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It was another hot day in the Warrens, the sun beating down on Jack, raising beads of sweat from his brow. Sitting outside Nic's Knacks, he leaned back in his favorite chair, an old and tattered Barcalounger that Nic had scavenged from only he knew where. Taking a sip of what passed for beer, rapidly warming in the July sun, Jack paged through the latest virtual copy of The Denver Tribune on his commlink. The document shimmered and warped as he tried to read it, the combination of poor signal form the public Grid and the static caused by lack of signal repeaters causing his 'eyes almost to cross as he read it.

Nic was busy about 50 yards away in Sunrise Park, the old troll hobbling along looking for anything of value that might be left behind. A trio of young punks, their jackets marked with a stylized triple-8 sauntered past him, the swagger in their step exaggerated by the invincibility only the very young or very foolish still feel. Despite their braggadocio, they gave Nic a polite nod as they walked past him, knowing that the juice wasn't worth the squeeze to push around the old troll. One of them even glanced over at Jack, nodded as if to acknowledge his guardianship over his friend.

A chirping sound came from the Ikon in his hand, and Jack pressed a few buttons to pull up the message, the address indicating it is from Chapel.

<<Hello Jack, I have a job opportunity for you. It is a for a friend of mine, so he will be handling the details, but I can vouch for him. If you are interested, please contact me.>>
Jack VII
Jack took a swig of the Aztlona soyveza straight from the bottle. Auburn, huh? I wonder if he took a pay cut to come play for the Broncs'... the ork thought. Adjusting his glasses, Jack scrolled through the rest of the Tribune headlines as the Matrix connection came and went. "Is this even news?" he asked no one in particular, "A government employee taking a bribe? Seriously..."

Pressing a button on his Ikon, Jack placed his glasses' image link in SUBDUED mode, increasing the display's transparency property to 95%. Looking around, he noticed Nic hobbling around the park. Never stops working, Jack thought to himself as he spotted a few Trey Eights walking near his friend. As far as gangs went, the Trey Eights didn't seem too bad, they at least afforded Nic some respect and that's about all anyone could ask for in Aurora. He knew it was just as likely that he would be cracking some of their skulls later on, but that was just life in the Warrens. Jack returned the ganger's nod with a ghost of a smile. No reason to be impolite.

Returning the image link to the STANDARD setting, Jack finished reading the newspaper. A story about a drug overdose epidemic in the Warrens caught his eye. It was a somewhat surprising article to see in the Tribune. Most reporters didn't bother reporting on the Warrens as the majority of the paper's readers wouldn't give a frag what happened here. For Jack though, knowing what was going on in his neighborhood was important for survival. An uptick in drug overdoses could mean a number of things, not the least of them being a new dealer in the neighborhood with new product. When a dealer intruded on another dealer's turf, it didn't usually end well. It was also helpful to know about big gatherings. Calling up his calendar, he added a new event on July 31st to note the Rebuilding Together Rally in Horseshoe Park. He also downloaded the article, figuring his friend Amy might be interested in it.

As he finished the paper, a notification window opened in his field of view as the Ikon chirped. Reading through Chapel's message, Jack was intrigued. Standing up from the dilapidated Barcalounger, Jack walked toward Nic and sent a quick reply.

<<A man's got to work. I'm free, please send me the meet details, chummer>>

Getting close to Nic, Jack called out, "Come on, you old trog, I may have a job."

Gear List
[ Spoiler ]
While Jack greeted his old friend, the morning found Grease in a much different setting. Waking in his air conditioned apartment in Montbello, he stretched luxuriously in his bed before rising and moving to the kitchen for his morning soykaf. The soykaf machine burbled contentedly as he approached, and ever since he fixed it last week it no longer spouted boiling hot liquid all over his hand as he removed the cup.

The virtual edition of the Tribune opened itself in front of him, the data streamed directly through the optic nerve due to the his neural interface. He paged through it as he put on his overalls, finished his coffee, and grabbed a stuffer - this one proclaiming proudly that it contained Real Butter Substitute ™.

Unwrapping the package with his teeth as he opened the door to his workshop, he began getting ready for his daily ritual, lovingly cleaning, polishing, and tinkering with his car. As he took his first bite of the stuffer, two messages opened up as separate windows in his field of vision.

The first showed a friendly human face, brown hair worn short and parted to the side. The man's eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, the rest of his face behind a well trimmed beard. <<Hello Henry, it has been too long. When are you and I going to go out to dinner again? You know what, let's not leave it to chance. Lunch, a week from Thursday, my treat - I'll PM you the details.>> Grease smiled, trust Chapel to bring up food within the first three sentences out of his mouth. <<In the meantime, I've got some work you might be interested in, if you aren't too busy.>>

The face on the other screen is almost the exact opposite of Chapel's. A sour faced Ork with a scar running down the right side of his cheek, receding hair slicked back over his head, and a cigar hanging out of his mouth - Lieutenant Murphy could never be called likeable. On a good day, you might consider him "mildly offensive", but those were few and far between.

<<Grease. Grease. Grease!! I know you can hear me, pick up. Fine, play it that way. Need a favor. Its a small one - shouldn't put you out much. Nothin' at all really. In fact, you probably owe me one. Get back to me when you are done playin' with your car.>>
Meanwhile, back in the Warrens, Amy and Overkill were going to a meeting. They were in what remained of Peoria Elementary school. The building had been vacant for the past 20 years, as time continued to pass without any funding being channeled into the Warrens. With the looming threat of the bulldozing of the entire area, no one was willing to put in a nuyen more than they had to. As Overkill and Amy walked through the halls, they could see the faded murals painted by the children long ago, peeking out between the tags of different gangs - some actual paint and some in A/R. Large, garish letters proclaimed the supposed dominance of the BBs or Trey 8's, or for lesser known gangs like the Hellhounds, Los Magnificos, and White Tigers.

Amy felt a profound sadness as she walked through the halls, her astral sight revealing the haunting memories of the children of ages past. If this place were left open, Sam could have gone here. She could have gotten a real education, instead of what I can manage to fit in between trying to make enough money to feed us.

Overkill walked in silence next to her, lost in the thought, senses split between the real world around him and the virtual world he perceived through AR. Manchmal ist dieser Ort fühlt sich schlechter als Berlin. Sie haben gerade ihre Leute verlassen, und niemand bereit ist zu kämpfen, ihnen zu helfen scheint. As they approached the gym, he revised that thought, well, almost no one. There, standing on the stage, speaking to a crowd of fifty or so souls, was Chomsky.

