(OOC: This is meant to provide some prompts as a soft start while people sort out characters, and figure out why and how to get them to Baltimore. Once everyone is place you can get down to business.)

Everyone occasionally has a need for a change of scenery in the buisness. Your contact understood. They even found and vetted a lead for you, a fixer going by Brewster out of Baltimore. The word they were passing was the port city had a shadowrunner shortage. At least a shortage of those with some actual talent. Lots of nuyen potential and a milk run to get you comfortable with the place. Your contact had heard that sort of talk before. But, after hearing about you, Brewster was willing to cover the cost of the relocating, would provide a townhouse for the team he was putting together, get them a local fake SINs, and front them 500 nuyen.

Your contact hadn't heard that sort of talk. Maybe Baltimore really is the place to be? At the last it facilitates your needed "change of scenery."

Your info said to contact Brewster once you settled in. He's network seems to prefer ships to get into town, which allows bringing your own vessels or vehicles and gear.

His preferred port is off the old Canton Waterfront Park. Like a lot of parks it's still there, some of the plants are even surviving in the artificial lighting of the uptown building above it. The various docks have been extended. You could almost freerun across the inner harbor. If you have a ship Brewster can make arrangments to park it here for now. He's got connections with the local mafia to keep an eye on it, but don't leave anything too valuable out. As you arrive you see nice boats pulling up to the uptown buildings. Arms swing out and lower ropes, like the rigs for lifeboats on cruise ships. The boats are then hauled up the sides of the building, and then swung in and rested on a frame, turning them from boat into a fancy deck. Cars, trucks and motorcycles disembark the ship and roll down the docks into the city.

The safehouse is a townhome at 711 E Chase street:
https://goo.gl/maps/JzVGVgvhJDdNDQ639

The area is heavily built up. With many rowhomes having been demolished here, proper skyscrapers were put up by the megas in this area early on as shipping brought dollars and then nuyen to Baltimore.

As you approach you see a large uptown structure built over the area, going from Homewood to Brentwood (over Greenmount) and from Chase to Eager streets. Your comlink indicates it's called "Savannah Estates" and run by a subsidy of Evo. It's hard to see through the glass on the sides, except when someone is standing too close, which happens to be the case in many of the floor to ceiling windows. They stare out at the traffic and people below, but you'd been informed by your contact not to worry about them being nosy. They aren't really seeing you. They're all seeing a collective overlay that turns everyone below into some animal or other, out interacting or lazing in a pristine nature scene. Sometimes they appear as predators fighting over territory. Majestic.

The downtown area still has the Bmore chicken and grill, the liquor store, courtside bail bonds, Hi Mart and so on. But the bulk of the area is a huge parking lot, ground level, three stories up and then five down. Apparently, it was envisioned this would serve as parking for the nearby skyscrapers and uptown, but...it was not popular among the uptown set. When they do want to use their own car, which isn't all that often with their own retail and corporate offices up there, they now typically drop down from one of the car elevators.

Your contact informs you the area is the territory of the "HomeBoyz" go gang. Taking their name from the local dealer, which has over time gotten into "pimping rides." The HomeBoyz aren't known as being the toughest gang. They put too much nuyen into their rides versus weapons, they definitely prefer form over combat capability, and they don't especially want to get them messed up in a fight if they don't have to, especially against lame cheap pedestrians or bikers. But they don't have a lot of enemies at the moment.

Brewster has paid them for "protection" of 711, and some parking spots and drive in storage units. Cargo companies actually use the high ceilings on the first floor to park vans and semi's. But much of the rest of the garage, especially the basement with longer open stretches, has HomeBoyz tearing around at any hour.

The leader is Icey R. They're an Ork with a reputation for being unflappable, serious, and violent. But the HomeBoyz are more mixed race than many of the Ork gangs in the area. The gang member you have a comcode for, if you need to interact with them, is Rat Fink. A troll that plays into the nickname. Brewster passed along through your contact that they're friendly, especially if they haven't had too little or too much novacoke.

