"So you are accepting the job! Excellent!" Mr. Sowei nods enthusiastically. "Yes, we should meet early so you can get settled. Let's meet at the Redmond City Dog Park at 11:15 pm. That's just right next door to the junkyard. Then we can review the mission objectives and everyone can scout for the 11:30 meeting. I have a key to the Dog Park gates and the junkyard gates, so I will be waiting for you all at the Park and escort you to the junkyard when we arrive."

"Thank you, Mr. Sowei. One of our members would also like to know if any gangs live in the junkyard," says Needles.

"Ah no. To my knowledge, the junkyard will be completely abanadoned for our visit, courtesy of my friends. Normaly, I think, they have dogs, but not tonight. We are the dogs tonight! Ha ha ha."

Needles chuckles politely. He turns to Web. "Mr. Sowei says there no gangs in the area. We should have it to ourselves. Everyone, we can meet at the Redmond City Park for Dogs at midnite-back-three-quarters. The car-place is next door."

"11:15" says Jimmy helpfully, clarifying to the rest of team.

"Yes, that's right. So sorry," says Needles.

Rat burps as a way of drawing attention. "Alrighty, I'll go get the radios, and we can take that cut out of everyone's take later, as sort of team equipment. And then maybe we meet over at the Park with our stuff. Better early than late.. we can always check things out without Mr. Sowei, anyway. Hey, wait a tic... I know that place. Next door to the Dog Park, that's Carrson's Junk. I've even been in there once before. That place is a mess. Should be good for a meeting, easy to dash off and disappear in the maze if need be. But, wow, I got lost in there last time. We'll want to be careful about our path."

"Carrson's Junk?" says Jimmy suddenly. "Wow... I actually hit a TAZ-Rave there." TAZ, Temporary Autonomous Zones, are impromptu underground events where people gather someplace they aren't supposed to be and do whatever. TAZ-Raves are short but intense -- they have to operate under the Lone Star response window. Obviously, that works best in the Barrens. "It was a kickin' place. There were some doggies, but they were sleeping by the time I got there. Some kids slipped 'em a NarcEm Burger." Jimmy cracks a pun there, off of the well-known brand NukeEm Burgers, but it goes over everyone's head. "Rat's right, it's a confusing place, or at least it is while you're... um... pharmaceutically recreating." That goes over everyone's heads to.

"I at least have heard of Carrson's Junk," says Needles. "I know how to get there."

"Awesome!" says Rat. "Okay, then, Blackout, you roll with me for the radios, and I'll show you the way. Spooky, you hang with Needles since he knows the place." By Spooky, he's referring to Web. "And Jimmy, you just show up or whatever. Let's get there as early as we've got our chores done, and we'll scope it."

Web nods. "Carrson's Junk - I will look it over. Plan." He tries a smile, but it makes his face feel awkward and wrong.

"But first... I would like food. Work is better on a full belly, no?" He looks expectantly at the others, hoping at least someone will want to join him and pay for a meal. After all, these people seem to be doing a bit better than he is in that area.

"Hey yeah, no prob. Walk with me an' Blackout about a half-block down, there's this soy-dog stand. I'll get ya the 'gutbuster special' - two mega-dogs, nachos, an' a big soda - consider it a signin' bonus."

"Yeah, I definitely been there - bet this dude's been eatin' out of garbage bins," thinks Rat. "But damn, what luck, findin' a spell-slinger in that kinda situation. Those guys are pretty rare, and we got one now. I ain't normally one fer charity, but a piddly 12 Nuyen or so is gonna go a long way towards makin' sure he sticks with us."

As he walks out with Web and Blackout, he turns to Blackout. "You'll like this place. He's got a lot of cool stuff. Like porn, and shades - gotta get me another pair of those - all kinds of stuff. Too bad we gotta hurry. Be careful in there, though. Martie's got a real strict 'Ya break it, ya buy it' policy."

"Food sounds good," says Needles as he joins Web, Blackout, and Rat. Fingering the battered credstick in his pocket, Needles wonders what he can get for his sole nuyen. He listens to Rat and Blackout banter, and smiles when Rat mentions Martin's policy. Noting the way Blackout carries himself, Needles doubts that he will be so clumsy as to break anything.

When the four young men reach the vendor's stand, Needles buys his dog, and adds some mustard. A pity their mustard is so weak, thinks Needles as he takes a bite. As the four eat their food, Needles gestures towards the street leading towards Carson's Junk and says, "Carrson's is this way" between bites.

For the moment he's too focused to do much but follow along. This is gonna be his first real run, first time playing overwatch. He couldn't screw this up, or it'd be back to the grind. Bussing tables wasn't the life for him, and neither was having to deal with that parole officer of his.

Now that I'm a real decker, I should just arange for his arrest or something...

He shakes the thought off, and re-focuses.

Rat realizes that the whole crew more or less went along for hot dogs. Mr. Sowei thanked Needles profusely several times before they all parted, and then he jumped in a shiny black Saab Dynamit outside and drove off. Everyone walked down to the soy dog vendor together, checking each other out along the way.

Most of the team has on them everything significant that they own. Jimmy has his deck and iPodXX, plus a half-loaded Streetline. Web hobbles along in his synthleather coat with his walking staff. Needles has his family bracelet and pocket full of miscellaneous useful goods. Blackout looks sporting in his real black leather jacket. Rat looks the most dangerous, with his Remington tucked under his jacket and his concealed armored vest protecting his vitals. He's also got his backup Streetline, knife, and Pepper Punch on him.

"Hey Blackout, you gonna bring that subgun for show of force?" asks Rat, a bit of soydog falling out of his mouth.

"What subgun?" says Blackout.

"You know, the ones we got from that bar."

"Oh..." Blackout remembers now -- he picked up an Ingram Smartgun from that yakuza guy Kayla shot. Or was it Rat who shot him? Or Blondie? He doesn't quite remember anymore, but the guy was definitely shot with extreme prejudice. The gun is back in Blackout's flat, under the moldy mattress. "Um, I haven't thought about it. It's not really my style."

Rat grunts and shrugs in response. "So, I guess we're all goin' to Martin's, eh? Looks like the lot of you are ready to go. Guess that's okay with me -- just remember the policy and keep quiet about our job. We're professionals now, so we don't talk about our work."

Except, apparently, in front of soydog vendors. thinks Jimmy. Poor guy, it's like he doesn't exist. I know how that feels. His brief compassionate though trails quickly away and he goes back to thinking about himself. "Hey Rat, does this guy sell electronics?"

"Dude, Martin sells everything."

"Sweet," nods Jimmy.

It's not a long walk to Martins, and the gang of five is large enough that they can take the main street without too much fear of hassle. Jimmy enjoys the feeling of being part of a group of toughs. Not bad being a gang... no, wait, a team. We're a team.

Ding ding! goes the door chime as Rat pushes it open. "Yo Mar-TIN!" he says, emphasizing the last syllable with a Latin flair.

"What up, Rat-man?" replies Martin from the back. "Oh, I see you've brought friends. No group discounts, buddy."

"Yeah, yeah," says Rat. Rat and Martin laugh together for a minute as the group shuffles in.

Web is immediately entranced. So.. much... stuff... It's like the most beautiful dumpster he's ever seen.

Jimmy beelines for the electronics piled up in one corner, mostly p-secs and synthmusic generators. "Sweet Kawasaki!" he shouts, pawing through things.

"What can I do you for?" says Martin to Rat.

