"I'll level with ya... It turns out I had a little too much deepweed last night, and it *might* have affected my judgement when I said we should all leave and go check out the venues in the middle of the night. Still, no harm done, neh? However, having the benefit of a bit of sleep and a bit more info, it might be wise to keep our collective skillsets close to each other unless needs suggest otherwise. We sure could have used a decker last night, and it seems like you guys could have used an invisibility spell..."


Opti shoves a third donut into his face, and washes it down with coffee, getting too much, too soon, and spilling some on his shirt. He starts to chuckle at himself...

I wonder just how incompetent I seem right now... Ah well. I'd rather not act serious and and prove myself a fool. Better to act the fool and then prove everyone wrong.

"It wasn't the best plan as it turns out, but nobody gets extra blame for suggesting the plan we all agreed on. Besides, in the broadest sense, we did have some luck."

Danny rips off a bite-sized chunk of fritter and gestures with it in the air as he speaks.

"The, ah, gentleman at the front desk wasn't having any of my 'security contractor' story. Rather than go home empty handed, I tried the honest approach. Nothing specific, of course. I gave him the info for my burner 'link and said I was after whoever was fucking with their business on behalf of a third party. Somebody higher up the totem pole messaged me back just this morning. Calls himself "Johnson", so clearly he's familiar with our line of work. Or it could be a hilarious coincidence. He says he's down to meet, but he's more interested in getting information than giving it."

Tired of gesticulating with the fritter piece, Danny wolfs it down as punctuation.

"Question becomes, what do we tell him, and how do we get what we want out of him? We can't give him the client obviously, since his idea of solving the problem might skew more towards cutting the puppet's strings than getting at the puppeteer. If we give him the full list of businesses they could probably trace it back to Atkinson as well. I've been thinking that we'd give him a couple of the businesses that benefitted the most from the blackmail and see if any alarms go off. I did mention that we were looking to take down the blackmailers, without mentioning that that's what they were. Hopefully Johnson will be content giving us his competitor's scent and letting us off the leash. Thoughts?"

Well, that is better news than we had when I walked in. Perhaps you meet in a public place and work a little mojo to *convince* him that it is in his best interest to tell what he knows...

"If we can control the time and the place, I can make sure it's secure, and be on hand to provide any 'motivation' this guy might need to talk."

"The guard only saw the two you. I'm thinking it might be best if he meets with just the 'TWO' of you. The rest of us can wait in position in case the drek hits the fan. Whad ya think."

"Smart. We meet somewhere public and open, like an outdoor shopping center. Somewhere nice, but not so upscale that we'll stick out. No offence. Can someone do a search for a good place?"

Danny takes a sip of his soykaf, both out of legitimate thirst and to allow for any immediate objections. A respectful pause later, he continues.

"Opti and I meet this Johnson, while the rest of you keep watch nearby. I'll bet my other hand he'll do the same, except probably with more guys."

He glances at Hosepipe.

"I'm especially concerned about them trying to get into our devices. I'd feel better with matrix support. I'd feel way better if you could get what we need out of his devices, but I'd rather go home empty handed than piss off the brass of even a small corp, personally."

"How about the Dr King Memorial in the Denver City Park? It's public and open, but not so crowded that we have to worry about eavesdropping. It's good great sightlines, plenty of room for vehicles if we need a quick escape, and I'm betting I can find an overwatch pertch on top of the Pavilion Building. It's only about 200 meters from the Memorial...an easy shot with the right tool. "

Let us hope that there is no need to geek some dude who has already been screwed by the guy we are actually hired to stop. Otherwise, I think that plan is good.

"Sounds like a plan. Slave your devices to your commlinks and then I'll just need to protect the commlinks."

Easy. I don't do wireless devices much, so just my commlink needs protecting.

<<Slick's Flat>>

The sun's been up for a while now, but from the couch you'd have a hard time telling. The windows in this apartment have been shuttered for so long, it's almost as if the daylight doesn't even bother trying to creep in through the cracks anymore - too much effort, not enough payoff.

The same sort of philosophy seems to apply to the notion of ever waking Slick up. He's splayed across the couch like a dog whose master hasn't been home in years, mouth agape, snoring salubriously. Not even the periodic beeps and whistles carrying shrilly across the room from his commlink manage to rouse him from his slumber.

He'll probably be up at some point today...

~Umi

"Alright, sounds like a plan. I'll contact our good Mister Johnson and arrange things. Any other business while we wait for the response?"

