September 17, 2070

It's unseasonably cold this year for September. The mercury only rising to around 15 degrees centegrade with a light drizzle makes for a miserable morning commute. Luckily, the acid content of the rain isn't enough to cause a problem for anyone except the most sensitive of skinned. The clouds are low, the tops of buildings shrouded in the mists, as the day begins. The news of the morning seems to be more of the norm, though the barrens have been strangely quite for a few weeks. One thing catches your eye, however. It seems a high profile arrest was made by Lone Star: Organized Crime over night. It seems a man buy the name of Gabai Fedorov, who is alledgedly a member of a Vory smuggling organization, was picked up in a sting operation.

Slacker switches off the trid and rolls back over in bed. Why'd I even bother switching that thing on. 500+ channels and it's all drek.

After a few moments of trying to fall back asleep, Slacker says "Frag this, what time is it anyway?"

Pulling on his glasses, he sees the time broadcast by his commlink. Way too early to be up. The guy I was playing against last night was too good. Maybe I should try practicing for a bit?

Hearing his stomach growl, he decides to forgoe gaming until after breakfast. Pouring himself a bowl of Maxi Blast Super Bombs, Red flavored of course, he sat down at the table and his thoughts returned to that news story about the Vory.

Slacker thinks to himself, Probably gonna be some shadow work following that arrest. Not my concern though...not unless I get a call from my fixer.

"Here's to the 'Star," Sundown said somberly. It was ten o'clock in the morning and he was watching the news at Ricos. The little dive was open 24/7 rain or shine and served liquor the whole time. Sundown fit in well there. The others in the group of half a dozen or so were all passed out drunk and looked like they hadn't eaten or slept in am month.

Sundown could eat and sleep, if he wanted to. But he hadn't left his spot in the stool in a week. The acid like burn of the scotch rolled down his throat. He gave a tight lipped nod to the bartender for another.

"Dontcha think you had enough mack?"

"Yeah, yeah probably. So give me another bub." The bartender complied quietly. The trid in the corner droned on about the 'Stars victory over the Russian mob. Sundown paid close attention to it as he drank his sauce.

"Used to do that you know, used to be someone important." He mumbled slightly louder than under his breath. The bartender just shook his head, he had heard it all before.

"So what, were you Mafia? Or Star?"

"Star, FedStar too. Not just a local yocal. OC division back in DeeCee. Twas a long time ago, another." The bartender pored the drink, slightly interested he perused the conversation.

"So what happened?"

"What always happens, a girl." Everyone in the place had a story to tell, most of them involved some tragedy with a lost love.

"So was she a badge too?"

"No," Sundown said quietly. "She was on the other side, mob." Sundown's thoughts turned somber and the elf looked at the glass in his hand as if it was a snake. He put it down carefully and pushed himself away from the bar.

"S'cuse me, need to see a man about a thing."

He turned to leave nearly knocking over a table and chairs. He was beyond drunk, stumbling and weaving as he walked out. The rain cleared his head somewhat lifting his mind out of the perpetual haze he had been in for a week. It was the same every year. Every time the date came around.

The elf stumbled across the street. A avalanche of horn’s and foul language followed his wake as he cut through traffic.

"Yeah yeah, blow it out your ear," he waved his hand dismissively behind him as he walked. His destination was in site. Baccars was a little breakfast place tucked in the shadows of a much bigger building. He slipped through the door an into the first booth.

"Food and lots of it, along with a pot of coffee, black."

He felt the need to sober up a little. Just a little.

The chittering wakes me. Chittering means teeth. I've been bitten before, you'd think a trog or tusker bite would be the worst, but it's actually the sprawl rats that annoy me. The sting lasts for days, and scratching makes it worse and last longer. Even if it's a meet between the bosses of bosses, you still gotta scratch and scratch. Nothing you can do about it. It itches! The Bosses were going to fight anyway. Turned out for the best.

Ugh! Rain. Means I need to look for some new threads, there's a machine at the subway station, maybe some of the people there will buy me some pants like last time. First I got to pick this rat hair and bones out of my leftover pizza. Bit juicy, but it's red like the sauce. Hmm, was this the can I ... , nah can't be, still bubbly.