"We're goin' out to play some paintball or lazer tag or some drek like that, and I figger we need a tactical advantage. I'm thinking some radios are the order today."

"Ah, yes, paintball. Excellent. Okay, so how high-end we talkin'?"

"Well, we don't need BattleTac, har har," cracks Rat.

"Aw, shame. Well, I couldn't get it for ya anyway. So, I could get ya some nice Secret-Service style microtransceivers with counterjamming technology."

"Yo, Martin, paintball," says Rat.

"Yeah, I heard ya. But still, you know..."

"Counterjamming? Give me a break. I don't even know what that is. 'Sides, my budget is like, negative five nuyen."

"Rat, ya gotta spend to get the right gear."

"Yeah, I know.. but look seriously, it's gotta be well under a thousand for the whole package."

"Under a thousand? Drek, you really are playing paintball. Well, if you want private radio bandwidth, I got some pocket com systems. They retail for 1200, but I got these on the cheap. I can give 'em up for 600 apiece. They got a 3-click range."

"Hm... So that's still pretty high-end for us. I suppose we could just get cellphones though, huh?"

"Well... yeah... I got some SIMcloned phone for drek-cheap, like seriously, but I wouldn't say anything sensitive over 'em. They're decker fodder."

"How much are those?"

"Eh... the cheap-ass pocket versions retail at 120 nuyen... I can give 'em away for 90 nuyen."

"Now we're getting into my neighborhood. What kind of deal can I hook for three of 'em?"

"There are five of you here, Rat."

"Yeah, I know, but we're just gonna work in three tactical groups. We just need three."

Low-budget operations drive me mad... I hope Rat survives long enough for him to make some real cred and spend with me later. "I can slice a small discount. I'll give you the three for 250."

"That sounds great!" says Rat, doing the math wrong and thinking he's getting half off. "250, that's the right number."

"Alright, groovy. What else can I get ya? Ya need anymore bullets? Er, I mean, paint pellets? Or whatever?"

"How much for this sim-rig?" yells out Jimmy.

Martin leans over the counter. "Ah, 10 kiloyen."

"Oh..." says Jimmy. "Yeah, I was just curious, you know." I'll never be able to afford that...

As Rat is transferring the nuyen to Martin's system, Blackout's phone rings. "Moshi moshi!" he answers.

"Brackouto-san, your brock pads are ready!" replies Jerry over the phone. Jerry is Blackout martial arts supply store friend.

"Sweet! My brock pads are in!" says Blackout.

"What's a broccopad?" asks Jimmy, picturing some kind of digital vegetable.

"No, no, block pads, actually," says Blackout. "It's what he calls forearm guards -- you know, those hard plastic forearm guards for hard blocks. I ordered a few last week. I need to go pick 'em up."

"Yo, team, I'm down here," says Rat. "I'll just hold onto these until we need them." He slides the 3 cellphones down the front of his pants. Everyone is used to it by now except Web and Needles. Web doesn't care. Needles frowns, but is too polite to say anything.

"Good! Let's swing by Full Contact Sports and pick up my order," says Blackout.

The team amiably follows Blackout out of the store, Jimmy still casting longing glances at the high-end synth systems. Rat notices his eyes wandering. "Don't worry, kid. We're headin' for the big time. Little ways past tomorrow, you can have anything you imagine."

"I don't know, Rat. I can imagine a lot," replies Jimmy. Mmmmm.... Fairlight....

"Hey, dream big!" says Rat brightly. "When you're little like me, you gotta be big in your mind." He nods at his own sage advice.

"Or at least, that's what he told his girlfriend," cracks Blackout as they head outside.

"Yeah, yeah, your furry momma or whatever," says Rat. "We're gonna hit it, you just see."

"I'm all about it, bro," nods Blackout.

Together, they head over to Full Contact Sports. The transaction is brief -- Blackout picks up the pads, tries them off, slams a few elbows into the store mannequins, gets yelled at by Jerry, and then off they go. He paid when he ordered them, which is just as well since he always forgets to pay for things.

By the time that's wrapped up, it's getting toward around 10:30 pm. "Hey guys, we might as well head over. We'll be 30 minutes early or so, but that can't hurt us." No one disagrees, and so around 11:00 pm they find themselves at the Dog Park next to Carrson's Junk, with 45 minutes before they are meeting Mr. Sowei.

As the motley crew wanders through Dog Park, Rat seems to uncharacteristically hang near the back of the group. Actually, it is because Jimmy is still patiently demonstrating to Rat (for the umpteenth time) how the remarkably uncomplicated phones work. Finally, he seems to be getting it - right before Jimmy was ready to tear his hair out in frustration.

As they wait for the "Johnson" to arrive, Rat entrusts Needles with the precious can of pepper punch, just in case he needs an extra edge against the goons. "Now see, ya just point and spray. An' this stuff really ain't any good on food, even though they call it pepper punch. I thought it was, like, somethin' ta spice up the soy when I first saw it. But if ya nail someone in the face with it... sweetness. It worked great on these flying bat-pigeon thingies we ran into on our last run."

Of course, Rat knew better than to offer the can to Blackout, who is pretty strictly a "hands-on" guy. He hopes the hot-tempered dwarf won't jump the gun - be nice if they could just look tough, then collect their pay. An idle thought crosses his mind. "Hey Blackout, if ya ever dig out that gun you hauled off, ya might wanna take it down ta Martin's. He might even give ya a hundred or so... and he's got some cool-looking knives and stuff."

Rat feels fidgetty. He almost wants to scout the place before Mr. Sowei even arrives, but the door's locked - nothing they can do about that. Well, actually, he does have another soycaf card that he could attempt to use, but it still has 3 soycafs left on it, so he won't use it as a break-in tool unless it's an absolute emergency.

When he's done his lecture/demonstration ad infinitum to Rat about the workings of a cellular phone, and he's reasonably sure that he' got the number for the two of them memorized, Jimmy pockets the phone he's to keep with himself. He looks about the area and tries to jog his memory. Funny thing about raves, you tend to forget the details awash the expirience itself. While he's trying to remember where the office is at, he conjures up the image of a very good looking and suprisingly amicable redhead instead. Stupid grin on his face, he follows along with the pack.

Web mumbles quietly to himself, looking around. Then he looks at the others.

"We should see about another way in and out. Holes, something like that. Walk around with me, anyone?"

He looks expectantly at at the others, leaning on his staff. This is all happening way too fast for him. Web is used to taking his time; planning and double-checking and triple-checking. This is making him nervous.

"Yeah," agrees Rat. "Last time I was here, they'd fixed that hole in the back fence. But it wouldn't hurt ta walk around again - with all the squatters pokin' around all the time, ya never know when there's gonna be another hole, or a set a' boxes stacked just so. I'll walk with ya. I got the jitters, so I might as well take a look-see with ya. Rest of ya, we should still be back way before Mr. Sowei gets here."

Web nods. "Good." He tries a smile again, but it still feels awkward and wrong.

The dwarf seems smart, maybe even has an eye for detail. Like his namesake. A good man to have along, if a bit ... loud. Web zones out again, thinking about the people in the team and the job at hand. He can see Spider weaving her web over these people; this situation. If he could only see what her plan is...

`Wait up a sec Rat...`

Jimmy drops the pack off his shoulder, right to the ground, and he starts to rummage around in it. After a few moments of searching he comes up with a pair of heavy duty wirecutters.

`Might be you'll wanna cut your own hole... what? They come in handy when you're scrounging parts... geeze it's not like I'm stealing them... they were gonna be thrown out anyway....`

Needles pockets the pepper spray, and decides to talk a bit more with Blackout. The two of them are going to be the visible parts of the team, so together they have to look strong, imposing, yet professional.