<<Mister Johnson, good to hear from you. I do believe we can find an arrangement that will be to our mutual benefit. My associate and I will be at the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial in the City Park in two hours, and will remain for one additional hour. I look forward to meeting you in person.>>

Danny takes stock of the team, gauging their readiness. They all seemed determined, all in control of their...

"Wait, where the fuck is Slick?"

Stuntman's commlink chirps as the message comes back.

<<Very well. I will be there as well. We'll know who you are from our security footage. You will recognize me as my pocket square will be blue to the naked eye, but will be green A/R. Please do not make me regret taking this meeting.>>

<<Slick's Dream>>

The streets are black and wet, jagged stormclouds stuttering rapidly across the sky, laced with digital artifacts. The lone streetlight overhead rings metallically with every falling raindrop, every falling datachip, every dead pixel.

The rotordrone drifts hazily into the cone of light, camera focusing and unfocusing on Slick's face, shutter whirring. An acrid voice rings out from the clouds, "We'll be seeing you shortly." The wind shifts, the clouds begin to slide backwards through the air, and the rain turns into a chill hail of spent cartridges as the streetlight flickers and dies out.

A babble of voices, ringing commlinks, shuttered doors. A waft of stale smoke and worn leather. Shifting and flickering black numbers dripping red ink. In the distance a dull roar. It closes, growing shriller and higher, whining through the streets. A blinding light sears into life, filling the night.

Light and sound die away, a terrible stillness. A sleek and dark racing bike rocks the pavement on landing, drifting to a scorching stop, etching a curved groove into the softly glowly asphalt. A flat black machine pistol unfolds and retracts into the rider's arm, replaced by a skeletal false hand. He somehow manages to glare through the mirrored visor of the skobeloff helmet he never, ever removes.

"Get on."

-------

With a jolt, Slick springs upright on the couch, beads of sweat and a look of distress splashed across his face.

Friggen' mother-loving son of a'... who the hell is calling me this time of night? Those gorram bozos had better not be trying to rope me into some crack of dawn bullcrap scheme...

He takes a moment to focus internally on his cybereyes' clock display.

Aww, fu-

~Umi

Hosepipe turns on his cyberdeck and tunes into the latest news.
The local Horizon subsidiary is reporting that Knight Errant cadets on a routine training exercise discovered a submerged 2043 Cadillac CTS-V Coupe in Cherry Creek Lake.
After pulling the wreck out of the lake, 3 bodies were discovered.

That's just the kind of piece of drek that people buy to say 'Hey. I have money' that I wouldn't be caught dead in, instead of buying a real car. Just right up Slick's alley... wouldn't it be funny if....

"Hey guys, look at this. You don't suppose Slick went for a swim?"

<<Slick's Flat>>

Suit, burner, taser, door.

While hoofing it toward the CAS border, Slick wires into the cheap commlink, its implanted counterpart helping it to chunder along with donated processing power. Once it's stopped waking up, he manages to call for a cab and work through his backlog of messages. With a grunt he fires off a curt text.

<<Be there shortly.>>

-------

Slick is all smiles as he strolls idly into the donut shop. He spots his impatiently waiting team and saunters over with his best impression of smarmy nonchalance. On the way over he slides past the counter, cutting through the line, but curiously bothering to ask people's pardon for doing so.

"Hey, uh, sorry for the delay, kids. Had some important business to attend to, big job for one'a my regular clients, ya know? Anyways, we ready to get down to brass tacks? Actually, hold up, I could use a coffee and something to eat, been up since the crack of dawn."

He slinks swiftly up to the side of the counter, catches the donut lady's eye, and quickly sets a credstick down on the counter with a sheepish grin. "S'cuse me, but I'm in a real hurry and the guys are waiting on me, can I just put in a to-go order? Half dozen jellies and a coffee?" Without giving the lady a chance to respond, he jogs back to the team.

"Right, so what's the plan? Someone sum it all up in one go for me."

~Umi

<<Ida's Doughnut Shop, 85 Main Street, near the CAS Sec border 1000>>

As the team sits in the booth, enjoying their various confectionery treats, the shop, already slightly busy, begins to fill up even more.

Dingy advertisements for Bear Claws and Boston Creme Doughnuts flash across your augmented vision (Carl and Ida never put much stock in "newfangled" tech, so their budget for AROs is quite small)

Several of the regulars in the bar wave hello to Stuntman from their stools near the counter, while others grumble a little at the lack of seating.

