April 1st, 2064 0600

“Are you sure this is going to work,” said the sandy haired exec. “Yes, I am sure,” replied the scientist. The two were standing in a concrete incased control room. The walls were lined with a titanium alloy and a layer of living bacteria. The two looked out into the main testing room. It was the largest single room in their secret facility and it housed the single greatest discovery (or so they believed) of the 5th world. The Stargate. The two men had worked side by side for three months to make the project work. That was only the end though. Three years of planning and more planning had preceded the last three months.

“Were so close now Alex, can you feel it?”
“I feel something,” replied the young man. Out in the Gate Room (as they had come to call it) technicians swarmed over the six meter wide circle. Diagnostics were being ran on diagnostic equipment, which in turn was monitoring the sensors and relays that were monitoring the ‘Gate. They had been ready for a month. They had been trying for a month. The two men’s theory of the actual use of the Stargate was based on notes Alex had found about an old U.S. Government program that had been shutdown a half century before. Those notes combined with Markuhm Von Braun’s discovery of similar alien technology in Germany had led the two men together. Now they were ready but they had hit a snag. They couldn’t make it work. After Von Braun’s extraction from SK the two men formed an Ares subsidiary called, appropriately: Gate Technologies. They were sure they could use the power of the gate to travel to other worlds and bring back advanced Technology. Then reverse engineer them and sell it. That alone would be enough to keep the company in the green. But the real treasure was the exploration of the galaxy. At least in thier minds. They were fairly certain if Ares found out about the project they would get shutdown post haste. So they assembled a team of scientist, engineers and linguists that they trusted, brought them to Seattle and set them to work.

But the damn thing wouldn’t turn on. They had gone through all their notes, researched everything they could find and they were certain they had it right. Seven symbols formed an address. They new the seventh symbol was the point of origin. All their notes and research confirmed this. Unfortunately, they only had three addresses. Just three. And none of them seemed to connect. They had thought of bypassing the Dial Home Device that was shipped over from Germany. But Markuhm was convinced that would be a mistake.

The technicians started leaving the room as work was wrapped up. They were trying something new today, another attempt. But this time they were feeding the main power of the building into the gate itself. A cold static voice came over the buildings intercom. “Ok all units we are ready to dial out. Engaging now.”

The first of seven chevrons slammed home. The sound of metal striking metal echoed in the gate room, but not in the reinforced control booth. The Decker running the computer sat frighteningly still as his mind remotely dialed the DHD. Six more chevrons slammed home. As each connexted they lit up with an orange light. A second passed and then another. Alex opened his mouth to speak when the buildings power flickered then died. An explosion of blue light crashed through the gate. Just before it reached the wall it was sucked back in. And for the briefest of moments a shimmering wall of water like energy filled the interior of the circle. Then it was gone.

“It worked,” uttered Alex, his voice echoing loudly in the deathly quiet room. “The answer is more power, the gate needs more power!”
“Sir,” the Decker’s voice erupted over the intercom. “We are getting reports of a massive blackout all over Seattle.”
“It must have blown every circuit in a half mile radius,” Markuhm mumbled under his breath.
“Ok we know what the problem is now, how do we fix it.”
The German scientist pondered on his colleagues words for a few moments. “Fusion cells, SK was working on Fusion cells, I am sure Ares has the same thing, we simply request them with the purpose of improving them. Unfortunately I feel that we will never be able to keep the gate open for more than a few seconds. Even with the cells power we are going to have to be very frugal with it’s use.”
“Alright,” replied Alex, “now come the hard part, I’ll start putting out feelers in the shadows and see if we can’t find a bunch of crazy ‘runners who are willing to get there atoms disintegrated.”

"...Yes, sir. I'll keep you posted." Preston hit the disconect on his telecom as he shook his head. You'd think after almost thirty years, dad would just ask 'how's it goin?'"

He finished his morning routine before hoping in the shower--which was promptly interupted by the incesant 'beeb' of the telecom. Preston hastily threw a towel on and rushed to the 'com and slapped the 'connect' key after turning off the viewscreen.

"y'ellow?" Preston said into the blank screen.

"Specialist! Is that anyway to speak to a superior?!" shouted the voice.

Preston smiled as his mind placed the voice, "No, Sergant. I suppose its not. How'd you get this number? The corporate masters?" he didn't even try to hide his sarcasm.

The voice laughed, "No. Actually Connors got it from the alumni association at BC. You'd be surprised at the mps worth of stuff they have...Anyway, we're in town for a while and were wondering if you could point us toward the nearest watering hole."

"You bet. Don't forget, Hammer, you still own me a drink for that thing in Atlanta."

"Technicaly, that event never took place. But I honor my debts."

The two laughed at the old joke.

Preston tapped a few keys "I'm sending a file with some directions, I'll meet you there in a hour."

He hit the disconect button.

