August 13th, 2074
Lucky darted across the rooftops, launching himself off the edge of the building and trusting there would be something to land on. The new moon lent little light to see by, even with the low-light enhancements from his contacts.

He crouched low as he hit the roof of the other building, lower then the preceding one and not actually visible until you were off the roof. He grinned, picking himself up and sprinting along the edge of the building. He glanced back, and just caught a glimpse two drones coming up over the edge of the building. They were small, but large enough to be carrying weapons. Stepping behind the edge of an elevator shack to give himself a moment of cover, he focused for a moment, and stepped back into the open. The "cherry blossom" seemed an apt name, for the two pistols that launched themselves into his hands were able to throw a virtual storm of flechettes at the target. He sighted on one drone, nicking it in half a dozen places before it careened sideways, impacting on the second drone and taking them both over the edge of the building and to the streets over one hundred feet below. "Lucky" was also an appropriate name.

He wasn't sure how the information from the small subsidiary company had was supposed to tie into Sully's death, but Jack was rarely wrong about these things.

August 25th, 2074

"See these test results?" Cowboy Jack pointed to a series of charts and graphs in the AR filling the small room.

Lucky looked, but the information failed to reveal the source of it's importance. He shrugged, turning back to the much older man.

"What's the big deal?"

"These were Sully's bio-signs. I've watched over her often enough to know. Somebody was tracking them, out in the Barrens. And these here, these are signs from someone else, a second target. Watch the GPS coordinates...they're meeting, and see the spikes? Obviously fighting...and then..." Jack's voice drifted off as the charts on Sully's monitor flat-line.

Lucky angrily waves a hand through the ARO's, making them dissipate. "They knew...they set it up or they were watching or something-"

"We have to find out." Jack cut in on his angry diatribe. "The system's off the grid, so you're going to have to go back in person."

"There's no way, after last night they'll double, maybe triple security! I can't get back in by myself. And there's this damn Fire elemental that I'm pretty sure has something personal against me."

"Then get some help...I know some people, I'll make some calls. Get Fixx to set you up a place."

September 5th, 2074

The Looking Glass looked like no such thing from the outside. A four story warehouse near the docks, the permanent changeling rave looks like nothing so much as a run down storage facility. Inside, however...

Inside, a raver's paradise unfolds in the manifest blackness of the converted warehouse. With a single bar along the north wall, there are scattered chairs around the edge of the main room and ringing a recessed dance area.

Artwork ranges from classical interpretations of Alice in Wonderland, past American McGee, to the truly bizarre. Passing from the lift to the bar, you pass through zones of curtained music. Without physical barrier, the music has sharp transitions in the space of a few steps, changing the ambience and mood. Bodies decked out in this season's raver-chic gyrate to the music.

Within the recessed area, dancers begin to congregate as the night moves on. Drug dealers and pill poppers press their bodies against fur, leather and scale as the music overtakes them. Over head, drones circulate and swoop down to collect empty glasses and deliver drink orders to outlying tables.

Augmented reality lays an entirely new layer over tha club as emotional sub-tracks push along threads of music and the question is asked "who is real?" The dance floor and walls show reflections of dancers as they used to be. Changelings see human and elf faces lost to them forever, while illusions of possibilities reflect back on those untouched by SURGE.

Lucky gives a nod to Izzy as he presses through the crowd, the club manager's rainbow shimmering skin always drawing a crowd, despite his strict work-only ethic during the evening rave.

He moves past the small area cordoned off with privacy ropes, another nod for Fixx, the gorgeous nordic blonde fixer already deep in a deal with someone else. Another small table, not quite so large, not sectioned off with velvet ropes, is non-the-less open and available.

Supposedly everyone Jack and Fixx had been able to get together would be here tonight, and he'd need to pick who, if any, that he wanted to work with. He'd done the Johnson thing before, but not on anything so personal. The team would have to be perfect...

Ammon walked the circle one last time making the last few corrections before he began. He chanted and called the spirit, pulling it from its home plane against its will. With his mastery of summoning, it came easily and owed several services, but comparatively summoning is the easy part. Somewhere during the binding it started falling apart though. The spirit started pulling away, he was failing.

He'd invested a significant portion of his remaining resources in purchasing these binding materials and the call came in last night for a meet tonight. Worse yet this meet was to resolve an old debt. As the sweat poured down his face he dug deep reaching for every thing he had, pulling it all together and at the last minute he secured the services from the spirit. Sitting on his hands and knees he dismissed the spirit back to its home plane to await his call.

The binding took a great deal out of him. He had planned to perform a second binding ritual and resting a little before leaving for the meet, but plans change. Instead he went to rest now.
*****
When he awoke two hours later he felt refreshed, but not fully restored. Decisions to be made and in this case it was to continue on and perform another ritual. Time was short and though he started summoning early in the morning he still had not planned on needing the rest. He hated when plans went awry.

Everything was already laid out for the second circle, just a matter of pulling it all together. He worked quickly to lay it all out then performed the call for the fire elemental. Today was not his day. The elemental liked its independence and bringing it to heal was another straining task. Once completed, Ammon looked at his clock as he felt the weight of his sweat soaked clothes.

