[20:07 January 1st, 2072; The Muddy River Bar, Redmond]

Akecheta eyed his commlink suspiciously. How in all hells did that happen now? Someone had listened to his conversation with the barkeep without him noticing. He looked around the badly lit room but he couldn't make anyone that was obviously paying attention to him.
The whole thing seemed fishy. In addition he would have to go against the mob. He already had one syndicate putting a price on his head, he didn't need another. But a quick glance towards his account balance, which displayed the sad number of 350 nuyen total, convinced him that he couldn't be too picky right now.

He quickly typed a message and sent it to the contact information his mysterious Johnson had given.

<<Alright. Give me ten minutes to get some equipment and I'm on it. You have the exact location of the target?>>

With that done he quickly left the shabby bar and got on the troll-sized black motorcycle waiting for him in the parking lot. With a surprisingly quiet hum the electric motor kicked into action.

Six Minutes later Akecheta was back in his new apartment. He quickly put on his complete armor set, form-fitting body armor, some additional discreet strap-on protection pieces and the armored leather jacket. He pulled the Praetor and the MGL-6 from their hiding place behind the night table and stuffed some spare clips into his pockets.
Finally he put on a ski mask and covered it with his motorcycle helmet that had been adapted to accomodate his horns.

Now the only thing to do was wait for the mysterious employer to call him back.

Six against one. Not exactly the most favorable odds. But he wasn't called The Beast for nothing after all.

Silk
[13:52 January 1st, 2072; Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]

Dr. Fleming rose and took Silk's hand in both of hers. With a smile that lit up her entire face, she said, "No, dearie. I think the pleasure is going to be all mine. Do keep in touch!" And with that, Fleming turned off the WNG, grabbed her purse, and then slipped out of the room.

Seti nodded. "Yeah, order up. You too," he nodded to Silver. "Without you two, I'd be ground soy right now."

He waited for the drinks to come, and then huddled in close to the table. "Alright, so another runner-friend of mine has just landed a job, but she needs a team for it. We freelance, so she hasn't got anybody to tap, necessarily. You guys have just proved to me that you're good in a fight; if you want, I can vouch for you two." He took a sip of the lukewarm ale, and thought Now here comes the tough sell.

"Only one problem: She's out of her mind. This girl plays with superviruses like they were AR games. If you join in, there is a chance that you'll get infected with something you can't even pronounce." Another sip. "Worse yet, I'm not one-hundred percent sure what the job is, yet. But, it sounds like she's already met with the Johnson, and a job in the hand is worth two in the bush. What'd'ya say?"

[20:18 January 1st, 2072; Club Penumbra, International District, Seattle]
[Silver]

Superviruses? That's too crazy for my liking...

"Generally I'm always up for some well paid work but right now I got something I need to take care of. So I'll have to decline your offer. Was nice meeting you two though. Take care."

With that the white-haired mage stood up and left the club.

Akechete
[20:24 January 1st, 2072; Akechete‘s Apartment; Redmond]

The troll seemed to have some recollection of a couple people coming and going during his time in the Muddy River Bar. Any one of them could have been the mysterious Johnson with the seemingly odd job. His return message was answered as he donned his running gear in the privacy of his squat.

”I am pleased you have decided to accept the job. This information is current as of approximately forty minutes ago. I currently have a shadow keeping an eye on the location. Floor plans for these condos in the ‘plex are not reliable due to the nature of Redmond. Of this, I’m sure you will understand.”

With the message came a series of images that included the location of the condo. It appeared to be one simply in a series of other old condos that fell out of use as Redmond descended into squalor. One interesting oddity that stands out to Akechete from the images is local squatters seem to stay away from the building. The condo itself appears to be two stories tall and has a single car garage attached to it. The side doors have long since been boarded up and the front appears to have a series of locks on it. Much of the area surrounding the condo is overgrown with weeds and other vegetation. Reaching the condo would likely require no greater than a twenty minute drive by motorcycle.

”It is unknown where the prisoner is currently being held inside of the condo. You will have to find that out yourself. Bring the prisoner, whether alive or dead; to the additional coordinates. This is where we will take him from you and transfer your pay. Any further questions, contact me.”

[20:45 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

About 20 minutes after receiving the information on the condo Akecheta had reached his target. He stopped the black Yamaha Suzuki Mirage a block away and activated the anti-theft-system. He took out the Praetor from his saddlebag and slid it's sling over his shoulder. He quickly checked the magazine and confirmed that it was loaded with stick-n-shock ammunition. no need to upset the mob any more than he had too.

Keeping the helmet on he carefully made his way closer to the target building. He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible but a 3 meter troll doesn't lend itself to stealthy acitivity easily and he wasn't very experienced with infiltration matters anyway.

As soon as he had good visual he thought for a moment on how he wanted to handle the situation.

[20:18 January 1st, 2072; Club Penumbra, International District, Seattle]

Seti nodded at Silver's back. He couldn't blame the guy.

"Well, chummer, what about you?"