Based on the granite countertops and pastel blue furniture your safehouse must have been fancy once. Still not so bad. At least the first and basement level windows and doors are already barred as is the back door into the main garage. The maglocks are supposed to be higher security, and let users spy out the front and back doors. The first floor has a living room, dining room, and kitchen. The second and third floors have three bedrooms each. Two narrow ones, with a window to the outside, and a larger master bedroom that would have once presumably looked out into rear garden, but now they are bricked over as they'd look into the garage. The basement has two more narrow bedrooms looking outside, a utility area, and an unfinished basement space about the size of a master bedroom. Each bedroom has a minifridge currently full of flavored soy packets, microwave, bed, chair, and desk.

The sounds of an unlicensed bar pretending to just be a daily house party leak in from the townhouse sharing the west wall, as one band after another starts trying to bang out tunes. The townhouse sharing the east wall seems to be a BTL flophouse. Usually pretty quiet aside from the occasional freak out. The tenants/patrons spill out onto the sidewalk if not the road, looking like zombies or corpses depending on if they're moving. Or perhaps they look like a herd of peaceful Zebras if you're looking down from high enough.

The drive across the continent was full of new experiences for Willie and a lot of refreshed memories for Bongo. Bongo's Land Rover pulled Willie's boat and trailer, and Willie roamed circles around the truck on his bike.

There was a memorable night visiting Runs with Tricks in Pueblo. Well, actually the two of them have few concrete memories of that night. Runs With Tricks had misgivings about the Ork, but when Willie almost drank him under the table, respect rose in the old shaman's heart.

They cut up into Ontario, and dropped into a few of Bongo's haunts in Toronto. More booze, and damned if that woman wasn't in The Rex again!

Two weeks or so and the two of them rolled into Baltimore on a grey morning. Their connection to Brewster from their fixers came with promise of good work with a new team. The fixer helped them stow Willie's boat at the docks, and introduced them to the locals who took care of Brewster's teams' equipment there.

Brewster hooked them up in the safehouse and told them they were the first to connect with him. After parking their vehicles in the garage, they made their pick of rooms. Willie took a room with a window on the third floor. Bongo considered the view, but opted for the larger room at the back on the same floor. More room for his instruments. With fake SIN and cash from Brewster, Willie decided to check out the sound of bikes revving nearby. He patted Bongo on the back and headed out.

Bongo picked himself up from that friendly tap and worked on placing his drums just so. He listened to the music from next door. Ooooh. "Come on, man." he thought. "Keep the beat for at least four bars."

One day, early in the morning before most of the chipheads and wastoids even stop snoring, a van pulls up outside 711. It's not fancy, it's just contracting van white (not counting a few inevitable dings and scrapes) and the ladders on the roof rack tell the same story. It takes a while, and an observer nearby might have heard a few bangs and thumps from inside the van, but eventually a dude in a ballcap, toolbelt , boots flannel and jeans hops out of the back. His glasses are plugged into a cable leading down to his toolbelt, and he hooks his thumbs into suspenders hiding under his flannel while he gives the building a careful, professional looking over.

[ooc: Those starting in town don't get the extra SIN and relocation cash/slots, though they are given safehouse access and could opt to crash there and know Brewster is trying to put a new team together. You'd have his and Rat Fink's comcodes, and he'd have passed on word to the locals. I'm also surprised all the runners are morning people ]

For such a built up area, traffic in the morning is lighter than an outsider might expect. Partly that's because folks heading to work aren't just doing it on the ground. The skywalks overhead are relatively congested, full of personal mobility vehicles and uptowners on their way to get an early start on their work. But also many don't need to commute outside of their building, if they even are allowed to easily do so. A handful are actually using the external elevators to go from the sidewalk up into the uptown structure. Deliverymen, cooks, and the like.

In the area right around the front of the safehouse things look pretty dead, but Paul is pretty sure the chipheads on the sidewalk are still breathing. Probably.

The speakeasy is still going, possibly because they haven't noticed it's morning yet. In places like that the patrons often don't have anywhere else they live anyway.

The only folks that pay Paul any mind are a few gangers a good twenty yards away that are probably supposed to be on lookout. They're huddled together, apparently playing some kind of AR game. However one of them, a relatively skinny ork in a leather jacket, gives Paul a pretty good looking over. But then one of the other gangers jostles him and he goes back to the game, flailing at something in augmented reality.