30 and Hosepipe in particular seem to draw stares, albeit for very different reasons.

Several of the older patrons are squinting in distaste at Hosepipe, as racial tensions have always run high in the CAS, and Amerinds are not particularly welcome there. These individuals seem content to just murmur under their breath, and complain however, so while it is unpleasant, no danger seems imminent.

30, on the other hand, is getting stares simply because he is by far the largest person in the room - dwarfing most patrons by 6 inches, and his tiny decorative coffee makes it look like an adult sitting at the kids' table at lunch.

"Caaarrrl! More customers!", Ida yells into the back as she brings orders to each table. She stops briefly at your booth, and pours Slick his soykaf, saying "Your jellies will be up in a minute." As she walks around Slick's chair, she gives Stuntman a look as if to say "Where did you get this one?"

On her way back to the counter she passes some of the men who seem disgruntled with Hosepipe's presence in "their" bar. Ida soon disabuses them of that notion with a swat on the back of the head. "Hey now, be nice - or you're out on your ear!"

Grabbing the next order from the kitchen, she gives Hosepipe a reassuring smile, as the men hunker down lower over their coffee - still muttering, but in a much lower volume.

Slick- Opti and Stuntman are going to meet the sariman at the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial in the City Park. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial in the City Park The rest of us will try and blend in with the crowd in the park and make sure they don't get hosed. I think that about sums it up. Did you guys see the documentary on Arnold Schwarzenegger last night- next election will be the 50th anniversary of him running for UCAS president. First foreign born dude to do so but that's not the kicker. I'm looking at him and he just seemed familiar- but I don't remember reading anything about him in school- being in a NAN school, UCAS presidents ain't that important. But then it hit me- guy is a dead ringer for Conan the Republican. Or should I say Conan was a dead ringer for Schwarzenegger as that dude was born first."

Danny stares at Hosepipe a long moment, waiting for his tangent to come back around to the task at hand, as if it were some extended metaphor meant to emphasize something. It never does. His expectation, rather than the content of the speech, makes him angry and confused. After an uncomfortable pause, he blinks at Hosepipe.

"What the fuck are you talking about, man? You wanna talk twenty-year-old gladiators, or you wanna talk business?"

Danny turns to Slick, his frustration now taking on a life of its own, latching on to the nearest subject of potential scorn like ticks on a hiker.

"And yeah, that's about the long and short of it. Which you would fuckin' know if you were here. If you got business that's more important than the job at hand, next time at least shoot off a message before you show up with the our meeting just about over. Speaking of which...."

He puts his hands on the table in the universal sign for 'getting ready to stand up'.

"Do we need to discuss anything else, or can we get to casing the park? We've got two hours till the meeting and, unlike the rest of this job so far, I'd like to not be surprised by anything important."

Good to go, my man.

Danny's rebuke makes Slick look as if he wants to spit for a moment, but somewhat unexpectedly he lowers his gaze, rubs the back of his head with one hand, and mutters an apologetic excuse.

"Yeah, my bad, things just kinda... cropped up at the last moment. Next time, uh... next time I'll call ahead."

The sound of an engine as a car pulls into the parking lot suddenly makes Slick jump, but with a shake of his head, an extra greasing back of his hair, and a reflexive clutch of his half-smoked box of cigarettes, he's somehow all business again, or near enough.

"Right, so let's hit the road. I'll eat on the way."

"Oh, and this time I'm getting the heated seats. I got dibs."

~Umi

Jeez, who peed in his soycaf. . Just shooting the breeze. I wasn't the one late. Bet if I brought up a non-NAN champion he wouldn't object. Bah- anyway I do talk tpo much. Not as bad as Jimmy Two Toes but bad enough.

"Let's hit the road"

Hosepipe walks out to the curb and into Stuntman's car without further delay.

<<Ida's Doughnut Shop, 85 Main Street, near the CAS Sec border 1015>>

The group that leaves Ida's is a little less confident than the one that left the Augusta the night before. Hosepipe is the first one out of the door, glad to be away from the crazy Anglos who frequent the place, and mildly worried he is getting into a car with more of them. He hesitates, and then, since he is the first one out, grabs shotgun.

Slick is the next one out the door, grabbing his jellies from Ida and getting to the car to see Hosepipe shutting the front door. Swearing under his breath, Slick gets in the back seat, settling in and sighing at the luxuriousness of Stuntman's seats even as he leaves a smear of hair product on them.