[20:45 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akechete wheeled his bike up the side street that led to the condoplex where his target was located. He caught a glimpse of an old sign in the undergrowth along the side of the road denoting the condoplex as "Oceania Plaza". A quaint name given its current sordid state of affairs. The anti-theft system would ensure no one would strip or steal the bike; though it was clear that some of the locals were circling like starving vultures. Or meta-humans as the case may be.

The path through the locals cleared easily ahead of him as the troll made his way up the street. A couple of glimpses of the huge troll from those nearby caused them to clear out quickly. Leaning against a half-broken down wall he took in the condo that had been marked in the communication from the Johnson. The safehouse looked as though it had been subject to a fair amount of repair work. Connected to the left side of the condo was the neighboring condo. That half of the building had been left to rot and decay as time passed. The troll was certain he spotted some movement in that half of the building but could not be entirely sure what it was.

The front door of the safehouse was secured three visible locks with no indication of any of the other measures that might be in place. After a few minutes of observation, nothing seems to be occurring in or around the safehouse other than the bit of errant movement in the adjoining condo.

[20:45 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

For a moment Akecheta considered just going in with a bang. That was what he did best after all and he was equipped for it too. His trusty pistol-sized grenade launcher should suffice to open up the boarded side door. Since this were the barrens police response would take eternities if they came at all, leaving him with enough time to get his business done.

But he decided to try a more subtle approach first, he could always go back to the "hands-on" tactic later on.

Maybe they set up an escape route through the adjacent building. Worth a try at least.

The large troll made his way towards the run-down condo next to his real target in big strides. He had no time to waste. With each second it was more likely that he couldn't retrieve the guy alive, which would cut his profit by half.

Just stay alive a while longer you idiot! You can die after I delivered you to the Johnson...

Rhodes stared into the tall glass of hurlg he'd ordered, shrugged, and slammed the whole thing. "A job's a job, right? Gotta keep myself in soy. I'm in." He punctuated that with a loud belch followed by the toothiest grin possible this side of a hungry tiger.

Akechete
[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The troll jogged quickly towards the ruined side of the building to look for an alternate exit the inhabitants of the safehouse might use. The walls of this side of the condo are barely held together in most places from pieces of wood that have been nailed up on the interior. Akechete cautiously leans near a hole to get a view of the inside and is greeted by the acrid smell of waste. Piles of refuse and garbage litter the entire area. A massive, mutated quadraped is nosing around through the garbage as it hunts for something to eat. It looks as though it could have been a dog at some point in the past.

The wall of the first floor that is adjacent to the safehouse appears to be in moderate repair. There are several places on the wall where varying pieces of wood have been used to patch holes. It does not appear that there is an exit built anywhere into the first floor from the safehouse. A set of stairs leads upstairs though Akechete isn't entirely sure about how they will support his weight.

OOC: So you know I will likely be gone most of the day today. So if I reply it likely won't be until later tonight, 12+ hours after the timestamp on this post.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akecheta scratched his head. Well, so much for that plan... He turned around and made his way back towards the target building.

Let's do this the direct way!

The side door seemed to be the weakest point. While approaching it the troll burst into a sprint and crashed into the boarded over door with the full weight of almost 900 pounds of muscles and reinforced bones.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The large troll barreled into what he assumed to be the weakest point of the safehouse to gain entry. A strong charge and shoulder check knocked a huge chunk out of the wall; but it did not do as much damage as he assumed it would. The plywood that was boarded over the door was supported behind by a denser sheet of material of some sort. Akecheta could tell this material was not something one would find in a squat. Unfortunately, the hole he knocked through the barrier was at chest and head level where his upper body had contacted. The troll saw movement as some yells in Italian echoed in the interior.

A quick survey of the interior shows the hole leads into a living room. The dining room is off of the living room to the left. The kitchen and the living room are split by a divider where the dining room grant access to the kitchen. A set of stairs is to the right that leads to the second floor. The floor is littered with miscellaneous garbage and a few errant pieces of furniture. Graffiti covers the walls almost completely.

It appears as though there is one mobster standing out in the kitchen and two more in the living room. The unmistakable sounds of guns being cocked echoed in his ears.

OOC: You basically plowed into the barrier and knocked a hole through the top. Their immediate response was to draw weapons as it is always an assumption for them that any disturbance at the safehouse is hostile. I'm not going to give them an attack until Initiative is determined however. If the substance had been only plywood then you would have gone straight through on your roll. But since it was backed by a Reinforced layer (In case something like this happened), you only managed to knock a hole out as determined by the soak roles and Armor/Structure Rating. The description is your quick glimpse of the room as you gained access.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Drek!

This wasn't exactly how he had pictured the whole thing going. Cursing the massive troll moved a bit to the left to avoid being shot through the fresh hole in the door. He put all his strength in a kick that he hoped would take out the still intact lower half of the door, finally allowing him entrance.

Let the fun time begin!

