This is presented for open commentary by the community - I have no real agenda. The events here (for the record) mostly amused me, and did not (to my knowledge) upset anybody in the group.
Two sessions ago, the runners were working with a new fixer. (Bad things had happened with the previous fixer, and that worthy was hiding while some heat died down, but in the mean time he had passed their contact information on to a new fixer.) The team is mostly a discreet action team with barely raised stats, and little rep.
For context, the team operates in South Florida. I took some liberties with canon to determine that global warming and hurricane action had raise sea level enough to disrupt a lot of land reclamation in the area, and that the return of nature owing to the Awakening had done some of its own mangrove, sawgrass and gator oriented reclamation.
The team is all human, consisting of a latina infiltrator, a swamp redneck drone rigger/hacker (more rigger than hacker) and a very unfrocked catholic priest mage with an elemental-summoning habit.
The new fixer hooked them up with a Johnson for a low-risk, high-discretion job. Right up their alley. They meet Johnson, who spins them a story about being in the lingerie fashion industry, and wanting samples from hidden R&D/design facilities run by the competition. The timeline's a little tighter than the runners like (48 hours) and there are two locations: Jacksonville, and Boston. The pay is on a piecework basis: the more they get (stockings, panties, garters, bras, bustiers, whatever) the more they get paid. If they can only hit one location, so be it, c'est la vie ... it's all in how much money they want.
OK, cool, they agree, the redneck and infiltrator start up the coast in a powerboat (they decided to just do the Jacksonville location) while the ex-priest gets busy doing initial scouting in the astral.
At first, things check out. There's the location. Large building in Jacksonville, covered in ivy but very low apparent security. Lots of people inside ...
... young ladies inside ...
... and it looks residential ...
... near campus ...
.... wait a darned minute. He checks information on the address.
It's a sorority.
This is a panty raid.
He calls his team and fills them in. They say frag this drek, and turn the boat around. They start to do more research, specifically on Johnson. Since they hadn't let the grass grow under their feet, it doesn't take all that long to find Johnson, and pick up that he's bragging to his bros about how he found the fixer through his daddy's connections, and you just have to know how to handle those kinds of people.
This is the last straw. Screw the panty raid. These fratbros are about to find out who you can, and who you should definitely not push around.
I draw a tasteful veil over a scene of unimaginable but very discreet violence, largely featuring stunballs, collecting all their commlink data, personal identification, and very embarrassingly posed pictures - oh, and the removal of the key funding source of the fratbros from their room: Deepweed and novacoke. Yup, they've been doing some amateur dealing on the side to fund their activities.
Endgame: the runners save the hides of the four stupids from some very opinionated local mobsters, and now have the contact information of the father from whom the fratbro son stole the fixer's contact information.
They didn't get paid for the job, but after explaining to the fixer how this Johnson should have been checked out a lot more carefully, the fixer is smiling and nodding a lot, and not making waves.
Last session, the same fixer hooks them up with a deal. This Johnson is legit, he's worked with her in the past, no funny stuff.
The deal is simple: persuade some people, on a generous three week timeline (well, three weeks is the drop-dead date, not a general plan) to sign on the dotted line, selling a successful, small-but-growing smallish closely held corporation to its much larger (A rated) competition.
The back story is that Johnson wants this done discreetly so as to hide some past shenanigans involving the setting up of this corporation in which Johnson is actually implicated. A quiet buyout makes all the shenanigans moot, everybody's happy. The runners don't start out knowing this, but did piece it together over the course of the session: Johnson is motivated, and this stuff is real.
The team is slightly puzzled when the first shareholder/owner they contact is blithely delighted to sign without so much as a hint of coercion, and they're just planning to blanket contact the rest of them on the theory that this is some really easy money, when they get a panic call from Johnson saying the deal is changing, and she desperately needs them to first force all the shareholders to (unanimously) strike a poison pill from the closed corporation's bylaws.
The team locates, and mentally uses one of the partners just enough to get the nasty background. The poison pill in question would have changed a quiet takeover to a huge, public, all-night lawsuit-o-rama with Johnson's name featuring heavily.
The team thinks for maybe two minutes, and decides that the sudden morphing from a no-muss-no-fuss job into a break-kneecaps-until-you-see-the-light musclefest is not on. They call the fixer back and informs him of what went on, and that they don't appreciate bait-and-switch. The fixer thinks for five seconds, ask them if they do wetwork jobs. Answer: NO. (Some of them might have, but the ex-priest answered that one for them all.)
No aftermath yet; it hasn't come about.
Hope you enjoyed the yarn.