There would be no second binding before the meet. He would shower, rest and recover his center. One of those things his brother had taught him, never rush it. If the plan falls apart make a new plan, don't push a failed plan.
*****
He had showered before resting a few more hours. When he awoke this time, he was fully refreshed and ready for the task at hand. The fire elemental was still on hand in astral space performing the first service of guarding Ammon until sundown.

He encrypted a quick message to his brother Atreus before leaving his doss.
<<@Atreus [Ammon] Bro - I have a meet tonight so I'll catch up in a few days.>>
He looked at his clothes in the mirror and frowned a little. A subtle gesture and the mana weaves through the clothes updating the cut to the current style. Turning, then have a perfect press. He nods to himself in the mirror and smiles, "Much better."

He then heads out the door to his bike and on to the club. Looking to astral space the fire elemental was still there for a short time longer.

As he arrives at the club he thinks, I hope that today is not a sign of things to come. Almost on queue there is a blast of sulfur in his face as the the setting sun signals the end of the spirit's service.. Ohhh... This just stinks....

Standing outside the doors to the club is a small line and what is obviously the bouncer. Probably a troll to begin with, the Changeling's dermal deposits have lengthened and now curl and wrap around both arms and legs, leaving spiny protrusions at this elbows and knees. An ornate set of antlers sit atop his shaggy head, currently shaking as he ushers a human, decked out in the latest tres chic club gear, away from the entrance of the club. Standing next to him in a custom black and white suit is another equally large, basically simian appearing man. He has the wide sloped forehead, heavy lips and squashed looking nose, along with the coarse black hair disappearing under the color. The handgrips of two very large pistols show from shoulder holsters beneath his coat.

He appears to be addressing something with the troll, who nods after consulting a clipboard. He eyes the elf, apparently talking to himself across the street, and then turns and heads inside the club.

Billy Shen knew full well he wasn't going to fit in at a rave. All it took him was a glance at the people standing in line with him. His rumpled reddish-grey suit (with nicely contrasting creamy yellow maybe-even-real-silk shirt) was just fine for Matchstick's or even Dante's, but it wasn't exactly the uniform here. No matter how uncaring he was about the collar and his tie, regardless of the sleeves being rolled up almost to his elbows, no matter how comfortable he kept it, the suit wasn't casual. It wasn't a set of too-baggy cargo pants or a pair of low-on-the-hip jeans and a cut-off tee everyone around him seemed to be wearing, each one dressing the same to show off their individuality.

He hadn't had time to change since getting the call and, truth be told, he didn't have anything like that to change into, anyways. He didn't mind last minute jobs, calls from his boss telling Billy to return a favor for him , but he did mind getting sent to warehouses full of tripping counter-culture kids having seizures they called dancing. Oh well. What you did and didn't mind wasn't important to the Octagon Triad, only that you got the job done. Fitting the dress code was a secondary, at best, consideration.

Oh, and of course there was the little fact that instead of being one of society's cast-off freaks, he was -- seven fortunes be praised -- good looking, even for an elf, instead.

So Shen fits in the only way he can; he strikes up a conversation while standing in line and makes himself part of a group. A comment in passing from a navy-blue skinned girl in front of him, a casual quip about cell phone coverage sucking out here by the docks, a pocket secretary being lent to her with an empathetic smile so she could make a call...and he was in. Billy's good at getting new people to warm up to him, and having all the time in the world while they waited in a slowly-shuffling line just made it even easier.

By the time they hit the door he's able to just sit back and smile as the girl tells the bouncer she's with him. Billy couldn't for the life of him remember her name -- Nora or Noreen? -- but by the time they get through the door and inside it doesn't matter, anyways. She's off with her cat-eyed boyfriend and a girl who's so happy to see her she wiggles her forked tongue, and Billy's standing all alone in the middle of a crowded club.

He pulls a pack of smokes from an inside pocket and lights one up and a cloud of minty smoke forms around him -- they actually whiten his teeth -- as he takes the place in. His eyes are still hidden by the too-expensive mirror shades he favors, but he quirks an eyebrow as he catches his reflection thrown back at him with red scaled skin, a whipping tail, and a pair of horns sprouting from his forehead.

Billy grins, blows mint-smelling smoke at his fiendish reflection, and looks around for what passes as a VIP room or private meeting area.

Billy

The bouncers look at the door had been a bit surprised, but he'd let you in without so much as a complaint with the voucher from the Changeling you were in line with.

The club is busy but not packed this time of day. The dance floor is crowded but still navigable, and it's actually possible to see over/through the sea of bodies the small collection of tables near the back of the club. The seem to constitute the entirety of the available meeting places.

As you make your way through the press towards the tables, the first one you come across is actually roped off, and people seem to make sure to give it enough berth so as not to even touch the velvet ropes. There's only one table inside the cordoned off space, and at it sits a man that gives even your looks a run for their money. Doesn't beat them, but definitely a run. He gives you a hard look as you approach, and only turns his gaze away when it's obvious you're moving past him.

The simian looking gentlemen from the door catches your eye, nodding towards another table, currently occupied only by a youngish kid, not an obvious Changeling, but obviously relaxed in the club none-the-less.