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akecheta's sharp kick on the remaining sheet of reinforcement caused it to shudder and give way, leaving an opening into the safehouse. He could hear more Italian words being exchanged from the interior and the tell-tale reports of gunshots as the mobsters fired through the opening. They did not appear to make any effort to exit the building and come out to him.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Here it goes, action!

Akecheta pulled out his ArmTech MGL pistol-size grenade launcher, waiting for a short break in the shooting. As soon as it stopped for a second he quickly leaned in to get a line of sight and fired two smoke grenades through the open door, one to the left and one to the right. Jumping back behind the wall he took a second to stow it away before he carefully entered the building with the Praetor SMG ready, relying on his natural thermographic vision and the vision enhancements in his glasses to make out his enemies movements.

[21:03 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town]

Dahlia left Doc M’s clinic empty handed. The street doc had no information for her regarding any freelancers that she didn’t already know about. Had she called her sniper friend, yet? Of course. And by the time Dahlia had dressed appropriately for an excursion into Redmond and spoken to Doc M, night had fallen upon Seattle. At least she had gone into the scumpit of the city armed to the teeth, or at least as armed as an academic like Dahlia could.

She stepped out of Doc M’s street clinic, the rectangle of light from the tiny building’s interior squeezing shut before disappearing altogether into the darkness. Dahlia double-checked the buttons on her winter coat before shoving her hands in her pockets—where the vibroblade and injection dagger (loaded with a dose of KE IV) rested. On the interior of her coat, the Ares Predator rested against the small of her back —loaded with a clip of stick-n-shock. Beneath the coat, and festive red synthwool sweater, she wore the form-fitting body armor usually reserved for jobs and other trips into unsavory areas.

These were normal precautions. But, so wrapped up was she in the machinations of her own mind, that she didn’t notice a dark and lanky shadow slink from an alleyway to follow her.

[14:14 January 1st, 2072; Outside Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]

Silk made her way rapidly back to the bus stop just as the corrosive drops of Seattle rain began to fall in earnest. For Silk the place came alive in the rain, even more so than in the rare sunshine, everything was washed clean, or at least appeared so, the lights were reflected into infinity and the AR feeds seemed that much more vibrant.

Of course they could be a distraction too, she mused, swatting aside an advert for a new campus coffee shop filled with bright young things exercising their academic and social impulses. Pangs of hunger struck quickly and realising that she eaten anything since waking earlier she changed direction and headed for the new watering hole. Sitting down in the plush arm chairs designed to lull the occupant in to spending more money she ordered a double espresso and a sandwich.

Hopefully Aria would be able to round up some matrix talent, that just left Silk to see if she could dredge up some astral support. Although she didn't anticipate a company like this requiring active mages or spirits on site she would be stupid to go in there without checking first. Silk hadn't been on ShadowSEA for a while but she knew the right sort of places to look...hopefully she should be able to track it down without going to Aria yet again.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The pair of smoke grenades sung through the air as they impacted in their respective locations and began to flood the area with smoke. Inside, he could make out the harsh sound of coughing as a periodic shot cracked into the material around the opening the troll had created. He slipped through the hole at a point when the action was light and could clearly make out two distinct heat signatures amidst the billowing smoke. Both appeared to be jerking fairly erratically, moving in line with the heavy coughing sound.

OOC: I apologize for the space in posting, was out of town the last day. But I'm back now. Also you butchered your name again.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The big troll stepped fully into the opening, ignoring the erratic shots from the inside. Sometimes you have to rely on your luck and he was pretty tough anyway. As soon as he saw the heat signatures he immediatly brought the Praetor up and squeezed off two bursts at the red shapes. The recoil only pressed the stock into his shoulder lightly, the gun was heavily modded and very stable in it's handling.

Two here. There are supposed to be at least six so I gotta be on the lookout for more. Wait, weren't there three when I looked through the hole just seconds ago? One of them must have gone to warn the others. I need to solve this quickly.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The bark of Akecheta's Praetor heralded his coming. The satisfying sound of electricity ramping through his Stick N' Shock ammo filled the area with the smell of burning hair and ozone. Both mafia thugs went down from the volley of shots. The one to the left could be seen attempting to crawl away and failing horribly. From behind the wall the troll detected no movement. He was not sure where the third thug had disappeared to; but it was either upstairs or into the adjoining garage of the condo.

OOC: One is completely incapacitated, the second is at like one box. I'm ruling him basically out of the fight due to taking a massive amount of subdual damage in short span. And their armor provided no impact protection.

[20:47 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akecheta ignored the mobster on the floor that was still flailing around weakly. The guy was in no condition to do anything to him.

He needed to make a quick decision. Second floor or garage? If they're torturing him chances are they'd use the garage where it's easier to clean up afterwards. Let's try that first.

His mind made up the troll made his way to the entrance of the garage. No messing around with grenades this time, don't wanna shoot the target by accident. I'll just storm in and kick ass!

He shot a quick glance towards the information that the smartlink projected into his field of vision through the image link in his glasses. Ammunition 41/50. Plenty enough.

