System doesn't answer immediately. In AR a hooded figure without a face appears and says, If they can trace what I'm doing right now then I'll eat my underwear. We should be golden in a bit.

-----

The cab arrives at the park as the ceremony is beginning. A very confused Junior steps out of the cab and stumbles around with a statue. A few of the news drones fly over toward him. Then, in a rush, the entire flock speed toward him. The live feed of the presentation is interrupted for "breaking news." Several channels from various angles cover him stumbling and asking Dad? ... seen my dad? I got ... statue. Cut ... drugs. Wow, this is good.

Eventually the media outlet begin running his comm and determine that he is the son of the Honoree. One channel splits the screen into fours with a commentator in one, Junior in another, Daddy in the third and the videos looping of "Junior" stealing the statue and squeezing Los Samurai for money. The image of the LS drone is enhanced to show the "PROPERTY OF LONE STAR" on its side. The video of the extortion is credited to "a concerned citizen" while that of the stolen statue is credited to "Mr. Dumont."

The picture of dad turns white and his shoulders sag for a moment before his business face reasserts itself and he begins ordering officers around. The others - his superiors order him to stand down. Total chaos is averted but just barely. Media circus comes to mind.

Tank drives away from the scene looking to his team mates, focusing on Book. "I can't believe that we pulled that off."

Book replies, cynicism written all over his face. "He's not completely done in yet. The use of the Lone Star drone will bring lots of scrutiny, though it may not be enough to bring him down. I'm thinking that the statue will be enough to do that.... If not out in the open, behind the scenes."

Tank turns to System, "I think there's a dwarf that owes us at least one round!"

Book surprises them all. "After the last few days... I need a drink."

Tank's shit-eating grin returns. Perhaps if he couldn't stay on the wagon, he could drive Book to drink. Looking at the ork's black eye in the rear-view he thought, Just one more little task to handle.

The trio makes it to The Cube without any problems. As they pull into the lot, they each get a message from Digger's shell company:

<<You have been invited to a birthday reception at Don Angelo's this afternoon. The festivities begin at 1600. Dress is business casual as Doug wants to relax a bit and share drinks with friends.

- Reservation Confirmations, a Double D subsidiary>>

The bouncer stops the nascent line as the trio approaches and ushers them in. Digger is practically bouncing on his heals as they walk in. Hey! Get me the Crown and four glasses. We're gonna have a party. Congratulations, boys. I don't know what you did but the Lieutenant called and is as happy as I have ever seen him. Can you share anything?

Checking the message, the duo lean back and let the pilot program take them to the Cube. When they arrive, they ditch their running gear in the back of Dalton's cruiser and accompany their hacker past the line. Eric is his usual self. A bit of natural charm, mixed with shyness. Dalton on the other hand is practiced suave augmented by his magically enhanced social abilities. Dalton stops to pat the bouncer on the shoulder, collect his name and wish him well for the evening. Eric nods and follows the adept.

Once inside, Dalton is already working the mid-afternoon crowd. Smiling and making eye-contact with the women they pass. Eric is focused on the target. He passes the slow moving face and makes as direct a line as possible to their fixer. Eric allows Digger gets the first word before replying. "Let's just say that Junior was a bad boy and it appear Daddy will be reaping the rewards of that."

The duo raise glasses with their fixer and hacker. This evening they are celebrating life and freedom. Hearing what he swears is System's stomach growling, Tank turns to the dwarf after downing his drink. "What's cooking in the kitchen today?"

The night passes easily. Despite his normally stingy reputation Digger keeps the alcohol flowing and serves up some fried catfish and hush puppies. Grits are available as well. After a few drinks Digger admits that the good Lieutenant was leaning on him pretty hard prior to their work. Now he seems happy and relaxed again. While not friendly toward System he doesn't appear scared of him either. After several hours he peels away from the table and crashes in his office leaving the trio to do as they will.

System pipes up. I think I'm calling it a night.

A couple of drinks in him as well as food, Eric begins to loosen up and socialize. With his suave moves, Tank fares well but is not on the top of his game.
While both loosen up, both are also paranoid enough not to drink to excess.

The duo wave off Digger and continue to hang with System until he, also, is ready to leave. Dalton mentions he will give System a ride and Eric makes his way to cruiser and piles into the back.