Billy follows monkey-man's gaze to the table, and gives the bouncer a friendly nod by way of thanks. He saunters over and stops a polite distance away, left hand slipping idly into his pants pocket as an excuse to slouch his shoulders, right hand points towards the kid with two fingers, lit cigarette between them.

"Without making it sound like a pick up line, I can't think of any way to ask if you're Lucky, the guy I'm here to see." Billy's grin is all self-deprecation and friendliness, a wry twist of his mouth at the many ways the young 'runner's nickname could turn an introduction into a foul joke.

Billy

The young man leans back, in full possession of the arrogance and invulnerability that the young are full of in equal measure. He grins, motioning to one of the seats around the table. He wears an obviously armored vest, two shoulder holsters displaying the butts of pistols under each arm.

"I'm going to assume that since you're not part of the crowd, and you're not working with Fixx, you're here to see me. Have a seat."

Billy lowers himself into one of the seats and drags the table's ashtray over. He's seated so the bulk of the dance floor is to his left; it was too cliched to park your ass in the corner every time, back to the wall and paranoid gaze towards whatever room you were in. Why bother, when you know you'll be at a table full of Shadowrunners and someone else can be paranoid for you?

"Hopefully I'm not too early," he says, a nod of his head taking in the collection of empty chairs. "I was overseeing an inbound shipment down here at the docks when I got the call, and just figured I'd swing by and get inside while the line was manageable."

"My boss wasn't real specific about what time I should get here, anyways." His shades get slipped off and tucked into the front pocket of his shirt, while his coat's open Lucky can probably make out a pistol butt. Smiling, Billy fishes a little, "Or, really, about what was going on."

Ammon parked the bike with the plethora of others and made his way into the line. He thought for a moment about sauntering straight up to the door but decided he wasn't quite a prime runner... yet.

As people began to fill in he started making conversation with a cute, though furry, young woman with small, gossamer wings. She was here in turn with a pair of sisters, cute as a button themselves but totally normal humans, unless you consider their enormous breast augmentation its own version of SURGE. And they always tend to travel in small packs... Now to separate her from the fold.. or perhaps see just how brazen I am tonight...?.

Of course by the time they made it to the door and beyond he had lost interest to the meet at hand. Work first.. he thought as he lost the trio in the crowd. He wanders a few minutes before he picks Lucky out at the table with an overdressed elf and a number of empty seats. Ammon continued to pick himself through the crowd till he reached the table. He immediately extends his hand in a warm greeting. "Lucky. Chummer. I got your call. How have you been?"

it was a quiet night, Cassie offered to drive him knowing how much he liked to walk she assumed he'd turn her down, but no, it must have been their date night, she was never very good at remembering those things. Why, she thought as they drove in silence she could tell whatever daddy had said to him was important, and didn't want to ruin his thinking, it was always the heaviest burdens that daddy laid upon him, why couldn't it be something small and simple... a quick hug and off to work he went...as he placed his weight from the car to the sidewalk the raising car and protesting frame turned the heads of everyone around the entrance as he had made his exit from the luxury car. but in a moment attention returned to normal, after all freaks were common place outside this club. "be safe honey." she said as he closed the door, the thumping of the metal made his heart sink, he'd left her again. it will feel like an eternity until he can return. even if it is only tomorrow...

Quite an odd sight to see a troll his size nervous, standing in line surrounded by things that resembled creatures he'd hunted once... or more... standing in line with him, not afraid, not angry, he was obviously not a part of the crowd his sandaled feet, and denim attire was more suited to the park than a night of clubbing. but here he was, trying hard to not look intimidating. it must have worked, because not long after he arrived he was adorned with a few of the smaller patrons, one on each shoulder, and another tugging at his pants leg. a great way to pass the time he thought helping out the weak...but as always the fun didn't last and they moved on to their groups as the line moved on toward the bouncers, and again he was alone, surrounded, and completely lost in thought when a large bony gauntlet like hand raised high above the crowds heads and pressed on his chest, attemtping to stop him, it brought him out of his stupor and realized he was at the front of the line and a troll sized freaky looking antlerman was asking him something, what did cassie tell him to say, why could he remember every detail about their first date, but not something she told him just tonight...a blinking tharn stare pulsed at the bouncer who was patiently awaiting for the mountain of a troll who stood as tall as his own antlers to explain his presence. nothing came to Atlas, and the line behind him began to protest to the lack of forward motion. perhaps his lack of comm broadcast? or the imminent disruption of their security equipment this type of thing always happened around him, ever since he was electrocuted by that storm elemental.

Angel stepped out of the back door of Lean Geoffrey’s gallery into a dingy alley and pulled her hooded jacket tight around her neck to ward out the chill night.

“Stupid English prick� She muttered under her breath.

Geoffrey was a well-known English fixer and sometimes fence that specialized in acquiring hard to find pieces for Seattle’s rich corporate elite. Sometimes it was antiques, sometimes it was artwork, and sometimes it was… other things… Despite his polished demeanor, Geoffrey didn’t worry all that much about what it was his buyers wanted, so long as he got paid. The front of his gallery was opulent and plush, but Angel wondered how many of Geoffrey’s “clients� knew that the real business went down in the trash-strewn alley in back. Then again she didn’t really care, and probably neither did they, and certainly neither did Lean Geoffrey.

