Blender nods. "I think getting someone in as a transfer would be best. But we'll have to learn more about this company, and see how many other warehouses they own. He would have to be transferring from somewhere where the people at this warehouse would never have met him."

Apoc shrugs. "I could go in as a forklift operator, sure. But I'm going to need a fake ID for that kind of thing. And I'm not exactly sure what I need to be doing once I get in there..."

Apoc picks up the phone and dials a number. It rings a bit before Zoe picks up.

After a bit of chitchat, he asks for what he's looking for. "I need a set of papers, nothing too fancy. Gotta hold up for a few weeks, though, at least."

Zoe replies it shouldn't be a problem, usually takes about 8 hours, and should probably spend 4 grand for it to have a decent chance of holding up.

"You want to be anyone in particular?"

Dragon dials up Sybersnake. "Hey, Syber, I got an ID I need you to run. Can you look up all the injuries matching this picture and description (insert Mr. Johnson's description, sends her the picture), going about a week back? Any relevant info on this guy's background, especially the injury itself, how he got it, and any connection he has with (insert warehouse's name) should be bookmarked. Thanks."

Apoc gives it a second's thought. "Anyone with some mechanical experience. Forklifts, trucking, whatever. With a VCR permit attached if you can swing it. Grade ain't important."

Sybersnake Calls Dragon back a few hours later. "I think I've got news you will like. I may even waive my payment."

Dragon wonders what he is going to have to do instead.

Sybersnake continues, "I think the Johnson's real name is Kevin Brown. Why you may ask? It seems Mr. Brown was treated last Friday for a broken right arm at Doctors Hospital of Tacoma. That record fairly jumped out. It seems Mr. Brown filed a workman's comp claim to pay for the injury, citing EDT, Inc. as the employer. That name should ring a bell as it is the company you wanted me to run some product codes for. By the time he finished being treated, the termination notices from EDT on Mr. Brown had entered the system, leaving him to pay out of his pocket or get a leg broke, too.

"This is where it gets a bit funnier. Early Saturday morning, someone entered Doctors and marked the bill paid. Pretty slick job, too. I doubt the hospital will notice unless their attention was drawn to this one particular account. At that, it's not like setting and casting a broken arm costs a lot, compared to some other surgeries.

"The product codes. The first one you gave me is for, you gotta love this, a Fairlight Excalibur. Yes, you heard right. I thought about having one shipped to me, but when I looked further into it, It seems they verify receipt of payment before those ship. So much for me getting a new Fairlight.

"The other product numbers are for some sweet little programs, not nearly as valuable as the Fairlight mind you, but if you snag me a <product code> or two, I'll consider your account paid in full with maybe a little credit toward future jobs.

"Sound good to you?"

"The plot thickens!" Blender crows. A disgruntled former employee trying to screw over his old corp.

"Any thoughts on playing both sides?" Renegade asks. "it would be risky, but perhaps we could blackmail the Johnson?"

Dragon shrugs. "I'd be willing to give it a try. Any thoughts as to the how?"

"Better yet, what's the why? If the fragger wants to turn on his old employers, I couldn't care less, provided we can get paid. Unless he's independantly wealthy, I'd wager whatever we're stealing is what's going to produce our pay," Apoc says, stoic as ever.

"Absolutely," Renegade agrees. What I'm thinking is, we do the run, get him the stuff, and he pays us. Then we go to his home, knock him out with gel rounds, steal back the stuff we stole for him, then anonymously tip his corp off that he was the one who did it, so that they take care of him, leaving him in no position to get back at us without us having to dodge a murder investigation.

Everyone starts dreaming of what they would do with the proceeds from "The Big Score". Then they hear how readily people are to betray the guy who set the job up. Then they wonder how readily they would betray each other. Several people have already gone missing...

Who has been out of sight when the others disappeared?

Some things keep nagging at the back of your mind, just out of reach. Some of the things that seemed silly like, "Why not have a decker phony up a fake shipment" have been proven to be erroneous plans. Was the Johnson such a schlub after all? What was it Sybersnake said about him? Maybe Mr. Brown/Johnson needs investigated a bit more. Like who was he planning this run with that sent a professional to the meet as a bodyguard? The more each thinks about it, the more questions arise.

"Ehhh... If the Johnson is playing us straight, I've no desire to rat him out. Stuff like that might not come back at us in the legal world, but it'll be all over the shadows in seconds. No one is going to hire runners who bump off their Johnson just for fun," Apoc says. "This plum isn't sweet enough to set me up with that private island in the Carribiean League I've always wanted, so let's try to keep ourselves employable."