Whisper smiled lightly, the sweet soothing sounds of the latest rendition of 'La Bohemme' sweeping across this small space she'd claimed as her own. She tilted her head to one side, peering at this newest work of hers; a plaster rose, smooth and perfect, that had been her life's focus for the last three weeks. It was nearly done, she believed, which of course meant that sleep was not too far away either. Nimble fingers swept aside a bit of sandy hair that had fallen from the tight ponytail she'd only fixed 33 hours ago though her pale grey eyes never left her work. All that was left was the detonator....

After working out to get more in shape, Ghost Dragon had sat down in the middle of his hermetic circle to meditate and gain mental fortitude. The ringing of the phone slices through Ghost Dragon's journey like a swinging sword breaking the surface of a pool of calm water. He squints his eyes and looks around as the phone rings once more.

*Beep* The answering machine picks up...

About half drunk after a long night, Torque staggers home. Torque crashes for several hours, then when he awakes, he checks to see what his credit balance is. 600 left. Definetly time for some more work. Torque grabs his phone and dials up his fixer.

Janet: "Yeah, what's up Torque?"
Torque: "Please tell me you've got some work for me."
Janet: "There isn't much call for your skills lately."
Torque: "Look, I've got to earn some nuyen, I'm scraping the bottom here."
Janet: "Hey, I'm sorry, but most 'runner teams don't consider that they need a medic in the first place, only groups travelling into harsh terrain are going to want a medic specializing in wilderness survival. . . and there just aren't any groups like that going out right now. I'll send some work your way as soon as I find a job."
Torque: "Right."

Torque shuts down the phone and flops down on his bed. Littering the room were assorted bits of stained and battered armor, a riot shield covered with scratches, a still-shiny medkit, there a small drone rigged to carry equipment. Not much to show for years of labor. Figuring up his rent for the Month, Torque began to calculate what he could sell to earn some nuyen if no work showed up.

Scene: An RTG in Trinidad · April 1st, 2064

"Heads shall roll!" the Mad Hatter clamored with unbridled, effusive anger just before his consciousness began to swirl back up the rabbit hole.

Only a few moments prior to this heart-felt outburst, the Hatter was discussing a contract with an important client in Haiti who was looking for information on... well, let's just say that it probably shouldn't be mentioned in polite conversation. Regardless, he had set up an extensively secure communications hub that circumnavigated the globe, bouncing across a score of different grids as well as half a dozen satellite constellations. But somewhere along the line, one of those connections apparently suffered a catastrophic black-out and thus destroyed the entire connection. As luck would have it, that black-out just happened to occur during one of the most crucial parts of the negotiation process.

The Hatter tried to send a message to the Haitians, but they were quick to respond with something to the effect that if he couldn't handle a simple meeting without getting dumped, he wasn't the sort of person they were interested in.

Yes, heads will definitely be rolling in the very near future.

---

Scene: A run-down mobile home on lot #42 (the meaning of life, the universe, and everything) of the Shady Palms trailer park in Van Asselt, Seattle

Within seconds of the Mad Hatters return from the Looking Glass, the real world had washed away the technicolor dreamcoat of the Matrix and Cosmo was left stranded in his executive leather massage chair.

"Trippy," was the only thing he could think to say as he just sat there for a few moments, letting his senses get used to the new input. His living room was dimly-lit with the flickering lights of numerous trid screens strategically placed throughout the trailer. Despite the rose-tinted view of the world his rectanglar glasses gave him, Cosmo still felt cold and alone in this angst-ridden realm of smog and meat puppets.

And to make matters worse, his tummy was growling. Oh the horror. The horror of it all.

Cosmo proceeded to muster up all the energy he could, well, muster and in an amazing feat of Herculean strength, he managed to kick his feet over the side of the chair and stood up. He reached around to scratch his ass a few times before deciding to make the arduous journey to the kitchen that was only a few paces away. But nonetheless, he undertook the mission and, once there, he pried open the freezer. He just stood there for a minute, trying to decide what he wanted to nuke. It wasn't until his glasses started to fog over that he reached in, grabbed a frozen breakfast burrito, and popped it into the toaster over.

Having nothing better to do, he just continued to stand there, watching the miracle device work its magic...

There would be at least one death tonight. One death, and one rescue. The Rovers, a gang, had stolen the daughter of a well-to-do family. A duty had been laid upon Os, along with a heaping of nuyen, to rescue her, and bring retribution to the person responsible for her kidnapping: the Rovers’ leader.

Os was on stealth mode, walking in the shadows towards the Rovers’ little hideout. No one was at the door, but there was undoubtedly two or three in the room behind it. A sequenced knock on the front door, learnt from a man who now laid comatose and broken on a charity-hospital bed on the other side of the city, far from the Rovers’ collective senses, brought footsteps and the sound of a door unlocking.

The first face to peer between the heavy oak doors took a high-speed flechette round. A quick shove opened one of the doors fully, and Os peered in, gun pointed where he looked. The room was clear. He dragged the corpse he just made into a shadow, placing it where it would draw the least attention, and then made his way to the basement, where he would find at least one of his targets.