Time to head out of here, the roofs melting, and the cardboard is so thin it isn't comfortable to lie on anymore. There's that old condemned place a few streets over, bit sooty, but has a view and many exits.

Perfectly useful sheet, maybe I can use it to keep the rain or wind out of the new place. Hey! I know that face, saw him somewhere at one of those meets they keep telling me to keep my mouth shut. Well, he's done for now, the Star is bad bad people. Wonder where Gregor is going to get his brainbenders now? Gregor is always out late, so he's gonna be asleep now, so I know I can call him.

"Hey Gregor, where you gonna get your BB from now?!"

I still need to get me some pants.

"Drek!"

The sound of her fist hitting the table accompanies the curse, and echoes like a shot around the small dining room. Flair looks up, running a hand through her dirty-blond hair as she scans the small breakfast nook, waving off the concern of the old man behind the counter.

"It's getting to be a habit." She continues in a softer tone, talking to herself as she sips from the cup of hot, steaming soycaf. "Seems like every fraggin' week I'm needin' to find a new set o' wheels."

As she drinks, she remembers back to the night before, and the mad scramble to get her client back from that pack of ghouls. All had been going well until she crossed paths with that group of 'weeners on the warpath. 'Cost me a bike and a bucketload of ammo, but in the end I got the suit safely back to corpland.'

She waves the empty cup in the old man's direction, signaling for a refill as she absently directs her commlink to contact Kitty. "Might as well get started in findin' a replacement."

"Ugh," Sundown muttered to himself. The hot water cascaded of his scarred shoulders and rolled down his back. After eating he had managed to grab a cab back to his place. A few hours of sleep later and he felt like a new man. It was the same every year. A week long bender to forget... of course it never worked.

He toweled off and made his way to the closet. His apartment wasn't exactly what he would call luxurious. Running made him a hell of a lot less money then being a Fed. His closet had three identical suits in various degrees of disorder. He picked the one with the least damage and put it on. He strapped on his manhunter and then tossed on his over coat over all of it.

He stared blankley at the Trid waiting for it to connect. When it finally did he sighed.

"Nat, Sundown here, I need work. You got anything for me? The more dangerous the better."

Crash rolls over in bed and keeps sleeping several hours past the time he had planned to wake up. When he does wake up, he is incensed to find that he turned off the alarm clock in his sleep.

Morning rush-hour on 3rd Ave. W, his system of course should have compensated for traffic, but this was a grid issue. The damnable aspect of a runners life was when you were out among the mere sheep, you had to pretend you were one of them. No fancy hot-dogging between the cars, no getting off to walk while your bike stays there and meets you down the way at a Bistro, no pulling out some hardware and blowing off some road rage; well, okay sure, that happens even with civilians, but the point stands, when you aren't currently on a run, your best camoflage is hiding among the herd.
Letting the bike cope with the stress, Morgan pulls up something distracting and relaxing, yesterdays ECSE returns. His predictions were right, MCT was up another quarter point while Ares maintained, now if only he still had that trade account, he would have made enough to get another round of upgrades.
As he filtered through the trading frenzy, watching for trends, he went over his work missives. Tina had better come through for him soon, he didn't like the prospect of finding a new Fixer. Seeing the coffee shop up ahead where Trent's first meeting of the day was, Morgan began going over his reality check, calling up and verifying the information he should know on his commlinks.
Stanley, watch for scags trying to browse the public facade and spoof them some random projections. As his agent program began correlating the necessary data, Morgan guided it to bad investment choices and ethically challenged CEO's (even among todays standards).

Angrily, Flair gives the mental command to end the commcall, then absently tunes in C-DST, the latest pirate station to hit the Seattle net, letting the babble wash over her.

"Three days! Frag!"

She glances at the cup in front of her, its contents long gone cold. With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head, once again signaling for a refill.

"I guess I'll need that time t'find the 'yen, anyway."