Next out is Stuntman, still pissed off, with what happened last night, with Hosepipe's rambling, with Slick being late, and now the sense of greasiness he can feel down his spine as his car is subjected to Slick's hair. He slaps down a tip at the bar, winks at Ida and snags a cream puff off the counter for the road. Already his mind is on the drive, the border crossing, and how he is going to get the stain out of his seat.

Opti and 30 are the last to leave. Opti shrugs on his coat, walks out the door, and goes around to the other side and gets in the back seat. 30, with a grace belying his size, quickly puts the garbage into the container from about 5 feet away with a few well placed throws. He walks out, sees Slick in his seat, and looks at him. "Son, do you really think I'm riding bitch?"

Slick thinks very carefully a moment, looks 30 up and down and then slides over - "Its all yours, man - watch out for the stain though. Man, Opti - your side is immaculate..." he adds, with a look at 30 as if to say, "You sure you want to sit there?"

"Shiiiiiiit - I've sat in a helluva lot worse than that when I was 'in country'." He plucks Slick's bag of doughnuts away from him, grabs a napkin out, and then shoves the bag back in Slick's hands. He gives it a few quick wipes, mostly managing to smear it around rather than clean it up. He sits down heavily, throws the used napkin into Slick's bag, and says "Let's hit it, it'll be good to be back home." Stuntman, his face turning varying shades of red, hits the accelerator, and the Hyundai moves off toward the border.

<<UCAS/CAS Vehicular Border Crossing, 1100>>

"Slick, I swear to Christ if you get any more of that shit on my car you can walk the fuck home!" Stuntman screamed, banging his fist against the steering wheel in frustration.

The border crossing had taken forever, and tensions were running a little high in the car. It had started out poorly, with the traffic, normally bad at the crossing points, being worse than normal. After sitting in line for 25 minutes, they finally got to the checkpoint, where they all had to get out of the car, present identification, present their travel passes, etc, sucking up more time. When the guard asked what Slick's taser was, he couldn't help himself. "Its for your mother - I hear she likes it kinky."

Opti and Stuntman were able to calm the guard down, eventually, but neither said a word to Slick until Stuntman's outburst.

"Geez, ok, ok, I'll cut the product back a bit next time."

Hosepipe, jaws clenched together in an attempt not to laugh at how pissed Stuntman was, decides he can't trust himself to speak out loud, so instead sends a text to the group instead.

<<Ok, so by the time we get there, we should have about 45 minutes before Johnson shows up." I'm uploading a map of the area to your commlinks - how do you think we should play this out?>>

Opti is going to summon an air spirit when we get close to the meet, to watch his back and keep eyes out for strangeness. Force 4 should be modest enough for something as easy as this.


Opti purses his lips as he feels the weakness of the call he just made to the spirits....
I hope this isn't going to be one of those runs.... although I have more than enough evidence that it already is....

As Opti reaches out to connect with the spirits, he calls out to a spirit of air that happens to be nearby.

Raven, send me something to help...

As the spirit begins to materialize, Opti realizes he left out a word from the chant. He tried to recover the rhythm, but the sounds of the roadway distracted him more than he thought. As the spirit materializes, he reaches out to make contact with the spirit.

"Raven sent me, sir. How may I help you?" The spirit says

"I need a few favors, if you have time. I don't mean to impose, either. I have some reagents to trade."

"Sounds good, shaman, old pal. Let's see those reagents and I'll be your humble servant for a while."

Opti hands the spirit 3 drams of reagents, which it absorbs promptly. It then turns to Opti and says,

"You chump. I don't work for anyone. I don't care how nicely they ask, asshat. Thanks for the reagents!"

The spirit then disappears, leaving Opti angry and slightly embarrassed.

Grrr... Perhaps if I spend some time in meditation on the way, I will be in a better mood...

He then sulks, good-naturedly, on the way to the meet....

For a few precious minutes, Danny had been jacked into the Hyundai, feeling the road and sensing the wind ripping by. Now, to communicate with the team, he pulls himself back, back into the stuffy confines of the now crowded car. At once it feels claustrophobic and intrusive. The car is both his sanctuary and his body at times, and now it feels as if both are violated. He has given rides before without this level of stress, but something is different this time.

Get it the fuck together. You've worked with 'runners, you've had more and larger people in your ride, and you've sure as hell been under more pressure. Stop letting this shit get under your skin, and for the love of god stop letting it show.