The basement door was unlocked. Os opened it, and the smell of stale sex wafted up, along with woeful, tortured screams. He bolted down the stairs, coming to a scene of rape. A shout from Os bought the rapist’s attention away from the girl. It was the gang leader, and the moment he was off the girl, he was dead, sent to his maker by the Viper in Os’ hand.

That was that: two birds with one stone, and no one was alert to Os’ presence. He wrapped the girl in a blanket and escorted her outside, assuring her that this ordeal was over, and it was time to go home. A taxi was hailed, its driver given directions and paid generously.

Seeing the cab off, and making note of the number plate, Os turned and made his way back to his car parked a ways down the street. Then he was going home, back to an apartment in Redmond proper, “touristville” to the initiated. He could clean up there, take a load off until he got word that there was new employment on the menu.

Warm, golden torchlight cast lively shadows across the thin ricepaper walls of the dojo. In the center of the small room, two figures circled eachother warily, and with grace. Between them, steel flashed, sweat gleamed against skin.

It seemed a dance, carefully choreographed. Blades dipped, feinted, sung through the air, a whisper's breadth from unarmored, vulnerable flesh. Now and again, they met, and the sound of steel against steel rung through the practiced silence. A grunt of effort here, perhaps. The sharp intake of breath there, at a target narrowly missed. But there was always movement, constant, one flowing into the next.

Finally, the shorter of the two stepped back, lowering his sword. "Enough!" The old man leaned on his sword, breathing heavily. "Enough for today."

The other, a tall, slender elven woman, stopped midswing and sheathed her shining blade without missing a beat. She bowed. The old man nodded his head in return. He stood in his place and watched as she returned to the pile of gear she had left in an unceremonious heap by the door.

"Shoshin would be proud."

Ran stood without turning. "He is." She shrugged into her long secure trenchcoat and hooked the sword into its place beneath it. "But I am not finished."

The old man shook his head. Obvious disapproval there. "I have done fighting with you on that score, child."

Ran grinned, a flash of white teeth. "You have learned wisdom in your dotage, old man."

The old man lifted his sword in her direction. "I'll teach you respect yet," he snapped in return, but his dark eyes twinkled with affection.

"Of that, I have no doubt." Ran let down her impossibly long, blue black hair and carefully rebound it, concealing her peaked ears beneath shining strands. She strapped on her boots and picked up her backpack. "Next time."

The old man nodded, still catching his breath, and watched her leave.

She closed the door, and the dojo was gone, with it's warm light and sparsely decorated walls. The bamboo and ricepaper, and flickering torches. All the things that reminded her of home, a thing both sweet and terribly, terribly bitter. Behind her, only a dilapidated building desperately in need of a paint job, somewhere in the dingy, grey landscape of South Seattle.

Ran shoved her hands in her pockets and started walking.

Redmond Barrens, 0927hrs

James moves slowly, working the kinks out in his arms as he hangs by his knees, a pistol disassembled in his hands as he cleans it.

The telecom beeps once, and James is off the bar, moving with great rapidity as he rotates in midair, taking a step as he touches the ground and rapidly covering the distance across the empty warehouse apartment.

The voice coming from the telecom belongs to a mid-level secretary at Ares. "Mister Golden will see you for lunch at noon today, per your request."

James smiles, and replies "Thank you miss, I will be there."

Now I can finally pay him what I owe from that poker game..

April 3rd times vary.

@ Whisper,
The late hours and were worth it. The rose was perfect, even down to it’s immaculately shaped thorns. Unless someone passed it under a chemical sniffer no one would ever know it was composed entirely out of C-12 . The fast of silence was suddenly and violently broken as the Trid beeped with an incoming call. Shade’s lovely face filled the screen when the unit picked up. Her contralto was musical as her words. “Hey, I got a job offer to pass on to you. A Johnson is looking for a smarty pants, especially one good with chemical compounds. The meet is tomorrow morning nine am at a warehouse near Alaska way, just south of the ballpark. The address is 224 2cnd ave. Be careful, call me in a couple of days and let me know what happens.”


@ Torque,
“Hello?” The man said outside of the dilapidated building. “I think I have the right address so if your listening I have a job offer for you.” The man with the sandy blond hair waited patiently as the door opened. “Torque right?” He held out his hand with a smile. When none returned he awkwardly put it down. “Ok, so hello, I am interested in hiring you, a uh, man named Scratch said you were a good medic, and I am need of your services, if your interested, come to this address.” He reaches, slowly, into his pocket and pulls out a white business card. On it’s holographic surface is the name ‘Gate Technologies’. In even smaller letters were the words, An Ares Macrotech company. “Don’t let the name scare you, the money’s good and it’s a serious offer. See you at nine if your interested.” With a smile the man headed for his car.