[20:48 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The troll stalked his way through the debris of the wall and into the condo to hunt down his target. The smell of burning flesh and the smoke grenade was sharp in his nose, causing the entire condo to smell something like smoky ham. His first instinct was to go for the garage.

Coming around the corner into the kitchen he noted the second thug that had engaged laying on the floor, completely unconscious. With a smirk he turned towards the garage door. The door had no reinforcement to his sharp kick that caused it to flap in.

He moved quickly into the room and noted nothing more than what appeared to be a car of some sort sitting in the middle. Nothing moved in the garage save for a couple of rats in a corner.

[20:48 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The troll took a look and the empty garage and scowled.
Seems my first insticts are more mostly wrong. Maybe I should start doing the opposite of whatever I think is the right move...

Turning around he headed towards the stairs to the second floor, glad that his helmet protected him from the worst of the smoke and all-around bad smells that prevailed after his assault. On the way he looked for the weapon the unconscious mafioso had surely dropped when falling down, so he'd have a rough idea of their equipment level.

[20:48 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The mafia thug he passed en route to the stairs appeared to have been using a Colt Manhunter as his primary weapon. Being that they were the mafia he was confident they probably had access to some higher grade gear. The troll continued on towards the stairs unopposed as he reached the bottom.

[21:10 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town]

The purr of the Harley echoed through the streets as Scar cut his way through them. Sitting around at the Rust Ring doing bike-work all the time was boring as Hell. His own contact had put him on to a possible job for some street doc that appeared to enjoy a fairly decent reputation. His mind flitted around to various thoughts as he headed to the address.

The snapshot he was given of the contact sat just out of his gaze in his eyes so as to not cause him to wreck his bike. His eyes flicked over to the left to look at her, then flicked to the right to note a pedestrian. He blinked for a minute and contemplated his map. He was near the hospital after all. Scar slammed hard on his brakes and whipped the bike around, pulling up alongside of where she walked but staying in the street so as to not spook her.

"Hey yo! You a street doc? Lookin' for some chick named Dahlia who looks a lot like you."

[21:03 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town]

Dahlia wasn’t so distracted that she missed the noise from the Harley’s engine. She took a moment to pause, activating her implanted ultrasound sensor to get a good lay of the immediate area without being too obvious about it. Just as she noticed the troll biker, Dahlia also noticed the presence of another—who ducked into an alley as the troll pulled up next to her. A tail? Maybe. Inwardly, the woman swore. She hadn't even heard the other set of footsteps behind her. But, just as likely some form of street scum looking for an easy mugging target that night.

Turning her attention to the troll, Dahlia continued to walk and cocked her head at a slight angle. She wasn't exactly a street doc, but the term was applicable enough.

“I am Dahlia. Is there something I can help you with?” Not many trolls, not many people period, came into Dahlia’s life on motorcycles in the middle of shady areas of town. And he didn't look sick, at least as far as the woman could tell. Hand still shoved in her coat pockets, on the handles of her knives, Dahlia went over the possibilities. Maybe someone this guy knew needed some no-questions-asked help, then. Or maybe the law-enforcement had finally caught onto some of her less-than-legal activities. Regardless, it would be a very stupid idea for her to jump the gun and start something with a biker easily three times her size.

[21:04 January 3rd, 2072; An as-of-yet unnamed rough part of town]

The troll nodded slightly and dropped the kick-stand on the chopper, turning it off. He stood from the back of the bike and held his hands at an angle out to the sides to show they were empty and not easily able to fetch a weapon from a hiding spot. His skin was reddish and stood out against the black pants and armored leather jacket he wore. Sunglasses served to keep the bugs out of his eyes more than they did to protect them from the sun which had since set on the day.

"We have some mutual people that we deal with in a roundabout way. Least that's how I heard you might be needing someone to bust heads with you for some job. Doc M was the name my own contact gave me. I don't know the Doc, but from what I've been told him and my dude Brenwald do a fair amount of business together. S'why I'm here. Lookin' for a way to earn a paycheck, little lady."

Scar flicked his gaze down an alley behind her as he was sure he saw something move. He shrugged to himself and looked back over at Dahlia.

[14:16 January 1st, 2072; Outside Seattle University Campus Library, Downtown Seattle]
As Silk trawled ShadowSEA in her search for Matrix support and astral backup, she found herself staring at the equivalent of a classifieds page. Members of the local Seattle VPN, eager to make a name for themselves or find a job, usually started here, posting a small blurb about themselves in the hopes they'll find a decent team, or their big break into the shadows. Most of the people who posted here were new to the shadows, with reputation scores low from a complete lack of work history.

A few entries stand out. One, a local magician about Silk's age, called himself He-Who-Sees-Within. A short biographical introduction described him as a shamanic-style magician, though he didn't mention what totem he followed. He indicated he excelled at Detection magic as well as astral recon, and was good at sniffing out clues with his Talents.