She hated that fucking Englishman. For all his fancy clothes and plastic smiles there was something shady about him. Something intangible that made her uncomfortable. It was something about the way he looked at her, like he could have her too if he wanted. She wondered if it was worth the money. The jobs were always there when she wanted them, which made it a good fallback gig, but lately they were getting harder and longer and the pay was still miserable.

I need to find a good paying run… She thought to herself. But not tonight…

Tonight she was tired, and sore and worst of all dirty, but she had her rent money and everybody was happy- except of coarse for the poor museum curator that would be out of a job the next morning, but she did her best not to think about that. Right now all she wanted to think about was a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. She pulled her jacket tighter, surveilled the alley in both directions and started off down the alley toward her waiting Mirage.

Just as she straddled the bike, an ARO appeared in her lower left field of vision. A quick movement of her eyes and it shifted to center. The caller ID said “Louie’s Pizza Pit� but she knew otherwise.

<<Hello!? Is this Vinny Bartouche?! I got ya pizza here but I can’t find dis fraggin’ address ya gave me…>>

<<Finch. Have I ever told you how horrible your Brooklyn accent is?>>

<<It gets the job done, doesn’t it Vertigo? Listen, I just got a weird call. You remember that job your did for Fixx awhile back?>>

How could she forget. Everything was going great until she tripped that stupid alarm. The guards had almost triangulated on her when Lucky appeared out of thin air. She was pretty sure they never knew what hit them. To be honest, neither did she.

<<Yeah. I remember.>>

<<Well it sounds like Fixx is willing to give you a second chance. Are you interested?>>

Angel paused for a moment. She wanted to say no. She wanted to imagine herself in a hot bath, maybe eating some soy ice cream, the chocolate mint kind that she always craved after a job. But all she could think of was the pistol shaking in her hand that night Lucky saved her ass, and that smug look on Lean Geoffrey’s sly face.

Stupid English prick…

<<Text me the info and I’ll take a look.>>

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

An hour later Vertigo stood outside the Looking Glass. Judging by the people in line a change of appearance was in order. Hopefully she had the strength left, despite how worn out she was. She calmed herself with a few deep breaths and then started the spell. Something subtle would probably suffice, a pair of horns maybe, or neon blue hair and iridescent eyes to match.

Like a shadow she slipped from the alley and into line, sauntering up to a chattering group of club girls. She glanced around to an elf with wings, an ork with scales and a pair of twin humans with hairless pasty-white skin and opaque black eyes. They moved and spoke in prefect unison, and Vertigo wondered if they were two beings or one…

She stood just far enough away that they wouldn’t notice her, but close enough that the bouncer would mistake her as part of the same group and waited. When the girls were utterly distracted by a gorgeous elf in a reddish-grey suit (that somehow just worked) she made her move. With a subtle movement of the hand that only a trained eye would notice the angelic elf’s lipstick disappeared from her purse and was secreted away in Vertigo’s palm. Just as they approached the huge troll bouncer Vertigo touched the elf on the arm.

"You dropped your lipstick, hon…� She said in a voice that could be mistaken for familiar and they all walked through the door together.

Vertigo - An instant flood of sensations, images, sight, sounds, and smells fill AR as you press into the club. And press is the right word. The club is packed with people as far back as you can see, ARO's filling the gaps, carrying messages, locating people.

The only real space available seems to be from a couple of tables that sit near the back of the club.

Billy - Lucky nods understandingly, eyes flicking momentarily to the butt of the pistol as it becomes visible. Doesn't seem alarmed, simply observant.

"Don't want to have to explain it multiple times, but null sheen, you're right on time."

Ammon - Lucky stands as you approach, the smile on his face genuine. He clasps your hand, and motions to a seat.

"I hope you don't mind me leaning on old debts, but this ones personal."

Atlas - "Hey, buddy-" The bouncer starts an agitated sentence, just before the simian-like gentleman appears again, speaking rapidly and quietly into the bouncers ear. The bone covered troll arches both eyebrows in surprise, looks back at Atlas, and then shrugs, stepping aside and motioning for the larger troll to enter the club.

Billy gives Ammon an idle-once over as he approaches, then a friendly nod. It doesn't take a social creature of Billy's caliber to see that his new boss was on good terms with the guy, so he might as well be sociable, too.

"Evening," he says, the greeting coming out in an exhalation of mint-smelling smoke. "Name's Billy."