Inside the garage commercial trucks are moving in and out on the first floor. On the second floor engines are revving. This probably isn't the gang anywhere at full strength, but they seem to want even the commuters to know this is the HomeBoyz turf. There are a few motorcycles, but it seems like they tend to prefer cars. They one thing they all have in common is modification and flair. Even one trying to look "serious" has rims that keep spinning and plenty of glow to go with the purple siding. Most gangs focus on a single color, but they seem willing to run the gamut.

Willie could see someone he suspects is Rat Fink. A troll with horns dyed green, giving a vague impression of mouse ears, buggy eyes and in red overalls. He's driving a very custom hot rod that seems too small for his large frame, which sticks out well above it. But the engine seems to be able to haul him around fine. It has an excessively long shifter that appears to be made out of thick pipe, so it can be that long and still a little ridged, topped by an eight ball.

A group of eight women and four men of different races are hanging out near some parked gang cars, watching the others tear around the garage.

Willie isn't a smooth talker, by any means, and usually leaves intros to the likes of Bongo. But here he is, and there they are. He figures his racing bike helmet will be an in. Of course, this being 'down time', his only weapon on him is the holstered Scorpion. Well, and since he hasn't bathed in a few days, maybe a little body odour too.

Willie walks over to the troll and his decked out vehicle. """ Brewster says Rat Fink is the one to talk to in the Homeboyz. You look the part. My name's Willie. New to town. Love to drive. """

Paul gives a friendly, casual wave to gangsters. Unthreatening, but also unthreatened. He pulls a stick of gum from his toolbelt, unwraps it in a leisurely sort of way, scrunches up the wrapper and tucks it into a different pocket on the belt. The gum he slips into his mouth and starts to chew for a bit before turning back to the van and starting to pull out various things; a couple of reels of comms cable, a couple of charging points, and a crate of what looks like weird Hallowe'en decorations, or perhaps even weirder party favours.

From the crate he then pulls what looks like a cross between a caterpillar and a summer sausage as long as a tall man. Then he rummages around the crate, and pulls out a chunk of metal that he fixes to one end. Then he repeats the process with another that he pulls from the crate. With his assembly done, he pulls out a spraycan of lubricant, and douses them both before putting the can back, wiping his hands and putting on AR gloves. The two greasy things roll around until they're on their stubby caterpillar feet, and then start crawling to 711 at a modest walking pace. They aren't trailing any cables, just heading respectively for something that looks like a gutter, and a ventilation shaft.

Rat Fink pulls to a stop once Willie manages to get his attention. He's silent as his brain seems to catch up to where he's out and then he lets out with a loud excited "AAAAHHHH!" as he pulls into a parking spot and stops the car. He splutters incoherently a bit as he hops out, not needing to bother with the low windowless doors. Still, in all that he's smiling. He seems a little crazy, but with Novacoke that can be hard to tell.

He claps Willie on the shoulder excitedly and manages to bellow "WHERE IS IT?"


Outside everyone has stopped paying any attention to Paul, if they had been at all. The safehouse doesn't seem to have any obvious protection beyond its neighbors. Relying on the camouflage of mundane poverty versus being a fortress.

There are a pair of small openings near the basement windows for ventilation, a couple inches wide. Origionally the rest of the vents would have been on the roof or rear of the building, but with the construction of Savannah Estates above the vents were routed to come out between the old and new on the front of the house. An intake and an exhaust vent, each a good six inches wide, poke out of the bricks.

On the sidewalk larger vents for the below ground garage churn to pump industrial quantities of air.

Willie in the past would have had no idea what was going on. Now, he gets the impression he has been mistaken as a drug deliverer.

"Sorry big guy. I ain't delivering nothing. Just starting work here in town with Brewster and getting around to meet the important locals. Like you.

"And I love bikes. I hear you 'Boyz have some tricked out equipment. I'd love to see some of it in action. "

Bongo is satisfied with the arrangement of his instruments and annoyed at the lack of talent blaring out tunes next door. He thinks, "I'm gonna have to do something about that. Loud, no problem, Bad, problem." He steps to clear his head, and sees a worker outside doing stuff with equipment coming out of a van. He walks over to the man.