He grins. "If he's not playing us straight, that's another matter, of course."

Dragon thinks for a moment. "Wait a second. How does someone get a broken arm working in an electronics warehouse? Either he trips and falls down the stairs, or he gets it doing manual labor. But if he is a manual laborer, how was he able to put this thing together? And he's going for the Fairlights? There's gotta be other stuff he can grab to cover his costs and get revenge that won't bring the heat taking those will bring. I think we're missing quite a few things here. Maybe we should investigate Mr. Johnson more before we do anything. And I'd like to avoid a massive running tab with my friend. Why don't we just find ourselves a decker? We're running short as is. What do you guys think?"

"He worked for the company that owns the warehouse," Blender says. "He didn't necesarily work in the warehouse. I have my own theory: Since this guys apparently intends us to grab this deck and the programs for his own use, I think he must be a decker. I think he was a black-ops decker for this company. Then the company fired him, taking his gear and beating him up. Now, he wants us to get his gear back for him so he can get back at his former corp. If this guy is a shadowrunner, I don't ant to screw him over."

Dragon shakes his head, as if clearing it. "Point. Anyway, I'm not into this screwing the Johnson thing. I don't know what came over me there. If he isn't playing it straight with us, well then I'll reassess my position. But assuming he's on the up and up, let's just do the job. So we want to bring a decker into this, maybe investigate Mr. Johnson a little more. Apoc, are you going to try to get hired into the warehouse then? Those are pretty much the main items on the agenda thus far, if I recall correctly."

"Yep, got a call in now," Apoc says. "Goin' to need a fake ID to get hired with, no point in waltzin' in there with illegal cyber and askin' to get a job when it's just goin' to get me in deep trouble."

Blender suddenly jumps out of his chair. Excited, he says "What we really need to ask ourselves is why he wants us to steal the stuff without the company realizing it was stolen. One possibility is that because it used to be the Johnson's gear, the company would know it was him who stole it. A second possibility is that the johnson plans to use the stuff we steal to steal even more stuff from the same warehouse, and doesn't want security to be on alert. But there's a third possibility which really intrigues me. What if he genuinely doesn't want us to kill anyone or do any property damage? What if the Johnson is still working for his company, and merely quit their official payrolls for deniability? What if the corp hired us for a run against itself just to test us?"

Dragon raises an eyebrow. "Then I'd be very, very curious as to who really owns this warehouse. Sounds like the kinda drek Lofwyr would pull."

Wednesday April 15 0600

Apoc gets the call back and grunts. He hangs up and stretches a little. "Alright, time to do this thing. Anyone want to ride with?" He pulls on a set of clothing that's plain, sturdy, and not overly stained with grease.

With or without riders, he hops into his van and picks up the ID before heading over to the temp agency, making it there shortly after they open. He drops the van a half block away and makes his way inside, doing his best to look out of work.

He shows up and shuffles inside. He siddles up to the receptionist and asks, "Um... I'm here about a job."

"Good, that's what we're here for," the receptionist says, shooting you a plastic smile that looks perpetually glued to her face. She hands Apoc several forms, and asks if there is any job he is there for in particular. Hearing his response, she hands Apoc a clipboard with what seems like an awful lot of paperwork.

She explains that the agency is entitled to 20% of Apoc's pay for the first 6 months of any employment they find for him. She asks if he is qualified for any other positions and if he will accept temporary positions, she adds they pay slightly more.

Upon Apoc's completion of the forms, the receptionist asks for his ID and tells him a drug test will be required for the position he applied. She actually reads the form for the first time so that she can properly forward or file it.

"Thank you for your interest in our service. Can you be reached at this number?" She writes the indicated number on a post it note and affixes it to the top sheet in the newly created file and hands back the ID. "That's it. We will contact you when we hear something."

Apoc doesn't generally look happy about the 20% cut, but goes to the paperwork, anyway. Remembering all of the details of a SIN he'd just gotten that morning was tough, but he muddled through somehow. Finally, he gives her a cell number and makes his way back to the garage.

"Well, application is in," he says to anyone there when he gets back.

Dragon rolls over from a brief catnap he was taking. "Wazzat? Oh hey, glad things went without a hitch. At least, it looks that way." He yawns.