Chomsky was one of the few who still fought the good fight. Not from the Warrens himself, Chomsky had been born Jared Walker, and had grown up in an affluent area of Englewood. He had long ago run out of money, having used the majority of it in service of the poor and SINless who lived in this hellhole. Today, Amy and Overkill were here to show support, as Chomsky was attempting to broaden the reach of his organization.

He could be heard speaking loudly to the crowd, his voice rebounding off of the cinder-block walls, adorned with a few banners proclaiming victories of children from long ago. Standing next to him was a young woman, pretty, dark skinned, her long black hair swept back into a pony-tail revealing the pointed ears of her metatype. "And with the help of other organizations like Rebuilding Together, we can spread our message faster. We can bring in more people, more funds, and make the politicians in the Zone notice us!" The crowd cheered, and young Amy and even cynical Overkill had a smile brought to their faces by the sheer earnestness of the man.

"Please there are refreshments provided by Ms. Greeley on the table. I know some of you haven't had a chance to eat today. Please, take some food, and if you have questions, please come see us."

As Amy and Overkill were deciding whether or not to get some food before going to see Chomsky and Greeley, Overkill received a message from Chapel. <<Overkill, nice to see you again. I have some work if you are interested, and I've thought about the young shaman you spoke of the last time we met. I think there is room for her on the team. If you are interested, let me know - and if you can pass the word on to her, see if she is interested as well.>>

Jack, outside Nic's Knacks, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

<<Glad to hear you can make it Jack. Always good to have a professional on the team.>>

Another chirp, and the image link puts up a holopic of a tall hispanic man. Six foot four, around 250 lbs, he is well past his prime, but although he has started to run to paunch, there is still muscle underneath. The bronze star on his chest and bars on his shirt show he is a Lone Star Captain.

<<His name is Juan Ramirez, and I will be forgoing my usual cut on this one, as Juan and I go way back. I'll let him explain all the details, but you can trust this one Jack, he's one of the good guys.>> Chapel's face turns a wry smile, as if to say, How few remain.

<<He has a room at the old Motel 6 on East Smokey Hill. When you get to there, tell the clerk you have a room reserved under the name Smythe, and he'll bring you there. I've asked a couple of others to come along, so don't be surprised if you aren't the only one heading to the room. He will be expecting you at 8:00 tonight.>>

As Chapel's message plays out through his ear buds, Nic slowly comes closer. "Boy, I can still kick your ass. See if I don't. Hmmph." Nic pulls an old scanner out of a satchel he has over his shoulder, blows on it, and then buffs it with his sleeve as if it were a genie's bottle. "Little bit of work and this will be good as new." He looks up at Jack. "So what's this about a job?"
Jack VII
Jack, outside Nic's Knacks, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

"I actually think you probably could take me, Nic. You're too hard-headed a fragger to admit defeat," the ork joked.

At the conclusion of Chapel's message, Jack put together a final text to his fixer:
<<Message received, Chapel. I'll be there with bells on.>>

"Looks like I have something lined up with one of the Stars. You know I would normally turn down a job like that, but Chapel says he's on the level. His read on people has always been pretty solid." Checking the time display on his image link, Jack continued, "The meet isn't until tonight, so I'll probably head out around 1730. I need about two hours to prep before I leave, so you got me for another three or four hours. Put these hands to work."

Calling up his Contact List, Jack composed a message to Amy and attached the Tribune article he downloaded earlier:
<<@Amy: Hey chummer, saw this in the Trib. Thought you might find it interesting.>>
Grease, at home in Montbello, 10:45 AM, July 29th, 2075

Admiring his gunmetal grey Beemer with pride, Grease browses through the Tribune with disinterest. ""Gemini: you will be forced to turn on your friends and betray all that you love."" Well, that sounds grim." Seeing the notifications pop up on his commlink, Grease swipes the AR display of the paper away from his field of vision and thinks about his response. Quickly checking his personal credit account (low), he writes to Chapel, <<I'd love to go out to dinner with you. You always pick the best spots, and it's the best priced meal in the city! I'm pretty swamped today, but what's up? I could stand to hear about work.>>

Quickly swapping screens to respond to Murphy, Grease affects disinterest and composes the message with a frown.

<<Lieutenant, you should know me well enough to know I'm never done 'playing with my car'. That said, Who am I to refuse a favor to one of Denver's finest? However, my personal accounting differs from yours slightly; I tally that you owe me 12 small favors, 2 large ones, and your life for that thing with that guy. I'm nothing if not magnanimous; maybe you can pay me back with something big someday. Let's hear your favor.>>
Grease, at home in Montbello, 10:45 AM, July 29th, 2075

The video windows open again, this time with Murphy's message arriving first.

The ork's face on his video message turns even uglier - the corners of his mouth drawing upward into a frightening rictus, exposing teeth stained dark yellow by nicotine and soykaf. Grease knows this is Murphy's version of a smile.

<<You've got balls, Grease, one of the only reasons I like you. That, and your credit is usually good. This one's easy, we just need eyes and ears on someone, and the Star isn't too popular in the Warrens right now. There's a big meeting coming up in the Warrens later this week, some slot named Greeley is running it. I got orders to have someone keep an eye on the meeting, make see what's going on, without putting any Star personnel in harm's way.>>

Taking a puff out of the cigar, he pulls it out to take swig of soykaf. Grimacing, which pulls his face in even more horrifying directions, he liberally adds liquor to the 'kaf from a bottle in his desk. Taking another belt out of the up, he nods, and then puts the cigar back.

<<All in all, the meeting should take a couple hours of your time, I can probably shake loose about a grand from the CI fund to make it worth your while.>>

As Murphy finishes, Grease plays the second message, this one from Chapel.