Flair sits back, the fresh cup warming her hands as she watches the street outside through both the dirty shop window and the augmented overlay of the pirate newscast. Suddenly an image catches her eye. A face she recognized. Unconsciously leaning forward, she focuses her attention, playing back the entire newsreel.

"Gabai Fedorov?"

The name meant nothing to her. But the face ... She'd been babysitting a client at a meet'n'greet with this guy a couple of weeks ago. He'd had some hard cases for backup too. She hadn't been in on the real scan of what went down though, other than it seemed to go off without a hitch.

With the news that the 'Star had bagged 'Gabai Baby', she sits back again, pondering whether it has anything at all to do with her as she absently sips her soycaf. It isn't long though, before Flair once again recalls the vision of her blazing bike lying in that Downtown alleyway.

"I definitely need work!" she mumbles, draining the last of the soycaf as she rises to leave. "Three days! Frag!"

As Boris The Ear relaxes in one of the special Troll sized subway chairs:

That's the fifth time I've tried reaching Gregor this morning and gotten that silly animation. At least he got my first message before that strange lady in Gregors place switched things off. Like most women, she was way too skinny.

Riding around on the subway is cool. These seats they make for the trogs are great, I can stretch my legs out and really cool off after the work out. It's like having my own bed. Grim is right, now I am going pro I gotta keep in shape, but running around the parking ramp is boring. I get all sweaty too. I'm already wet from the rain, but these new pants that nice tusker lady bought me are already wearing through at the knees. And what's this stain? Oh yeah, the Real Chili soy dogs I found. It's kind of a deep red stain. Maybe this is why the sec guard at the toll gate handed me a skin patch. Musta thought I was bleeding out. Kinda nice for a sec guard.

Okay. I'm going Pro. Hitting the big times. The Team, whichever one I'm on next time, is gonna need me on top of my game. So I need to practice. Right after I finish my nap in this huge trog chair I am going to track down one of those runners I saw the other night and see if I can follow them without them being seen. That'll be cool, I can show them how good I am. Why is that old trog with the cane and back brace staring at me, she can sit in those two chairs over there while I nap, the sec G's toss you from the train if you sleep across two seats, and I'm tired.

@Sundown
"Frag, Sundown, I was just about to call you. Looks like I got something you might be interested in. Funny how that sort of thing happens sometimes."

@Everyone Else
At approximately 11:00am an ARO appears indicating that you have a new message. Opening it, the message reads as follows:

Greetings. I hope this message doesn't catch you at an inopportune moment. My name is Bear and I represent certain individuals who are looking to hire some talent for a small heist. The package is man portable, though somewhat large, and will be leaving for a destination over seas shortly so time is of the essence. I apologize for this, but if you're free and available to meet me tonight, 8:00pm, at the Socket, 108th and Cypress, I would greatly appreciate it. If you are late, I'll assume you're not interested. Simply tell the weapons checker that you're hear to meet with me and he'll show you to a private room.

As the meeting with his legitimate client is winding down to a close, Morgan makes the necessary polite good-bye's and set's a reminder to go over the man's concerns for the next meeting. Seeing a real work email pop-up he pulls it up and scans.
Oooh, some fun.
Quickly sculpting an outgoing message for the team,
Anyone else get this?
Whilst awaiting a reply, Morgan runs a quick scan on the club and this Bear person.

Where is that bastard? It's down to just him and me, but I can't see to find him in all this sand. Slacker thinks to himself as he scans the sand dunes around him in the virtual world of Sahara Soldier.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement wheeling to fire at the expected opponent, he suddenly realizes that it was just a message ARO for him. Unfortunately, it had distracted him for a split second too long. His vision blurred to a bloody red as he fell to desert sands.

A booming voice announced "Head Shot" to the world at large.

"Damn the bad timing," Slacker says as he is disconnecting from the game host. "Might as well see what it says. Better not be any drekking spam."

Mentally 'clicking' on the ARO, he quickly reads the missive.

Looks like I've got a job. Better catch up on a bit of rest before tonight, since I didn't get much sleep last night.