Dalton takes the ork where ever he wishes to be dropped off. During the drive, he turns to his team mate. "I figure you already know this but the name's Dalton." He shakes his head with an approving smile, extending a hand. "In any case, since we are a team these days, I thought a proper introduction was called for."

System smiles as he extends his hand as well. Given the state of your comm, yeah, I know your name ... but, thanks for the introduction. The name's Matt. Matt Green. System turns to Book.

Eric pauses. It was not in his nature to trust anyone. He hadn't even told Dalton where he actually lived, always having the driver pick him up down the street. He always paid his rent with certified cred to keep that one element of his life segregated. Now though he though about Dalton's earlier statement about the coms. He knew data trails were everywhere and he'd seen System do things in the matrix that were as awe inspiring to him as he was sure his magic and summoning were to others; Like walking Junior off the bike.

After an uncomfortable pause the shaman answers, taking a calculated gamble to reveal one of his secrets. "Eric. Eric DeBois." Snake winced, but he was sure at this point the hacker already knew that answer as well. He also extends his hand as if meeting the ork for the first time. "Now for a secret that is not already know. What happened to your face Matt?"

The young ork smiles. I know that for you it took a lot to reveal that about your self. You do a pretty good job of keeping the data-trail clean and tidy. If anything, it sounds like admiration coming from the ork. Ok, here goes. I am ... was ... a member of the Avenue Anacondas. I went outside the gang to get the information we needed. Apparently, they took issue with that. Told me to choose my allegiance with care. I told them that I wanted to be "one with the matrix" and To... the leader said he understood. I later got jumped and was told it was the first installment in my going away present. He has a downcast look on his face. He starts to say more but holds his tongue.

Dalton latches onto that as if a group of airmen had ambushed his squad. Time for a little lesson. He looked at the analog clock in AR. It is late.. or early depending upon your reckoning. "Two questions: Do the Anacondas have a mojo slinger and where would the lead dog be right now?"

Book smiles, Perhaps Dalton and I do have a lot in common... "And what name does he know you by?"

System seems a little unsure of himself. Look, it's ... it's not that I'm ungrateful. I am, I really am. I'm ... it's just that I'm not sure if knocking this guy upside the head is the best idea. I mean, I still have ... you know ... friends there.

Dalton puts on his game face. "Look, I'm not of the mind to put you into a harder place. Nor is it my idea to whack this ghoul... or even leave him with a coloscopy bag.... but a bully only understands one thing and that's a bigger bully. Best not to make him loose face either. I'm suggesting a midnight meeting. Convince him that a higher power is interested in your best interest." He pauses a moment before continuing, "Best to leave the specifics to us... that way you can honestly tell your friends that you weren't involved and your not exactly sure what is going on..."

Well, if you think that it's best that way. His name is Tom - goes by Quetzalcoatl - and he's a smart troll. I don't mean smart for a troll, I mean smart and a troll. Don't underestimate him. He took to calling me Mercury since he had a snake staff.

Book asks, "Snake staff? He's a shaman?"

Huh? Wha ... no, no. Mercury had a snake staff. He was the messenger of the gods and since I did matrix stuff for the Anacondas - and Tom thought of himself as a god - I got stuck with the name. No, if Tom's picked up magic support, that's news to me.

Eric smacked his palm to his forehead, "Of course." He sits a few moments before speaking again. "A troll presents a little more challenge, but much less than someone with magical support."

"Good cop, bad cop?" Dalton inquires.

"No. I was thinking more James Bond." Eric retorts.

"That sounds fun. That sounds real fun." Dalton snorts.

Eric turns his attention back to Matt, "Tell me about the Avenue Anacondas; Size, turf.... and Quetzalcoatl-" its Eric's turn to snort, "Where does he sleep? How many around? Any mages at all?"

There's around 50 of us ... I mean them. Their turf is near the warehouse district. There's an abandoned warehouse where we .... they've set up a headquarters of a sort. Several of the younger guys crash there when they have nowhere else to go. It helps the gang out anyway. The Anacondas provide "security" for the Family around the warehouses. The Star makes a token pass through the area but as long as their palms are greased, they will look the other way. The Family is really the ones in control of the situation down there. Now, Tom - Quetzacoatl, if you prefer - stays in an old apartment complex near the center of the territory. Says he likes his space. I've never been there myself so I can't speak to any extra security but I know there are no mages in the Anacondas. The only magically inclined guy we had got one to many upgrades and lost touch with his super powers. Does that help?