"Well, good news. It looks like we're on the search for a promising decker. I think we've turned up a few promising ones so far, but I'm not certain yet. Blender said he'll handle the hiring. So I guess we're finally starting to roll merrily along our way. Oh by the way, did we finish verifying Mr. J's info yet? I think we mostly had it complete, but it sounds to me like we've got our rough outline of a Plan A. Thoughts?"

Rolling himself off the couch, Dragon shuffles over to a kaf machine and makes a cup of steaming kaf for anyone in the warehouse who wants one, then brings them back to the "planning area" for another enjoyable skullsweat session.

Geez, I wonder if real people hate waking up this much too? Oh well, at least this time I got to sleep with a roof over my head and not being too worried about getting shot at. Hell, if this goes off right, I might not get shot at once this entire mission. Ha, that'll be the day Smiling at this cheery realization, he prepares to get to work.

Wednesday, April 15, 1405

Apoc's cellphone rings. It is the temp service with news that Leonard D. Kesselbottom has been hired by EDT, Inc., pending a satisfactory drug screening. He is to report to work April 16th at 4pm. If he fails to pass his drug screen or fails to report to work, , he will be charged :nuyen:500 for breach of contract. The drug screen can be done at any Doc Wagon location. She gives a number to have the results sent.

Renegade conjures another watcher to replace the last one watching the warehouse.

"Just great..." Apoc grumbled, but nevertheless he set out to have the drug test done. He was clean, of course, but it was still a violation.

Blender responds to a "decker for hire" ad on a local shadow message board. He asks the decker to meet him in a local bar down by the docks at 9 PM.

Preston

At approximately 8:59 PM, a man dressed fully in black biking leathers rides slowly along the docks on his Blitzen. A reasonably full looking black rucksack is securely attached to his back, and his dark visor open, revealing a faint glint of impressively blue eyes as he pulls up in a convenient place.

As he kicks the stand down, the pistol holster attached to his hip becomes more evident. He looks around, then darts a quick glance up to the sign for the bar, before cutting the lights and engine.

This area looks a little rough, I hope the guy who left the message gets here soon.

At this time, Blender has been sitting inside the bar for about ten minutes. He sips his bottled water as he squirms in his seat, trying to find a comfortable sitting position despite the swords strapped to his back.

Preston takes another glance around and decides to 'bite the bullet', as it were. He removes the helmet, revealing amiable elven features, two electric blue datajacks and electric blue circuitboard tattos 'joining' the 'jacks to his electric blue hair. Shifting the helmet to his left hand, he heads into the bar.

Blender flicks a peanut at the newcomer with his finger as he passes by. After getting his attention, he waves him over to the booth.

Preston looks momentarily worried before he guesses who the peanut bombardier is likely to be. He approaches the table.

"You were the one looking for Matrix support?"

Or am I heading for trouble?

Thursday, April 16, 1545

Apoc shows up at the EDT warehouse and approaches the guard shack. A guard comes out to see what he wants and hears that he is supposed to start work at the next shift.

The guard goes inside and returns shortly. He gives Apoc a pass card and tells him where to park and who to see inside the warehouse.

Once inside the warehouse, Apoc meets the supervisor and has the job explained to him along with a slight interrogation as to his qualifications. It is explained that on this shift the warehouse employees unload the incoming trucks and shelve the pieces. Since many of the items are the same, and go to the same spot in the warehouse, this is the easiest shift to learn and also the shift with the least number of employees. The items are scanned in, and checked against the Bill Of Lading, new stock number stickers are placed on the boxes and then the item is shelved according to that number.

Apoc spends half the night working closely with Bob before being left to work on his own.

Apoc goes about his first night on the job being very focused on what he is doing. He's concious of the security system in place, so he doesn't try to get a look around or roam from his work areas, though he makes careful note of anything that he manages to see as he does move around.

His particular interest is in what kind of screening is done on employees as they come in to work.

Apoc has access to all areas of the warehouse except the cage, but he passes it frequently as he drives the forklift past, running boxes from in front of dock doors to their places on the racks of pallets. He locates all the secondary targets, noting they are all nearly the same size. He discreetly examines one. If he has deciphered the computerese correctly, it appears to be a box containing 12 individually packaged chips of computer programs.

Apoc doesn't try getting too near the supervisors desk, as it is right out in open view to anyone. He does make an effort to do some surveillance on the cage. They have not given Apoc the code for it. When someone has a box for it, they call for Bob, and he puts it in the cage.