@ Os,
Os awoke suddenly with the sound of his Trid ringing. Scrambling out of bed he managed to hit the button just as the line was about to take a message. “Hi,” a strangers face said. A quick glance revealed that the video out was off. “If I got the right number I am talking to a man named Os…” A few seconds passed. “Ok I will assume I have the right man.” His voice sounded young, maybe thirty, from California for sure. “I am sending you an address and a time, please be there promptly, I guarantee you it will be worth it.”

@ James,
“Hey James, Heely here. I got a buck passing opportunity, there’s a job, and I did a little background on it. It looks lucrative, perhaps some long term employment. Anyways there looking for some people with good rep’s and they are willing to pay top dollar. The address is attached, take care omae”


@ Ghost Dragon,
The voice was instantly recognizable. Only one women Ghost Dragon had ever met managed to sound sexy, and cold as ice at the same time. Zoe. The fixer was all business as usual and kept it short, “I am passing this your way cause you have been doing some good work and you have managed to earn yourself a decent rep. It looks like a legit offer, I attached the address and time, don’t be late.

@ Rān,
The sun was high in the sky as the elf rounded the last corner to her apartment. The thirty minute walk form the Dojo always gave her time to clear her mind and organize her thoughts. Something was wrong, she couldn’t quite place it but it was there. A car, a red Ford Americar was parked down the path from the apartment. Leaning casually against the hood was a young man with Sandy blond hair. “Hi, I am going to guess that you’re the women I was sent to find,” the sudden reaction he got was not the one he wanted. “Whoa, whoa… this is about a job offer that’s all.” He visibly relaxed as the Elven Samurai put her hands back down at her side. “Here’s the address, be there at 9 am if your interested.” The address was printed on a holographic business card. The logo was a large circle with a smaller circle in the middle. The smaller one rotated periodically.

@ Cosmo,
The email was from Barry the Baptist, and as usual it was short an to the point. “Job, nine am tomorrow, address encoded.” The address was in the ‘real’ world, a place near the ball park.

@ Chase,
Drinks with Hammer had turned into drinks with an entire bar of ex-military and corporate warriors. It was three am when the two old soldiers stumbled out of the bar an headed home. The card was pinned to the door with sticky tape. Senses instantly alert despite the alcohol Chase moved cautiously to the door. His right hand griped the cool comfort of his H&K USP while his left pulled the card off. It looked like a elaborate business card. The name and address were labeled in script, written on the card itself was the time. Nine AM.

Years in her field taught her to have steady hands and a nearly unflappable calm ... Whisper did not so much as blink when the 'com's harsh cry (designed to wake her up should she sleep in her studio again) tore through the rippling harmony of harp, horn, and viola. Delicate fingers brushed the last of the thin coat of immacuately mixed plaster (to fool the low rating scanners) across the tip of the stem... soft grey eyes turned to the linked trid only after she'd finished.

'Smarty pants', hmm?

She found herself glaring through the one-way vidlink at the exotic dark elf; even in her finest chic she could never hope to look that good, especially at this hour. With a small sigh, the slim, droopy-eyed woman moved to adjust her glasses, only to remember that she hadn't needed them in five years.

"Thanks, Shade. Feel free to tell your source I'll be there. Take care of yourself; I seem to remember hearing that a certain 'family man' is looking for you."

Offering no more than a wan smile, she watched the black screen for a few moments before carefully slipping the 458 gram bloom into its glass showcase. Whisper scrubbed her hands clean with the mild mix she'd brewed only last week (industrial cleaners really dried out her skin ) and began making a mental checklist as she left the outer ring of her demo shop.

Put batch six on hold; cancel symphony tickets; check the spikes; clean the rockets; drycleaning, right, get that as well; move the car tonight; sleep; rewire the detonators; change the lock codes; DON'T forget to tape Survivor.... Now, where did I put my glasses...?

Torque turned the card over in his hands a moment.

So, somebody who's a part of Ares. What could Ares want with a medic? They must have thousands. And what the heck does "Gate Technologies" mean? If it's part of Ares it must be some security system, a new kind of gate? Some sort of security fencing? Maybe they've got some compound out in Sheepdip, North Dakota testing new security gates and fences. Or maybe they're hiring Shadowrunners to attack their own security systems, to find the holes in them. That wouldn't be so bad. Then again, my choices are pretty limited right now, I'd probably take a job if it meant working with the Universal Brotherhood at this point.

Torque begins to check his equipment. Body armor, riot shield, restocked medkit, random piles of survival gear get packed into the modified Ferret for hauling.

Nobody wants to hire the Doc who's friends with Ghouls. When this is over I'm going to have to do something about my image.

Ghost Dragon opens his eyes and stands up to check the message. He makes a mental note of the location and promptly erases it. Then, he returns to his meditation for another hour.

He spends the rest of the day practicing his ninjitsu techniques and then lays out the equipment he plans to carry with him tomorrow morning, taking the time to press his shirt and pants, before having dinner and turning into bed.