Rat nods and takes the wire cutters. "Yeah, I'm sure we can put these to use. Might as well stack the odds a bit."

Jimmy nods to that. "Keep an eye out for the office while you're scouting. I'll need to get in there, probably, to deck the telecom."

Rat pauses. What good will punching the telecom do us? He almost comment, but then he figures better to let the kid do his thing. "Eh, will do, Jimmy."

Rat and Web walk off around the perimeter, slowly ambling through the dark woods. Rat's hyperactive nerves make him speed walk, his head bobbling from the motion, but then he keeps having to stop and wait for Web's careful movement. This Web guy is pretty fragile... I hope he doesn't trip and fall or something... To pass the time, he makes some conversation while we waits for Web every few steps. "So, Web, I'm thinkin' we should have two or three exits prepared, minimum, and then maybe some hidey-holes so we can throw bullets and mojo as needed."

"I like holes," says Web.

"Good. I'm sure we'll meet some 'holes later."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. So how about I'll open us a way in and you can look around for some holes for us. Ah, wait, we don't know where we're meeting yet, do we?"

"It doesn't matter," says Web. "I'm good with directions. Let's open some holes and walk around together."

"Alright, good plan. Heeeeeyyyy... what's this? The squatters have been here." Rat stops in front of a small hole in the fence, concealed behind a bush.

"Good. Let's close it," says Web.

"Close it?" says Rat. "Why wouldn't we use it?"

"Because other people know about it. I only use my holes."

Rat thinks about that for a minute. It seems like good advice in general, somehow.

Rat and Web look around, listen for menacing footfalls (or pawfalls, as the case may be), and decide the coast is clear for a little B&E. It's really just "entering" in this case, since the hole is already there. Once inside, they look around. The interior is very poorly lit, especially here by the chain-link-and-razor-wire fence, where the yard lights are blocked by the mounds of junk. The junked cars are stacked three and four cars high in places, so even though they are crushed, they stack a good four to six meters up. The rusting hulks lean dangerously in some places, as if they might suddenly collapse and crush a person. Web finds it comforting.

"What can we use to block that entrance?" says Rat, looking about. He realizes that Web isn't going to be much help, but Rat is no power-lifter himself.

"We obviously can't move a car," says Web, "but maybe he can make it dangerous or awkward."

"Hey, that's good!" says Rat. There is broken glass everywhere, and he carefully picks up a few pieces of it an embeds it in the ground inside the fence hole. He manages to find a piece of twisted metal from a car bumper and also wedge it in the opening. "That ought to slow someone down at least, and maybe make some noise so we'll know if anyone comes in this way."

Web nods. "It is good."

Web and Rat do their best to move along the fence line inside the junkyard to scout for good places to cut holes. Within 20 meters of fence, they find two well-concealed locations and cut a 1 meter by 1 meter hole out in each one. In that same span, they pass four different passageways into the junked car labyrinth -- "hallways" of clear space between towering wreck piles. Each time, they peer down the passageways and see only the dimly lit skyline of twisted metal. The passageways themselves are completely dark to normal vision more than a few meters away.

Thermographically, Web and Rat can make out the passageways well enough, although details are still unclear in the uniformly-cold metal. They are pleased that there appear to be no heat sources down any of those passageways yet -- that means no guard people or critters.

"Betcha can't see drek!" laughs Rat, accustomed to watching humans stumble around in the dark.

"Anansi grants me senses far beyond yours," replies Web casually. It's just a fact as far as he is concerned.

"Realllllly?" says Rat, arching an eyebrow. "Just who is this Anansi guy?" Rat understands nothing about magic.

"Anansi is the great mistress. Her web casts over the world. She feels the small motions, and all things are part of her great work."

"Huh," says Rat. Gotcha, magical drek. "So, okay, you can see alright then?"

"I can see your soul."

"Right, okay, so I guess that's alright then. Let's just move on making holes in the fence. Aw, drek." Rat realizes that they can no longer follow the fence line -- the junk is pushed right up against the fence here. To go further, they'll have to enter the maze. "Since you can see so well, can you see the path through that?" He points at the maze itself.

Web glances over, his astral sight scanning the terrain. All is quiet. "Follow me." He can't see the path per se, but he knows he won't get lost, and he can figure how they might work their way around.

Rat shrugs and follows along, glancing back nervously to try to remember the path. It's hopeless -- after just 3 turns, he is completely lost. He's pretty sure they're heading deeper into the center of the maze when they come to the fence again. "Damn! Okay, definitely want a hole here..." he mumbles, and starts to work cutting another 1 meter by 1 meter. "You really know where we are?"

"No problem," says Web.

"Damn." Rat is impressed. Web is spooky, but useful. "I'm stickin' with you in here. You wanna see if we can find the office?"

"Yes," says Web. He heads back into the maze.

Somewhere in the middle, they find a three clearings about 10 meters across, linked by short passageways. "One of these is probably the meetin' site," explains Rat.

A short while later, they find the office. Rat is pretty sure he couldn't find his way back to the other fence holes even with a map, so he cuts a few more holes in the fence on this side. "Just to be safe, y'know..."

Thirty minutes after their scouting trip, Web has led them back to their first hole and back to the team. Web misses the maze actually -- the rhythms of mazes and traps have always comforted him. He knows that he could disappear from his enemies in such a place and always have the upper hand. The park is far too open for his tastes.

As they re-approach the group, Needles, Blackout, and Jimmy are making casual conversation. Needles is explaining that in China, they just call Chinese food by the word "food".

"Hey guys, Web here is the master of the maze. That place is a nightmare, but our boy knows it cold now. He found the office. Oh, thanks for the snips, Jimmy. He opened up a few more exits for ourselves. I think this is gonna turn out good. The place really is empty, 'cept for about a billion cars."

"Your cutters were a big help, Jimmy, thank you."

Web can't help but feel the rest of the team, especially Rat, is starting to look at him in a different way. He isn't used to be noticed that way and it makes him feel both vulnerable and strangely enough, abit proud.

Spider surely has a meaning with this. I will see it in due time. Web fingers his amulet for comfort, ensuring himself that it is there aginst his chest. He has a strange feeling that something important is going to happen before this night is over...

The team stands around for a few moments, shifting back and forth on their feet, and then they see headlights pull up in front of the gate of the Dog Park. The glare makes it hard to see beyond, but the dwarves and Web make out the heat signature of a human getting out of the driver's side and approaching the gate. The shadowy figure unlocks the gate, opens it, and gets back in the car to drive in. Meticulously, he drives forward just inside the parking lot gate, stops the car, gets out, re-locks the gate, and get back in the car to drive a dozen meters to a parking spot. The headlights drop now, and the team can see the car is a slick black sports car -- the same one they saw Mr. Sowei drive off in from the Rogue earlier. It looks expensive.

Mr. Sowei gets out of the car again, and looks around nervously. He seems to squint at the team and wave them over. The team looks at each other, and then shuffles in his direction en masse.

As they approach, they can see that he has a nervous energy about him. Web notes that his aura is filled him anxiety -- it is clear that he fears the upcoming meeting. He really doesn't trust these people... thinks Web. I wonder why he trusts us.