As they near the meet, Danny considers Hosepipe's question. He's no tactician.

"All I know for sure is that Opti and I will be right at the statue. It's pretty open, which is on purpose, but it does make it difficult for help to be nearby. I'm all ears if you've got ideas. That's not an elf joke."

"I'd be pretty conspicuous carrying a crossbow in the park and without it, well, I don't do guns. So I'm strictly monitoring in cyberspace. I figure I should just go hang out in the car and monitor in the matrix, if the shit hits the fan I have the ability to support with the crossbow. Otherwise if I'm in the park, it'll just be mano a mano for me"[/color]

[color="#FFA500"]Maybe I should sit on a bench, put a can out and sing some tunes. You never know, I might get a few Nuyen.

With a crack of his knuckles, Slick turns to face Hosepipe.

"Hopefully we won't need firepower, but having someone at the car to throw down some cover if we have to bail in a hurry is always smart, even if the heat is bolts instead of bullets. Although, I'd feel better if whoever hangs back also had their eyes open, so AR might trump VR until you really need it."

He flashes a quick wink and continues.

"As for me, I'm here to do what I do best - observe, preferably from afar. I'll be listening in on the meet with my 'ware and generally just looking out for trouble. First whiff of drek, I'll let you kids know, aight?"

"Speaking of, 30, I imagine you know more about this stuff than any of us, any thoughts on where I should set up? I'm gonna want somewhere with good sightlines - my goods'll let me listen in on the meet from around 300 feet if need be, but the lane's gotta be clear. I'll prolly be walking around a bit too, I don't like sittin' in one spot if I can help it. I get antsy with a static cover, know what I mean?"

By this point, Slick is all business, strangely serious and focused compared to his usual smart-aleck behavior.

"Oh, and Hosepipe, if you spot any virtual trouble and need to find the physical trouble behind it, I can sniff out wireless devices within 60 feet or so and lock on 'em, so keep me in the loop, yeah? Long as we all keep alert, this should be nothing we can't handle."

~Umi

At this point, just before getting out of the car, Opti wants to be cautious just a bit more.

"Let me check it out in the astral right quick, just to be overly safe..."

Opti slumps against the backseat as he goes into another place, his mind expanded...

As he floats out of his body, he makes his way toward the meet. He looks around, extending his mental senses to feel for anything out of the ordinary, any hostile intent, fear, or odd groupings of people...

"Astral coast looks clear, chummers. Stuntman, you ready to go meet a guy about a thing?"

With a mental command, Danny opens all the doors of the Hyundai. He steps out, surveying the park that is still a short distance away. He flexes the fingers in his artificial hand, feeling the blade housed inside like a sixth finger, a deadly extension of his body.

Just try something, "Mister Johnson". I need to get paid, yeah, but one of these meets has to end in violence some time soon, and I can't say I'll be sorry. I got some fucking frustration to work out on somebody."

Danny turns to the group piling out of his ride, grinning as he puts on a pair of otherwise mundane sunglasses.

"I'd say it's about that time, my magical friend. Let's make a deal. You've all got your roles. Opti and I are counting on you, but hey, I ain't worried. I know no one's gonna let us down!"

He glances at each member of the team in turn, catching each of their eyes as much as possible through the light shade of the glasses. His gaze lingers a little longer over Slick than the rest of the group, but his smile never wavers.

I like the "down to business" side of Slick. Just try to remember what you thought when you first met him; no one that unlikable makes it in this business by being useless.

<<Denver City Park, CAS Sector, 1130>>


Denver City Park is a lovely area in the middle of downtown Denver. It is a tribute to the rejuvenation process that was enforced per Clause CCXCVII-A of the Treaty of Denver. Gone are the prefab homes that were slapped together and put up in the 20's and 30's. The parking lots that covered much of the greenery have been ripped out. Duck and Ferril Lake again are surrounded by bike paths and walking trails.

The runners get out of Stuntman's car in a parking lot on the northern end of the park about half a kilometer from the the statue where the meet is to take place. Hosepipe stays in the car, reassembling his crossbow before stowing it below his seat.

30 gets out of the car and turns to the others. "I'll be over there" - putting an ARO on a bench that is located about 100 meters from the statue. "I've got your back should anything go down." He begins moving off toward the bench, scanning the area as he goes.