The next morning, Ghost Dragon gets up to the sound of his alarm buzzing early in the morning at 6 am. He showers, eats a breakfast of leftover Chinese takeout from a couple of days before, and dresses himself to go to the meet. Ghost Dragon puts on his form-fitting shirt, Zoe Futura Line Slacks, Vashon Island Actioneer Line Hi-Collar Shirt, Hardliner Gloves, Forearm Guards, his Browning Ultra Power with concealable holster and silencer, and his Mortimer of London Ulysses Line Coat. He grabs the extra clips of ammo, 2 hollow point and 1 regular ammo, and drops them into his inside pockets. Next, Ghost Dragon grabs his pager, cellphone, and binoculars and stuffs them into his pockets. He grabs a couple of IPE Defensive HE grenades and puts him on his belt under his coat and turns toward the door.

With bike keys in hand, he grabs his sunglasses with the other and leaves his apartment. He locks the door behind him with a swipe of his security card and a vocal command and goes down the elevator to the entrance lobby of the building.

One of the guards looks up from the desk as Ghost Dragon walks across the lobby and says, "Morning, Mister Hakomoto. Off to work?"

Ghost Dragon says, "Good morning, Roy. Good morning, Dave. I am off to an early meeting. I should be back later today. I will let you know if that changes. As usual, no visitors, and please hold all of my packages."

Roy yawns and says, "Right. We know the drill. Have a nice day."

Ghost Dragon says, "Thanks. You two do the same."

He walks out to the chilly morning and finds his bike in his assigned spot in the parking lot. He starts it up and merges into the morning rush hour traffic at about 7am. He arrives at the address at just a few minutes before 9 am.

The quick phone call was over, the address and time he was expected still displayed on the cheap vid-phone. The job offer hadn't come through Rook, which raised concerns, but the fixer wasn't the only person in the world who knew how to get in contact with Os. He erased the message from the telecom.

Everything considered, this meet was probably an acceptable risk. He'd be wearing kevlar, carrying the Viper, keeping an eye on all the exits, scoping out the meeting beforehand, and making sure that other 'runners where showing up.

No longer reeling from the early wake up, Os moved himself over to the kitchen bench and held his face in his hands while his brain woke up. He looked over at the kitchen clock, surprisingly bright, in contrast to the rest of the apartment's darkness, and read the time: 4:30, an hour before he was planning to be awake, but he wasn't going to worry about getting to sleep again. He showered, checked himself for any injuries that might need attention, and dressed. He grabbed a gym bag that was by the foot of his bed, which had his wallet, his phone, a martial arts gi, and, at the very bottom, a holstered Viper, complete with two clips of flechette.

He made a beeline for the apartment's front door. Out into the hallway, into the elevator, down to the tenant garage, and then into his armoured Nissan Sentra. He was going to have a long breakfast in a diner down the road, and then take a drive to Seattle downtown, where he would be teaching students watered down SamBO for the rest of the day.

Then he would come back to Redmond, eat, sleep, and wake up early again. And then he would take a drive down to the meet, and turn up three hours before he was due.

And then he would watch, and wait.

"Is everything ready?" Alex said to his assistant. The elven girl was perhaps twenty years old and suffered the same flaw as most her race, She was exceptionally beautiful. She smiled and nodded toward her boss.

"Excellent." Alex and Emma sat alone in a very large warehouse. A folding card table with refreshments,a holographic player, and ten folding chairs were all that was with them.

The door leading to the outside was open, letting in a refreshing cool breeze. The building itself was painted white with blue stripes. The inside was also white with a grey concrete floor and bright fluorescent lights.

Torque arrives first at the meet, having walked a healthful distance across the city rather than both taking a cab. As he enters the warehouse he peels a respirator off his face. A slight hum in the background announces the arrival of his pack-drone loyally following behind.

Torque: "Name's Torque. I got a message saying you had some work for me?"

Whisper growled at the automated beeping that was the bane of her existence and seriously considered lobbing a grenade at the trid. Dismissing the idea out of hand since she'd paid dearly for each and every luxury she'd brought to this place, it was with a hearty sigh that she finally rolled out of bed, still more than half asleep. Mornings were never her forte so she'd made it as easy on herself as possible by readying everything before she slept. Taking time only to shower, dress, grab a bar of portable breakfast, and run through her list once more, she was jogging to her car within an hour.

...

A small, slender woman slipped into the warehouse at 08:45, soft grey eyes resting curiously on the projector and folding chairs before quickly appraising all that had arrived before her. She made her way to the last row of chairs and settled herself, instantly glad that she'd chosen the muted lavender blouse, charcoal slacks, and her cream-colored coat instead of the trademark black and chrome of the profession.

A pair of amber tinted glasses rested across the bridge of her nose, giving her an almost owlish appearance, especially when she pulled a compact computer from her pocket rested it on her lap. Smooth light brown hair was pulled into an elegant knot against the nape of her neck and as she found herself looking around yet again a few small whisps of the stuff floated about in spite of her best efforts.