nodding to the bouncers shyly and placing a hand that covers the simians shoulder as he passes into the club. as the ambiance of the club wafts over him the shyness he had outside slowly fades into confidence and a smile grows over his oversized tusks he begins to dance absently a surprising feat for someone 9 feet tall wearing sandals. getting lost in the rhythm, he seamlessly switches to the new music as he glides gracefully across the dancefloor toward the bar. it is quite entertaining to see the tallest person here grinding and shaking like him and not in the gangly way most troll sized men do. the packed club gives him some trouble moving but the swaying dancers allow him to slowly make headway without shoving people aside. a pitcher of some trog rotgut in one massive gulp he picks up another and he's off dancing around making headway to the back. stopping only long enough to dance a few bars with some attractive female looking creatures on the way, one covered in fur the other wrapping what you hope to be a tail around his arm...
a few moments later finds the crowd parting revealing a mountain of a man dressed in denim pants, jacket, and cotton T-shirt, resembling a troll bald and hornless, with a body more resembling the models of greek and european artistry than the more common Samoan forms you see on the local trolls. his fingers are wrapped almost completely around the half empty pitcher he's holding...all six of them...
seeing an empty chair he dances into it. slowly and gently sitting down onto it, his dancing and gyrating gives you full view of the inside of his jacket. he's obviously not packing like everyone else. taking a drink out of the pitcher as the chair lets out a sqealing protest to holding his weight. looking around to the gentlemen sitting at the table and counting them on his free hand, obviously not counting himself. "Oi, we's da luckiest two blokes here, and we be missin sum are we?" nodding across the table. before taking another drink. deftly flipping a dachsund sized cigar into his mouth and fiddling around with a lighter too small for his Sausage sized fingers. he obviously checking out the occupants of the table but whether he's looking you over for weapons or for eye candy you aren't sure.

Atlas - Lucky seems surprised as the mountain of a troll appears through the crowd. Not so much at the troll's appearance, just more that he seemed to be part of the group.

He recovers admirably after a few seconds though, shaking his head ruefully. Rumors indicate that while he was the one calling in chips, some of the people showing up are friends of a friend.

"That we are, my tall friend, that we are."

"and I thought I was gettin in late." tapping an antique looking wristband a few times. "never did figure out how to read this thing, only shows me half a day, don' have the heart to tell her. you come 'ere alot?"winking across the table, trying to make small talk.

Ammon shakes Lucky's hand and moves to sit, "Absolutely. I'm glad to repay the debt." Ammon is leary to speak of the details amongst people he does not know. He does turn to Billy though, "My name is Ammon"

As the troll approaches the table, Ammon gauges Lucky's response to the newest arrival and responds with a grin, "If empty seats are an indication, I would say you are correct.".

His com chimes in AR silently to Ammon at the same time.
<<@Ammon [Atreus] At a meet myself bro. Not sure how long I'm gonna be tied up with this, but I'll let you know. Also - You were right I did find a use for those clothes you magic'ed up, but if you don't come get those boxes of your old books out of my place I'm still gonna throw them out.>>
He takes a moment to subtly reply to his brother's empty threat:
<< @Atreus [Ammon] You throw out my books and you'll find irritant watchers popping in and heckling you at the most inopportune times.>>
Thoughts of a watcher resembling Sam Kinison, a comedian from the last century, appearing to heckle his brother from the sidelines during intimate moments with his geeky girlfriend nearly causes a chuckle to escape.

As the troll continues to speak, Ammon focuses his attention to the small talk at the table. "Personally no, but this place definitely as a unique atmosphere..." Thinking back to the trio from earlier, "..and there are some positive qualities that generate a strong appeal".

"Oi, I was hopin they were just fer show." reaching across the table and tapping Ammon on the shoulder just a bit too hard. "yeah I seen sum a dem, if Cassie was any other woman I'd be sayin too bad I'm taken aye? but nope nope, these girls don' even come close." waving a broad arm out towards the pulsing grinding creature that is comprised of hundreds of changelings. "so what's yer flavor? you like 'em big or small...fuzzy...monkey. EW" closing his eyes in a mock shudder before returning his attention back to the table, and gulping some more out of his pitcher

"Hey, don't knock 'em 'till you've tried 'em." Billy flashes his megawatt smile, breathing in another tooth-whitening mouthful of mint and nicotine. "Just because a girl turned a little furry when the comet swung by doesn't mean she doesn't still need lovin', or know what she's doing in the sack."

A saying about glass houses and trolls that throw stones comes to mind, but Shen doesn't disrupt the business meeting by calling it to mind. Mostly, though, the elf's just thinking about how quickly things could turn sour if a whole table full of non-Changelings sat around and guffawed at the room full of people between them and the door. Tiny Tim didn't strike him as the sort that would pick up on that, though. Best to change the subject, and fast. A quick count of chairs tells Billy there's at least one more coming...

"What're your thoughts on drinking on the job, Lucky? Gonna call my boss and get me in trouble if I try to flag down a waitress and get this table full of thirsty gentlemen a few beers while we wait for the last of our coworkers to show up?"

Once inside the club Vertigo moves gracefully through the crowd, blending in without much effort and proceeds to the tables at the back. She throws a quick nod to Fixx and then approaches Lucky and the rest of the group.

@Lucky: "Hey stranger... Like my new look?". She says with a flirty smile.

"OH no I'm not saying nuthin bad, I'm just takin is all... patting the ring on his left hand. and looking up at the freaky girl just showing up kinda hard to know which finger its supposed to go on...besides I doubt six fingers is quite normal, they might just think I'm kindred." with a wink he lays his hand in the center of the table splaying his fingers, and showing off his ring. "See told ya, hey Smurfy, you joinin us? No need fer da drinks pointy, I gots an order on da way, didn't think this little shot glass would last me all night did ya?" tapping his sloshing pitcher as he gives a great tusky grin. picking up the antique lighter again and fumbling around unsuccessfully trying to light his cigar. "stupid midget tools..."