The ork seems to be getting better as he talks through the gang issues.

Eric nods, "Yes. Yes it does."

As they stop at Matt's stop Eric asks, "What about electronic security? Cameras? Sensors? Or are they low tech?"

Matt looks at them. Like I said, I've never been to his place before. The gangs mostly low tech. Stolen comms, etc. Me and couple other guys set up two cameras on the warehouse and some RFID scanners looking for anyone not wearing gang ID. I would assume that Tom's place is at least that protected by now. The ork gets out and then turns back to the duo. Hey ... uh ... thanks. He then starts walking away.

As the duo drive off discussing various options for convincing Tom to back off Matt, they realize how pivotal the ork had become to their team.
----------
The next morning, Book gives a call to Seven-Eleven.
"Hey man what's up? Say, wondering what you know about a gang called the Anacondas. Warehouse district. Specifically the leader, a troll who fancies the handle Quetzacoatl." He wasn't sure where the bum's stomping grounds are, but he figured a call wouldn't hurt.

He pretends to the name of Quetzcoatl? Only a fool would do that. The tone of voice indicates that Seven-Eleven would have reason to know but he doesn't elaborate. Yeah, if my memory serves me well, they run protection for the Family in the Warehouse area. They have never interested me. However, if you would like me to look into it I would consider it a favor repaid.

Book nods and replies, "Yea. But keep it on the down low. I'm not trying to mix you up in the middle of this, just looking for a little bit of info." He really wondered just how well connected and how subtle the man is. Guess I'll soon find out....

Dalton had slipped out to his apartment the night before, using his fly-spy to scout the area for a stake out. He figured it would take a while, if ever, for the Star to check up on the ID he presented leaving the area after the mix-up at the pharmacy. In any case, he wasn't taking any chances. He dowsed the place in ammonia to kill DNA evidence, gathered up his few belongings and walked away from the pad and the ID.

He slept the night in his cruiser and then found his way to The Cube to meet with Digger. Time for a new ID.

Book took the rest of the day to be lazy. He wished he could have kept the statue as a bonus, but he needed the heat to stay with the Captain. Some days it is better safe than sorry and keeping the statue would have jeopardized the secrets about the truth behind the last few days.

Seven-Eleven nods. I'll see what I can do.

-----

The team gets a note from Digger's front company with a message that basically says, "Check your bank account." The promised funds have arrived.

A few hours later, Seven-Eleven calls back with some news. The pretender to the name of Quetzalcoatl is living in an apartment near the warehouse district. He has no magical defenses. I have the address and his room number. Have fun! With that he breaks the connection.

No magical defenses. That statement struck Book as odd. He'd not expected such a report from the homeless man. As I suspected, there is definitely more than meets the eye with him.

He took the information and held it. Time to figure out a plan.

The incoming funds came to 5k for each of the three of them. With System's mad skills they had avoided any expenses on this run... except of course Dalton's ID being compromised.
---------------
The fixer found Tank waiting for him the next morning. "Needing a new flop, not attached to the new ID I need... and a throw away would be good as well."

After listening to Tank explain what he wanted Digger smiled. OK. Based on what you asked for, I think I have just the thing. There is an old converted warehouse that has been sliced into apartments. Not exactly a luxury suite but has all the basics and a few extras. I can put you in touch with the right folks if you are interested. Now, I just happen to have an ID on me that might do the trick for a disposable ID. It wouldn't be much better than a flash and dash but it would do the trick. Let's call it 1100 'yen. Now as for the decent ID, how good do you want it to be?

Tank shakes his head in agreement. "The ID will work. Gonna need a CCW and throw away vehicle licensing. As to the solid ID, I need it capable to deeper scrutiny but cash is tight. I also need the CCW and licensing for it as well." He takes a moment to consider the warehouse, "That place has off street parking for the cruiser, right?"

Mmm, kay. I'll need another two for the permits on the throw away. Hell, you could park the cruiser in the apartment I'm thinking of if you like. Now, it's gonna take me a bit to find a decent budget priced ID for normal use. Let me look and get back with you.