Whisper glanced at her watch and very nearly grimaced.

08:47

This was going to be a long morning.

Chase cursed when he saw the card taped to his door. He drew the USP and cautiously tested the handle--still locked. Good sign.

Using his left hand he unlocked the door and threw it open. USP leading the way he did a quick but thorough search of the Redmond doss. Finding the place to be clear, he yanked the card off the door and examined it more closely. Which proved to be rather difficult in his current condition.

Peering at the card, centimeters from his face he saw it, Ares!? Is this why Hammer's crew's in town?

Chase quickly ran his last few ops through his head trying to remember if he'd given the corp a reason to want him dead. Coming up with nothing and hoping that Hammer's earlier invite wasn't a "going away--permenantly--party," he relocked the door and tried to sleep.

He passed out with his boots on.

______________


The next morning Chase awoke to the buzzing of the alarm...and the symphony of heavy construction workers in his head. His right hand was still filled with the USP and he slammed it down on the alarm clock sending it back to the circle of life.

He showered quickly and dressed for the meet stopping only long enough to slam down 6 asprins and a bottle of NERPS CharboAide. Sliding his fashion friendly guns into thier holsters and dropping the folding knife into his pocket, Chase rushed out the door. Looking every bit like an entry level exec that was late for a meeting with the bosses.

The sunlight assaulted his eyes almost immeiately like red hot pokers trying to find a way into his brian.

Fraggin flare comp mods...shoulda got the full package.

Chase fished a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. A quick stop at the street vendor outside the monorail station for some 'caff and he was on his way to the warehouse.

"Thanks for coming," Alex said with a cheery smile. The man seemed genuinely laid back. He was dressed in dark slacks and black pull over. "If you guys don't mind, were going to wait for everyone to arrive. Feel free to help yourself to the refreshments."

Cosmo
Van Asselt · April 4th, 2064 · 7:00am

The cacophony of the damned blasted across the small 40-foot mobile home. Cosmo's stubby hand reached out to try and slam the button on the alarm clock until he realized it was the one in his head. With little more than a thought, the golden silence had returned.

Rolling over onto his hairy back, he clapped his hands twice to turn on the lights in his bedroom. A deep sigh was followed by a mental command to show him today's schedule.

BARRY, JOB OFFER, 09:00, 224 2ND AVENUE NEAR THE BALLPARK
NOTE TO SELF: PACK EXTRA BURRITOS JUST IN CASE

He just laid there for a few minutes staring at the display, but eventually he was able to muster up the strength to roll out of bed and get ready. By 8:18am, he was dressed and locking up the house. It took him another minute or two to make it to his parking space where he had a big decision to make -- the Volkswagen or the Ford. While that was always pretty easy for him inside the Trix, outside of it he tended to take a few moments.

As predicted, it did indeed take him a while to figure out which one to take, but he eventually managed to crawl inside the VW Baja Bug and make it onto the interstate by 8:30am. Now that he was jacked in, however, his mind was in full form as the little Baja racer poured through traffic as if it were on a mission from God.

He made it to the warehouse in twenty minutes flat and was walking in the door only a minute or two after Chase's entrance. The dwarf sort of skip-stopped in his tracks when he saw the first signs of life, but quickly recovered.

"Hey man, is this, like, where some meeting or sumfin' is taking place?" He pulled a freshly toasted breakfast burrito out of his fanny pack and took a bite from it while waiting for an answer.

Ran scanned the card in her hand and then looked up. The sandy blonde winked broadly at her as he pulled away from the curb.
He wasn't Japanese, and that very fact had probably saved his life, or at least his kneecaps. She slipped the card into her pocket and headed upstairs. Work meant money, and that was always a welcome thing.

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

8:50 the next morning, Ran handed the cabby a roll of bills and smacked the back of the taxi as it pulled away. It was late in the morning for her. The warmth in her muscles from her morning exercises had started to subside, and she even remembered to pull her gloves off before approaching the building. People always seemed to react better when her hands were bare, it seemed. Something about the black leather... .

She nodded to the only one she recognized, the same sandy blonde man that had approached her so foolishly the day before, and positioned herself carefully to one side of the open door.

"You must be Cosmo," Alex said with a grin. "Please have a seat, the others should be a ariving soon. Alex gestured to one of the chairs at the front. A slight smile creased his tanned features when the Japanese elf entered.

"Hello, I was hoping you would come. Please come in and have a seat. Feel free to have some food. We are just waiting for a few others to arrive."

"Groovy, man. It's, like, nice to meet you and.. yeah, okay."

He moseys over to one of the nearest seats and climbs onboard to wait for the meeting to begin. The dwarf sort of looks at the other two already there for a bit while continuing to eat his burrito.

Chase nurses the luke warm 'caff still in his hand.

I think we'll wait for someone else to to be the first to sample the pomegranits...

He nods politely, giving his best friendly smile and then raises his cup, "Thank you. I'm all set for now."

