Blackjack nods at Warpath's statement. "I feel the same way. Not to sound bad or anything, but we don't even know what we're doing." She smiles at Zoe.

Thinking about her fixer's reputation, Blackjack says, "Then again, it was enough to bring you out of hiding, so it must be good." Blackjack slaps the table and bounces herself in her seat as she shifts her feet, "Why not? I'm in!"

The big human shrugs. "Well, if it's worth 30, it's probably pretty bad. But who wants to live forever, ne?" He shrugs again. "Guess I'm in."

She smiles and the room lights up with it. “Excellent I was hoping everybody would say yes." She pauses and takes a sip of water. “Now that’s the good part, I’ll let our employer tell you the rest. His name is Johnny Blaze,” she steps to the side and takes a seat next to the table.

The back door opens and in walks Blaze The man walks with the calm assurance of an individual who knows he is in charge. He is dressed smartly, combat boots, canvas cargo pants, a large brown belt, and a loose shirt. A thick looking ¾ths hooded jacket completes his clothing. He is of American Indian descent but not full blooded. His head is shaved close to the scalp. He stand in front of your table, his black eyes as hard as coal, looking into each one of you. His face softens and he says,

“Thanks for coming. I know how hard it is to run the shadows and show up to a meeting like this. I would never have set it up this way but I am short on time, and Zoe assured me most of you would come. I’ll keep this short and simple. Four days ago my employers son was falsely convicted of terrorism and banished to the island of Iski-ahe. He is banished for life. If he leaves the island, the tribal council will know and he will be marked for death. This is an ancient native tradition and way of dealing with criminals. For the most part it has worked great since it was re-established 12 years ago.”

He lets out a breath, some of the energy leaves him and he sags a little, “Forgive me, I have been up since Halloween.” He orders a glass of juice and waits for it. Once it arrives he sucks it down and appears much better.

“I want to assure you, not that I think you will care, but because it matters, the boy committed no such crimes. He’s only 18 and this sentence is a death penalty. My employer has reason to believe that his political enemies have set this up to make him look bad. And he believes that this is not the end of it. The pilot of the Salish helicopter that took him out there suggested that the boy had 'accidentally' fallen in the water before getting to the island,” an angry look clouds his face for a moment, as if this was all very personal to him.

“The island is a 260 nautical miles North, Northwest of Seattle. It is roughly 300 meters across and has a small peak on it 100 meters high. The side that faces the mainland is pock marked with jagged reefs that make a boat insertion very difficult. The ocean side is dominated by a sheer cliff that goes to the very top. The island is battered by storms year round. The temperature rarely climbs above forty degrees Fahrenheit. The island is covered with about a hundred pine trees do to the near constant rainfall. As you can imagine, without proper survival gear, this would be a very hard place to live. Since we have word that he got wet it is very possible he will be close to death by the time you get there. That is why it is absolutely imperative that you rescue him no later than November 9th. If you find him and he’s dead, then bring the body back to me. If he’s alive, of course bring ‘em back,” he says with a smile.

“The rendevouz is going to be on the other side of the border, take I-90 through the border, and then about 2 klicks out there is an old engineers road. It’s dirt and mud so make sure you have a rugged vehicle. The road is roughly 10 klicks long and ends at a waterfall. The elevation is about 2000 feet above sea level so it will be cold. My team will take the hand off from there as well as deliver the payment.” A smile creases his face, “yeah that got your attention, it always got mine. Like Zoe said, two hundred and ten. I hope you don’t have a problem with certified cred. Also, I have arranged to have some money given to Zoe to cover reasonable expenses. She will be the one to decide reasonable. Which just brings us to the last item.

He pauses for a moment, and looks directly at Grendel, “in no way could a Johnson expect a shadowrunning team in Seattle to own their own aircraft, hell you live in the City. So I have arranged for a surpluss Ares TR-55C transport to be made available. Zoe, of course, has the details on the wheres and whens. Grendel will have to fly it but from what I have heard, that should not be a problem. Ok, “he looks up for a second, “my clock shows 0715. So we need to wrap this up, any questions before I go?"