Tank transmits 1,300 for the throw away ID and answers the dwarf about the other two items. "The warehouse apartment sounds like just the ticket. Let me know when you find out about a little stronger ID. Guess I'll go move in."

After getting a key or key code, as well as an address, to his new apartment, Dalton will roll over there and check it out.
------------
Book will spend the day resting. His plans are to pay the troll a visit tonight.

As Dalton rolls up to the warehouse turned apartment, he is struck by the fact that it is fairly clean for this area of town. There are three young men who seem to be interviewing the residents of the area. Each is wearing a synth-leather jacket with a silver orb and a dagger sticking thorough it. The warehouse looks a little worse for the wear but seems serviceable. There is a roll-up door a little bigger than his vehicle near the partition that seems to be his. An elf with the jacket seen earlier steps over and holds up his hand to stop Dalton's van. Please state your business here, sir.

-----

Book passes the afternoon in relative peace and quiet. The sun begins to go down as Book's favorite trideo program comes on.

Dalton isn't quite sure what to make of the young men. He figures them to be gang-bangers handling security for the area and plays it out like that. "Just coming home. What's going on?"
--------
Eric settles back and tries to relax. The evening's pending activities hand him restless though. Someday my luck is gonna run out..

The youth accesses his comm and takes a few seconds to look something up. You must be the new guy. The vacancy shows that it has been filled. He looks the van over for a minute before adding, We had a break-in a few hours ago. We're here asking question and seeing who thinks they can rough up those under our protection. If you want to pay in cash, or non-traceables, no problem. Rent - puts a subtle emphasis on the word - is due at the beginning of each month. Give me a minute and we'll get you to your place. A few moments later, the crew has cleared out of the way and Dalton is ushered to his apartment. The youth from earlier shows him to the door but doesn't go in.

Once inside he finds that the roll-up door leads to a small hanger for lack of a better word. There is a loft with room for Dalton's things and an old iron spiral staircase connecting the two. The roll-up door is armored and the hinges look like they could stop a troll on kamikaze. The person sized door has a mag-lock with both a keypad and comm access. The mag-lock keypad can be deactivated from inside with the flick of a switch. Other than an echo, the place seems solid.

"You must be the new guy." Dalton nods to the kid. He remains silent through the rest of the conversation. Some days you talk. Others you listen.

Once he is free, clear and alone in his new place, he looks around. He kicks back flipping through the trid-guide when Book calls.
<<@Tank [Book] I've been thinking over our road trip idea.>>

<<@Book [Tank] Ok. I'm set.>>

<<@Tank [Book] Listen. You're just not very intimidating.>>

<<@Book [Tank] Bull. One look at the business end of my little side-kick, perhaps a whisper->>

<<@Tank [Book] That's just it. The gun is intimidating. You aren't.>>

<<@Book [Tank] What's it matter?>>

<<@Tank [Book] It matters 'cause we get one run on this. If we frag it up, System goes to a slab, perhaps this trog comes looking for us.>>

<<@Book [Tank] Ok. Neither of us want that. What's the alternative?>>

<<@Tank [Book] Funny you should ask. I think we just need to talk to him. A simple conversation... but we need secrets first.>>

<<@Book [Tank] Yea... and?>>

<<@Tank [Book] There is no need to take the direct route, when indirect is much better.>>

<<@Book [Tank] Enough with the riddles. What's the plan?>>

<<@Tank [Book] We need to watch and get some dirt. Some big dirt. Hell, invent it if we need to.>>

<<@Book [Tank] Our specialty.>>

<<@Tank [Book] Let's give it a few days. Tomorrow we go shopping. We go site seeing. We do this our way and we don't rush it.>>

<<@Book [Tank] I'm liking that much better.>>

<<@Tank [Book] If he starts messing with System, we may simply need to remove him... Wait. Perhaps that's the deal. You need to meet the #2.>>

<<@Book [Tank] What are you thinking?>>

<<@Tank [Book] Time for a restructuring.>>

<<@Book [Tank] You thinking about promoting another lieutenant to captain?>>

<<@Tank [Book] Now you understand.>>

Both the runners settled back into their respective racks for the night. Tomorrow was a new day. Snake was much more pleased with this plan. And Dalton? He made a note to buy more bleach.