With that in mind Slacker headed to bed. Before he set his commlink on the nightstand, he brought up his search agent and sent it off to do a little work while he slept.

"Good, good, ok let em know I'll be there, anything I need to know about this?"

<<2070-09-17T10:59:32>> Touristville

Boris the Ear shadowboxing on the street.

Here comes the Nuclear Fizz! duck, flip and KICK! Wooo! It worked, the AR gloves can work when I tape them to my feet. Ugh, next is the Color Fast Wash Fast Detergent!, better skip it, Whoa, here it is, jump, swing, and whap, on the cancel message. I got the moves!

"Oh, sorry there. Hey, you still want those McHugh's crispy fries? 5 second rules works for me. Don't look so sad kid, you still got half yer Ice Cold Soda."

Wait, that wasn't the soap advert. Hmm, bit crunchy these fries. Overcooked. Darn it, why can't I get my undelete to work, stupid commlink. OH! Gotta put the gloves back on my hands... There we go, bit sticky. Hmm, oh COOL! A run!

Okay okay, now what would a pro do? Check it out, that's what! Okay, let's check the bus schedule. Metroplex Transit can get me there in a couple of hours. Follow the yellow arrows blah blah. Who the heck changed these to be yellow bricks? What next? Ah the the Socket, some club. Wow, it's expensive, 5 nuyen for a Select Nu-Beer!. I can get a six of ThunderBird Nu-Wheat! for that. Maybe this Bear will be buying. Bear, bear. Ah yes, how did that work again, someone showed me once. Let's see, command mode. Ah there we go. Then, WHOIS Bear. Wow, that's a lot of stuff about Bear. No wonder the Hackers spend all day plugged in if they got to read all this. Well, I guess I got a couple hours on the bus here.

What's this? Another message, wow, I must be getting a good rep!...

How the heck am I supposed to know who else got the message? What a stupid question.

Trying to become 'lost in the sound', it takes Flair a little longer than usual to notice the blinking ARO, but when she does she mentally cuts the small but powerful amp's power, the last chord echoing on though the large, sparsely-furnished space. The one-room apartment took up the entire third floor of a small warehouse in Tarislar, and now that the Scorpion was gone, contained everything she owns.

Taking a small towel from the guitar stand beside her, the blond elf carefully and fondly wipes the synth-guitar's neck as she opens the message. No sooner had she finished reading it than the second comcall came through.

"Finally! Good news!"

Smiling for the first time since her bike went up in flames, Flair places the synth-ax back on it's stand and activates her comm to send over the same network as Morgan's message.

"I guess I'm in! Who's pickin' me up?"

Responding to Flair's reply, "What happened to your bike?"

Still a little groggy, but well rested, Slacker woke from his nap a few hours later. Pulling on his glasses, he looked at the time. Still plenty of time. Oh what's this?
The second thought coming as he noticed the ARO for Morgan's message.
Reading the brief message, he decides to go ahead and reply. 'Yeah. I got it too. See you there.'
That done, he decides to go ahead and look over whatever his agent had pulled up on the club and the sender, Bear. Opening a large window in his field of vision, he quickly skims through the data.

<<2070-09-17T11:34:28>> Westbound Metroplex Bus Route 65

Boris the Ear raising his arms over head at the back of the bus and growling.

I hope I got thsi non aggressive bear friend thing right, it looks a lot like the mating dance thing on the other channel.

Better send that message I made, now that it seems others are checking in with Morgan

@Morgan & anyone who got on the reply all list...
Hey hey, it's me The Ear, I found all this cool stuff out about Bear! I know this person isn't really a bear, but I figure if we know about bears, how they greet each other and stuff, then we can get on his friendly side. Anyways, you got to do this thing where you growl and raise your hands and look away. You might want to practice, stretch out your neck before you arrive. It can get a little tight. And it's a low quiet growl, not one of those huge roars. So like, I'll see you all downtown at the place, I'm heading there now. And don't worry, someone gave me a new pair of pants!