*back tracking a bit*

Jessie shrugs lightheartedly and smiles. "Like I could pass up something as interesting as this?"

"I'm in.", she says with a smirk.

Jessie sits back and listens to Blaze's speech with great interest. Her ear recorder catching every word, so she can go over the details later and make sure nothing is missed. Once he is done, the questions begin...

"What about maps? Grendel, do you have detailed maps of this island? Cause if not, we're gunna need them. If we can't get help from our contacts, we'll need you to provide them."

At the mention of the aircraft, another window opens in his view, a simple graphic of the tilt-wing rotating in three dimensions above its performance data. He did some quick calculations. 960 kilometers max range. 260 NM is 481 km. Which means just out and back takes more gas than the 55C has, not to mention any kind of maneuvering that will be required. Options, options, options.

"Any weaponry on the 55C? Any equipment other than factory standard? Any chance of getting an intermediate fuel stop? Does the island have any known air defenses? How does the Council track who is coming and going to the island? If we successfully extract the target from the island, what kind of reaction and/or reaction force can we expect?"

Blaze nods as each question is placed. "Ok. Maps, in a word no. Maps are something any good decker can get of the matrix in about 2 seconds, so you are going to have to rely on her for that," he says pointing to BlackJack.

Danny sits quietly through Blaze's speech and then the technical questions that follow but, pushing his hat back on his head, he leans forward at the half-breed's description of the island.

"Y'all say the natives up 'n' resumed this 'ere tradit'n 'bout 12 years ago, 'n' it's bin workin' well fer 'em so far. If'n the island be empty now, 'ceptin' fer the boy, what all happen'd to its other...shall we say...occupants?"

"Well the Salish have been doing it for the last twelve years, I have no idea how many people have been banished since it was reinstituted in 2051. However I do know they have about a hundred little islands on the coast and in the sound to pick from. Not all banishments are for life like this one, some are just for a few years. They probably don't send people to the same islands too often, and as far as I know, never anyone out this far. Like I said, it's a death sentence."

Warpath nods as the questions come rolling past. "Why us? You said you have a team on the other side of the border. And you've got a helicopter. Why are you forking out 30k for what sounds like a milk run?"

He grins. "Well, except for the whole smuggling the boy into Salish territory with him being a wanted fugitive and all."

Blaze nods to Warpath, "good question, and it is exactly what I asked when given this assignment. My employers enemies want him to look bad, and they want him to suffer. Having his son convicted of terrorism made him look bad. It's a poorly kept secret that I, and my team retired from the shadows to go work for him. If we rescue his son from the island, they can trace it back to the boss. Ergo, Shadowrunners." You realize for the first time Blaze is probably thirty, thirty-three years old.

"Anything else?"

He nods at each of you, holding each and everyones eyes for just a second, he looks calm, and assured in the people he is hiring. He then turns to Zoe, “it’s all your’s, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, and tell John, tell him I said hi.” Blaze smiles, “will do,” and heads out. A few seconds later the grumble from the pick up trucks engine can be heard rolling down the streat.

“Ok,” Zoe says as she turns to the group, “I can field anyother questions you have. I suggest you start planning ASAP. When you need it the 55 is at the old Tacoma/Gig Harbor airport," she throws a translucent card on the table, "if you need anything else call me." Zoe turns and walks out, wrapping her coat tight as she goes into the rain.

The wind howls outside the building, driving the rain horizontally, the time is

0800 (U) 05NOV03

You have 4 days to complete the run.

Delacroix watches zoe leave then turns to the table and says, "I would expect much more then a simple watcher watching the kid at the island. No if I was going to do it i'd probably get a greater spirit, or even some more intersting options. ...but a watcher, they are notoriously unreliable."

"On the otherhand if it is just simply a watcher, I will be able to squash him in a blink of an eye. I bring this up because I suspect something more then a simple watcher. It would be wise to do some quick research to see what resistance, magical or otherwise, was seen durring previous attempts at escapeing the islands."