"Here, Thumbs. Lemme get it for ya." Billy leans forward, reaching, his own chromed lighter extended. It takes a moment for the sleek little tool to do the job on a cigar the size of a stadium hot dog (bun and all), but Billy's a first-impressions kind of guy, and he's determined to not be the only smoker at the table. "There ya go."

He nods and leans back, gaze flicking over the newcomer. Well, at least the table had gotten a little prettier. The Triads weren't exactly known for going out of their way to promote gender-equality on their kill teams, but this job had been looking like an outright sausage fest for a minute, there. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad job, after all...

...and, of course, she's flirting with the boss. Ah well. That's just Billy's luck, sometimes. He contents himself with leaning back in his chair, one arm slung casually over the seat back, lanky legs stretched out under the table and ankles crossed.

Shaking his head in an air of dissappointment as he draws a large breath through his newly lit cigar "Thanks pointy, them techno gadgets jus don't work and they don't make this stuff... he waves the lighter in his own hand before putting it back into the inside pocket of his denim jacket ...with big buttons for my kind, and I'm sure if you haven't noticed my chair certainly has, that I'm a bit on the large size even for my kind." even though his lighter had no buttons.

Standing in line, Hiver marks time watching the people around him as he rolls the marker Fixx had given him back and forth across his knuckles. In the cool night air, his clothing reflected back a yellow cast from the streetlights, though he knew it would glow under the blacklights within the club.

He tried to think of how many times he had been called into the Looking Glass. If memory served, this would be his tenth social visit while the club was in full swing. Though something in Fixx's voice told him that he wasn't doing his standard fare. Most jobs that came through the Looking Glass were simple tasks, guard this person or that person while they do something in deep VR or the metaplanes. An easy way to make a couple hundred bucks, and Hiver enjoyed the quiet.

As he neared the front of the line, the tall elf ran his hands down the front of his jacket. Each fold and caress of fabric had its own story to tell. He hands the chit over to the doorman and nods that he knows the rules of this place. Once inside, the shades of white and cream that made his suit, catch and reflect the cacophany of colors.

Hiver heads for the table that Fixx keeps reserved.

Vertigo - The cocky-ness is in full swing as he blatantly looks you up an down, giving a long, slow whistle and a grin as you take your seat.

"I'd be interested in giving it a full test run anytime."

Billy - Lucky seems to realize that you asked a question some moments after Vertigo finishes sitting down, and comes back to it with a shake and a grin.

"Don't give a damn what you drink or what you do, as long as you're handling your business during the job."

Vertigo glances around (and up) at the group assembled around the table. She slumps down in a chair next to Atlas.

"Hows it going boys? My name is Vertigo."

She extends a tiny hand to the gigantic Troll...

@Billy: "Nice suit..."

reaching an extra long largely muscular arm enveloping the blue haired newcomer in a one armed hug. and squeezing just a bit too close for comfort "Oi nice to meetcha smurfy. I think pointy here was offerin ta buy drinks in case ya had somethin specific ya wanted, I just got regular stuff comin by on one a dem little plates." he says as he points to the plateless table, its a quick hug so the invasion of personal space is not long lived, though from your feminine eyes...and nose its obvious his attire has a woman's touch. "I thinks his name was billy, and of course dats lucky... dropping his words to a whisper "I thinks he might be as lucky as me." ...and dats Ammo I think...hey did I get it right? pointing a long finger across at everyone as they are introduced.

Ammon rubs his shoulder after the troll's display of affection then replies to the comment about the girls. "Variety is the spice of life... as long as the parts are all in the right place and the motivation factor is at the right levels.... I can overlook a few unique attributes." is his reply with an ear-to-ear grin.

Ammon watches the flurry of activity with Billy and the blue hair girl and the troll with amusement also taking note of the tall elf arriving.

As Vertigo sits he tilts his head a little, "Shrek, I think that she would be smurfette..." Turning back to Vertigo, "And you can call me Ammon.". A genuine smile on his face as he introduces himself.

"Ya but She's mighty smurfy, Aye second pointy?" winking at Vertigo, then a look of confusion as he counts out on his fingers "one...more than one....one...more than one...okay pretty pointy" pointing at Billy "and second pointy." gesturing to Ammon then turning toward the others "da drinks should be here pretty soon, anyone have any preference? its all just normal stuff." finishing off his pitcher as he speaks.

Hiver - Fixx glances up as you approach the table, giving the small professional smile he reserves for trusted business associates. He motions you through the ropes, and even spends a moment...brief, but there...on casual conversation designed to put you at ease. Never friendly, but always polite and professional.

"I appreciate your coming on short notice. I have a friend that needs a favor, and I'd be very grateful if you could help him out."

Billy gives Vertigo a smile and a wink, responding with a "Nice hair."

Then he's got one lanky arm extended overhead, waving with his cigarette at a passing waitress. The reddish glow of his cherry looks like a signal for a landing airplane, and apparently even works that way, too, as it doesn't take long for a shapely hostess to saunter over. Billy's teeth flash under the rave's lightshow and, if he's bothered by the light sheen of tan fur she bears, the odd ears, or her whiskers, it doesn't show in his smile.

"Give the little guy another pitcher, and...beers all around, I think? Anyone want something else?" The light on the tip of his cigarette flares again as he waves those two fingrs in a little circle, taking in everyone at the table; even the latest arrival. "Oh, and make mine a tsing tao, if you carry it. Thanks."