Leaving the sunglasses on--partlly to cover his bloodshot eyes and partly because he still thought it was mighty bright out--he casually drops into a seat behind the dwarf.

Great. A hippie. I knew it was gonna be one of these days last night...

Ghost Dragon walks up to the building and to the front door. Given the unhappy responses he got from the others in the meeting phase of his last run, he elects not to turn himself invisible this time.

When he runs into Alex, Ghost Dragon says, "Ghost Dragon. I was told to be here at 9am by Zoe."

Whisper nods slightly, a tiny smile pasted to her unremarkable features as people began filing in. She was terrible around people but at least she was aware of that fact.... Noting with an inward chuckle that no one else had touched the refreshments, she grabbed a pack of mints from her jacket pocket and popped one into her mouth, wondering again at the odd meeting time. Dozens of questions flew about in her mind but all she could do for now was file them away, sit, and wait.

Torque decides as long as there's food available he might as well get a meal even if he doesn't wind up taking the job. He picks up a piece of fruit at random and holds on to it for a few seconds.

0907

James enters the warehouse, dressed in urban camo BDUs. "Morning ladies and Gents." He assesses the crowd, and picks a wall to lean against. He then begins cataloging the group, using his full range of sensory modifications to examine each person.

Os waits 'til a fair number of of the 'runners turn up before he jumps out of his car and does one last scan of the street with his thermographics. Making sure that the Viper is still in position, he makes his way over to the meet.

Cautiously, but not overtly so, Os walks up to the assembly, and says, "Morning, all," before reversing a chair and sitting down on it.

The air seems to shimmer for a moment, then it materializes in a large Orc. He is dressed in camo BTUs that cover him from head to toe. Reaching up, he pulls the hood back to reveal a face lined with scars and a shaved head. He glances around as he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a large cigar. Taking a moment to light it up and take a large puff, he exhales blue smoke and says, "Oy, I got a call to show up here, so whats this all about?"

When the orc appears, Cosmo just pauses mid-bite.

"I've gotta lay off the toaster strudels, man."

"Ah. Food. Very nice."

He moves over and helps himself to the free meal.

Ghost Dragon takes his seat quietly and doesn't speak. He sits away from everyone in the row of chairs, taking one at least a chair, preferrably three or more, away from everyone else. He waits patiently for the show to begin.

The sandy blond haired man, who looked more like he should be on the cover of a surfing magazine, rather than meeting a team of hardened Shadowrunners, smiled as everyone was finally there. “Excellent, I am so glad everyone came, My name is Alex,” He turned briefly to his assistant and nodded. The elven girl got a far away look in her eyes for a moment. With a ‘click’ the main door shut and the lights dimmed for just a second.

“My assistant is our sec-ops, she is securing the building as we speak. When she gives us the signal,” he let’s his voice trail off. The girl opens her eyes and gives a curt nod. Alex smack his hands together, the noise echoes in the large building.

“You may be wondering about all the security, well what I have to say, can never, ever be repeated. You were all invited here because you all have a great rep in the shadows, and I trust that. So as a gesture of my trust,” he reaches down and picks up a briefcase. Turning it toward is shady audience he opens it. Inside are envelopes, stacked neatly, there are ten of them.

“These envelopes contain five-thousand nuyen in UCAS dollars. If you feel this isn’t enough to purchase your silence for the foreseeable future, please take on and have a nice day. If you feel it is, please take one and remain.”

One of Cosmo's bushy brows perks up over his rose-tinted glasses, and he struggles to get down, walk around, and snag one of the envelopes. Even though he was probably the first one to decide to take the cash, he ended up being the last one to actually get his fingers on any of it.

Yep, one of those days..

Chase sighs and retrieves an evelope.

Cougar grins with a mouthfull of food and snags one for himself, then takes a seat, continuing to munch.

Ran's crescent shaped eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the pale haired Japanese elf walked in. She felt her right hand tensing as old instincts kicked in, and suddenly wished she hadn't removed her gloves.

She remained by the door, despite the sandy blonde man's invitation, more out of habit than by any real mistrust or sense of danger. She watched the Japanese elf carefully, though not obviously, and allowed herself some amusement at the peculiar little dwarf.

It was Alex's stress on the topic of secrecy that piqued her interest the most. With runs, it was a given. It went, as they said, without saying. The extra emphasis made her very curious, and a little wary. After all, you never knew if a secret was worth telling until too late.

----

It was only after the first few snagged their own envelopes that Ran made her way over and picked up one for herself. It wasn't the first time she'd made this sort of decision, and it wouldn't be the last.

Worst case scenario, one more person wanting her dead would round it out to a nice, even number.

Rising quickly, she slips around the other folding chairs, wordlessly accepting an envelope. She smiles shyly to the Alex, only raising her eyes at the last before she turns on her heel and hurries back to her seat.

Alex nods as each runner walks up and takes the money. He smiles after everyone has returned to there seats or positions by the door.