Reading Boris' reply,
You've got to be kidding. Greet him like a bear, that's just insane.
To the team other than Boris,
He's kidding, right?

The Predator lay in pieces on the bench, and Flair was busy giving the weapon a thorough cleaning when Morgan's response came through. The elf's hands continue the familiar task while she mentally opens a channel to reply.

"Seems that some 'weeners di'n't 'preciate the paint job, an' decided t' spice it up by addin' some flames of their own. Looks like it'll be a couple o' days 'fore I can get a new one."

"Understood. Sorry to hear that. If you don't mind the Joy seat, I'll give you a lift. What time you want I should pick you up?"

Flair's hands move in a practiced rhythm as she reassembles the heavy pistol.

"You're doin' the drivin'. You tell me!"

To Flair:"Fair enough. How does 7 o'clock sound?"
To the rest of the team:"Here's the data I found on the Socket and this Bear character. It's run by a couple of enterprising trolls named Jimmy and John, they decided to break the mold of social typecasting and opened a restaurant/bar that caters to a wide variety of pallets while maintaining reasonable prices. No mean feat with the current restaurant market trends after the events in Boston. I hear the bar is fairly wild in the offerings, so we are in for a treat tonight.
Bear on the other hand seems to be an up and comer. He is used to working with runners, but as a fence. Word on the street is that he's a former runner with a good rep, take that however you want; word also has it he is awakened and Bear is more than his handle.
Boris, you might not be too far off on your assessment for greeting him, though it might be too conspicuous and blow his cover. Might want to hang back and play the strong, silent type, I'm sure he'll understand that.
Has anyone else turned up some information about our host or surroundings?"

Reading Boris' message, Slacker thinks to himself Damn that Boris is really insane, though with the connection this Bear guy has to the spirit of the bear, maybe he isn't far off. Still, its a crazy idea.
He doesn't even bother with replying to Boris.

Just as he is thinking I guess I really should tell the others what I discovered about the Socket and Bear. He notices the ARO for Morgan's message. Looking it over, he sees that Morgan had found out the same information as he did.

Sweet, don't even have to bother copying and pasting the data the agent got for me in a message to the others.

He sends a quick message to everybody, "I worked long and hard trying to dig deep for info on the Socket and Bear, but I basically just found the same drek as Morgan. I did learn that the Socket has backrooms that they rent out (no surprise there, what shadow establishment doesn't), but they provide bug sweeps prior to each reservation. Leads me to wonder what other security measures they have going."

<<2070-09-17T11:mm:ss>> Westbound Metroplex Bus Route 65

Boris the Ear clenches his hands briefly, closes his eyes, then starts carefully checking his teeth.

Trogs! Gah, they are a pain. I can't reach their necks without my axe or knocking them down first. Though they do have that sweet spot on the inside of their knees. That worked real well in the last tussle the Sevens had. Except for that one with the extra layer, I swear he must have sprayed some sheet iron on his nodule. My teeth still hurt from that. I hear they can replace teeth real easy though, so no worries.

Nodding to himself after his brief dental self checkup, Boris the Ear sits up, and wrinkles his forehead as he stares into the middle distance and waves his hands around erratically.

I wonder if they know about Trogs. Better let them know. Yeah, and I gotta be a pro, so what were those questions I should ask again. Not sure if I remember them all, but here goes. Drek, it would be a long way to go back and get Wanda.

@Team Should I bring my Combat Axe? I mean with Trogs I could really use my axe. Speaking of trogs, you have any trouble with em, they got this spot on the inside of their knees that's real sweet. I can show you when you get there. What else? Oh yeah, you guys made me shower and get a new set of threads last time. I still got them on, and a new pair of pants, only one hole in em, so maybe I could just shower?

7:30 outside The Socket

Sundown took a swill of 'the good stuff' he kept in a metal flask on the inside pocket of his coat. The liquid courage burned his throat as it went down. He liked to think it made him alert. He checked his gun to make sure it was all working. The HUD came up wit full ammo and the desired settings.

Now to just wait for the right time.