The Chinese import isn't hard to find in an international hub like Seattle, but it was hard to tell how a place like this would prioritize; was variety on the drink menu the sort of thing they worried about, or was the dance floor the main draw? Oh well, ordering was the only way to find out.

Billy watches her stroll away for a moment, unabashedy craning his neck to get a better angle, and by the time line of sight is broken, Lucky's talking. Time to get down to business.

She feels the water flowing down her back, a real honest to goodness hot shower. She takes a moment to breathe in the fresh soap smell before starting to lather it all over. She can't remember the last time she had the time and the nuyen to enjoy a real pampering. She can feel the heat working its way through her tight and tired frame. Shattering the deep bliss of the moment a sharp pain in her nose brings her fully awake.

Widget bolts up from her bed to the indignant trill and whistles of micro-drones disloged by her sudden movement from where they were resting all along her prone form. One of them has pinched its legs onto her nose. She quickly relaxes the walls around her soul and reaches out to the small techno-spirits around her. She's flooded with images of a time, since passed, and an overwhelming sense of urgency.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." She remembers now the meet tonight. When she came in from the late night job she had tasked her friends to make sure she was awake in time for the get together. She jumps from bed, pausing a moment to pry the small drone from her nose and places it tenderly amongst its litter mates before frantically getting out of her work clothes. She looked at the clock display on her contact lenses and realized that she wouldn't even have time to shower as it was. Dumping the armor and holster to a pile in her studio and sliding the closet door open, she reaches within herself and reaches to Mr. BoBo's PAN. As she drifts down into the club she "feels" around for the one that seems to say him and connects.

<< So please tell me that the club is on fire and won't be open for at least another hour... >>

As she waits for a response, she quickly throws together a club outfit. Something leather, neon and a splash of clear plastic would have to do for the moment. She struggles to put it all on, this stuff was far too complicated for her sometimes. Clubs kids travel in packs just to help each other get dressed. She looks up to see the drones grabbing and dragging over the accessories she was thinking of wearing. Hair doo-dads that lit up and projected their own AR scents and textures. She quickly made several small and oddly spaced pig-tails with them. While waiting for the reply fom downstairs she nudges the small pack of micro-drones to take up residence in various pockets and folds of her clothing.

<< No such luck, sweetie. I think your groups pretty much arrived, but hasn't actually started business yet. Should I let them know you're coming? >>

Although the message that comes across is just plain text, it's hard not to feel the rueful chuckle would have accompanied the message from the big man.

<< No I'm on my way down, I was hoping to avoid the new asshole my Uncles are going to drill me for being late for a business meeting. >>

She drops the link and makes her way to the door. Opening it, she jumps back as a limp body flops into the entryway. A young Changeling who was sleeping something off was snoing and drooling on on her boot. Making a disgusted noise, she bends down and drags him to a small sleeping pallet set up on this floor for just these sorts of occasions. The flop floor was seeing some heavy use tonight but it was one of the reasons she loved the "family business". If she didn't make some more money soon she'd be pallet hopping soon enough. Dumping his limp form, she jogs back to her door and locks it. Making her way to the lift that leads down to the club below, she spots a few of the regulars and declines invitations to join them. With a jaunty wave she draws the lift gate closed and makes her way to the main floor.

Opening the gate she is quickly flooded with a flurry of incoming messages as people spot her, several make offers for candy swapping and others to dance. She quickly answers them as they come in as she pushes her way through the throngs of bodies gyrating and grinding to the tracks being pulsed out in AR. She begs off since she has work but promises to make time for next time. She feels her uncle Fixx'x gaze lock onto her and any hope she had of this slip up going unoticed die a silent and quick death. She feels his disapproval in the long look before he turns to look elsewhere. She tried to give an apologetic but earnest smile back but sees it fall short of the mark of securing his sympathy. Shaking it off and making her way to the table, the dread grows in her stomach when she sees the large group already gathered for the meet. With a final push, she breaks free from the crowd and arrives at the table.

"Sorry, no excuse here. Won't happen again. Name's Widget." She tries not to sound out of breath but doesn't quite pull it off.

Lucky laughs as Widget drops into her seat, abruptly stifling it as he seems to realize the situation. He coughs once and nods to her, apparently trying to be a bit more professional.

"Everyone, this is Wdiget, as she mentioned. I'll let you make your own introductions."

"Null sheen." Billy turns his smile first on Widget, then the returning cat-girl waitress. Each of the bottles bears the same red label, Billy knows he'd see it in three dimensions and hear a little jingle if he still had his glasses and earbud on. No tsing tao. He gives the server a little shake of his head; no, they won't be needing one more for the late arrival.

"You're just in time for the drinks and the official job offer, I think. Beer?" He scoots his own Soybud across the table towards her, he'd really had his stomach set for his favorite brand and there was no reason for him to drink it and make the poor girl feel even later than she was. "Name's Billy."

"Blessing on you and your kin." She takes the offered drink with a genuine smile. A small bug drone crawls out from the cuff of her shirt and taps the glass before she brushes it back into place. She looks around the table and perks up at the sight of Hiver. She gives him a nod and takes a long drink before placing it back on the table, looking to Lucky to get the party started.