There seemed to be a lack of hackers on this page for the time however. More than likely hackers had their own channels and communities, more focused and specialized than the general ShadowSEA network. Of the ones on the page, the one that stood out was by a guy who went by the handle Max Hax. His reputation score seemed to be in the negatives, although from the reviews that people had left, he had done the hacks required of him, and extraordinarily well. The negative feedback seemed centered around his abrasive personality. One review described him as "...a loathsome bug of a human being, a stain on the face of humanity with whom we are all associated and judged by virtue of sharing the same planet as him. Surprisingly, and perhaps fortunately for us, he is more than the excessive talk he spews at any given moment. Works for nuyen, though he gladly took payment in novacoke."

[20:48 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Carefully Akecheta ascended the stairs to the second floor of the building, holding the Praetor at ready position. Since the garage had been empty there was a pretty good chance he'd run into all the remaining four mobster up there. That would get interesting. His body was tense and he was breathing slightly faster than the physical activity demanded.

He felt good for the first time in a long while. In this moment of blissful danger he was free of thoughts of Lilly, free of the crushing guilt that dominated every waking moment.
Adrenalin rushed through his veins, he wanted to run those stairs up and destroy his enemies. But he controlled his urges enough to keep a fast but not carelessly rushed pace.

Bring it on, bitches!

Akecheta
[20:48 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Being lost in the whirlwind of a fight with mafia thugs was what the Beast needed to get his mind from the normal troubles that he faced. Every sound seemed to echo loudly as the course of adrenaline in his veins kept him in a combat ready state. He was sure the other thugs had not bailed, but he had to be careful to ensure he did not accidentally harm the target he was meant to locate. As he reached the top of the stairs, the sound of an explosion from further down the hall caught his immediate attention as he recognized the report of a shotgun.

"You stupid fuck! Who do you think you're fuckin' with!" A voice called down the hall towards him.

[20:48 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akecheta recoiled a bit when the loud gunshot rang through the hallway. One of these bastards had been lying in wait for him and had managed to surprise him. The shotgun round hit the troll in the chest area with a low 'thump' sound and knocked the air out of his lungs. Luckily it hadn't penetrated his copious layers of stacked armor and only left a small bruise.

The Beast laughed wildly and stared at his attacker, his blood-red eyes lightening up with glee behind the helmet's visor.

"Wanna try again omae?"

The thug blinked for a moment at the troll as he simply shrugged off the shotgun blast to the chest. "No, no I don't think I will. Fuck that!"

The mafioso stepped back into the room and slammed the door shut behind, leaving Akecheta standing alone in the hallway for the moment. The upstairs had had four doors; one on the right, two on the left, and one at the end of the hall.

OOC: You can shoot at him before he disappears into the room, but you'll only get your one turn before he is in such a place so as to not be shot without moving from the stairs.

[20:49 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akecheta saw the mobster trying to get back inside the room and therefore out of the troll's line of sight. Quickly he took aim and pulled the trigger of his SMG, sending a massive hail of bullets towards the italian. While firing he started running towards the man.

[20:49 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The hail of bullets spitting from Akecheta's SMG contacted with the thug as he attempted to flee back into the room. The door is knocked open and back against the wall which gives the troll a clear view of the man who hits the floor. The troll finds himself standing outside of the door with a clear view of the mobster and a partial view of a bedroom ahead of him.

OOC: He won't be able to soak enough damage to not be incapacitated with that attack action, no matter what.

[20:49 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The troll steps over the italian's unconscious body into the bedroom to have quick look. Damn, where is this guy? I don't have all day, the guards have probably called the mob for reinforcements.

[20:49 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The troll steps over the prone Italian, once again graced by the faint whisper of burning flesh in the air. The sight that was before him was not one he expected even in a mafia safehouse. The room itself was completely coated in blood save for a few inches near the ceiling. It looks as though this has long been a place where the mafia has butchered or interrogated their victims. The carpet that remains is stiff from dried blood and it is impossible to discern what it's original color once was.

In the center of the room is a sturdy chair where a short, black haired man is bound and gagged nude. His head is hanging down though he does appear to still be breathing. He is covered in blood from almost head-to-toe. Sitting on a bench beside him are a variety of hand and power tools that are coated in dried blood. Nothing else appears to be moving in the upstairs of the condo.

[20:49 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Holy Drek! Akecheta had seen his share of interrogation scenes in his time with the Lakota mafia, but normally the room had been cleaned up after. The italians apparently saw no need for that, this building wasn't exactly in a neighbourhood where any law enforcement would ever get a look inside and all the blood was certainly helping with the 'intimidation' part of interrogation.

Letting go of his SMG, which now dangled on it's sling, he covered the distance to the chair with two big steps. There he grabbed some torture tool with a blade from the workbench and cut the tied up man loose. Then the troll shook him lightly to snap the guy out of his haze.

"You awake man? C'mon get up we need to get outta here!"

Giving the prisoner a moment to focus, Akecheta stripped the unconscious mobster on the floor of his jacket, shoes and pants and threw them next to the torture chair. He couldn't exactly cart around a naked blood-covered guy on his motorcycle.

Quickly he acessed his skinlinked commlink over his DNI and sent a short text message to the Johnson.