Boris:"Just stay outside, try to be casual, and watch the crowd coming in and going, I'll record the meeting so you'll have it to watch later. We may need a man outside fast in case things go wrong. I'm sending my flybot drone to help you keep watch, so don't damage it."
Instructucting the flybot to go to Boris and keep an eye on Boris when they arrive.
With Flair riding behind him, Morgan pulls onto the street with the Socket. To Flair:"Going to scout around. Meet you inside."
To the team inside the bar:"Glad to see everyone made it."
After making a pass and doing his best to blend in with the crowd, Morgan then makes his way inside and waiting to 7:50 then informing the weapons checker that he was there for a meeting with Bear. To Boris:"Just stay outside, try to be casual, and watch the crowd coming in and going, I'll record the meeting so you'll have it to watch later. We may need a man outside fast in case things go wrong. I'm sending my flybot drone to help you keep watch, so don't damage it."
Instructucting the flybot to go to Boris and keep an eye on Boris.

<<2070-09-17 approx 8 PM>> outside The Socket

After pumping his fist in the air, "Oh Yes! Can't let them down now." Boris the Ear glares at the bunched up ball of disintegrating clothes.

These guys are good, they must have come while I was getting this set of Fresh-Kleen clothes out of the public restroom vending machine. Trying to see if I can spot them! I won't let on I didn't see them. Maybe they'll think I was hiding somewhere really good. Maybe when they keep telling me to stay out of sight it's really their way of teaching me how to stay in the shadows. What a great bunch! Even if they do have that skinny SW on the team.

Casually tossing the wad of streaky smelly paper into the nearest trash can, Boris the Ear scans the exterior of the Socket for some unobtrusive spot where he can scan over all the big people and keep an eye out for trouble.

Wonder if the flybot will track me down by smell?

@Morgan I took a shower, so tell the flybot I'm right across the street by the green door. Don't worry, I'll handle any trouble out here. You just remember you gotta bite hard on that sweet spot, even if it hurts your teeth, and any trog becomes your plaything. The Sevens used that trog sound as a signal, so don't sweat it. I'll be right in if I hear those trogs screaming like little elf boys.

As Morgan pulls to a stop at the corner, Flair hops off the back, giving him a wave to indicate she understood his plan.

She had been hoping to find a new place on the Seattle nightlife scene, but The Socket was definitely not the kind of place the elf would normally frequent. She much preferred the neon and glitz, and the driving music of the more upscale venues. She shoves the small disappointment aside though, as she wasn't here for entertainment anyway. She pulls her long green jacket straight as she casually approaches the doorway, ambling slowly while she waits for Morgan to catch up.

The Socket
As you enter the restaurant you're assaulted by the smell of BBQ and red meat. Looking carefully, however, you see that others seem to have fish, chicken, and vegetarian meals as well. Either Jimmy and John have a source of real foods, or their soy producer is above average.

The decor is a mix of modern street paraphenalia and the wild west. With obvious homage to some of the more famous sports superstars of the day, the walls are adorned with digital prints that, as you watch, change from one picture to the next. The floor is hard wood and the tables have a rustic, handbuilt appearance, though it's probably engineered.

The room is rectangular and not as large as you'd expect for a resaruant, perhaps only 20 by 30 meters. But, the tall ceilings, reaching easily to a cavernous 8 or 9 meters, give the room an open feel that it would otherwise lack. Restrooms are on your left hand side while the kitchen area seems to be across from the entry. The bar, with assorted glasses, mugs, steins, and flutes hanging above, stands on the right hand wall, taking up perhaps a fifth of the floor space.

The clientele is varied, with perhaps an emphasis on orks and trolls. Knowing what you do about the owners, the trogs probably come here to support some local guys who made it. Speaking of the owners, in perhaps one of the most ludicrous things you've ever experienced, two well-built, hulking trolls wearing "Kiss the Chef" aprons stand next to a table with a beaming elf child singing Happy Birthday. As the song kicks in, most of the room takes up the traditional tune, while a few orks -- who've had a few too many -- begin to sing counterpoint in Or'Zet.