<<Excellent. I'm thinking Cafe Giovanni over on Market. They do an excellent late lunch. In the meantime, a friend of mine needs some help. He is footing the bill on this one, so I'll leave the details to him. He's a Captain at Lone Star, just to give fair warning, but he is not looking to "jam you up", I believe is the phrase. He has a room at the old Motel 6 on East Smokey Hill. When you get to there, tell the clerk you have a room reserved under the name Smythe, and he'll bring you there. I've asked a couple of others to come along, so don't be surprised if you aren't the only one heading to the room. He will be expecting you at 8:00 tonight. Good luck, looking forward to lunch.>>
Always Overkill
Drave turned of the recording in the corner of his AR, reaching over on the retro-green display reminiscent of the ancient computers of the 1970s and 80s and placing in the appropriate file on the far right of his vision He admired the speech
from Chomsky to this crowd of downtrodden people who were tired of being walked on. He doubted some of them had eaten a good meal outside of rehydrated soy in a month, let alone that day. He had to give the kid credit, Chomsky had a
way with words that could speak to intellectuals just as well as your average joe. He didn't know too much about this new organization, Rebuilding Together, and he had his suspicions. But just maybe they could provide a little support in this
very-big struggle to give the people of the Warrens something other than the short end of the stick. He would do his research on them anyways, if to prove to know one other than himself that this group was legit.

Drave was about to turn to Amy, the young comrade Drave had seen grow from an angry teenager frustrated by the desperation her and others around her were forced to live in, into one of the most ardent and impassioned voices of the
community; and motion that he was headed past the food to the soykaf machine in the corner, when he noticed Chapel's message pop up in the corner of his display. He read through the message and promptly replied.

<<@Chapel: Guten Tag, old friend; nice to see you as well. I cannot speak for my young compatriot here, but I am always interested in the right job. Perhaps this is one of them. Send any info you can and I will speak to
Amy on your behalf momentarily.>>

He closed the message window after he was done, looking down with eyes glowing the same faint retro-green of his AR display behind his ever-present sunglasses (and yes, he appreciates the cliche') at Amy with his usual sarcastic grin. "It
looks like we may get to try out a few of those "tricks" of yours a bit sooner than we thought; if you think you're ready."
When Drave spoke it was obvious that English was not his first language, the German accent and the inflections he grew
up using in Berlin were still there despite his fluent skill with the language. "Lets speak with Chomsky and afterwards I will give you the details of your first trip into the shadows." As he waited for the smile to appear on Amy's face at the news,
I hope she is ready. is all that could come to mind.
Chrome Head
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

Amy would have liked to make it here earlier and listen to the whole speech. Chomsky had a way with words that truly inspired people, her included.

This new organization he was speaking of was intriguing. People from outside rarely got interested in the lot of the poor and SINless living in the Warrens. And when they did, there was always an ulterior motive. And Chomsky knew this very well and yet he trusted this woman. Could this really be different from the usual? Should I really keep my hopes up? Corps and governments and their underlings were all on it to deprive everyone else of their freedom, their will to fight, even their very soul, after all. From afar, Amy took a peek with her second sight and observed the aura of that Ms. Greeley in detail.

As she was about to go see Chomsky, a beep from her commlink startled her. I really need to change the sounds on this damn thing. It was Jack, ironically with a message about the people in this very room. She took a mental note to record a reply for him after this -- she was a slow typist and preferred to leave voice messages.

As she was muting her "machine", Overkill was telling her of something he had read from his own machine. "I feel ready. Do you think it's gonna pay well?" she asked with hope in her voice.
Jack, outside Nic's Knacks, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

I'll certainly take you up on that offer. Grab the toolkit over there and follow me." Nic slowly turns and begins to move in his shuffling gait down South Genoa Court toward E Loyola Circle. Jack picks up the kit and quickly catches up with his friend, and slows to match his pace.

"Got an alert a car showed up about a quarter mile down the road, 2065 Ford Americar. The back half is smashed to hell, but I think we can salvage some of the engine parts. To much for me to do on my own, so I was going to let it go - but now that I've got your capable hands, I can maybe make a nuyen or two. Assuming its still there."

Nic takes a moment to wipe his brow, the sweat dripping down around his horns and falling on the ground. "Working with the Star - sounds risky. Still, everything you've told me about this Chapel seems on the level."

As the two friends move down the road, Jack's enhanced vision sees the car Nic mentioned, on the side of the road, hood popped, and with two humans already bent over the engine, and a third leaning up against the car.
Jack VII
Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

"Sure thing, Nic."
Jack grabbed the tool bag and followed Nic down South Genoa Court. Nodding at Nic's assessment, Jack silently chuckled at the "nuyen or two" comment. While his chosen profession certainly wasn't lucrative, he stood to make a bit more than that given Nic's Knacks undeniable lack of much business overhead beyond the occasional protection money or bribe. Jack surprisingly had a head for numbers and a decent understanding of business. He had no idea where he would have acquired that particular talent, but made use of it to the best of his ability. One of those uses was setting Nic up with an actual business plan and proper accounting so he has an idea of how much profit he's actually clearing.

As they near the site of the junker, Jack spots a few people already digging around the car. "Looks like someone may have already jumped your claim, Nic. Let me see if I can clear the vultures out..." Jack says in a low voice.

Approaching the three, Jack moves to put himself between them and Nic and says loudly, "Hoi, fellas! Are you chums with the wrecker service?" Jack pretends to look around, as if looking for a tow vehicle. "I thought I cancelled the tow last night. My car isn't worth anything but scrap at this point, I just figured I'd strip it here."

Closer, the ork also takes a second-glance at them, trying to assess their level of threat.
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:00 AM, July 29th, 2075

There is movement in corner of Overkill's virtual display, and a new message comes in from Chapel.

<<Glad to hear it. This particular job is for a friend of mine, so I hope you will keep an open mind. His name is Juan Ramirez, and he is a Captain with Lone Star. He has a room at the old Motel 6 on East Smokey Hill. When you get to there, tell the clerk you have a room reserved under the name Smythe, and he'll bring you there. I've asked a couple of others to come along, so don't be surprised if you aren't the only one heading to the room. He will be expecting you at 8:00 tonight. I know that you and authorities don't mesh well, but he is someone who honestly wants to help.>>

In the meantime, Chomsky and Shannon have moved off of the stage and are working their way through the crowd, speaking to each in turn as they past. Shannon stays near Chomsky, and both of them seem genuinely interested in the people they meet and greet. Chomsky catches a glimpse of Amy and Overkill and gives a wave, before turning back to the elderly woman in front of him.
Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

The three "men" turn around at the sound of Jack's voice. A quick glance shows the oldest to be around 15. They are all Hispanic, with shaven heads and the letters LM tattooed on their necks. They wear oversize t-shirts over jeans. The one leaning against the side of the car preens and steps forward, pulling up his shirt front to reveal a pistol tucked into the waist band of his pants.