“I hope that this is an example of our willingness to trust, in time I hope you will do the same. Essentially what we are looking for is a group of professional, intelligent, and creative men and women willing to go on missions for us. The missions could be extremely dangerous and involve some travel. These would be recon type ops and the occasional recovery of goods. I know, I know. Shadowrunners work job to job, and your right, mercenaries may have been the way to go, but I trust my gut. And my gut tells me your it. I spent a lot of money and time looking up people with good reputations. The cream of the running crop as it were.” He smiles at the last bit, his expression seems honest and simple.

“I don’t want this to be a ‘too could to be true’ gig. But it will be good. I can guarantee you that one-hundred percent of your equipment will be covered as well as any medical expenses you incur.”

“Of course there is a catch,” he pauses and waits for the groans. He looks mildly surprised when there are none.

“You can’t tell anyone about this ever. If word was to get back to Ares that we were doing this we would be shut down. Permanently, I imagine. I can’t tell you anything else, so don’t ask. Now I am happy to fill you in on all the details about us, and what were doing and the very important work you will be helping us fulfill. But before I can do that I need to know if your in, so take a few moments and discuss it amongst yourselves. Come up with a price that’s reasonable and guarantees your utmost discretion and will cover you working for us for at least 6 months, and then come find me. We will be over there,” he points to a spot about thirty feet away. The two of them walk away, chatting about the nice turn of the weather.

Cougar waits till they are out of earshot, then turns to the group. "I don't know about you folks, but I want at least 10 grand a month. Minimum."

"Well, I'll tell you, if they want us to work for them exclusively, they had better come up with something better than that. Like along the lines of a ten grand retainer each month, along with, say...five grand per 'run we make, maybe more if it turns out that we're getting sent into a fragging drekstorm on every op.

"So, even with two runs a month, five grand a piece, that puts us at twenty grand a month. Extend that over six months, we're looking at 120k. If you add medical and equipment expenses; the stuff they said they'd cover, I think we'd be doing alright by ourselves."

Ghost Dragon thinks hard about leaving as he walks up and takes an envelope.

Five thousand. That's an insult. But it's an easy 5k if I walk. Then again, Zoe did arrange this meeting, so there is bound to be more money if I take the job, whatever it is. If they pay well enough, then I can forget all about the details after the job is over. Five grand... it is a start. I will need a lot more money than I have now to become strong enough to kill Ozaku. They want silence. That means this is going to be another tough job.

Looking down at where a killer cybered attack dog had savagely bitten into him a few months ago and touching the spot, Ghost Dragon thinks to himself some more,

Hopefully, not too tough, though nothing is ever as easy as it sounds in this business. That, I am beginning to see. I will take the job, and if the work does not kill me, I will grow stronger. I wonder how much they can pay.

He takes an envelope, quietly walks back to his seat, and sits down. Then, Ghost Dragon pockets the bills.

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

Moving closer, so that he can be heard, and taking off his sunglasses, Ghost Dragon says, "Ten thousand pays my rent, but that is all. I would prefer thirty thousand per month for each of us. We do not know where our work will take us yet or what exactly we will be doing. The need for secrecy means it will perhaps be quite dangerous, as does the free equipment and medical. I think that thirty thousand should cover the hazards, and it makes up for the other work that we may not be able to take during the six months. It is also my standard rate for an extended time period of up to one month. How many of us are there? Eight. That means we will need 240,000 per month to be divided eight ways."

Torque takes a bite out of the apple and approaches the group.
Torque: "Name's Torque, Medic and wilderness survival specialist. Well obviously this is an initial offer and we want to negotiate to something better. But my thought is, they're also promising full coverage for all our equipment, plus medical expenses. Maybe we can work on that angle. They're a subsidiary of Ares so probably they have access to superior equipment than you can find on the street, and being as it's their business perhaps they'd be more willing to part with hardware than money, lot's of Johnson's are like that if they run a day job."

Os puts out his hand and says, "Torque? Name's Os."

James opens his mouth eventually.

"So, what say we split the difference, hit them up for 15 kay a month plus five thousand a run."

A smile crosses his face.

"That puts at 25k a month, minimum."

Preston kicks some numbers around in his before adress the group, "I was thinking 10K a month as a retainer and 5K per actual run plus combat and hazard pay--to be determined by us, up to an additional 10K. 5 for each catagory."

"By the way, name's Chase." He flashes his best professional smile. "I figure not every run involves combat but they're all pretty hazardous. 'Else you have it done by inhouse people. Add onto that the list of gear I'm gonna requisiton, it should work out pretty well."

Ghost Dragon says, "Why not request 30 thousand minus medical and gear costs? My name is Ghost Dragon by the way."

"I was thinking like a corp. By breaking it down it doesn't seem like they're spending as much and therefore, keeping a solid profit margin."

"Negotiatin ain't my bag, so I'll leave you guys to it. You can call me Cougar."