The evening news points out that the explosions in the area weren't due to rocket fire as originally reported but due to a gas main explosion in an abandoned building. There is a footnote in the news about some personnel changes in the Star. The top story for the night is about a cross-dressing troll who was caught being involved with a politician. Normally, this wouldn't be news but the politician was passing legislation to crack down on prostitution.

The international news has a story about another work of art in the Catholic Church that has gone missing while traveling from Hong Kong to Rome.

-----

Dalton discovers that the gang in charge of security at his place is called the Silver Stilettos, a mixed wizard/tough gang with a penchant for organization.

As Eric watches the news on the trid and muses, Wonder how much the team had to pay the transvestite troll for that run? He then snickers at himself. Seeing shadowrunning at every turn, in every news story... HA!

The story about another piece of art going missing intrigued him. He felt the nudge of snake, Yes, I know. There is much more to know there. Many secrets waiting to be squirreled away.

He drops a note to Digger before he forgets.
<<@Digger [Book] Need a few items { Attachment: List } Let me know. >>

-------

Not surprisingly, Dalton does the same.
<<@Digger [Tank] Got a few items I need in addition to an ID { Attachment: List } >>

Tank and Book are able to set up several cameras in the area but three of the five are snatched almost immediately. Two are hacked and shutdown. The third transmits for a few days before being destroyed.

The corner in the shot is active. The various denizens walk through on a regular basis. Prostitutes, drug dealers, the Star and Joe Wageslave. There are a few shots of the gang members sporting their snake themed tattoos and extorting money from various sides. Finally a young human with a purple Mohawk notices and grabs the camera with help from his crew. They proceed to smash the camera under foot.

The remaining two cameras are still transmitting much of the same type of information. The troll is spotted hitting up an ork shop owner for protection money. He always seems to be in the company of a two people: A dwarf with a scar on his left cheek and a big ork with a missing tusk.

Each time a camera, a hundred nuyen worth of equipment, goes missing, Book winces. It might be cheaper just to grease him... As he and Tank maintain their surveillance he ponders, "Perhaps we bring System into the loop on this?"

The team driver wrinkles an eye brow, not understanding. "I thought the whole deal was to keep System out of this?"

"We could play it another way. Bring System into the loop and set him up to be the puppet master for the new leader."

"What's wrong with the current plan?"

The mage turns to his friend, "Same thing that's wrong trying any run with just the two of us. We need a hacker. Right now we're just a couple of half skilled guys who got lucky on the last few runs. We've got to stay smart or we're going to become dead."

"Hey! I ditched that ID, changed places."

"Granted, but we need to get better at reconnaissance and surveillance. This is our forte and we really stink at it."

Tank thought about it. The mage had a point. He was a good face and a damn good driver as well as a reasonable B&E guy... and Book definitely knew his end. "Ok, but we're here now.... So what do we do?"

"Keep doing what we're doing. Be very cautious and use our contacts. We need more intel on the troll's companions and we need to keep our distance. I'm not ready to commit to including System yet, but it bears consideration."

<<@System [Book] Hey! How are things? Question: Who are the dwarf and ork who are always hanging with the big guy? Next item: Can you work on some IDs for Tank? After the traffic stop last run he ditched his and he could definitely use the nuyen to buy gear to save our hoops over paying some other hacker for the work.>>

The dwarf? The big Q didn't like the halfers. No idea there. The ork is Copperhead, his lieutenant. That one is nasty. He once killed a man because he was bored. As far as the IDs go, not a problem. I think that I can work something up. What are you looking for? A disposable one or one that will stand up to close scrutiny? Or are you looking for one that could get you in to see the President of Doc Wagon?

Book was taken aback by the gang leader's change in M.O. It does not bode well during our operation for there to be changes. Copperhead on the other hand.... The cure could be worse than the disease. For Book, this was definitely becoming a long term operation, not a quick fix. This isn't something I just create a mess with and then disappear into the night. This solution has to be long term and lasting.

He focused his attention back to the rest of the conversation.
<<@System [Book] He needs a throw away ID or two for situations like the traffic stop. Good enough to stand up to scrutiny on a single use, but don't spend so much time as to make it something he would try to rent a car with. He needs one ID he can wrap legitimate use around... like say, to get him into the opera.>>

He uploads video feed of the dwarf.
<<@System [Book] What can you tell me about him?>>

System perks up at the challenge of the IDs. That sounds like it will be fun. I'll take extra care on the legit one. Now, let me take a look at the dwarf. Sorry, I don't recognize him. I'll run him through the grid and see what comes up. Anything else that you need?