Mr. Sowei starts speaking rapidly in Chinese, with the clipped tones of a boss giving orders. "Mr. Chen, please translate my words exactly. For review, these are the orders. I am to be guarded at all times. That is your number one priority. The meeting is between myself and some former employees of mine. There is a labor dispute, but I must leave the meeting with the object of dispute, by any means necessary. I will attempt negotiation first. I am to be escorted back to Tacoma afterwards by as many of you as will fit in my car. The fee is 5000 nuyen total, 1000 nuyen each, no matter what happens. The work shall be concluded within 2 to 3 hours."

Needles is struck by the man's imperial tone. He must be very stressed. It does not seem wise to argue with him now, but Needles is concerned about the harsher feeling that the job has acquired since they last talked. He bows briefly and turns to the team. "Mr. Sowei gives this job in this way. First, we must protect him at all times. Second, he will talk to his former employees. Third, he must finish with the thing he wants. Fourth... um... some of us will ride back to Tacoma with him afterward for safety. We can get a taxi from there."

Blackout strokes his furry chin. "That point number three... does that mean we start ass-kickin' procedures if the talkin' doesn't go right?"

Needles hesitates for a moment. "Ah, yes, that is my understanding of Mr. Sowei's wishes. I hope ass-kicking is not needed."

Rat's keen eyes spot the lump of a pistol under Mr. Sowei's expensive suit jacket. Judging from size, it looks like a .38 automatic, or something along those lines, but with a fairly long clip. Mr. Sowei is expecting trouble, thinks Rat. If he goes down, I should grab his piece... if his car and his suit are any sign, it's probably high-end. He pauses for a moment. Drek, I wonder if Martin can move a car? He shakes his head. Too soon to be thinking like that.

"Something wrong, Rat?" asks Jimmy, noting the headshake.

"What? No," replies Rat. "No, I think we're alright. We just gotta stay focused and do what we're here to do."

"We are ready, Mr. Sowei," says Needles.

"Excellent. I'll drive around to the entrance. Anyone who wants to ride with me may do so, and I'll meet the rest over there," replies Mr. Sowei.

Needles turns to the group, "Does anyone wants to ride with Mr. Sowei to the entrance?" It's no more than 50 meters away, as the junk yard is right next door. The team casts a glance around in surprise and confusion.

"I walk," says Web, as much a statement of his position in life as anything.

"I'll walk," says Blackout. "I need the exercise to calm... er, to get focused." He's positively vibrating with the adrenaline of what's coming.

"I'll walk too," says Jimmy.

"I'd like to check out the car!" says Rat.

Needles nods. "Mr. Rat and I will ride with you, Mr. Sowei, for your protection."

Mr. Sowei nods, and gets in the driver's seat. Rat and Needles walk around to the side, and Needles courteously opens the door for Rat. Rat nods and goes to get in, and then realizes that this will put him in the back seat. He turns to try to get Needles to get in first, but then he's in the way. He kind of nods with his head toward Needles and the seat. Needles cocks his head sideways, not understanding. Rat gestures with his thumb, and Needles nods enthusiastically and waves Rat on. Rat sighs and shakes his head, moves the front seat forward, and climbs into the back.

Nice.... he thinks as gets in. The seats are all leather, and there is a nice stereo/trid/autonav/GridGuide console built into the dash under the letters Saab. He imagines himself in the front seat as Needles climbs in.

The ride is all of 4 seconds, as Mr. Sowei stops the car again to climb out, unlock and open the gate, drive through it, go back and lock and close the gate. Then they drive another 20 seconds to the next door gate. Mr. Sowei again stops the car, gets out, unlocks and opens the junkyard gate, and drives in. By now, the team on foot has already arrived, so they walk in through the open gate. Mr. Sowei pulls his car over to the office and turns it off, while Blackout pulls the gate to the junkyard closed.

Mr. Sowei tells Needles to tell Blackout to leave it unlocked. Needles passes it on, Blackout nods, and the team congregates outside the office. Mr. Sowei unlocks the office for Jimmy, and Rat makes sure he has a radio.

"Okay, you got what you need, Jimmy?"

"Yeah, I think so," he says, looking around the dingy one-room office. There is a home-style terminal here. Shouldn't be too hard to crack, Jimmy figures, and he already saw some cameras on posts outside. They ought to feed the term, and is he's lucky, he'll have phone and lighting control too.

"You got a phone?"

"Yeah, you already asked."

"Okay, and you know how to use it?"

Jimmy just looks at Rat. "Yeah...." He sees where Rat is going and decides to play along. "Yeah, you use it like this..." He demonstrates one more time how to call the other phones using the speed-dial function he already set up. "Drek, gimme yours, let's just set up the call now."

"Hey, good idea!"

Jimmy dials the phones together in a 3-way conference. "It's open mic night now, boys. We can all hear each other."

"Sweet," says Blackout, holding the third phone. "Testing, testing..." He burps into the phone.

"Yes, it's working," says Jimmy.

"So I just talk into it?" says Rat.

"Yeah, just talk, man. It's what you do best." Jimmy turns his attention to the telecom unit.

"Alright, great." Rat walks back out of the office to the rest of the team. "Let's get set up!"

Web nods, scanning the area around the office once more for passages and holes to hide in.

"Needle, tell Mr.Soy we should find holes to wait in now. Good ones, to see and not be seen. Time is getting shorter, fast. Anansi is drawing us close."

He looks to the sky for a moment, mumbling under his breath and gripping his staff tight. Then he turns his gaze to the rest of the team. "Yes," he says and nods, as if someone had asked him a question.

Rat, skilled at picking out places to hide, has already found a nice little nook, sheltered by a lopsidedly-hanging car door and an overhanging piece of scrap metal. He motions Web in with him, then leans back and tries, semi-successfully, to get comfortable. He sends Web a wavery grin, meant to be reassuring, but the familiar tension is running through him, and his thoughts are jumbled.

"Damn, that guy sure turned rude real quick, he's actin' like we're freakin' busboys or somethin'. I don't like it. What the frag is this about leavin' with what he wants? If it's somethin' pricey, maybe we should snatch it ourselves instead'a settlin' for table scraps. What if he wants them workin' for him, and they won't do it? Will he try ta stiff us, even if we do our job, 'cause he didn't get 'what he wanted'?"

Rat scowls to himself. "Well, I got enough ammo. Fancy-boy screws with us, I can put a few rounds in him. And if I gotta change sides ta come out ahead, I will... just hope Blackout can follow my lead, if it comes down ta that. And he wants to drive off with us. How do we know he ain't gonna just drop us off somewhere where a buncha his boys are? But hell, if he had a buncha boys, why bother hirin' us? My head hurts. I shoulda brought a few beers along."

He takes his Roomsweeper out, taking some comfort from the heavy sawed-off shotgun and the lethal slugs it is loaded with. He wants to be ready for whatever goes down.

Inside the office, Jimmy stares at the telecom unit. Telecom units almost never have any serious IC unless they're owned by the yakuza, and he doubts this place is. It's too disorderly. Because of no IC, Jimmy is confident that eventually, he can bend this machine to his will.

On the other hand, he knows from past experience that can sometimes take a while in decking terms. It's really only a few minutes of wrangling around, but in Matrix time, that's forever. With a deck so lame it's legal, Jimmy is almost pushing code naked. Too bad I'm not otaku... he thinks to himself. He dreamed that he'd "awaken" in the Matrix someday. He sometimes feels like he almost could, like he can imagine it, but it's just out of reach. He knows he's too old now, though. Those skillz come online before the little brains get all socialized. I probably ruined my chances with all that Trance. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

Back to the issue at hand, cracking this 'com will take a couple minutes. The issue will be timing: Because of that damn itch, Jimmy has never been able to stay online much more than 20 minutes. Realistically, within 10 minutes, his concentration is totally disrupted by the itch, and he'll be a lousy hacker. So how will he time his work so that he's available when the team needs it?