@Atlas: "Smurffy is fine by me big guy...

Nice to meet you Ammon...

Welcome Widget. Glad to see I'm not he only eye candy around here..."

Vertigo winks at Billy and raises her beer in a gesture of thanks. She pivots her chair to face Lucky.

As the remaining members of the team make their way to the table, Ammon nods to each raising his glass in greeting. His smile remains on his lips as he watches and listens, A nice, diverse crew... and sizable. This will get interesting.

Mentally noting the drones with widget and not only her ease with them, but the playful modifications to their programming, there is no doubt about her purpose and career track. He shifts his gaze to the astral plane and looks around at the various team members, a quick study of the people who he will soon be trusting with his life.

his gigantic smile widens when Vertigo addresses him, just before the red tip of his cigar flaring up to a flame as he takes another deep breath through it "Oi Tails, nice ta meetcha!" pointing toward Widget most likely referring to her hairstyle, blowing out the remainder of his smoky breath toward the ceiling. before drawing a great dopey tusk filled grin to the group. "So...is that all of us then? or we still waitin?" nodding toward the group in general before leaning back in his chair...a creaking scream of strain from his seat quickly corrects him back to the proper sitting position, and an oops expression slates his face for just a moment, before returning to the guise of childlike enjoyment he's been exuding all along, and of course rejoining the beat of the music swaying back and forth pretending to table dance...

Lucky glances around, shaking his head.

"There should have been one more...Ah, wait, there he is." Spotting Hiver near Fixx's table, he stands, waving a hand to get the man's attention and draw him over.

Billy returns Widget's comparatively formal thanks with a moment of eye contact and a grave nod. The nod is sharper, friendlier, and he's got a crooked smile back on his features when he gives a nod Vertigo's way, in response to the wink.

Then it's all a big show again, of stretching out, relaxing, eyes idly on the last arrival that Lucky's waving over. He's all gangly limbs sprawling out all over his chair with a puff of minty smoke escaping him in a sigh. No tsing tao. Billy's life was a hard one, sometimes.

"Bien sûr, mon ami. Bonne soirée."

With his farewells made to Fixx, Hiver crosses the room towards the young Johnson's table.

"I trust that I am not in fact, too late to attend this little meeting." His English is neat and structured with more of a European flair than American. "Allow me to introduce myself, many call me Hiver."

With a nod to Widget, he adds, "I'm glad to see you are still well. My services have not been needed in some time."

He settles himself into a seat near the young girl, the relationship between her and his fixer was unknown, but he had been paid well to protect her in the past. Tossing his platinum braid to one side, allowing it to frame his pale face and blue-gray eyes, he addresses the group.

"I must say that my specialty lies in single individuals and pairs. A larger group generally means that I am taking a more active role than usual. Though enough from me, what is your pleasure, sir?"

"Oi Glow pointy, I think we's all outta brews." pointing to the large pitcher that seems small in his hands. "and I already promised Pretty pointy there he could have summa mine iffin he gets thirsty." winking toward billy "you needin sum drinks then?" tapping his dog sized cigar on the edges of the table letting the ash fall on the floor. his other hand has its fingers idly tapping the pitcher in front of him, only stopping when he takes a drink. "lotsa pointy's...wonder if that's a show a what me not fittin in and all..."

"Nah," Billy waves away the giant's concern with a shake of his head and a friendly smile, "I'm fine."

He nods to Hiver, "Name's Billy."

Truth be told, he's not sure what size team he's used to working with. There are times he'll be sent alone to negotiate on behalf of his employer with a gang getting too big for their britchse, there are times he and a half dozen other men are sent to make an example of a Japanese business too close to Octagon turf. Most of his freelance work -- like tonight -- has been with a group not too far from this size, though. He certainly wasn't feeling crowded or anything.

Ammon nods as Hiver makes his introduction, "Ammon. Truth be told, I generally am used to only working in a two man team as well". The elf has a cheerful expression pasted on his face that seems genuine, likes he's happy to be here. He looks around at the crew Lucky has assembled. "but I think we have a pretty diverse crew here."

"Smurfy an' me is the only non pointies...kinda makes me think we's runnin inta the homeland or sumtin." winking at Vertigo with a tusky grin. then stitting straight showing just how big he might be if he didnt slouch, he looks around toward the bar. "where's dem drinks I asked ta be brought over for way back. maybe dey gots lost..." returning to his rhythmic swaying.

"Ah, relax. They're pretty busy, considering how early it is." Billy tactfully doesn't mention how quickly his drinks arrived, any more than he points out the sharp-toothed smile he'd gotten from the waitress. There was no point in antagonizing the big guy, a tantrum could wreck the joint (and, if nothing else, almost certainly the job). He cranes his head a bit to peer around, exhales minty smoke, then nods behind Atlas, "There, see? Here comes a server now."

"Isn't that the same girl dat brought the...um...well...at least they are on da way, I'm almost finished wif me drink." settling back into the seat smiling, and apparhently unaware or just ignoring the social magic Billy weaves with just a look. something the big guy could never achieve no matter how much he tried. "At least I'm not bumping ma head on the ceiling." he says while pointing up.

"Yeah, well." Billy grins, rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Warehouses are handy that way."