As it is pretty east to know when Bob is going to access the cage, Apoc manages to run his forklift to where he can observe. Bob punches in some numbers on the maglock, opens the door, shelves the case, and closes the metal door behind him. No spirit materializes.

At lunch time, Apoc gets some snacks and a drink from the vending machines. There is a long wait to use the one microwave. No one addresses Apoc for about half the time, then one man explains.

"We're not trying to be rude. It just seems like it isn't worth getting to know the new guys until they've been here a few days. They're always quitting. It dawns on them how much the placement service is taking from them, then how much gets deducted from their check for union dues," another employee snorts, "and taxes and benefits. It makes it seem like it hardly pays to work."

The guy who snorted adds, "Yeah, and it seems like the only thing our so called union does is try to explain how lucky we are to have a job. If the company cuts back on employees or makes us pay for a benefit they used to pay for, they say they kept some of the jobs or a few of the benefits."

The first speaker continues, "We've lost some new guys the first night. I think the record was 20 minutes. He asked where the bathroom was and never came back. So just hang in there, and when we get used to you, we'll be a bit friendlier."

Apoc wants to bail after the depressing exchange. He'd ask where the bathroom was too, if this were a real job and he was being fleeced as thoroughly as these poor slobs. But the payoff should be better and he wants to see the enter/exit procedure.

After a short eternity the shift ends, some of the guys working the next shift are mingling amongst the current shift's employees and Apoc sees a little bit of a difference. These guys seem a to stand a little straighter, move a little quicker. They don't seem as beaten as the guys you have been working with.

Apoc flows along with his shift as it punches the timeclock and heads out the door. They walk in almost a file toward the guard shack, entering the outer door. There is a door in front of them, leading to where the guards are. To the right is a short hall turning a left corner and ending at a windowed door, the left wall is made of some transparent substance giving the guards a full view of the people in the corridor. Bob swipes his company ID card and the door opens. The employees enter one at a time. When Apoc's turn comes, he swipes his card, goes through the door and sees that the left wall is transparent here, too. He waits as the guard buzzes the next windowed door open. He pushes the door open, sees that the left wall is still transparent and the exit door leading to the employee parking area. Apoc starts his vehicle and approaches the gate, again swiping his company ID and opening the gate.

Friday, April 17, 0030

Blender nods. Leaning close to the decker, he says "My name is Blender. You must be Preston." At Preston's nod, he continues. "The job is burglary; steal a few packages from an electronics warehouse. It pays 210,000 nuyen upon completion, and you would be the fifth member of the team. We have already begun work on the job, but we don't have a decker yet. Sound good to you?"

Apoc wipes the sweat from his brow and pulls the van around a corner a few blocks away and parking long enough to jot down a description of everything he saw and can remember into his pocket secretary before he forgets anything.

That done, he heads back to the garage and calls up the gang to let them know that he has info.

Dragon is just sitting in the warehouse, manning the fort, playing cards or something until the others get back.

Preston considers this for a moment before seating himself opposite Blender.
"Sure, sounds interesting. Two questions though: What's the split, and what's the timeframe?"

"The split is even. That's a little over 40 grand a piece if you join. The timefram is one week."

Renegade replaces the watcher again.

Preston

"Okay, sounds good. What do you need me to do?"

"First, let's go back to the safehouse so we all can fill you in on the rest of it." Blender takes the new decker back to the team's safehouse.

Preston happily hops back on his Blitzen and follows Blender, glad to be getting away from the rather oppressive docks.

Dragon's phone rings. It is Xiao Li asking if you can give her a ride to the Ford dealership so she can pay for the work on her car and arrange to have it towed home. They close at noon on saturday and re-open on Monday.

Dragon looks over at Beast. "I gotta step out for a little bit. I'll be back shortly. Give me a call if anything important happens."

After leaving the warehouse, he drives around a bit to make sure he isn't being followed, then goes to pick up Xiao Li and takes her to the carshop. After the work is paid for and the car towed back, he drives her home and heads back to the warehouse, all the while being careful not to be followed.

After picking up Grandma and on the way to the Ford dealership, Dragon hears Grandma explain what happened. It is hard to follow some of the story as the woman is nearly in tears.

It seems Grandma pulled into the dealership when her temperature light came on. She explained this to the service manager and took a seat while she waited her turto get into the garage. The manager called her to his desk a few hours later and informed her she would need a head job and that it would run over a thousand nuyen.