<<@System [Book] That should get us for now.>>

"Tank, System is working on an ID for you."

"Oh. Ok"
<<@Digger [Tank] Scratch the ID, taken care of.>>

Two days later, System calls, I know who the dwarf is. Meet me at the Cube tonight around 1800 for more details. Tank, I have one of the items you were looking for as well.

-----

A short time later, Digger calls to says, I have a job for ya. See ya at 1900 at my place. VIP suite.

The days passed in relative boredom for both the men. Eric spent some time cooking and some time reading. He had decided to take a few days away from the gangers so as to not draw attention to themselves or become too common a fixture anyplace. The time was quiet for him, time to focus internally.

For Dalton, it was very much the opposite. He liked to be amongst crowds, didn't like quiet moments alone. He had been out both of the last two nights mingling and partying. When the calls came in, his was nursing a pounding hang over. He went ahead with mixing his home-brew horror of a hang-over cure. Once that was down, he checks in with Book.
--------------
Ten minutes till six, the duo are parking in front of the Cube. A few minutes later and a nod to the bouncer, they are heading into the bar, Tank confidently leading the way. Tank's eyes were primarily scoping the chickidees, but also keeping tabs on the others, sizing up threat potential. Book was doing the opposite: Primarily he was concerned with the threats and potential undercover law enforcement, but his eyes did wander to several of the lovely ladies already milling about. However, right now they were looking for a pretty ugly ork.

Sitting in a grubby red booth near the stage is an ugly ork half hidden behind a veritable mountain of baskets. It would appear that it is "wing" night again at the Cube. The virtual "wings" aren't bad but they aren't good either. Book's stomach lurches as he contemplates eating them.

The ork simply smiles as the other two slide into the booth. Good timing or what? He downs the last "wing" and swallows the last part of what has to be the third Bombastic!™ soda. He wipes his hands as the AR menu comes up. Tank, here is your package. The fake ID hops over to Tank's PAN. Now, about the dwarf. As it turns out, he is a member of The Family. Name's Resso. Apparently, he is the accused dealing in all forms of arms. I say accused because no one has ever gotten a conviction. He's bad news and I can only assume that the big Q would do business with him if there were guns involved.

Looking at his two companions System only now realizes that they do not have any "wings". Here, eat some. He waves a server over and asks for a few extra glasses.

I'm ready for some dinner. Either one of you hungry?

Having spent a few days eating real food, prepared with time and caring, Book raises a hand, "No. Thanks. Ate before I came."

Dalton considerably less discriminating palette has no problem with the wings at the Cube, in fact he was considering adding them to his hang over cure. "I'm staved, I haven't eaten seen 3am... and that doesn't count since I purged that at 7am." He downloads the SIN to one of his data chips, which he then takes off-line while nodding to System a 'thanks'. "Sounds like your neighborhood is about to get hotter."

Book mulled the new data over. His first inclination is that the presence of the mob complicates thing, but after a few moments reflection he smiles. It just made things easier. Never do what someone will do for you. "What have they had you working on?"

Yeah, I suppose you're right. They don't have me doing anything. Ever since I went outside the gang for info they haven't had anything to do with me - other than hassle me left and right. Fraid I don't have anything more to give you. About that time a waitress shows up and asks if there is anything she can get them. After getting the food she drops it off with a hand written note. []bDigger[/b]'s scrawl is barely legible.

Glad you could get here early. See you in the VIP room. Password is 'Shakedown'.

They pass the rest of their meal in what passes for relative quiet at the bar in the Cube. One ork gets completely owned by an elf on the dance floor and a human gets tossed (literally) by the new dwarf bouncer. He give the normal troll bouncer a high five (while the troll gives him a low five) and they tally off the distance thrown.

Once the appointed hour arrives the three are able to make their way to where the dwarf bouncer has stationed himself. He is wearing a black T-shirt with khaki slacks and a dull red sports coat. He is not obviously packing anything but has the "try me" gleam in his eye. He only speaks once, Password?