"Additionally my name is Delacroix. I'm a mage, if you haven't noticed." The elf smirks. "I've ran with Grendal, infact him and I go back a bit. ...but the rest of you I dont know too much about."

Warpath doesn't look delighted at the prospect of spirit opposition. "My name's Warpath. I kill people and break things, mostly."

Jessie crosses her legs and gives the group a charming smile.

"My names Jessie and for the most part, I make lots of friends. I worked with Grendel a time or two, but the rest of you are new faces. Lets get the intros out of the way and get down to bussiness, shall we?"

Most of you have likely heard of Jessie before. Her name has floated around as a real pro when it comes to runs. She never does any wetwork, and as far as you have heard, goes out of her way to make sure things never get messy on her runs.

((ooc: Good Rep 2))

Sedryk sits quietly at the table nursing his drink.

"The name's Sedryk, like Warpath I kill people and break things. So I'm kind of a surprise that I'm here.

I doubt that any of them have every heard of me, since I work out of town so much.

Blackjack smiles at the group. Looking at Jessie, she says, "Yeah, I've heard some good things about you, Jessie."

"Like the man said.. I'm a decker. I'm not the best of the best, but.. looks like I'm it," Blackjack looks down for a moment during her last statement, and then she comes back up with a giggle and bounces excitedly as she stamps her feet on the ground in anticipation.

"Maps won't be a problem. Getting to the island.. that's our problem. I may be able to arrange a cover story for us to be in the area. Bet they'll spot us if we try to sneak in. I was thinking just now... since the aircraft we will be using was being used for geo-thermal surveys.. well, maybe we shouldn't talk here."

"I can get it done on the way if one of you have a remote connection to the matrix. I'll have to ride with one of you anyway, since I don't think my car could handle the drive. Oh, and I agree that there is probably a lot more than a watcher on the island. I'm betting on some sort of astral barrier or other awakened type security. The watcher might just be the alarm. I see that kind of setup on the matrix all the time."

Blackjack looks around for a cyberterminal or possible jackpoint to get some data exchanging done.

Warpath gives Sedryk a large grin. "I think we're about to see more breakin' and killin' than we want to. You don't get offered no 30k for pickin' up kids from daycare." He stretches a little, languidly moving his slightly stiff muscles. The cold tended to do bad things to his implants, as far as comfort was concerned.

"I'll want copies of those maps, too. Preferably three dimensional contour maps with a GPS grid, but whatever you can get will work. The sneakin' ain't exactly my thing, though, so I'll leave that to you guys."

"My Americar did alright in the weather, but just to be safe, we've got enough room for everyone to take something more hefty, I'd like to park my car and hitch a ride with someone. Grendel, I assume you've got room, but I don't want to speak for you."

Danny listens as the introductions flow, then nods in response to Delacroix's comment about the cover of night.

"Mah connecshun t' the Spirit World is more refahned at night." He pauses and looks around at the assembled group. "Y'all can call me Danny. 'Pears ah'm here 'cause of mah medical 'n' magical skills."

He turns his gaze to Delecroix. "No point worryin' 'bout what just mystic defences they done got. Ah highly doubt we'll be findin' out any specifics 'fore we get there."

He sits back and pulls a cigarette from a flat black case, but looks back up around the table before touching the tip with his zippo. "Oh, and ah'll also be needin' a rahd."

Blackjack exclaims, "Ooh! What do you know? There's a connector under the table."

She pulls out her deck and says, "Ok. Real quick.. I was thinking that we could use the fact that the plane used to be used for geo-thermal surveys as a cover for 'surveying' the region. We could say that we were looking for oil or something like that. And then, I could put up some fake news articles or something of that nature. What do you guys think? I need ideas here, especially since I have to do this myself."

"We may not need a cover story at all. Grendel, what do you think the chances are of you getting that plain to fly undetected?"

Jessie glances at Grendel, fairly sure that he can handle it.