"We ain't no repo crew, son - and you ain't the owner. I jacked this thing last night, and you don't look nothin' like the chica I stole it from."
The other two stand to either side of him, looking a little less sure of themselves, but willing to back their erstwhile leader.

"Now step off before you and your old man get hurt."
He spits disdainfully on the ground.

Jack's imagelink registers a text from Nic - who's neural link allows him to utilize his commlink without moving. <<Stall them a little bit, I have a plan>>
Jack VII
Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

At the sight of the gun, Jack mentally activates his wired reflexes and drops the toolkit. Going along with the apparent leader's story and trying to buy Nic some time, he growls, "You're right, nino, I don't look like the chica you boosted this car from, but I do look like the angry boyfriend of the chica you jacked. She said she got into a wreck, but this changes things."

Pausing briefly as he tries to buy time for Nic to do whatever he has planned, Jack continues, "The way I see it, you bobos got a few options. You can try to scrap with us. Sure, it's two versus three, but that's three humans versus an orc and a troll. That's probably even odds, even with that pistola you're strapping. Maybe you take us, maybe you don't. Even if you do, we aren't carrying anything worthwhile other than a few tools, so is that car going to be worth one or all of you dying over? Not to mention the sounds of a fight are surely going to attract locals who may want to see what's going on, they'll probably be more dangerous than the two of us. Or, you can be astuto and decide this isn't worth it. Your choice."
Grease, at home in Montbello, 11:20 AM, July 29th, 2075

<<@Murphy: Well, provided I'm not in too much harm's way, that shouldn't be a problem. Send me the details (along with my normal fee) of the meet and I will report back.>>

Stretching, Grease tinkers with his car for a few minutes while thinking. Not wanting to get any Star in harm's way? What kind of meeting am I attending? If rent wasn't due...

<<@Chapel: Excellent; I trust you will make the arrangements. It's been too long, there's so much I need to catch up on. I will be at the meet. Do you have any additional information on the Captain? I'd like to know who I'm working for before I get too deep with someone who may not be trustworthy. Also, do I know anyone else who might be attending? I'm not working with that jackass Brickhouse again, I'm still buffing the dings out from when he slid across my hood like he was some kind of trid-star.>>
Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

The other two blanch at Jack's words, taking an unconscious step back. The leader eases his gun into his hand, but doesn't point it at the duo yet.

"Back off man, this is our car."

The two sides stare at each other for a short time, neither side making a move. Jack and Nic looking confident and threatening, and the teens looking more and more like discretion would be the better part of valor.

Nic nods to Jack, and leans forward, fixing the leader with a steely eye. "Those Los Mags tattoos say you are a long way from home, esse." He cocks his head to the side, as if listening for something. In the near distance the sounds of engines can be heard getting closer. "Hear that? While we've been standing here, I've made a call. Those are the Trey-Eights coming to see why the Los Mags are here on their territory. I can guarantee you there are alot more than three of them."

The sweat on the leaders face now has nothing to do with the heat, and then he and his friends move quickly to get on their bikes . "This ain't over putos." They speed away, disappearing around the corner in a few seconds.

"Pick up that tool kit for me will you? My back is starting to hurt." Nic moves over to the car and starts poking around under the hood, making clicking noises with his tongue as he surveys the damage the clumsy gangers have done to the engine.
Jack VII
Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:15 AM, July 29th, 2075

As the gangers speed away, Jack laughed. "Good play there, Nic. I figured they were gangers of some sort, but didn't recognize the ink. Glad they backed down, last thing I wanted was to get caught in a fight without any kind or protection."

Grabbing the toolkit, Jack rests it on the side of the engine well and prepares to hand Nic whatever he needs to strip the car of its worth.

"Now that I made new friends, can you tell me what you know about the Los Mags?"
Grease, at home in Montbello, 11:30 AM, July 29th, 2075

Murphy's next response comes in the form of a text message. <<What fairyland do you live in that you think you are getting up front? Payment upon completion as normal. The meet is scheduled for 8:00 PM on the 31st at Horseshoe Park. You can't miss it, it is right off of East Iliff Avenue. Look for the big group of homeless looking at the pretty elf.>> Attached is a holopic of Greeley, an attractive elven woman in her 20's.

Chapel's next reply shows him to be a little confused. <<Henry, I vouched for Ramirez - I thought that would be good enough between the two of us. I shall indulge your curiosity but am a little hurt. He is a Captain from Vice who also handles the death benefits for Lone Star officers killed in the line of duty. He and I have had several dealings in the past where we've taken some very bad people off of the street. Not sure if you would know the others at the meet, but there is an ork named Jack, and two elves named Amy and Overkill respectively. I'm sure someone of your intellect will have no trouble discerning which is which. Brickhouse is temporarily unavailable due to blood loss. He crossed the Wakenda a couple weeks back, and is no longer in the shadowrunning business.>>

Grease, at home in Montbello, 11:45 AM, July 29th, 2075

Grease grins at Murphy's response. Always the tightwad; it's not even his money.

<<@Murphy: I just figured since you were drinking before noon you may be more generous than your semi-sober self. I forgot you were a mean drunk. I will get the info you need and keep your shining reputation with the brass; Captain Murphy has a nice ring to it.>>

<<@Chapel: Of course, old friend- my apologies. Let me buy lunch next week to make it up to you.>> Grease grimaces at his faux-pas; it was going to be expensive. <<I appreciate the work; I will be there with bells on, look forward to meeting the rest of the team.>>

Swiping the AR display away after sending his messages, Grease finishes his soykaf and grimaces when he realizes it's gone cold. He smiles and finally heads down to the shop, planning on spending the afternoon tinkering on his cars.
Always Overkill
Overkill, Peoria Elementary, 11:05 AM, July 29th, 2075

<< @Chapel: I trust your judgement in these matters. It looks like the young lady will be joining us in this endeavor. Forward any info, including the possible payment, on the run that you can to my commlink. We will be
there. Do I know any of the other members of the crew we will be rendezvousing with at this meeting?>>

Drave closed the message on his AR and looked over to Amy with a smile. "The work Chapel sends my way tends to be lucrative in one form or another. We will be meeting with the client tonight." He looked over to the crowd surrounding
Chomsky and Greeley, "For now we will have to settle for learning a bit more about our friend Chomsky's new associate." He took a sip of the soykaf he had just poured for himself and offered a cup to Amy.