It's not immediately obvious who it is that you're here to meet, but the doorman looks expectently at Flair and Morgan enter together, examining them from his post just inside the entry.

Now that's an image I never thought to see and am not so sure I wanted to, but it's cute nonetheless.
Nodding to the doorman, Morgan pulls up the AR map for the restaurant, looking for coat/weapons check.

From the shadows Sundown sees Flair and Morgan enter the place. Must be time. With one last swig of 'courage' he marched across the street to the doorman.

"I'm here to see Bear."

@Flair, Morgan, and Sundown
The doorman scrutinizes you as you come in the door and pause in the entry way. When Sundown announces his purpse, he turns to the other two and asks, "You three together?"

@Morgan
The restaurant's node response quickly to your request for a map showing you the free tables, the restrooms, an employees-only area in the same direction as the kitchen, and a coat and weapons check behind the doorman. Looks like he serves a two-fold purpose. Accessing the restaurant's node also opens another ARO, this one describing this evenings dinner and drink specials: Rib-eye cut Soy Steak with Potatos and Black-n-Tans respectively.

D'oh!
"Yes, I'm afraid I didn't see the coat check behind you."

As Slacker arrives, he doesn't see any of the others outside. Guess they already went in. Wonder if I'm late as usual? Oh well, I had fun playing that last round of the game.
Glancing at the time displayed on his glasses he sees that he actually has a whole five minutes before the meeting was scheduled for. Plenty of time.
He saunters on into the restraunt. Nodding to the doorman he says "I believe you are expecting me. I'm with Mr. Bear's party."

Flair nods in response to the doorman's question, pointedly ignoring the coat check behind him.

'Yeah I guess so, can we get in?"

@All
The doorman gives you one more look, squints a bit, and then speaks: "Hold on a moment." He looks up for a moment, mentally accessing the commlink attached to his belt, before looking back to you. "If you would please follow Alicia here," he comments as a young woman approaches, "she'll lead you to where you want to go."

As you follow Alicia, she leads you across the restaurant floor along the wall next to the bar, "Would anyone like anything to drink or eat? Bear has offered to pick up a reasonable tab if you would like to indulge his generosity."

The birthday singing has stopped and you notice either Jimmy or John, you're not sure which, has taken notice of your progress across the room.

"Just a cup of coffee for me, thank you."

"Scotch, neat, and a steak, rare."

<<2070-09-17 evening>>Outside the Socket

Sniffing the aroma in the air, Boris the Ear checks out the little flydrone and waves at it reassuringly.

"Don't worry little fly, I will keep you safe."

Good, it was able to find me despite my shower and change of clothes. Hmm... One thing about Trogs, they know how to eat.

@Team Not sure why, but there was a lot of bbq soy chicken leftover from the lunch crowd, if they have some still I bet you could get a good deal. It only made my stomach rumble a little, but some Fizzy pop and it's all fine now. I scraped off all that black stuff before I could smell the stuff was still okay. You should make sure to ask for a discount if you got to scrape all that blackened goo off of your chicken too. Oh yeah, could you see if they got any trog sized baby chairs, one of those booster or high seat thingies.

Trogs have all that fraggin chairs I can't get into without jumping, the big ones all have to have them too skinny, fine enough for the tuskers and the elfies, but I think maybe a trog baby seat might be just right for a halfer.

Slacker responds "A pint of whatever you've got on tap would be good."

Probably shouldn't drink much, but what the hell. Free beer from the Bear sounds good to me. It's not like I'll be doing any of the talking, he thinks to himself.

Reading Boris' message, he was a bit sickened, but not quite enough to make him forget that he hadn't eaten anything since that bowl of cereal this moring.

@Boris: You mind keeping such cullinary advice to yourself? That drek isn't what I call an appropriate dinner conversation. Besides this is a meet. Try to stay focused and don't distract us your musings, unless they have direct bearing on our current situation.

As he sent the message, he suddenly remember just who he was talking to. Oh great, I just opened a can of worms. Now I am going to be bombarded with questions about what some of those words mean.