More and more people in suits are starting to enter the park, coming out of local businesses to enjoy the scenery on their lunch hour. Walking among them are three figures who, while their attire is close in style and cut to that of the surrounding sararimen, the similarity ends there.

One of them is slightly above average height, with a gray suit and red "power" tie, his blonde hair slicked back, and a pair of shades. If he had an ARO over his head that said "Look at me, I'm a big shot", he couldn't have been more obvious. As he gets to the statue, his pocket square changes to a kelly green, and he begins to look around.

The other two look like twin products from the "Big and Beefy Boutique". To Opti's Astral sight, they seem to be missing large chunks of their aura - areas that appear dead black where metal has replaced flesh. They seem to know what they are doing, moving in tandem as the conduct a professional sweep of the area around their employer. Seemingly satisfied of no imminent threats, they take up positions nearby.

"Gents, there are a few bruisers who just took up residence, with matching cyberwear and swagger. Keep an eye on those guys."

Duly noted. Keep us appraised should drek start moving perilously close to any fans. Opti and I are moving in.

Danny cracks his neck and flexes the fingers of his cyberarm. He sets his jaw and takes careful consideration of his posture. As he strides confidently up to the statue, he projects every bit the air of a rugged businessman, the rough-and-tumble yet eminently sensible type of 'runner that suits like to work with, or at least dislike working with the least. He stops just short of the statue and offers his hand to the big cheese.

Let's see if you can pry your mouth off of the corporate teat long enough to tell me what I need to know, you smarmy looking motherfucker.

"Mr. Johnson. I'm Harbatkin. This is my associate, Frankie Hollywood. My people and your people both find our interests disrupted by a certain third party. If you are willing to share your knowledge of this third party, whatever that may be, you could expect these disruptions to end. Very soon."

Johnson looks long and hard at Stuntman, apparently mulling something over. After a 10 second pause, the hard lines around his eyes relax slightly, and he reaches out to clasp Stuntman's hand firmly.

"Nice to meet you Harbatkin," he smiles at Stuntman, a facial expression that never reaches his eyes, as if it were a programmed response instead of any indication of how the man felt.


"Let's talk business. We'll make this a quid-pro-quo. I'll ask a question - you answer, and then ask one of your own. As long as no one overreaches, I think we can handle this professionally." He smiles again, "I'd prefer to keep this conversation to ourselves, however, and not share it with any potential eavesdroppers." He looks at one of his goons, who nods.

A wall of virtual noise erupts in a sphere around the group at the statue, as the goon activates his jammer. To Opti and Stuntman, all of their devices lose their connection to the Matrix, while to Slick, Hosepipe, and 30 they see Stuntman's and Opti's PANs disappear.

"Now to begin, we'll keep it simple. What brought Cangene's alleged "problem" to your attention?"

With the meet about to get started in earnest, Slick has taken the time to prowl leisurely through the park around the statue, checking sightlines covertly from behind his mirrored shades while pretending to focus on his handheld commlink. He's been idly flipping through the device's various menus and muttering out loud random drek to make it sound like he can't find a file or piece of information, all the while mentally sweeping through his various headware enhancements and taking stock of the park.

On a job like this, he'd ordinarily just note the obvious threats - the Bronze, nearby security drones, anyone whose job it would be to watch the local going-ons of the park. Today, however, Slick is a little out of sorts, and it's made his imagination run wild. For a brief moment he mistook a distant rooftop pigeon deterrent spike for the glint of a sniper's scope, and he's even scanned the area in ultrasound twice, just to make sure there really aren't any corporate spooks hiding beneath thermoptic cloaks ready to swoop in, tranquilize them, and haul them off with black hoods over their heads to an interrogation room.

Slick shakes his head in annoyance, realizing just how ridiculous he's being. He fires off a quick message to the team from his implanted commlink.

"Things are pretty clear. KE's in the area, but unless lead starts flying I doubt they'll care about us. Only other thing of note is a pair of flying drones. Probably nothing, but I'd feel better if we kept an eye on them digitally."

He turns his attention to Opti and Stuntman for a brief moment, as if making sure they're not just some errant illusion, then heads off to take up residence adjacent to a path-side trash bin, only a quick dash from a neaby stand of trees. He pulls out his box of smokes and leisurely lights up, then secretly focuses his attention on the meeting, discretely listening to ever last word. For the first time since arriving at the park, he slips back into a slimy grin.

The jammer was a smart idea kiddos, but some of us don't need radio waves to listen in.