Blackjacks slumps over as she plugs into the jack point. THe neon world of the Matrix fills her vision. A sign reads "15 Troll Bar, don't do anything stupid." Blackjack sends out a search string, a beat barely passes when a window opens. Four satelite images pop up of the island at different angles and distances. The island appears exactly as Blaze described it. A weather beaten island soaked in rain and battered by waves. It looks very unhospitable.

Blackjack thinks to herself, 'Wow. What a place! They weren't kidding when they said it was a death sentence. How could anyone survive there?

She makes sure that her Sleaze utility is online to help disguise her actions from anyone who might be watching and runs a Scanner utility to make sure that no one is watching.

Blackjack initiates a transfer of the information to her pocket PC, which she jacked into another port before logging in. In a matter of seconds, the transfer is complete. She runs her Relocate utility to make tracking her more difficult and then logs out, using a Deception utility for a Graceful Logoff. Blackjack raises her arms above her head and her icon blinks out of the matrix with a puff of flame and smoke.

Light returns to her senses as Blackjack becomes conscious again. She sits up and clears her throat.

Excitedly she says, "Ok! I found a map! Who wants copies?"

"As others have already indicated, I'm the rigger. I'll be covering transportation and communication issues. Everyone who has radios set your primary comm channel to 300.6 MHz, codename Remington. Our backup will be 123.45 MHz, codename Attic. I will be Base, Delacroix One, Jessie Two, Danny Three, Warpath Four, Sedryk Five, BlackJack Six. I run a rotating 128 bit encryption cypher that's rated an 8 overall on the Ares CounterIntelligence scale. I can tune that down, though, depending on the max ratings in the group. If we have no encryption, that's fine, just refrain from passing locations in the clear. Once BlackJack gets us our maps, we'll establish a common grid reference system. My network is fully BattleTac capable, if any of you samurai are so equipped, I'll add you in based on an encryption of today's date."

"Transportation wise, if we want to consolidate vehicles that can be arranged, I've got room enough for everyone. However, I suspect we have a number of individual tasks to accomplish prior to jumping off on this rescue. I recommend that we keep our separate rides until meeting up at the hangar. Unless you have no supplemental tasks to complete, in which case you're welcome to ride along with me."

"The TR-55C is a good choice for this extraction: it's fast, effecient, yet maneuverable and has plenty of cargo room. The tilt-wing has both side mounted door with hydraulic hoist and a rear cargo ramp. Insertion wise, I recommend a fast rope from the rear ramp. That will minimize our time spent in a hover. Whoever's leading the ground contingent, I'll look to you to provide the necessary rappelling line and expertise."

"Transit to the island is going to be something of a problem, though, since we'll be crossing the ADIZ between Seattle and Salish Tribal Lands. The filing of the flight plan won't be too difficult, but once we deviate towards the island the game will be up. There are ways around this, of course, but I'll need to examine the appropriate charts. I'll get a list to you, BlackJack."

"Nothing further at this time."

Grendel shifts and closes the virtual windows overlying his view of the team, numbers running at speed through his mind.

Warpath wants a copy of the maps, which he loads into his headware and orientation system.

"I'm not running encryption right now since my last comm suite was rather... compromised." He says with a frown. "If that falls under reasonable expenses, maybe we should invest in that. In any case, who is running the ground team? That's not the kind of stuff I keep on hand, though I've done it a few times in the past."

He shrugs again. "If anyone wants a ride, my Brumby can hold four. Five if you don't mind getting real close to one another. Somehow, I doubt that our employeer's employeer's enemies haven't thought about someone trying to spring the kid from this death trap. If Mr. Blaze is as good as he acts, then they're probably ready for his team, which could well spell trouble for us, but give us some advantage since our capabilities are no doubt different."

Jessie sighs...

"Not being able to use our contacts is going to make things very.... different for me. Most of the work I do is through the people I have relations with...

Four, it looks like we're going to be relaying on you to get most of our information, as it doesn't sound like I can get away with any real world digging...

Oh, and I'll take a copy of that map."