He ponders for a moment, and then has a flash of brilliant insight. If I compromise this 'com now, I can leave myself an account on it so that I can get offline, rest until the meet, and then login legit when the meet starts. That might not be a bad deal... of course, it leaves more thumbprints, but this isn't going to get combed over by the GoD. And then, there's the question of whether to just shoehorn a legit user account on this puppy, or go for something more aggressive, like a supervisor account? That might take longer, but I'd have more automatic access... IF I can get it done in time. Jimmy doesn't even think about going for root -- he's only pulled that off once, and it was on a p-sec. Now is not the time to pray for a miracle. At least, not yet.

Jimmy decides it's time to get down to busines. He slips the busted ass CMT Comet out of his backpack, and sets her down reverently.

Come on Sophie, it's time to shine.

Sophie, so named for Sophie Ellis Bextor, songstress and siren of an age long gone.

Jimmy sits down, and grabs a AresUp energy drink from his bag, downing the contents in three gulps. He lets out a bit of a whoop, then claps his hands together. He begins a practiced set of breathing and hand motions, learned from an old flastreen documentary he'd seen about early deckers. Johnny something.

A few moments of doublechecking wires and connections, and he slides a hand over his datajack, then merges with the storage space within the deck. Thus, he becomes DJ Slyce.

Slyce does a quick inventory of his programs, making sure they're all loaded, sequenced, grouped, and groomed. Can't be foolhardy and half assed here. He lets his mind slip from the deck, down the wireway, and into the telecom's host.

First step, throw a little Deception the way of any IC present. Then it's a little browsing for the user files, a quick Read/Write, and he should be that much closer to owning this system.

DJ Slyce smiles as he approaches the featureless blue orb hanging in the void. Standard UMS 3.0 he thinks. He breathes a digital sigh of relief. Knowing the owner never bothered to change the iconography means that there isn't likely much custom IC. Maybe the MitsuFaya firewall package at worst.

Off-grid and with no reference points, he has to rely on hot-ASIST intuition to tell when he's close to the orb. Once he can reach out and touch it, it seems about the size of a small truck. The featureless surface is just as he expected. His Deception software is already kicking in and packetizing his icon -- DJ Slyce starts to look like a broken puzzle, individual pieces staying in the area, but shifting around. Ideally, he should look like an email or other legit stream.

Once the packetization is complete, DJ Slyce attempts to step forward into the orb. His hands sink in to the wrist, but then the host finds something it doesn't like and spits him back. Okay, that was expected... time to watch for IC... He glances around featureless space. A pair of eyes have opened on the front of the blue orb, making it look like a giant face with no mouth. DJ Slyce nods -- again, one of the standard UMS probe variants that come loaded free on low-end telecom hosts. Assuming there's nothing else on here, it can probe him all it wants.

He tries sliding into the orb again, and finds it solid. Damn! He withdraws slightly and drifts around to the back of the orb. He is able to sink in further this time, but once his torso is well-embedded, it rejects him again. Come on, baby, let your daddy in... He tries again, and again, and again.... By now, if there was going to be anymore IC, it would be all up in his face. Nothing untoward has happened, so he starts to feel bold.

DJ Slyce backs up a bit, and hurtles himself at the blue sphere. He bounces violently off the surface and hurtles himself back in again. Over and over, he ricochets off the outside, seeking the magic timing and location that will let him fall in to the sphere. His tally rockets, but there is no response. After perhaps a dozen tries, and a few attempts that almost succeeded, he still isn't in. There's nothing abnormal here. He's had to go through this many times in the past. The fact that he's come close several times encourages him. It's just a matter of time. He checks the digital timer the deck feeds -- it's been 45 seconds in the host.

He realizes that he doesn't want to spend all day proving himself here, however. He knows he could do it, but there's a faster way since he has access to the hardware. DJ Slyce withdraws to Sophie and Jimmy jacks out. He pops open his bag and roots around for the screwdrivers he carries. He crawls around behind the telecom, unscrews the little panels, and locates the factory ROM-burn console jack. It's time for hardware override, baby! It pays to have some hands-on skills to at times like this. He prepares the jack over the course of a minute or so, and then jacks himself to it.

DJ Slyce slips effortlessly into the host -- the surface of the orb flashes by so fast he doesn't even notice it. Now that's more like it! The inside is an infinite blue grid plain. By now, he's not surprised. This stuff is standard all the way. Now... do I just add a plain user for time purposes, or should I shove around in here and update the system with a supervisor password?

As Jimmy leaves to tinker with the security system, and Rat and Web hunker down in their hiding hole, Needles and Blackout are left standing with Mr. Sowei in the middle of the junkyard. The Chinese boy and the dwarf are a study in opposites - Blackout pumps his fists occasionally, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he visualizes himself pummelling a horde of assailants, finally standing atop a vanquished mage; Needles, however, stands alert, scanning the approaches to their position with a steady eye.

Needles reaches up, applying pressure to a meridian, and his pulse slows its racing to a more calm pace. He focuses his awareness on the situation, and on his duty to protect Mr. Sowei. He would like to have time to meditate, but the time for readiness is at hand. Needles attempts to memorize the layout of the immediate area, remembering the direction that the other team members have gone and routes that the team might use if they have to leave in a hurry. He also points out to Mr. Sowei a small pile of rusted barrels and old tires several meters away. "If anything goes wrong, you may be able to hide behind those, Mr. Sowei," Needles tells him. "Blackout and I will keep you safe." And if you have a weapon, we might need the help, he thinks to himself.

We should try to position ourselves so that Mr. Sowei's associates are between us and Mr. Rat ... without being obvious, Needles reasons to himself.

Blackout pushes his wrists against each other, in a pathetic attempt at looking tough while limbering up. He looks around, trying to look nonchalantly at the caryard. In his mind he looks cool.

He turns to Sowei, and opens his mouth to speak
"Exactly how many guys am I expected to take on my own here?"

He turns back to looking out over the junkyard, lifting his fists to his waist, clenched tightly. He knows he looks cool, but how long can he keep it up?

Mr. Sowei looks at Needles. "What?"

"Mr. Blackout wishes to know how many opponents he must prepare himself for. I believe you said three were meeting you. Is anyone else expected?" replies Needles.

"No, there will be no one else, and we outnumber them greatly. The strength is in our court," answers Mr. Sowei.

"So it is." Needles re-addresses Blackout. "He says there are just the three people coming to meet him -- the mage, and the two gunmen. I think if there is violence, we should first get between them and Mr. Sowei."

"No problem. My fist will get between their teeth." Blackout smiles.

Needles smiles politely and nods in reply. He wants to make a more specific plan, but in reality, Blackout and he will have to take targets of opportunity, and rely on Rat and Web to pick off whoever they can't immediatelly reach. Hopefully, Mr. Sowei will be smart enough to seek cover right away. Needles suspects that part at least won't be a problem.

"Hrm" says Blackout in response to Needles' translation.

"Doesn't leave much for the rest of you really does it? Might as well go home now, get a good night's sleep." The last is said with a sly grin as he scratches absently along his sideburns, following the line down to just above his chin, where his beard is starting to grow in again, despite having been shaved three hours ago.

He pulls his hand back from his face with a jolt, as though he only just realised what he was doing, then, with an air of resignation, returns to his scratching.