~Umi

Danny tenses himself mentally, while keeping his expression blank to the best of his ability. He has been preparing for this first question above any of the rest. From Johnson's perspective, the problem is as much the blackmailed politician as it is the puppetmaster. A bullet for the 'runners' employer would be a quick, if dirty, fix to Cangene's problem. Best, then, not to offer that information. 

"My employer has had similar difficulties recently. To our knowledge, there are a number of local businesses that have been disadvantaged by what we beleive to be a single malefactor. In short, we know of your difficulties because they mirror our own. And before you ask, I am not at liberty to disclose which of the businesses' interests I am most directly inolved in advancing. Sufficed to say, Cangene would stand to profit as much as my employer, and without the expense of hiring me."

Danny waits just long enough for Johnson to show his reaction, accepting or suspicious, before continuing with his own question.

Johnson nods, and, slowly reaching into his pocket in order to avoid putting anyone on edge, pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He offers one to Stuntman, and then lights his own.

"Ok - go on." he leans back against the statue and awaits Stuntman's question.

Danny accepts the cancer stick with practiced casualness, getting Johnson to light it for him.

It's been a while since I was a pack-a-day sort of guy. Still, it's a good habit to remember. Nothing puts a smoker at ease like another smoker.

"Now, my question to you. It's a simple one, but the answer may be complicated. Who do you believe is trying to run our employers out of business? Of course you and I both know that there are entities being used as puppets, and that cutting the strings may buy us some time. Knowing that, I want it to be perfectly clear that I am after the puppet masters, solely and with as few detours as possible."

Johnson takes a drag from the cigarette, and exhales, turning his head so as not to blow it in Stuntman's face.

"That is a difficult question to answer, given that I don't know what your employers do. Cangene is a Biotechnology firm. Are you saying that your employers are also Biotech firms? If so, that narrows the field down a little. If they aren't, then gaining a competitive edge in the Biotech field here in Denver may not be their goal - at which point it becomes far more difficult to lock it down."

Another puff on the cigarette, and the smile comes back again. "How about you tell me the business your employers are in. This way we can at least start to narrow down the suspects."

If I may, I'll take this one. It is not good business in our line of work to proffer information regarding our employer as anonymity is usually what they are paying us for. Having said that, we could fudge a little. I can give you a number of similarly affected parties, and you may infer that our employer is among them.

a company called 'Cerus' also assessed penalties for failing government inspections.

'Hurrahs', 'The Hitching Post," 'Boulder Waste Management," and 'Cordero Construction' also have been negatively affected.

And to save us time, here two companies positively affected - 'The Dirty Lady' and 'Aegis Boitech.'

Opti usually hates giving away info. But his superstition has started to kick in on this run, and he wants to get it done and over with. He internally begins to go over scenarios in his head whereby the informaiton he just gave can come back around and bite the team....

Pull it together, chum. Its just a run... just a small time run... These guys are pros, just like you... You made a good call. The best call? Maybe not, but a good call... I think...

Johnson's smile extends a little further at this. Pointing a finger at Opti, he says to Stuntman, "See, here is someone who understands how this goes. A little quid-pro-quo is all I'm asking here." He drops the cigarette on the ground and grinds it out with his toe.

"I'm glad I took this meeting. You've already helped me out, and I'm not ungrateful." He takes out one more cigarette from his pack, looks in it, and tosses the mostly full pack to Stuntman. Lighting it he says, "Cangene is a subsidiary of Cross Biomedical. Cerus is one of the companies owned by Biogene. Aegis Biotech - well, if you find their owner, I'm fairly certain you can come up with the culprit in this little drama of ours. I'd speak plainly, but I wouldn't want our deal to crash, and upset the cart that is carrying our relationship." He smiles again, as if he has said something clever.

"Ta, gents - let me know in future if you want to trade anymore information, I'll be happy to oblige." He turns to go, and then hesitates, and says, "I will say, I like the style of trying to hide the relevant data in that stream of nonsense. Either that, or whoever is pulling the strings on this little operation has a serious case of multiple personality disorder. The Hitching Post? Hurrahs? We do cultured neural-tech, gentlemen, not fake tits."

Opti waits until the gentleman is well on his way before turning to Stuntman and says,

Don't smoke those. Put them in a little plastic bag or something. Keep 'em for later. Trust me.