Blackjack pulls a couple of optical cables out of her pockets and says, "Ok. Connect these to whatever you want me to upload the map into."

Blackjack then puts the other respective ends of the cables into two of her jacks, and disconnects her deck, putting it into her pocket. She leaves her pocket pc jacked and ready to initiate a file transfer.

"By the way, Grendel, I have a micro-transciever that is considered a six on the Ares scale, but it doesn't have encryption."

Warpath hooks the jack to his pocket secretary and lets the transfer commence. Once that's done, he runs the pocket secretary's viewer over the file to make sure it at least resembles a map file before dumping it to his headware. "No offense, omae, but I had a bad experience once." He grins. "Besides, I doubt you want to know what's going on inside my head, even by accident." He gives a joking wink.

"For this run, we're going to want the descent gear, of course. What about diving equipment and survival gear? I have a good bit laying around, and if it comes to that, we might want sufficient for those who can use it." He shrugs, apparently not too sold on the idea, himself.

THe front door of the bar slams open, unleashing a gust of wind, napkins fly out of control, posters on the wall flap, small glasses are nocked over. The group entereing quickly grabs the door and wrestles it shut. The clock on the wall reads 11:55, it looks like lunch time.

Warpath looks up, his senses already sizing up those entering. "This place ain't so great for a quiet conversation. Particularly with most of us being rather more pink than the general clientel." He nods to the back exit. "Maybe we should adjourn to a more secure location."

"Jesus... the weather much be getting horid out there..."

Looking a bit timid, Jessie turns to Grendel, "Care if I take that ride now? I don't think my car can handle in that storm... Frag! What about flying a plane in that?"

Sedryk looks over at Warpath "Shotgun! You'll have to give me a minute to grab a few things from my van."

Sedryk walks up to the bartender and whispers something to him over the rising noise of the crowd. Walking outside into the storm, Sedryk grabs a large black duffel bag from his van and heads over to the Brumby.

Danny pulls the cable from his pocket secretary and hands it back to Blackjack with a nod of thanks, having finished transfering the map file.

"Ah'm not so much bother'd 'bout the flyin' part as ah am 'bout the actual insertion." He turns toward Grendel before continuing. "Ah'll be takin' you up on that there ride offer. Ah'll also be needin' some form of comm gear, as mah last unit supplied its own." Looking around the table, his gaze falls on Warpath. "As to us movin', Ah'm sure this place's got some type o' meetin' room. Ah mean, where was this Blaze chummer hidin' hisself 'fore the meet? Might be better t' use it than tryin' to org'nize relocatin' us'all."

Grendel nods to both Danny and Jessie.

"BlackJack, I'm going to need copies of the Vancouver and Kittimat Sectional Aeronautical Charts. I've got an idea that I think we'll be able to make work. Also, I second Warpath's suggestion for survival gear, but only because I'm in favor of having a back-up egress plan. Too many things can go wrong that could force us to either ditch or land and abandon the tilt-wing. We should consider both over water and over land extraction routes back to Seattle. Speaking of that, where did we want to adjourn to in order to continue the planning?"

Blackjack says to Warpath, "Well, you can never be too careful." She giggles after he winks.

Blackjack says to Grendel, "Ok.. you mean Vancouver, British Columbia?" Feeling ditzy, she says, "Forget it. I'll do a search."

She jacks back into the matrix and retrieves the map information the Grendel requested in under a minute. Coming back to her senses as before, she offers one of the optical cables still attached to her datajacks to Grendel.

Smiling at the group, she says, "I think Grendel has a good point. I mean.. we could probably get to the island, but getting off of the island might be the problem. What are we going to do if we get there, and then they shoot down our plane?"

"Let's plan this out somewhere else," she says, as she looks around the room.

"There seem to be five main portions of this mission," he says in a hushed voice. "One, we have to get to the location. Two, we have to find the package. Three, we have to load the package. Four, we have to get back to town. Five, we have to take a road trip."