As they waited for the congregation to thin out, Drave pulled up his AR interface and did a search on this Juan Ramirez, curious to learn more details on this Lone Star captain.
Chrome Head
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

Amy takes the cup offered to her and takes a short sip. "Lucrative? That's good, right? Can't wait to see what the corps will make us do to some other corps." she says with a wink.

As fewer people remain, Amy approaches Chomsky and Greeley. "Hey Jared, I didn't realize you had this new thing lined up. So you're organizing a rally and telling the press.. are you going mainstream now? You know we can't trust the media, they're corps too you know."

Turning to the elven woman of a similar age as herself, "Hi, I'm Amy, nice to meet you. Thanks for trying to help us out."
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:10 AM, July 29th, 2075

Greeley seems genuinely pleased to meet the two newcomers, shaking hands firmly and smiling. "Amy, Overkill, a pleasure to meet you both. Jared has spoken highly of both you personally and your efforts on behalf of the less fortunate here in the Warrens."

Pushing an errant hair back over her ear, she steps back so Jared can give Amy a hug, and Overkill a firm clap on the back.

"My friends" he says, "so glad you can come. I wouldn't call us mainstream, per se, but Shannon has convinced me that the rally and the publicity around it may be a way to get people to start paying attention to what is going on down here."

Shannon shifts to speak up. "The problem now is the same problem that has existed for the past fifty-odd years. The Warrens are scheduled to be demolished. It only requires the signature of the committee in charge to actually demolish them. Once they do that, they are out of a job, so every administration since the Treaty of Denver has kicked the bucket down the road, lining their pockets." Her voice raises, and Amy notices her astral signature moving toward the side of the spectrum that indicates frustration.

"In the meantime, no official funding can be allocated here, since they can't justify spending resources to fix up a neighborhood that could, at any moment, be destroyed. So these poor people sit and wait, and no one in the government or the corps helps out." She pauses for a moment, and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell, but it is incredibly upsetting to see all these people left to the mercy of the gangs and the crime syndicates because no one can be bothered. Fifty years of the Zone looking the other way as the Warrens decays has to stop. I can't promise you the rally will fix things, but I hope it might start us on a different path. Excuse me, I would like to get some fresh air."

She moves off through the crowd, stopping to help an elderly woman pick up a fan she had dropped, and then disappearing through the door.

"Isn't she something?" Jared asks with a smile on his face.
Jack, near the intersection of South Genoa Court and East Loyola Circle, 11:15 AM, July 29th, 2075

Nic laughs, "Friends, indeed. The Los Magnificos are punks. Bunch of Latin thugs that got pushed out of the CAS after they absorbed the Aztlan Zone, ended up clawing out a tiny kingdom in the Warrens. Not much more to tell. Small time punks with big dreams and some heavy artillery. Hand me that socket wrench, will ya?"

The sounds of motorcycles gets incredibly loud, and six members of the Trey-Eights pull up next to the car. The leader, an human with a pair of Zeiss eyes that must have set him back 10K looks at Nic. "So where are these punks?"

Nic's claw arm reaches up and around the hood, pointing down Loyala. "They went that-away. If you hurry, you might catch them - they were running pretty fast."

The ganger smiles, revealing a shiny grill covering his teeth, "Thanks old man, just remember to kick back our share of that salvage." and with a hand wave, the six bikes blazed off, the engines of their Mirages spiraling up the RPMs before kicking into gear.

After they had gone, Nic turns back to Jack. "Used to be you could live in relative peace, even in this section of the Warrens. Now I have to pay protection money to stay alive. Ok, now hold up this piece here."

Jack and Nic spend the next half hour taking apart the engine, and then make a couple trips back and forth to the shop to drop off their haul. Nic has to stop several times because of the heat, his breathing sounding like a bellows.

After they are done, Nic sighs, and says, "I'm going to take a shower. Thank you for the help Jack, I appreciate it. For an ork, you ain't half bad." With a wink, Nic disappears inside, leaving Jack alone and sweating outside the shop.

Chrome Head
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:15 AM, July 29th, 2075

"She sure is," says Amy, thinking about it.

Maybe there's a chance this will actually do something good for us.

"I feel like we can trust her, too, which is rare for someone coming from the outside.

"No offense," Amy adds as an afterthought, realizing who she had said that to.

"If I can do something to help out, let me know. I'll be busy this week though," she says with a smile. "Overkill got me a spot for a job, like you suggested I should get. I'm gonna find out what it is tonight."
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary school's gym, 11:15 AM, July 29th, 2075

Jared laughs at Amy's slip of the tongue. "None taken. I understand why the people here are mistrustful of others. I'm hoping I've been able to earn that trust."

He arches an eyebrow at the mention of a job. "Oh he did, did he?" Wagging a finger at Overkill, he continues, "Good news - just make sure she gets back in one piece. I wish you all the best - and as always, if you need anything, please let me know."

"Now, while I would love to stay and chat, there are several dozen other people who need my help. Wonderful to see the both of you again - hopefully we'll see you both at the rally."
Always Overkill
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary, 11:20 AM, July 29th, 2075

Drave considered Chomsky's words, it made perfect sense that the people in the Warrens would be mistrustful of outsiders. To this point the only thing they ever got from any of the outsiders who came along trying to drum up support in the
Warrens over the years were empty promises and broken dreams. These people deserved better than that. He sincerely hoped that Chomsky and Greeley could do better than that; but even if they were on the level about everything they said,
the odds are still stacked against them.

He turned to Chomsky as he was about to depart, "Nice to see you my friend, and try not to worry too much over Amy. She is far more capable than you'd think, and in any case I will be watching her back. But it was good to see so many people
came out for this meeting. There should be even more for that rally you have coming up. We will likely be on the job, but if we at all can, we'll be there."

As Chomsky walked away, surrounded by his supporters, Drave turned to Amy with a grin, "Now I have a few things I need to pick up from my place before the meeting tonight, care for some lunch on the way?" Amy looked at him surprised,
and glanced over at the food that was being served to the people at the meeting, as if to say "why not eat here?" Drave shrugged at the look and said, "I'd rather these people eat all they can. We can afford to buy our lunch," and he looked at
the crowd with a briefly saddened expression. "Most of them can't."