<<Got your package. Where do you want it delivered?>>

Then he checked on the prisoner again to see if the guy was conscious now.

[20:28 January 1st, 2072; Club Penumbra, International District, Seattle]

Seti finished looking over the information Dahlia had sent to him. "Okay," he nodded to his companion. "Here's what it's looking like. One of the Corps is looking to 'sponser' a team in the Shadow Wars. Only problem is, the team itself is less than enthusiastic." He took a sip from his drink. "Our job will be to track down each member of this team, capture them alive, and bring them back to TransGeni. Luckily, it looks like they bolted separately, so we don't need to take on a whole team at one time, just pick them off one-by-one." And not get double-crossed by the Johnson, Seti thought. The last thing we need is for them to decide we're good enough to take their team's place.

He looked up at Rhodes. "So an oh-so-average snatch-and-grab, except this time the target might shoot back. A little planning, though, and I'm sure we can ambush them just fine. Catch 'em with their pants down, so to speak. And, luckily enough, we've even got basic dossiers on each of them. Heck, we can start planning this tonight."

[20:49 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akecheta quickly received a response from the Johnson with a set of coordinates and a short message, <<"We are waiting to pick up the package approximately one mile from your current location.">>

The bound man did not stir or move as the troll attempted to rouse him to consciousness. He was not entirely sure why he was still unconscious but blood loss might have been a fairly decent guess. As he cut the prisoner loose, the prisoner slid down into the chair and slumped partway onto the floor.

[20:49 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Damn! The guy didn't wake up. Akecheta would have to carry him. He quickly put the mobster's jacket and pants on the unconscious prisoner and then heaved the limb body on his shoulder. Gripping the Praetor with his right hand, he used the left to secure his load.
Barely slowed by the weight the big troll set off towards the stairs, intent on getting back to his bike as fast as possible.

[20:55 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

The condo was still relatively quiet as the troll made his way down the stairs. Both of the thugs he had stunned downstairs appeared to still be out of commission; one groaning in pain while the other laid silently in whatever La-La land he was currently exploring. Akecheta slipped out of the hole he had created to gain access to the condo and bolted down the street as quickly as he could. He found his bike waiting for him where he had left it, completely undisturbed. Having been inside of the condo used as a safehouse the troll was able to fairly quickly figure out why the locals gave the place a wide berth. That much blood in any one location one must have been fairly certain to overhear things periodically.

Akecheta resisted the urge to relax even though he felt as though he was closing in on the home stretch of this payday. He disabled the security measures on his bike and mounted, attempting to find a comfortable way to carry the unconscious prisoner. It was at that time that he noticed the high-pitched whine of sport bikes from down the street. Either go-gangers or back up from the mafia were on their way; and either way he would probably be best served to get scarce as soon as possible.

[20:55 January 1st, 2072; Dilapidated Condominium; Bargain Basement]

Akecheta positioned the unconscious body in front of him and then kick-started the troll-sized racing machine while the sound of approaching bikes heralded danger coming his way.

Looks like the cavalry is arriving...

A part of him wanted to stay and fight the newcomers, wanted to shoot them all down and get lost in the rush of combat, but he restrained himself.
He'd better not get into a bike chase with a go-gang or mob reinforcements either, he knew his skills and driving wasn't among the ones he excelled at. Quickly the troll pulled up a map of the area, entered the coordinates for the meeting point and set off with squealing tires.

Akecheta
[21:03 January 1st, 2072; Streets of Redmond

The troll’s bike came to life under him as he roared off down the street away from the back-up that was rapidly approaching. The map indicator that popped up showed the coordinates to not be more than a mile away. The squalor and decadence of the condoplex was soon behind Akecheta as he cut his way through the streets of Redmond. He caught sight of a couple of fights along the way but no one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to him and the ward he watched over that was slumped in front of him.

After but a few short minutes, he noted the building the coordinates indicated coming up on the right. It appeared to be a rather large, dilapidated warehouse that had fallen out of use quite some time ago. On the front of the warehouse was a pair of doors. One appeared to be drawn shut, the other stood part way open; just enough for him to slip under on his bike.

Akecheta
[21:07 January 1st, 2072; A Ruined Warehouse

He slipped under and immediately noticed the situation he was riding into. Sitting right before him was a hover-van of some sort. The sides of the fan were covered in a thin, black plastic film which covered all identifying marks on it. The license plate had the same sort of cover over it. Leaning against the back doors of the hover-van was a short, Japanese man wearing a navy blue pinstriped suit. He removed his sunglasses as the Beast pulled in to the garage.

The businessman thumped twice on the back of the hover-van and the doors cracked open. A man and a woman in dark blue jump-suits with black strips wrapped over parts of the uniform hopped out. Both wore full hoods and moved quietly to the motorcycle to retrieve the wounded man. They carried him quickly back to the hover-van and loaded him on to a gurney.

The woman and businessman looked intently at each other for a moment before he turned his attention to the troll. He motioned downward with his hand and one of the guards lowered the garage door behind him.