Once again DJ Slyce, Jimmy takes a moment to soak in the power his new acess had granted to him. He considers, and smiles. It's for the best if he has supervisor acess. Who knows, maybe they'll need use of the telecom again. If anything he can use the system next time a rave comes 'round these parts. He can think of a few killer effects he could patch into the system, make a little coin, maybe score some action while he's at it.

DJ Slyce hunkers down on the infinite blue plain and picks up an almost transparent shimmering blue floor panel. Circuits of pure light pulse underneath in greens and yellows, iconifying the host functions that control the basic operating system. He stares at the spaghetti nest of light-circuits and wishes he had a Validate utility. This might take a while... He can't even make sense of these circuits, so he replaces the floor panel and looks around. He stares off into the distance and wishes he had some intuitive notion of how to proceed, but the virtual-circuit topology is essentially random -- an ever-shifting memory map snapshot of current RAM contents. Any given panel could have the right sector of code. He shrugs and tries another, to no luck.

On the fourth try, he catches a glimpse of what he needs -- just as he pops the panel, a small purple decahedron that represents the UMS structure for the password control center slides by under the flooring. He lunges for it, but it's gone, swept by like debris in a river as the data flow migrates around active memory. Drek! He jumps up and runs in the direction he thinks it went, and then pops a panel when he gets there. It never flows by. Double drek! Start over!

Several more panels after that, he catches sight of it again, but again it slips away under the cover of the digital floorboards that he can only manipulate one at a time. A Validate program would help him attract the decahedron with a false user-check routine, and then capture it with a false sysadmin call. Lacking that, he's got to jump it just right. Once again, he runs off in the direction of the expected icon drift. He pops the panel, waits a moment, and then plunges his digital hands down into the light circuits in time with the expected appearance of the orb. He smiles with joy as the decahedron drops right into his control. He knows he'll only have it for a moment, but in that moment he burns his DJS username into the icon along with the passphrase -- a 0.67 second trance sample in mp7 format. Username down... now for sup-priv... Before it can get away, he quickly spins the icon over and mirrors the username and the trance sample in bit inversion to ensure that the shadow-facet of the virtual gem will cast the matching projection to the primary image. Golden! He smiles to himself at his success as he just finishes locking it in before the decahedron slips away. He lets it go without activating the passcode now -- better to logout the hard way and come back in, so that the vicious logs he's racking up won't point to this ID.

His digital timer indicates that a total of 135 seconds have passed. He's just about to pull the plug when he remembers.... Graceful Logout! I promised myself that. He pauses and looks around before leaping upward into the non-existent sky of the blue plain, willing himself to leave this realm. The blue sphere retreats behind him, and he's free.

Jimmy jacks out and smiles. "She's ours, Sophie," he murmurs out loud. He waits for a moment, staring out the window. The team has moved into the car maze, out of sight of his office, to take up their positions. He suddenly realizes that this term has no IC, so there's no need to let the tally count down. He glances around the office. Guess I better make at least an attempt to stay out of harm's way... He reaches around the back, unplugs from the console port, and screws the access panel back on so that it will seem untampered in case he needs to make a quick escape. He then pulls himself under the desk, with only the datacord snaking its way back to the surface to plug into the 'term. He hugs his knees, squirms into a comfortable position, and then jacks in again.

DJ Slyce approaches the blue sphere and projects the trance track and the DJS name. The sphere opens up beautifully, and this time the infinite grid is populated with all kinds of controls. A quick tour of the systems reveals that he has control of the cameras and the lights, plus whatever meager data is stored on this host. He opens a plasma screen floating in space and sees Blackout, Needles, and Mr. Sowei getting into position in the center of the maze. There is no sign of Rat or Web, but that's the way it should be. Sweeet.... thinks Jimmy. I am God. I see you!

He logs off briefly to avoid any risk of jackitch. "Yo boys," he says into the phone. "I got yer decker right here! This slitch is stitched and hitched, and I'm in the 'Trix!" He ponders for a moment. If I'm going to do overwatch much, I need a phone extension on Sophie... this in'n'out thing ain't gonna cut it. That's on the to-do list.

Rat turns to Web. "Damn, this stupid phone's messed up already. I got no frikkin' clue what the kid just said."

Blackout speaks into the cellphone as casually as he can.

"Stupid Jimmy. Trix is for kids."

The team is in place in the center of the maze, in a clearing about 10 meters across with 4 passageways into it. One of the passageways is the approach from the front gate. The other 3 split off in three seperate, winding directions behind Mr. Sowei, Needles, and Blackout. Down one of them and partway up a junk wall, hiding in the semi-crushed cab of a Mitsubishi Hauler, Rat and Web observe the meet area. They don't have a perfect view of everything, but they can see where their party is standing and the entryway of the passageway from the front gate. Even more importantly (to them), they know that the passageway they are partway down leads to one of their impromptu exits through the fence, should the need arise.

Jimmy, meanwhile, has jacked back in to watch the scene unfold from the junkyard cameras. He sees the headlights of an approaching sedan out front, and watches as a blue mid-range 4-door car pulls into the spot. Three people get out of the car -- a healthy-sized woman and two large men. Jimmy jacks out again. "They're heeeeeeeere...." he says into the cellphone, and then jacks back in.

Needles stands beside Mr. Sowei, hands clasped behind him. It's a good thing Blackout and I are both here, thinks Needles. It would weaken Mr. Sowei's negotiating position if he were to appear outnumbered. As the woman and her two thugs approach, Needles watches them carefully, looking for signs that they are carrying weapons. He holds the small pepper spray canister in his hand, concealing it in his palm but keeping it ready for use.

Jimmy loses sight of the pack of three as they enter the maze -- then he catches sight again, and loses them again. The cameras don't have the coverage that he wishes they did, and realisitically, it's poorly lit in the caryard. The overhead lights don't do as much as they should. Still, he manages to keep them in sight when they stop in the clearing, facing Needles, Blackout, and Mr. Sowei from across the clearing at the mouth of the primary passageway. Jimmy can just see the tops and backs of their heads from his angle -- no details at all, except that they are three different heights. He mentally nicknames them "small, medium, and large". Let's just hope Super-size doesn't show up.. heh heh... Then he realizes that Mr. Medium also has a rifle barrel up by his head. Mental note... Mr. Medium is armed.

Rat, Web, Needles and Blackout scan the three people who step into the clearing 10 meters or so from them. As promised, the lead seems to be the female black elf. She appears rather fashionable, with tight jeans, long fingernails, and black hair with a bleached stripe down the middle. Her body language is all business, however, and her muscles indicate she spends more time in the gym than the mall. She appears unarmed, but they've been warned she's a mage. That's all the arms she needs... thinks Blackout.

Behind her are two men. The first, a tall and broad hispanic ork, is wearing a Combat Biker team jacket. It's not obvious whether it's the fan-boy kind or the actual leather-and-plastic armor set that the teams use on the field. He's got a lethal-looking lump under it in the holster position and a permanent frown. He silently glares at the team, looking right over the top of the lead lady.

The second man is a Samoan human -- almost the size of the average ork, but much of it fat. Still, he'd be a formidable man to wrestle with. He's wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and he's actually pacing in place like a caged tiger, pumping his rifle up and down in the air. The rifle is pointing at the sky, but it looks like he's itching for any excuse to bring it to bear.

Blackout can't wait to get a piece of 'em -- all of 'em. They all look like a good time to him, although he'd rather be much closer to the rifleman. It's kind of hard to sprint against a bullet hail. I could take 'em he thinks to himself and cracks his knuckles. That'll scare 'em.