Grandma didn't have over a thousand nuyen and was going to pay what she owed and try to limp the car home, stopping as necessary to let it cool down. However the car would no longer even start, and the bill was over 200 nuyen. that is when she called Dragon. She responds to Dragon's inquiries that she couldn't have driven more than a mile or 5 minutes between the light coming on and going directly to the dealership.

When Dragon gets to the dealership and tries to find out how a car that seemed fine except for a temperature light was now totally inoperable. The service manager points him toward a large human who is loudly joking to a couple other humans. Dragon asks him the same question.

"Oh, yeah. I remember that, a cooling problem. I drove it in here and was letting it warm up, and the next thing I know Bubba is finding me and telling me water blew about 3 feet high out of that little bottle thing beside the radiator."

Dragon guesses that the guy left the car running and wandered off, forgetting about it. "You say you drove the car in here," Dragon states.

"Yeah," Bubba answers, not realizing where this is leading.

"And now the car is inoperable?"

"I don't know about that," Bubba answers, starting to realize Dragon suspects he caused the damage to Grandma's car.

Dragon is getting angry that this fool ruined Grandma's car and is denying any responsibility. He notices Bubba and his buddies picking up tools that would make nice improvised clubs and realizes he is outnumbered 4 to 1 and that there are a lot more mechanics to come to their buddies aid. Dragon curbs his anger and returns to the service manager hoping to reach some compromise. He relates what Bubba told him and what he surmises has happened.

To Dragon's surprise, the service manager tells him the car will start. Maybe Dragon misunderstood the problem. But a half hour later, after many frantic tries by Bubba to start the car, it still sits there inoperable.

Dragon asks what they intend to do. The service manager says collect the money that is owed for "servicing" the car. Grandma cannot believe they want her to pay for them ruining her car.

Dragon figured it would be a nice quick thing: pick Grandma up, pay for the work, go home.

Yeah right. Geez, even in the real world nothing's that simple. Well so be it. Too bad it isn't in the shadows, or I'd blow his sorry hoop into next year. And that sorry yabos who think they're all scary looking. Oh well, guess I'll have to be legit here.

Looking over at the manager, he says, "OK, Mr...um..." he looks at the manager's nametag, which reads 'Steve'. "Steve. Do you mind if I call you Steve? Steve. Here's how I see things. My grandma says she drove into your repair shop here after the temperature light went on. Couldn't have been more than five minutes away from here. No problem, for you and your professionals here." He manages to keep most of the sarcasm out of his voice.

Taking a quick glance at the mechanics to make sure no one's getting any stupid ideas, he continues. Leaning over the counter in a friendly manner, he adds, "So I'm thinking it's all under control when I get the call to come pick her up. But then, a funny thing happens. I get here, and I find out that one of your boys says he drives it into the garage, and what a funny coincidence, suddenly it don't work too good anymore, and what was a minor problem becomes a car killing one."

Looking the manager straight in the eye, he gives him a cold, hard stare. "So here's how I see the situation. You and your boys are entitled to 200 nuyen for looking at the car. That's standard. You take a look, you get paid for your time."

Hearing this, Grandma starts to angrily protest. Turning to her, Dragon says gently but firmly in Chinese, "Grandma, let me take care of this. Don't worry, it'll be ok." After calming her down, he looks back at Steve.

Shrugging, he says, "Yeah, 200 nuyen for making a bad problem worse? Drek happens. But that's the way it goes. So like I was saying, 200 nuyen is your due. The 1500 nuyen? Bulldrek. Here's your choices.
Option A: You get 200 nuyen, car gets fixed, you get 1500 more nuyen.
Option B: You get 200 nuyen, car doesn't get fixed, you get nothing else.
Option C: Try to push your luck, and you get drek.

You scan me? So what's it going to be chummer? You tell me."

Keeping his senses finally tuned for any funny stuff, Dragon calmly and subtlely puts on his shock gloves under the counter, using his body to shield and conceal the movements. He also prepares himself to quick draw the Guardian and/or the Walther just in case it gets ugly.

I can't believe this. Getting ready to throw down with a freaking service manager and some lousy mechanics. Either way, these guys are going to get it, I'll make sure of that. They just don't know it yet. Gonna take care of this, but not now, now just yet. Or if they get stupid, maybe right now, just like this. His move, let's see what's up.

Using his cyberears to stay aware of the mechanics, he looks expectantly at the manager. "Well?"