This set Akecheta’s nerves on edge until he saw the familiar blinking of a transfer received to his account. The Johnson smiled pleasantly at the troll.

“Good evening to you sir. I am most pleased with your success in retrieving our man before he could be executed. I have been informed he will survive with a blood transfusion and some medical care, so for that I am giving you a bonus of an additional 1500 nuyen.” The troll checked the last transaction to come in and noted that the amount received was indeed 7500 instead of the aforementioned 6000. The Johnson turned slightly and watched the hover-van as it exited through the back of the warehouse. Akecheta could now see a pair of hover-cars sitting towards the back of the warehouse which the van had previously obscured.

“Oh, forgive my manners. My name is Mr. Okayama,” the businessman said as he walked forward and offered his hand. “I apologize for the secrecy regarding my contacting you, but I assure you it was best for all parties involved.”

[05:29 January 4th, 2072; Unknown Apartment Building, Seattle]
When Ultima opened her eyes, she saw nothing but darkness. She had the vague sensation of laying on her back and staring upwards, though the room was spinning slightly. Fingers sank into the blankets and mattress on both sides of her so that she would not fly off the bed.

A bed. Not hers, of course. The mattress she had wasn't this soft. Somebody else's. What..? How..? She shook her head, trying to shake off the fog that had settled over her brain, making logical thought hard to come by.

Snoring, like a saw cutting against wood grain, came from beside her. Groggily she let her head turn to the side, and saw a man, an ork, sleeping next to her on his stomach, naked save for the thin sheet covering him below the waist.

I let some muchacho take me home, huh? Chingada, but my head fucking hurts.

Ultima pulled the sheets off of her and sat there on the edge of the bed, wiggling her toes to work some feeling back into her feet. She was as naked as the day she came into this world, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, light provided only by the glow of electronic devices throughout the room, she saw her clothes in a pile next to the bed. She shook her head and attempted to recall the events leading up to this moment, and discovered she could not.

The woman winced. She felt sore, as if joints and muscles had been overexerted. Some spots felt tender, and she knew them for bruises even if she could not see them.

He must've worked me over good for me to feel like this. Though by the way he's snoring, I think I gave as good as I got.

It wasn't the first time she'd found herself in the morning after a one-night stand. But she knew enough than to stick around for the other person to wake up. That made for awkward moments and eyes averted from embarassment. No, she'd slip out of here before he even woke up to piss and they'd both be better off for it.

Fuck, but why can't I remember anything?

She picked up the pile of clothes belonging to her and carried them into the bathroom. Shutting the door so she wouldn't disturb her "partner," she flipped on the light and recoiled at the bruises covering her body. These weren't caused by just night of rough bedroom Olympics. She looked as if she'd been beaten. Ultima pressed a hand to her ribs, as they were covered with purple bruises that looked quite severe, and barely bit back a yelp. It would be a wonder if her ribs weren't broken.

What the hell did he do to me? I better get out of here before I decide to fuck him up in his sleep.

Her face flushed red from the anger and indignation she felt, having apparently been violated in more ways than one over the course of the evening. So angry was she that she dressed as fast as she could regardless of how much it hurt to wear clothes again. Slipping on her heavy, armored coat was agony, and the bulky lining pressed into those tender ribs with every breath.

At least he'd left her gun alone. He must've seen it at some point, tossed on top of the pile as it was. And yet there she was, still in his bed, and he sleeping soundly. Obviously he wasn't put off by a woman carrying serious heat. She opened the cylinder to see if it was still loaded. She saw that two of the casings were empty. Surprised, she sniffed at the empty chambers and smelled gunpowder residue.

Dios mio. I fired this thing tonight?

Suddenly she was beginning to think her initial impressions were mistaken. Something strange had gone on this evening, and she couldn't even remember a single part of it. Carefully and quietly, she went back into the bedroom, looking for the man's commlink. She had no idea who he was, but figured contacting him later on would be the best way to retrace her steps. Finding his commlink in his jeans pockets, she dialed her own commcode, so that she could get his contact number and call him later.

"You're up." His voice was raspy, and he coughed. Ultima froze and felt a bolt of panic shoot through her.

"Yeah," she replied softly. "What... what happened? I can't remember anything."

The ork rolled onto his back, then took a deep breath before going into the story. "I saw you in Dante's Inferno. Coupla hispanic guys were chattin' you up, and they seemed into you. You turned your head for a second and they slipped something in your beer. Figured they were taking you home. You all started acting weird, and I knew they'd spiked your drink. I figured they were taking some easy snatch back to their doss for a good time. I was done drinking so I paid and left. Heard some gunshots after I'd left, and checked it out. Saw them roughing you up in an alley. Seemed like they knew who you were. I don't like it when guys rough up dames, so I pulled out my nine. Left them in a dumpster, brought you here, was gonna let you take the couch. But you came to and you seemed grateful. And I'm a guy, when a cute dame puts moves on me, I'm in no position to say no. So I figured my bed is small, but there's enough room for two." The ork gave a shrug, and the dim lights playing on his features barely revealed the tiniest of smiles. "Not sure what they gave you, but if it's any consolation, it's a night I won't forget."