"Real coffee, if you have it. If not, nothing for me, thanks."

Flair glances at the latest message from Boris and rolls her eyes, once again instantly regretting even opening it in the first place. She glances around at her companions, sighing dramatically.

"Someone's gonna have t' sit down with that halfer sometime soon, and set a few things straight."

Smirking at Flair, Slacker says "Thanks for volunteering."

Morgan winces at both Boris' advice and Flair's comment spoken aloud.
To the team, aside from Boris:"Okay, focus folks. I have an eye on our friend, so we can just mute his comms for a bit and chalk it up to interference from inside. As far as setting him straight, any one familiar with shock training?"
To Boris:"Inside the meeting room there might be some sort of interference with communications. If you get into trouble, tell the flybot and it will find a way to tell me."
To the Flybot:If Boris says to get help and comms are cut off, move away towards the bike and hide, but keep an eye on him.

Flair casts a look of mock horror in Slacker's direction, but can't contain her smile for long.

"Not likely! Patience is somethin' I don't have in abundance, an' that'd take the tolerance of a saint."

Widening his smirk to a full grin, Slacker says "Too late. You've already volunteered."

Chuckling a bit, he continues, "Tell you what,, I'll lend you my gloves so you can administer the shock therapy."

On a more serious note, he says "Morgan's right though. Now is not the time for that. We need to focus on the job at hand."

Despite his own advice, Slacker let himself get distracted by the sight of a beautiful woman in the crowded restaurant.

Sundown grins under his drink as he sips the scotch.

You know you could join in on the conversation... sure and what? Make friends? Pretend everything is normal. Shutup.

@All
Alicia waits for the bartender to fix your drinks and puts in an order for rare steak, which she promises Sundown will be brought to him as soon as possible. After offering cream and sugar to Flair, Alicia leads you all away from the bar in through a door next to it that, until then, had been hidden from sight by the bar. This leads to a short, two meter hallway and a second door. Within the hallway sits an female ork, visibly armed with a sub-machine gun. She nods to Alicia and says, "They for Bear" At, Alicia's nod, the ork continues, "Third door left. Combination 4-8-15-16-23-42. Sweep has been completed, no bugs when I left." Alicia thanks the ork, apparently named Janet, and leads you through the next door.

The second hallway is as spartan as the previous. The walls are unadorned, there are no potted plants, chairs, benches, or the like on the floor. Not even a rug. The floor is bare stone, and the walls seem thick. You can detect the audible hiss of a white noice generator somewhere in the hallway as well. Alicia leads you to the third door on the left, types in the combination on a keypad and the door opens to reveal a small room, but servicable for brief meetings. At this, she smiles and motions for you to enter, reiterating that she'll return shortly with the ordered food.

The meeting room is appout 5 by 3 meters. Large enough for a circular table which could seat up to eight comfortable, more if you squeeze. It's made of a semi-transparent plastic through which you can see the floor. There's no obvious cameras or other recording sensors in the room, and the walls are painted a neutral beige color in what you assume must be wireless inhibiting paint, since the signal strength of the outside world becomes significantly weaker when you step inside the room, and cuts out almost completely when the door slides shut.

Seated opposite the door is a bear of a man you assume can be none other than your fixer. He's impeccably dressed, seeming out of place among his stark surroundings, in a two-piece suit. Next to his chair you can see a small brief case and before him on the table rests some paperwork and what appears to be the glossy paper of photographs face down.

As you enter, he looks up and smiles. A great beard extends from his chin down onto his chest in a rich brown color. His blue eyes focus hard on each one of you, his smile never faultering as he scrutinizes. Pausing for a moment, on Sundown his smile broadens, "Scotch, eh? After my own heart. My name is Bear. I'm please to meet you all, as I believe this is our first association. Your names came highly recomended, though I was under the impression that there was another member of your crew -- a rather irrascable dwarf, wasn't it?"

@Morgan
The door at the and the hallway and the rooms after that are all located outside the map that the restaurant's node provided you when you requested it. In fact, unless you're mistaken, it seems like you're actually inside the building next door.