Drave gestures to the exit that will lead to his residence, and lunch, and begins to lead the way. He looked over his shoulder at Amy, his grin having returned, "My treat."
Chrome Head
Amy and Overkill, Peoria Elementary, 11:20 AM, July 29th, 2075

Scavenging for food had played an important role in Amy's life. One doesn't waste food. One doesn't refuse food or supplies. She didn't actually agree with Overkill, but she knew this meant something to him, so she played along. "You're right I guess. Thanks." And she forced a smile, keeping the free food laying on the table in the back of her head.

"Can Sam come along for lunch too? I might not see her for a while after tonight."
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:00 PM, July 29th, 2075

By the onset of early evening, the heat of the day has barely begun to fade. The only thing that makes it tolerable is the lack of humidity.

The sun is slowly setting over the mountains to the west, the fading rays casting long shadows on the streets of the Warrens. With the onset of darkness, will come new crimes, new victims, and another evening in the struggle to survive.
The traffic on Smoky Hill is light, even on a main thoroughfare such as this, people only travel at night when necessary. The road lies on the boundary between the Fronts in the north and the Yakuza in the south. When the two groups are not clashing over some real or imagined slight, it is a neutral zone that offers relative safety. The decision to hold the meet here is a smart one - clearly this Ramirez has some form of familiarity with the Warrens.

The Motel 6 is an unremarkable building, sitting on E. Smoky Hill across from a Stuffer Shack. Both have seen better days, and even the AR signs show up feebly, the virtual letters dimmed and garbled by outdated software running on hardware that hasn't been inspected or repaired in years.

The parking lot is half full, a mix of cars at least 10 to 20 years old, all in various stages of disrepair. A drone shuffles through the lot, feebly attempting to keep the tide of litter and garbage at bay. The door to the main office is closed, but the physical sign next to it declares "Acancy" - the V long ago having gone missing.

No one is in the parking lot of the motel, but there are three asian men standing around a new Shin-Hyung in the parking lot of the Stuffer Shack, sharing some cigarettes and alcohol. Their clothing does nothing to hide the bulges inside their jackets. They are laughing at at ease, secure on their side of the border.
Jack VII
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:00 PM, July 29th, 2075

The backseat of the car from Amendola's Taxi service had probably seen more bodily fluids than an ER. Jack tried not to think about the activities that had occurred in this particular cab on this particular back seat. The ork had called for the service to pick him up by 1900, but the car didn't arrive until 1945. His cabbie for the evening, a dwarf rastafarian out of the Carribean League, probably explained that tardiness to some degree. Not necessarily the dwarf, per se, but the suspicious scent that still lingered in the cab.

A far cry from earlier in the day, Jack was dressed for biz. Garbed in a tan Actioneer Business Suit, he chose to forgo a tie given the heat and left the top two buttons of his white dress shirt unbuttoned. A Streetline Special rested concealed inside the holster tailored into the interior of his jacket. His glasses and commlink completed the look of a mid-level Corp sarariman.

The dwarf had said little during the short ride, but spoke up hazily as the car approached the Motel 6. "Hey mon! Where you be wantin' to be dropped off?"

"Why don't you drop me off over-" Jack cut off the end of his sentence as he caught sight of the three Asian men loitering outside the Stuffer Shack. "On second thought, it would probably be in both of our best interests if you just dropped me off at the motel office." The three men appeared to be Yakuza. If the rumors could be believed, Amendola's paid protection to the Fronts and the last thing Jack needed at the moment was to cause a territorial pissing contest.

As the car came to a stop, Jack slotted his credstick and paid the fare. Looking at the cabbie through the cracked rear-view mirror, Jack said, "Hey chummer, I'm probably only going to be here for a short while. Any way you can stick around for an hour? I'm sure you can find some way to burn the time while you wait. I just want to have a ride lined up for when I leave. I've got a 25 nuyen.gif tip for you if you can manage it; 15 now, 10 more if you're still here when I get back."

[ Spoiler ]
Always Overkill
Outside Peoria Elementary, Aurora Warrens, 11:25 AM, July 29th, 2075

As Amy and Drave walk out of the dilapidated school and into the light of the midday Sun, he paused; considering that this young woman that Drave was bringing into this dark and deadly world he walked in had a child at home depending on
her. Depending on her to return. It may not be her "child" by birth, but the care she had for him was as great as any biological mother. Drave made a promise to himself then, he would never leave this girl behind. No matter the cost.

He did his best to shake loose of the thoughts; there was no need to spread more worry into Amy's world, "Of course," he smiled, "Sam is always welcome when I am buying."

The two went on to pick up Sam and go get their lunch, enjoying relative peace while casually enjoying the meal. Once they had finished Drave paid the check and dropped off Amy and Sam at her place, and said goodbye to Sam. He looked up
at Amy, saying, "I will be back to pick you up tonight, be sure to be ready at 7:30. Try and relax with Sam until then, there will plenty of excitement to come." He headed off toward his place, wishing he could be leaving them in a safer
Jack VII
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:00 PM, July 29th, 2075

The dwarf's glazed eyes lit up as much as they could when Jack emphasized the word 'burn' in his negotiation. His next buzz dancing through his head, the dward mumbled, "Ya mon, one hour." Jack slotted his credstick and tipped the dwarf 15 nuyen.gif before turning toward the door to the front reception of the Motel 6 without another word.

Walking in the door, Jack took a quick look around, examining the decor. Even given his spotty memory, the ork sensed the furnishings in the reception area were most likely two decades old. The gray, threadbare carpet was tinged in a wide pallette of stains; the furniture rickety at best, structurally unsound at worst. Before approaching the front desk, Jack loaded up Chapel's text message and verified the instructions.

The bored looking clerk perked up slightly as the ork approached. Whether that was out of respect or fear, Jack didn't know nor did he really much care. Before the clerk could start a sales pitch, Jack said firmly, "The name is Smythe. I have a reservation."
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:00 PM, July 29th, 2075

Flying down the interstate, Grease left his apartment 20 minutes late- on purpose. This was a trick he learned a number of years ago; planning ahead and being punctual by leaving early was boring; it was a challenge to make a meeting on time if you added the extra difficulty of not leaving nearly enough time to get there. Weaving in and out of traffic, horns blaring and people gesturing angrily, Grease was sure to respond to each in turn casually to himself.