Once given, he stands aside and allows the three of them to go down a wide circular flight of stairs that winds clockwise into the floor. There is a door at the bottom of the stairs that gives the appearance of being able to stop several trolls on kamikaze. Matter of fact, it is troll sized at that. There is an elderly old human woman of Asian ancestry standing there. Please come in and have a seat. We have much to discuss.

Ignoring the waitress momentarily, Book raises an eyebrow, "So if they don't use you anymore, why not move. God knows we made at least enough bank for you to move to a different flop."

Tank adds, "Digger actually has a connection to a pretty decent place... At least consider it." He then dives into the wings, leaving the rest of the conversation for after the meet.

Book watches the scene on the bar floor, disassociated from it as if watching a trid. He preferred the quiet life, out of the action, letting things run slow and natural. Looking around the bar, he notes the fake plastic people. Those new to the bar scene with natural beauty from youth to those with slight modifications as time begins to take it course to those countering bad genes or the effects of time. There's enough cosmetics and plastic surgery in this room for me to retire to a very comfortable life. A small shake of his head and, If there were only some way to relieve them of it and convert it to yen....
------------------
Tank leads the trio to the office with Book bringing up the rear. As the dwarf asks for the password, Tank looks to one side, then the other in an elaborate, exaggerated movement before turning back to the dwarf, leaning in and whispering, "Shakedown." then repeats the looking around as if starring in an action/suspense sim.

Passing into the room Tank is mildly surprised to see the old woman. He draws upon his supernatural abilities to keep that fact completely to himself, however. Not knowing where specifically in Asia she hails from, Tank's instincts tell him to keep it simple and respectful. He bows a short, quick bow insuring that he doesn't make it too short. Tank steps up across from her, letting System and Book each flank him. He relaxes and lets his abilities and instincts guide him from here out.

Book immediately wonders who she represents. They were slipping deeper and deeper into local politics with each run. Best to know how everyone is connected and who rubs whose back. For the moment he trusts in Digger's experience setting these things up.

As his team mates step to the table, Tank gesture for the woman to sit. "Please." When she moves to sit, then he too will follow, then looks for her to continue.

System responds Some loose ends I still need to deal with back home before I can get out. But yeah, I'll consider it.

-----

The bouncer smirks at Tank's display but lets the group pass unhindered.

The elderly woman smiles as Tank bows. She barely inclines her head. Once seated she waits for the team to be seated as well. She steeples her hands and leans back in the relatively comfortable chairs Digger has provided. You may call me Johnsonsan. We have a problem that ... Digger-san tells us you can correct. She seems off put by the use of Digger's name. You will be required to infiltrate a secure facility on the outskirts of the city. Deadly force is authorized as your opposition will no doubt use it was well. If bloodshed can be avoided, then there is bonus pay. Before I proceed, I need to know if you are interested.

As she speaks, Book shifts his aura back to the astral and assenses her aura then shifts his senses back to the physical.

Tank briefly looks to each of his teammates. It was a formality, he knew they were interested else the team wouldn't even be here. He nods and says, "We're interested." He pauses a moment before continuing, "Obviously interest does not constitute agreement. We have those pesky details like a threat assessment and a mutual agreement of value."

Once her attention is on Tank, Book does what he should have done earlier and casts Analyze Truth. He covers his casting with an sneeze, turning his head away from the table ending with a quiet, "Excuse me."

Tank continues, drawing her attention back to him. "Wet-work is not our style. We pride ourselves on a lack of casualties, a few maybe a little worse for the encounter, but still breathing. Please. Continue."

The elderly lady continues, Yes, Digger-san ... told me that you were not interested in eliminations. She smiles. I do not want anyone removed simply I want you to understand that there may well be the need for lethal force on this particular task. If we are all agreed that we can continue? Not seeing any interruptions, she begins, You were selected for your work on recent jobs where your brains, not your brawn was the key component. That is what we require. There is a prototype that must be removed from the secure facility - please note, it shall not come to harm. We would rather the targets not realize we hace the prototype until after you are safely away. We will provide blueprints, two separate vehicles, and as much background as we have available. Please expect magical security as well. The prototype is roughly the size of two-drawer filing cabinet - if you even know what that is. A small hint of disdain and is it playfulness enters her voice. It will be approximately 50 kilos. We believe this work to be worth ten thousand, each. Are there any questions?