Alright gents, here is the score as I see it. We have two separate industry wars going down here in our little slice of Denver. First, a Bio-medical throw-down. Aegis Biotech (and affiliate - Waste Connections) WINS VERSUS Cangene (subsidiary of Cross Biomedical), Cerus (owned by Biogene), Enzo Biochem, Boulder Waste Management, and Cordero Construction. I might be stretching a bit, but I am assuming those construction and waste management companies tagged on there at the end are related to one of our losing biomed/tech companies.

But... we also have... what? Gentlemen's clubs? Brothels? "modeling agencies (which I don't buy for a second and I sort of want to pay them a visit on principal)? And The Dirty Lady and the Eastern Promises Modeling Agency are WINNING VERSUS Hurrahs, The Hitching Post and Curtnicks (of which at least two losers are Mafia).

So is our guy really dealing in two industries, and maybe the T&A stuff is more important than it seems? OR is this dude just really particular about his sexual preferences?

Also, anyone have anything on Vandos & Associates? Are they T&A too? or is there a loser in another category as well?

Still, our new friend gave us a solid lead. The owner of Aegis Biotech. With that, we can start shaking down the others now that we have a better idea of what we are after.

Thoughts?

Staring fixedly at a distant bit of nothing near the horizon, Slick scowls behind his shades.

"Thoughts? I think I'd be feeling a lot better not discussing this particular topic across unsecured wireless connections, but hey, if anyone is listening in, they've heard enough now to make some guesses about things. Oh, and if you are listening in, Duke says "Hi!", and he's sorry about the mess last time, but he wants you to know he was only responsible for the property damage, the stiff was already there when they showed up."

Cripes, seriously? Suppose our new friend has someone listening in on us still, trying to figure out who the frick we really are? Suppose those drones hovering around are quietly snapping up our gorram pictures? Even if it's just Cangene covering their asses, I sure as frack don't want my mug in a corporate database if I can avoid it! Fricken' unprofessional, I tell ya...

~Umi

Bah. He's right. I've gotten too used to the CZ in Chicago and how low fi everything is. Still, I think Hosepipe can cover our wireless asses and I'm sure he can track down anyone who is listening. Still, all things considered, I'm feeling better about this run already...

Trying his best to blend in, Slick strolls toward the other end of the park. He runs his hands through his oily hair a few times and sighs. Muttering to himself, he straightens up, sticks his hands in his pockets, and concentrates his mind on turning off his implants, one by one.

With a grunt, he slumps onto an empty bench and closes his eyes as the last few seconds of video feed stutter, loop, and wink out of existence.

Compared to the constant murmur of live wires thrumming subliminally through his brain, the relative silence is defeaning, disorienting, refreshing. It occurs to Slick that he has a massive headache that he's only now able to even notice, and he tsks at it in annoyance - or maybe just in acknowledgement.

The barest hint of a breeze teases at his lapels. He dimly registers hearing voices in the distance, the din of traffic, some far off dog yapping at who-knows-what, all muted by a pervasive fuzziness that seems to cling to the inside of his skull. He throws his head back, kicks his feet out, and stretches. The sun beats down gently. Slick opens his sightless eyes, just to enjoy the oddity of blindness for a moment.

Then he reboots.

As the light of the world comes into unnaturally sharp focus once again, a poorly cached sound file glitches across his eardrums.

W̝͓͖̣̘̺ͅhe̟̦̰̩l̜͔̰̤͚̥̯p͖̞͕̲,̗̯̣̘͍̘ ͍t̗i̺̤̝̥̣̝̠me͕̳̜ͅ to͇̩̪̜͎̞͔ ̪ma͎̭k͎̺̪e t͔͖̥̹͉̙̰h̹̙͍͔̜e̱̞͇ ͍͖f̥̟̩̪r̰͖̬̪͇͙i͍̠g͈̺̘͙̥g͕̘̖i̱̘̼͎̩̩n̩̗'͔͈̭̝̪͖ ̟͕̤̳̺d͍̺͉̣o̩̳̗̼͚͓n̠͓̣͇̲͚̗ṳ͎̣̳ͅt̪̫̫̟̥͎̰s̜̻̭͉̣.

~Umi

With the meeting over, 30 gets up from his bench and walks back to the car, watching Slick take a seat on a bench out of the corner of his eye. He makes sure that no one is following the group as they walk back through the parking lot.

Reaching the car, he finds Hosepipe still there, ostensibly covering their backs in the Matrix. "Everything seemed on the up and up on my end, everything kosher here?"

Opti waits a few minutes and heads back to the car as well...