"Oh, I'm sure you're right."
"I guess you gave up on giving peace a chance, huh?"
"No thank you, I prefer help from a young lady."

Pulling onto the block of the meet, he double checks to make sure all his equipment is running silently or turned off. "No need for people to know more than they need to from this first meet." Turning into the parking lot, he parks and opens the glove box. He gathers his pistol, Fly-Spy, Microskimmer, placing them in various pockets in case they're needed. About the close the compartment, his hand hesitates. Frak it. He reaches in, grabs his popper and snorts the Novacoke, the drug immediately flowing through his bloodstream and dilating his eyes. He puts on his AR glasses, tinting them slightly to hide his condition. Dumb, dumb, dumb, this guy is a vice cop for Chrissakes. Well, a dirty vice cop. Maybe I'm ok. He exits and locks his cab, says "Stay!" to the trunk, and walks up to the office to ask after a man named Smythe.
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:00 PM, July 29th, 2075

The clerk took off the set of trodes he was wearing when Jack came in. His shirt was had several interesting-looking stuffer stains on it, and the name tag listed his name as "Jim". He ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to fix it after wearing the trode net, and was about to speak when Jack cut him off.

Clearing his throat, he said "Yes sir, I do show there is a reservation for Smythe. However I understand I am to wait until the rest of your party arrives before I show you to your room. I believe there are 3 more guests. In the meantime, may I suggest you have a seat, and perhaps a refreshment from our vending machines?" It is clear that several of the samples on his shirt come from the two machines located near the elevator.

As Jack registers his request, the door opens, and Grease walks in.
Always Overkill
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 7:50 PM, July 29th, 2075

As Drave and Amy pulled up to the Motel 6, he found a nice alleyway looking out on the building from across the street. Drave scanned the area around the Motel, noticing the trio of gangers across the way. He was keeping an eye out for signs
of any who may be watching the Motel. He pulled up his AR and activated the thermographic filter for his cybereyes , scanning for the heat signatures of any other people who may be lurking in the shadows, while tasking his Agent to keep an
eye out for any hackers who may be nearby. Er ist ein cleverer ein, he thought; this Captain Ramirez knew how to pick a spot.

Once he finished surveying the scene, he turned to Amy, saying "The first thing you do when going into a place like this is to get the lay of the land. Know what's around, the buildings and roads nearby, and who's around." He gestured over to
the three street toughs on the Shin-Hyung. "Notice the thugs outside the Stuffer Shack boozing it up. Probably uninvolved in our business affair, but best to keep them in mind. They could pose an obstacle later, or, an opportunity."

He then noticed a taxi arrive and drop off a large ork in a business suit. After increasing the magnification on his the figure Drave recognized Jack's face. "I believe that you have another friend here," he said to Amy, pointing at the unusually
well-dressed ork. "Chapel said he was bringing a couple of other runners in on the job."

After pointing out Jack and watching him enter the office, "I guess we better head in, being alone with orks makes some cops edgy. Remember, listening will teach us much more about the client than talking," Drave told Amy. He helped her up
onto the back of his 72-Falke and pulled out from the alley and into the parking lot. Once there Drave does a final thermo sweep of the motel and checks his AR to see if his Agent has had any marks around the motel or AROs that were out of
the ordinary and then got off his bike and lead Amy into the Office.
Jack VII
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:00 PM, July 29th, 2075

Four? Jack thought to himself. It was a good number for a crew. Not too many people to make logistics difficult, but enough to cover the bases, assuming the fixer in charge knew what they were doing... and Chapel knew what he was doing. Ignoring the man's suggestion of a light, but speedy, repast from the vending machine, Jack squinted at the man's nametag and responded, "Thanks, Jim, I'll just have a seat over there."

The door chimed as an elf, equally as well dressed as Jack, entered the reception area. Jack sat down on the lumpy couch and attempted to casually listen to the elf and Jim's conversation.
Chrome Head
Amy's apartment, Aurora Warrens, afternoon of July 29th

Maybe Amy should have been stressed about what was to come, but she really wasn't. She had gone through so much in her life and now she finally felt that she could handle anything. Her magical abilities made her quick to react to threats, and swift in dealing with them. She was good and she was starting to feel that way too. Hubert had shaped her into a competent shaman, providing her with a variety of tools. Surviving in the streets since she was born had already done the rest.

Amy spent the afternoon working on a jigsaw puzzle with Sam. The little girl was not an angel, but Amy loved her like a mother. She wanted to give her something better than she had had herself, and for someone from around here, it meant taking a few risks with her own life. "Now you know mommy deals with bad people, and they may hurt me. I might not come back tonight, but it doesn't mean I'm not coming back tomorrow or the day after. Just listen to Kevin while I'm gone okay? He'll play with you a bit, but when he's doing other stuff don't bother him, ok?"

Around dinner time, young Kevin joined them to share the sad looking re-hydrated soy "mac & cheez". "I trust you to take good care of Sam, all right? And you can use what I got here however you see fit. I'll try to call if I can."

Amy then waited outside the building for Overkill to pick her up.

Edit: sorry for lack of timeline continuity
Chrome Head
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 7:55 PM, July 29th, 2075

Amy took in the scene near the motel and listened to Overkill dutifully. "Got it."

As they disembarked and walked towards the lobby, she paid special attention to the astral auras and signatures that may be lingering, while following Overkill closely.
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

As Amy and Overkill walk through the door, Grease smiles and addresses them (along with Jack, who is sitting patiently in the lobby). In a low voice (so that the desk clerk cannot hear), he speaks quickly but loud enough for you to all hear.

"Hello there, pleased to meet you. Having spoken with our mutual acquaintance, he indicated there would be an ork and two elves meeting me and someone else this evening. I'm going to make a leap and presume it's you three, given other factors. If I am mistaken I apologize, but I am sure I am not. Let us get on with business."