Ultima took a deep breath, and she felt ashamed that she'd had it all wrong about this guy. He'd saved her life. Maybe he, too, took advantage of her suggestible state, but if she was being seriously assaulted, maybe it was better than the alternative.

"I... um... I want..." Ultima stuttered, unable to get any meaningful sentences out. That awkwardness had finally arrived.

"Null sweat, chica. I know how the game's played. I can roll over and go back to sleep and you can slip out. I put my number in your comm, though. Name's Dozer. You've got style, and you're funny. Maybe a bit crazy, and sorta religious, but it's all good. You can call me later or erase my number." Dozer winked at her in the darkness, and then rolled over. Almost impossibly soon he was snoring.

Ultima's mind reeled at the ork's story. It sounded too crazy to be made up. Had any of her old crew followed her all the way here, to Seattle? Thousands of kilometers from Caracas? Surely they weren't that determined to punish her for something she didn't even do.

I'm twenty kinds of idiota for getting myself into this sort of trouble. I'll have to repay Dozer for his help. Later.

She slipped out the front door and made her way home.

[21:07 January 1st, 2072; A Ruined Warehouse]

At first Akecheta had been a bit suspicious throughout the exchange, expecting an ambush or some other kind of double-cross but after the hover-van had left and the Nuyen were sitting pretty in his bank account he relaxed a bit.

Seems I'm working for the yaks. Well not that big of a shock, everybody knows they clash with the mob more often than not. But I thought they hate metas, especially "trogs"? Wonder why they picked me, a random troll in a bar, for this job and not their own men...

When Mr. Okayama walked over and introduced himself the troll took of his helmet and ski-mask, his black-and-red lion mane falling down over his back like a waterfall.

Better be polite here, I heard the japs get off on formality and manners and shit like that.

Looking at the japanese man with his crimson eyes he took the offered hand and shook it, carefull not to crush it with an unintentionally strong grip.

"My pleasure. I'm called Beast but I get the feeling you already know that."

Akecheta
[21:12 January 1st, 2072; Ruined Warehouse

The diminutive Mr. Okayama shook the troll’s hand with a firm grip and smiled up at him pleasantly. “I know a bit, yes. But I will not pretend to be presumptuous about the troll you are Mr. Beast. We simply keep an eye on many of the local watering holes and you appeared to have the skills necessary to perform the job we had on hand. It would appear that I was correct in that conclusion.”

Mr. Okayama turned a bit and walked towards a desk where he rifled through some items that were present, “Speaking of, I may have another job for you within the next day or so should you be interested in making some more money by working for me?”

The dapper Japanese businessman appeared to be checking something that was in hard copy before turning back to Akecheta. “I have some details to iron out with the job but if you like I can contact you before I look elsewhere. These kinds of minor jobs are the sort of thing we like to test talent with for more difficult jobs in the future, you see. There is always something to be done.”

OOC: If you want to record a new contact on your character sheet, you can list Mr. Okayama as a Loyalty 1 / Connections 3 generic Johnson for the time being.

[14:25 January 1st, 2072; ShadowSEA Node]

Silk took the time to update her ShadowSEA profile, noting that her rep had plummeted due to lack of action, whilst emailing He-Who-Sees-Within to see if he might be interested in the recon role...

<<If you're looking for work I could do with a downtown small corp building being scoped out for astral threats. Rates are negotiable.>>

Max Hax could wait, perhaps Aria would come up with something better...

"Just 'cause they bolter separately don't mean they're going to stay dat way, y'know," Rhodes said. "If they're a team, they're prolly gonna stick together -- strength in numbers. Even if find one of 'em alone, we'd better act like they's got back-up close." He pulled an old, UCAS Army standard-issue K-bar combat knife out from under his jacket and starts cleaning the dirt out from under his nails with its wickedly sharp point. "But yeah, if you're right, should be a cake-walk. Who else we got? You, me, yer friend. . . anyone else?"

[20:29 January 1st, 2072; Club Penumbra, International District, Seattle]

"Who else we got? You, me, yer friend...anyone else?"

Seti shook his head. "Probably, but I don't know yet. This is Dahlia's job, so she'll be picking crew. She's not stupid, I'll give her that much." Just terrifying beyond all rational explanation. And good-looking in form-fitting armor. "She'll have her bases covered, even if it means she has to ask us to supply additional manpower." He sighed. "I was really looking forward to having that mage on hand. Magical support is always a rare treat. Oh well."

Seti stood, and gulped the last of his drink. "We should probably actually get together with her pretty soon, help her work out all the angles. If you have somebody in mind to bring along for the job, you can mention him then."

He wiped the condensation off hands on his pants, and pulled out his commlink.

<<Dahlia: Have a Brick for the mission, but lost the Magic; he wasn't down with superbugs. Brick's name is Rhodes. Where/When do you want to meet up?>>