finding a good spot he forwards to the others where he is and the best approaches to minimize possible exposure.

As the wind whips past his shock of grey hair, Switch squints hard against the afternoon sun as he rolls through the streets of Redmond. The battered storefronts, crumbling buildings, and vacant lots all pass by, regarded by him as nothing more out of the ordinary than a breeze on a nice spring day.

I should have stayed with Leo, he thinks idly as he rolled through the city streets. I'm libel to get lost.

Just as he was completing that thought, his comm beeps. Slowing slightly as the text rolls across his glasses, he sees the message from Leo.

Recognizing the directions (luckily), he turns at the next intersection and makes his way to where is fellow shadowrunner awaits.

Fifteen minutes (and two wrong turns) later, Switch parks his bike and waits with his compatriot.

The area like much of the barrens looks like a warzone full of crumbling buildings and to be exact refugee's. These refugees of modern society scamper not into the shadows but stay well aware of them and out of them. It would seem like a medieval superstition if you didnt that the monsters do exist.


The cellphone chirps to life as Sweetness performs a mundane task at hand.

"We have a mutual friend that contacted me. I have information you can use...meet me at a bar called O'Rourkes. The bar is on 17th...near the precinct building...you know, the Star's building there."

In the middle of his usual daytime sleep cycle Sweetness snapped awake and listens to the voice on his comm.

"O'Rourkes on 17th. Very well. I shall wear a white carnation."

Concentrating on the task carefully, the elderly ork sat up on his bedroll and relayed the message to the rest of the honorable men, appending his own message.

<<sweetness:: "We have a mutual friend that contacted me. I have information you can use...meet me at a bar called O'Rourkes. The bar is on 17th...near the precinct building...you know, the Star's building there." .... "I shall attend and discover what I can. Should you choose to attend, I believe we have been warned to be discrete.">>