Turning to face the desk clerk, Grease gives his best drek-eating grin and states, "Smythe, party of 4."
Chrome Head
Motel 6, 1500 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Reserved, Amy acknowledges the presence of Jack with a smile and nods in reply to Grease's words, awaiting the reaction of the man behind the counter.
Jack VII
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Jack's focus on the elf at the counter caused him to miss the arrival of two additional elves. Figuring their arrival at 8PM sharp was probably not coincidental, Jack thought to himself, Probably the other two wheels of this wagon. Well, if this job involves baking cookies, we're set... Taking a second look at the two new elves, he realized he was looking at elves he knew. Amy and Overkill? Jack wasn't entirely surprised to see Overkill. He knew the elf had worked for Chapel before and was a good decker. But Amy was a surprise. As far as he knew, she had never worked the shadows before, although her magical ability would be unquestionably useful.

Before he had the chance to greet them, the unknown elf spoke up. Jack wasn't sure what to make of him. He had the air of a used drone salesman, persuasive but just a bit pushy. While Jack was willing to make mental assumptions, he was surprised when the elf put his thoughts to words. Making assumptions about who to trust with potentially important information seemed a bit worrisome, but Jack had learned not to jump to conclusions and figured he would wait to evaluate him until he knew more about him.

Standing up from the couch, he said, "Sounds good to me." Giving a curt nod to both Amy and Overkill, Jack followed Jim and 'Smythe, Party of Four' to the meeting.
Always Overkill
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Drave gave a familiar nod to Jack as they walk down the hallway to the room, Drave knew him as someone he could trust; and inspected Grease in his AR Overlay. He smiled as they silently walked to the room, watching the actions of the clerk.
He knew enough not to gab in front of this walking gossip rag, and felt assured that the others were waiting until their arrival to the room as well. As they neared the door to the room, he dropped back with and Amy quietly said,

"Now comes the interesting part."
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Jim waits until all four newcomers have arrived, trying not to stare at Amy. He stammers out "This way p-please, miss." and leads you down a hallway, and up a set of stairs. The fact that he walks half the length of a hallway to reach a set of stairs rather than use the elevator next to the desk does not inspire confidence in the capability of the conveyance.

Upon reaching the second floor, he moves three doors down, and stops at room 231. He knocks, and says, "Uh, Mr. Smythe? Your party is here."

A deep voice comes from the other side of the door. "Come in." Jim slides his keycard past the maglock, and the door unlocks. He opens it, and steps out of the way, turning to head back down to the lobby.

As the four of you enter the room, you see a tall latino male, with a mustache and graying hair sitting on the only chair in the room. His Lone Star uniform is wrinkled from the heat, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His service weapon is holstered, and his hat is on the bed, next to a large cardboard box.

The room itself is small, barely large enough to hold the single bed, the chair he is sitting in, and a single dresser with a trideo set on top. The door to the bathroom is immediately to your right, it is ajar, revealing just a bare toilet and shower stall.

He stands as you come in, and says, "Welcome, can you please just close the door behind you. I understand the conditions are cramped, but I wanted a certain amount of discretion. My name is Juan Ramirez, and as I'm sure Chapel has informed you, I work for Lone Star."

He takes a sip of water from a glass on the dresser, and continues. "The people I represent have a problem, and I understand that Chapel is in the business of finding people who solve problems, off the books, and off the record. The problem is a simple one. People are getting killed who aren't supposed to be. I want to employ you folks to put a stop to this, and if possible, hold the person or persons responsible accountable for what they've done. The job is primarily investigatory, but will likely involve confrontations with violent people. You will be paid for services rendered. Before I go on, are you interested in a job of this sort?"

He looks from person to person, seeming to gauge each person's mood, lingering a little on Grease, a spark of what looks to be recognition and then a slight shake of head in disdain.

Chrome Head
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Amy is disappointed but nevertheless manages to keep a neutral expression. She expected to hit a corp during her first run. She would love to hurt a corp. Now this corp type, a cop to make things worse, wanted her to go after regular people who are supposedly doing something illegal. That was a shame... But if the story checks out and they are really about to take out some bad guys hurting good folk, she wouldn't mind it.

And there I was thinking all shadow employers were called Johnson.

Not feeling assertive in this situation, Amy turns to Overkill and Jack to see how they are reacting to this.
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Grease clears his throat, nodding to Ramirez and the rest of the group. Drekheknowsheknows..

"Hello, Captain Ramirez. I appreciate you calling us out here this evening. Allow me to introduce myself; my mother named me Henry, but everyone I know calls me Grease. I haven't met the rest of the team here, but I am sure given Chapel's reputation they are all professionals and well worth your time. I'd like you to know that I personally am very interested; a police officer concerned for the well being of the lowest rung of society is something I consider quite commendable and further is something that is severely lacking in this city. I for one am willing to hear more, and will let the rest of the group decide on their own as this is my first time working with each of them."

Finished with his little speech Grease stands to the side, allowing the rest of the team to answer themselves.
Jack VII
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Jack looked Ramirez over. Given what Chapel had alluded to earlier, his opinion was favorable so far. A senior cop who didn't mind getting his hands dirty and secure enough in himself that he didn't feel the need to go full spit and polish with his uniform when meeting new people. The man's words drove that point home even further. He gave just enough information to give the team a basic idea about what they were getting into without revealing any critical details; short and to the point.

Before Jack could respond, the elf named Henry or Grease began speaking. Jack was fairly impressed this time with his gift of gab. He looked at the remaining two elves and noticed Amy had a pensive look on her face. Trying to catch her eye, he gave her a small smile to let her know it was OK and this was relatively typical.

When Grease finally concluded his platitudes, Jack said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, CPT Ramirez. I'm, Jack. Chapel spoke very highly of you. So far, I haven't heard anything that would prevent me from taking the job. Please continue."
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Ramirez gives a nod at Grease's speech, his teeth clenched. He turns to Jack, and says "Thank you. Chapel had assured me that you were all professionals", the last word coming out of his mouth with a hint of bite to it.

Looking over to Amy and Overkill, he asks, "And you two? Shall I continue?"
Chrome Head
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Ok, Jack's in, I guess it's all good then.

"You can count on me, uh... officer. Name's Amy," she said making an effort again to sound and appear neutral.
Always Overkill
Motel 6, 15000 E. Smoky Hill Road, Aurora, 8:05 PM, July 29th, 2075

Drave considered Ramirez's words, "You have piqued my interest, herr Captain. I am called Overkill. Now if I can get this out of the way," he said reaching into his jacket and producing a small shiny device, then panned
the object across the room. Once he appeared satisfied, he replaced the object and looked up at Ramirez with a carefully muted grin, "Do please continue."
Always Overkill
Double post- My apologies
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