Needles narrows his eyes a bit as he realizes that all three have pistols. The rifleman has a sizeable bulge in the front of his pants that isn't low enough to attract the ladies -- it's a gun in the waistband. The lady elf moves in such a way that he has the distinct impression of a weapon in back waistband of her jeans as well. I hope it doesn't come to that he thinks. That's four more guns than I wish were here. These people are expecting trouble for sure.

From his hiding place, Web picks up on all that and more. The lead lady has roughly the same magical potency that he does, and she's calm and cool at the moment. It bothers him that she's so confident, but he can guess that it's at least in part because she has no idea that Web is there. Her aura is healthy and strong, but he doesn't spot any magical objects, spells, or spirits with her at the moment. Of course, she could call something in with just a second or two... Still, he's glad that there aren't spirits in tow yet. Perhaps they still hope to talk. The tall man in the back is radiating anger on the astral plane, but his friend is even worse. Web gets the distinct impression of unrestrained bloodlust -- the human doesn't care about the mission. He just wants to shoot people with that big automatic rifle. In a completely random thought, Web remembers using a paper magazine advertisement for that rifle as toilet paper last week. He doesn't remember the name just now, but it was remarkably close to Spider. Some kind of combo-system that could breakout into several different guns.

Rat misses all the astral cues, of course, but his keen scrounger's eye picks up details about the weapons. He remembers seeing the rifle in a recent ad too -- he just remembers it was a pricey item, thousands of nuyen. Pistols are a hobby of his, so he has a good sense of what those coats hide. The Samoan is carrying a modern heavy pistol, which excites Rat. The lines suggest an automatic. Ooh, ooh, I wonder what it is? Predator maybe? Predator II maybe? The ork's weapon is a light pistol, which is still plenty lethal, but less invigorating. It's looks like a short clip, too, which rules out the popular Fichette Security series.

The lead elf turns around for a moment to instruct her teammates, and Rat's eyes are drawn to her ass. Mmmmm.... delicious... Hey! Those are my jeans! With a start, he realizes that she's wearing the same brand of armor jeans that he bought from Martin, albeit in a more interesting size. I like her! Good taste. He chuckles to himself at the possible double meaning, and continues to gaze at the top of the jeans. She gestures off into the distance to one her teammates, and her shirt rides up ever so slightly in the back, revealing warm dark skin to Rat's attentive thermo vision. It also reveals a weapon that he recognizes instantly. He's always liked the Ares Crusader MP. This lady's got it all!

The elf lady turns around and Rat's eyes drift higher, to her armored T-shirt. At the same moment, Web realizes she's assensing the courtyard for danger. "Graf!" he mutters to himself, a curse from his homeland, and ducks.

"Whassamatta?" whispers Rat. "Ya think D-cups are too big? I think those are D anyway..." He holds one hands out in front of his eyes, reaching toward the lady, and visualizes squeezing a breast. "Yeah, D."

Web yanks him deeper into the cab, and then pokes his head up again. "Okay, she's done. I don't think she saw us."

Rat nods, understanding now. Focus time! he thinks to himself. We can make new friends later. He and Web peer back into the courtyard as the lady walks across it toward Needles, Blackout, and Mr. Sowei. Her two companions stay in the back, the ork continuing his stare-down attempt and the human pacing back and forth, looking at the sky, the ground, the passageways... anything to shoot.

"Sowei," she begins in Chinese, using an overly familiar form of address. Needles realizes she's either unfamiliar with the nuances of Chinese, or she's trying to put him down to gain a negotiator's advantage right off the bat. "So glad you could make it. I wish you felt comfortable enough to save yourself the expense of additional labor."

"Of course," replies Mr. Sowei. "Did you bring my item?"

"Your item? It's not yours yet. There's something we need to discuss first."

She reaches into her pocket for something, and everyone tenses. She tries to pawn off the movement as something casual, but Needles and Rat see that her reaching hand is twisting itself through some kind of complex posture and her body is swaying. Web can see the energies building around her clearly in astral space, but it's too late to react -- he didn't think to wrap Spider's protective influence around Mr. Sowei so soon.

Before anyone can respond, her right hand shoots out and touches Mr. Sowei on the nose. "Tell them why we're really here!" she commands him in Chinese.

[OOC: If anyone wants to take an action instantly based on this, let me know... we'll roll for reaction]

While DJ Slyce watches the meet go down from the virtual, he can't help but check out the elf lady himself. She's a bit tall for his taste, he'd never liked 'em taller than himself, but he'll settle for her. He's got a thing for elven ears after all.

I wish I could read lips...

The thought rolls across his head, and he wonders if there's a skillsoft for that. Maybe he could write one. Then again he's pretty sure they're speaking Chinese, so he wouln't...

Whoa now... did she just honk the boss's nose?

Rat perks up... he can tell the magic lady is trying to do something. What, he can't tell yet. He doesn't feel like interfering, anyways. He has a lot of unanswered questions about what is going down tonight, and is a bit paranoid. The longer things play out, the more he might find out. At least, if anybody starts talking in a language that he can understand. Well, if it's important, Needles will give a shout out.

He lets the scene go on with the mage, rationalizing that Web is taking care of that end of things and can step in needed. He really, really hopes he doesn't have to shoot the cute lady. That would probably ruin his chances of ever getting a date with her. But the two psychos with the guns make him nervous. He casually takes out his gun, and carefully trains it on the big goon with the rifle. He carefully aims at him; if fighting breaks out, hopefully he can take the guy down before he even gets spotted.

"Hey!" yells Blackout, surprising even himself. He meant to stay cool, but she startled him. Now he has to follow it up. "No touching the boss!" He takes a step forward, and the Samoan in the back perks up. Mr. Sowei's hand drops heavily on his shoulder, restraining him. He almost turns around the punches Mr. Sowei on instinct, but he manages to suppress the reaction into a semi-shrug. It comes out awkwardly because of his body and nerve tension, and looks more like a nervous tic. Across the field, the Samoan also has a nervous tic. Blackout stands frozen in mid-step, on a razor's edge and about to lose his mind.

Keeping his hand on Blackout's shoulder, Mr. Sowei turns to Needles. "Please translate for me. I really wanted to screw these people over. I sent them to retrieve a very difficult object, under very difficult circumstances, and now I want to get it from them on the cheap. This is not actually a good plan, however. I regret these ideas and actions."

Needles mouth drops open. This is the strangest negotiating tactic I have ever seen... He looks over at the elf lady, and she has a smug smirk.

"What did he say? What's going on?" says Blackout edgily. This sucks! he thinks.

Rat takes aim on the Samoan, and feels a sense of control return to him as he realizes that no one knows he's there. As the seconds trickle by, he compensates carefully for the distance and angle, and centers on the heat emanating from the man's furious body.

Needles turns gravely to Blackout, and says, "Please give me the phone. This is something we all should hear." When Blackout passes the small phone to him, Needles speaks carefully into it so that Rat, Web, and Jimmy are in-the-know as well.

"Mr. Sowei has lied to us. He has just told me that he has been the dishonourable one in his dealings, not these people. He says that he sent them to get something, knowing it would be very hard, and now wishes to cheat them out of fair pay." Needles takes a careful breath, and looks at Mr. Sowei. "It is difficult to protect you and ensure fair negotiations, if you do not act fairly," he says.