He licks his lips, which have dried out from all of this talking. "I figure Gren is in charge of one and four as well as being our possible go-to for two and five. Who has the expertise needed for three? I can back up on two, three, and maybe five, but they're not entirely within my forte."

The day wears on, customer come and go from the bar, but not a lot. The rain and wind continue to pound the area in an unrelenting storm that seems determined to drowned all of Seattle. The clock strikes 3 pm, Tigger, the big troll behind the bar turns on the large flat panel that dominates the wall opposite of the bar.

A man stands on a pier, he is dressed head to toe in bright yellow rain gear, it doesn't look very effective. The camera shakes as he speaks, the man is leaning hard into the wind.

"This Rayco Rogers reporting live from Eliot bay. Behind me you can see the 10 foot swells rolling through the channel. City officials have closed the marina and Alaska avenue for fear the pedestrians might be swept out into the sound. The national weather institute has issued a large craft advisory as well as grounding any planes under 300 horsepower. Sea-Tac is also considering rerouting all non essential flights. The Tir, Salishe, and Seattle Coastal Patrol are stretched to the limits with all the maydays from craft stuck in the..." He stops suddenly, a look of horror crosses his face. "I think were going to go live to lake Washington," the camera angle switches to I-90's floating bridge, the 4 lane road that stretches across Lake Washington from Bellevue to Seattle. A section of the bridge is completely under water, cars and people are struggling to stay on the bridge. "The word is that a section has collapsed, it looks like the city may be closing the bridge, and reopening the old 405 bridge..."

The reporters voice is drowned out as a large *crack* echoes from outside, through the bay window a large tree can be seen toppling over into the parking lot. It doesn't look like anything was hit... yet.

"Merde!"

Danny looks around at the rest of the group as the broadcast ends. "Ah'd say that'd be damn fine cover for the op, if'n we was willin' t'fly in this here monsoon."

Sedryk reenters the bar, shaking several gallons of water off his has he procedes back to the table where everyone else is gathered.

"Hell of a time to be working eh?" Calmly he pulls a pack of cigarettes out from inside his long coat and procedes to wring them out. "Anybody got a smoke?"

Without waiting for a responce, Sedryk digs into one of the two large duffel bags that he retrieved from his van, and produces a pack clove Blacks. "Grendel, do you think you'll be able to fly through this shit?"

"I won't promise a smooth ride, but I'll get us where we need to go."

The planes of his face smooth in response to a brutal memory, before shifting once more into a neutral expression.

"What kind of window are we lookin' at from the storm front? Does it restrict our operating timetable any? For that matter, what is our operating timetable?" Warpath asks.

Blackjack's attention diverts to the viewscreen for the duration of the weather coverage up until the point where the bridge washes out. She looks around the table nervously and says in a heightened tone of voice, "Guys!.. we need to get going! I don't want to be stranded here! We're already going to have to find another way to go, since I-90's bridge just collapsed. We can talk about this on the road!" She stands up, ready to leave.

"It may be best to leave. Where should we all meet up again to finish plans and get things into action?"

"I recommend the hangar in Tacoma where the tilt-wing is located. No later than 1200. Make sure either myself or Warpath has your list of desired gear prior to leaving here, though. We might as well get those requests in to Zoe early. Also, anyone who fears his or her vehicle might not make the trip back to the sprawl are welcome to ride with me."

Blackjack says, "How about meeting at the hangar. We can assess the plane there and see where we can all fit for the ride and stuff. Zoe can bring stuff by once we decide what we want. Why don't we put together a list so we can give her time before we hit the road? I can compile one right now on my computer."

Thinking to herself aloud, she says, "Let's see... gel rounds for me... 1 clip, since we might have to capture the kid. He probably doesn't know we're coming. Climbing gear, camo full suit with four arm sleeves, an encrypted micro-tranciever, Ares whatever rating 6, a survival kit, including a survival utility knife..." She looks up and says with a smile, "How are we going to land? Parachutes?"

Jessie gets up and heads for the door. She opens it just a crack to see how the weather is doing, trying to figure out if shes up for the drive back or if she should just catch one with Grendel.