Jimmy mentally cues video recording on the telecom. Might want to review this later.... He sees Needles take the phone from Blackout and quickly jacks out to catch the last 2/3rds of the comment. What does he mean by that? Jimmy isn't sure what to do, so he jacks back in for comfort and watches again through the camera system.

Web is not sure what to do. From his astral vantage point, there are tendrils of blue and green energy from the elf lady into Mr. Sowei's head. Web just isn't sure what is happening here. Mr. Sowei seems to be unharmed, for what that is worth. I need more time to think!

Rat nods to himself in response to Needles' comment, but he just keeps aiming. This drek could hit the fan at any time now... Gotta be ready. He narrows in on the center mass of the Samoan until he believes he has it perfect. That guy gives grief, he'll drop 'fore he knows what hit him.

The elf lady raises an eyebrow when Needles speaks, but says nothing.

"You are correct, of course," says Mr. Sowei. "I wish to deal honorably with you, and with these esteemed individuals going forward. I thank you for your help. I think I no longer require your services. I will pay you now our agreed arrangement, and then I will go with my former employees to discuss a fair resolution of our contract." With that, he fishes out a credstick and hands it to Needles.

Needles hesitantly takes the credstick, looking at Mr. Sowei with doubt in his eyes as he tries to ascertain if Sowei is indeed telling the truth. He translates Sowei's words for the others into the phone, but does not back away yet.

Blackout looks over at Needles, his eyes wide.

"That our nuyen?" he asks. He glances at it, noticing it's a credstick, before making a basic assumption that he was correct, and turns to walk away. "Let this fool to his own devices. He wants to screw these guys, let him try."

Needles glances at the credstick balance -- 5000 nuyen, as agreed. He glances at Mr. Sowei, who has a peaceful smile on his face. He is much more relaxed than he was just before the meeting. He seems to have attained some kind of revelation.

"I can see you are worried. Do not be alarmed. Everything is going to be okay," continues Mr. Sowei eagerly.

Blackout scuffs the ground with his shoe. "So we can go. Let's go." He doesn't know what Mr. Sowei said, but the way he looks at it, they got paid and the deal is done. Besides, he's been put out by the Chinese man's attitude lately. Still, Blackout isn't going to turn his back on the anyone just yet. He hesitates at the edge of the engagement, trying to draw Needles toward him to they can leave.

Needles take a centering breath. How can I tell if Mr. Sowei is in his right mind? Then he remembers the team mage. "One moment, please," he says to the elf lady and Mr. Sowei. He steps away a step or two, closer to Blackout, and lifts the phone. "Web, are you there?"

In their hiding place, Web takes the phone and whispers into it. "Yes."

"Is Mr. Sowei.... okay?" Needles speaks quietly into it, aware that the elf lady is staring at him. Blackout fidgets.

Web pauses for a moment, unsure of how to answer that question. "He is healthy, but there is something." Web focuses again on the astral energies and tries to figure out what they are. Mr. Sowei's aura is under some kind of influence from those tendrils from the elf. "I think he is having some kind of mind control. From the lady."

Suddenly the elf mage spots Web peering out of the wreck of the Hauler. She looks directly at him and nods in acknowledgment. He sees her silently mouth a couple of words, but he's not sure what she said. He gets a chill down his spine, and his danger senses prickle on high alert. He is glad to see that there are no magical energies headed his way... yet. He retreats under her gaze back into the wreckage further.

Needles turns around to look at her again. Mr. Sowei suddenly sits down on the ground, carefully folding himself into a full lotus posture, and staring into the distance in Zen-style meditation.

"Mr. Sowei is taking a break. It's between you and me now," the elf mage-lady says to Needles in Chinese. "I wish I'd spotted your man earlier, but here we are. I think you and I can come to an agreement, however. You have your money. What else is it you need to feel good about this situation?"

I need time to think, I need to figure out what to do. This is not going well at all.
Web is stressed and unsure of how to handle the situation. He reaches for his medallion, fingering it as he mutters comforting words to himself.

I need to protect them, so she doesn't control them too.

Web starts weaving the protective energies of Spider around Needles and Blackout, trying to ready himself mentally for battle or flight, as the case may be. He is not liking this at all...

Web re-establishes a view of Needles and Blackout, visualizes Spider's astral weave in place over them, and then attempts to shift into a more concealed position. He shifts a meter or so off to the left of Rat, but in doing so, his weight shifts the wreck ever-so-slightly. A grinding metal noise results as the mass slides a couple of centimeters off to the side.

As soon as that happens, the big Samoan jumps. He looks in Web and Rat's general direction and sees at least one of them. "Sniper!" he screams, and snaps his rifle into position to fire at them.

Rat squeezes the trigger on his Remington between breaths, while the last sound is still leaving the Samoan's lips. He's not even sure if the guy plans to fire, or whether it's at him or Web, but he's not giving him a chance.

Everyone else is caught flat-footed -- Blackout, Needles, the elf lady, and the ork all jump in place as the sudden shout and gunfire. Rat's Remington slug slams into the Samoan's throat as the rifle is just coming on-line, and the man is brutally jerked off his feet as blood sprays out behind him. He depresses the trigger on the rifle, but it's pointing at the sky now, and a burst of bullets noisily zips off into the distance.

Web cries out in fear and ducks some more, trying to flatten himself against the interior metal of the wreck. The ork drops instinctively into a crouch and draws his pistol, trying to spot the sniper.

Back in the office, Jimmy thinks, Glad I'm recording!!

The elf lady recovers herself first, swears once, and takes off like a champion sprinter toward the ork. "We're hosed!" she yells at him.

[OOC: Initiative has started. First actions go to Jimmy and Rat]

Rat feels his pulse racing and tastes bile at the back of his throat. He was ambivalent about what to do next. He was pretty sure the chicka was mind-controlling Mr. Sowei, but he also knows that the best lies are the ones with a grain, or more, of truth to them. If only the fat guy hadn't spotted him! They could have gotten paid, and maybe made friends with a real runner, who could introduce them to some people. But it can only go down one way now. Eyes wide with fear and adrenaline, Rat shoots at the ork, hoping to drop him before he can get that pistol out. He keeps half an eye on the (possibly) treacherous Mr. Sowei - if he tries to grab the credstick back or something equally incriminating, then his crew will be the only ones walking out tonight.

This is gonna be some kind of badass for a video...

Slyce starts swtiching between feeds, keeping the best angles open in other windows. Somewhere in his mind the thought of trid marketing rolls, money. Of course he's still keeping an eye on things, to make sure nothing suprising happens. Well, more suprising than the nose honking and throat destruction. It hasn't quite registered yet that this is real to him. The surreality of the matrix is protecting his mind from those thoughts.

Rat switches over to the ork and fires an instinctive shot. Given adrenaline, darkness, and distance, it's an unusally good shot for him. As he fires, the ork is firing back in his direction with his pistol, at almost the exact same moment. Rat flinches a little (luckily after his shot) and then realizes the ork's gun is actually firing on Web.

Web dives for cover in the wreckage, narrowly avoiding the round. There is a high-pitched ring as the bullet slams into the metal of the wrecked pickup, and Web lays panting on his stomach inside the semi-crushed cab.

As the ork fired at Web, he shiftly slightly off-line, causing Rat's shot to miss his center body mass and hit the orks lower left arm. The ork's arm jerks back, the leather Combat Biker jacket torn open and blood rushing out. It's not a killing wound, but it will certainly distract the guy.

Rat knows his sniper-luck is about out -- at this point, he's probably called enough attention to himself to give himself away.

[OOC: Action to Needles]