"Hi. I just moved in here." he points with a thumb back to 711. " You have some interesting ... drones? ... there. I've never seen that kind before. What do they do?" Childlike curiosity is still evident in Bongo.

Rat Fink blinks a few times, seeming to try and process what he's hearing properly, but then his mind shifts back into gear. His excitement growing sentence by sentence.

"Your ride! You said you love to drive! But what is your ride?! THIS ONE IS MINE! WHERE IS YOURS?!?!"

Paul looks up, and waves a greeting to Bongo while one drone crawls up a gutter, and another up an outlet vent.

"Hey. These little guys are good for inspections, and they also do some damage to critters like devil rats. Seen enough folks get chewed on, I don't like a building that I haven't checked out first, and I guess you feel the same. By the way, do you like krill wraps or devil rat hash better?"

Paul is just multitasking at this point, with occasional guides to the pilot software on the drones on his AR while he chats with Bongo. He's mapping physical structure, taking notes of wires, pathways, wall passages, conduits and of course signs of the unexpected. Rat droppings? Noted. Devil rat droppings? Definitely noted. Electronic listening devices? Head of the list.

A big grin comes over Willie's face. " No problem. I'll be right back with my machine, and maybe we can do some manoeuvres together! "

Willie does just that. He rolls up on his Suzuki Mirage to beside Rat Fink. " Not as pretty as yours, but she does some cool moves. "

Rat Fink smiles at Willie and his bike, and then struggles to hold the smile down as he gets to give his favorite little speech. He makes some noises in gibberish in anticipation as he walks close enough to Willie so that Willie can hear. Though with his lack of volume control he didn't really need to bother getting close.

"You said that was YOUR machine. IT'S NOT! That's the machine of someone in a cubicle that likes to SLOT SOME COMBAT BIKE SIMS! YEAH! Heh. You're just SITTING ON IT! C'mon FOLLOW ME! YEAH!"

He doesn't wait for Willie to give any reply, but bounds over to his own ride. His hot rod has a vaguely drag racer like appearance though the large exposed engine is in the front, but it has wide rear wheels and boy does it launch, tearing off down the rows of cars.

With Rat Fink's bulk sitting up that high Willie's logic processor could puzzle out that the vehicles center of mass is very high, and does not appear to have the capability to lean that a bike has. His ability to corner is likely very limited. But he inarguably going fast, having fun, and knows his garage.

Even with an enhanced cognition, Willie's response to that kind of challenge is automatic. He lets the racing bike loose, accelerating at the bike's max. The parking lot conditions are pretty tight, but as rat Fink's vehicle comes to a spot where it must slow down, Willie zips by the hot rod and whips around in front of it to the other side of it, in between the hot rod and the wall.

The concrete wall.

Stopping by a pillar and nonchalantly putting a hand on the pillar. Grinning back at Rat Fink.

Paul sort of hums quietly to himself while his drones crawl along, out of sight. This is taking a while - it always does - so he sits on the rear step of his van and chews his gum while monitoring the feeds. In a casual tone he continues talking to Bongo: "Ya learn a lot about rats, doing this stuff. For example, the older, smarter rats will push younger, dumber ones to try things first. It's why you often get the young rats in traps first. Course, they have their predators too. One time we had a king tide and the ocean came right up the storm drains. I watched crabs the size of dinner plates duking it out with the rats, and dogfish drawn by the scent of blood coming in to clean up. Ever seen a pack of dogfish tear a devil rat apart? Hoo-wee, that was wild."

Bongo listens to Paul's explanations and a wide smile grows across his face as all this interesting, yes, interesting knowledge flows out of the man's experience. Bongo may have no idea how some of these machines work, but he recognizes talent when he sees it.

"Nope, never seen that. As for the food, well, I'd have to say krill wraps win that comparison for me. I like to suss out places and situations, myself. I can see how your machines can find all kinds of things I can't. Since you're checking out this place, I'll hazard a guess you're coming to town for some work with Brewster. I go by Bongo Slade. My buddy Quick Willie and I came here from Seattle for some work with him."

Bongo cocks his ear. "I hear some motor sounds from the garage over that way." He points. "Another guess, Willie is having some sport with the bikers there."

"Pleeztameetcha. I go by Tubesnake. Yeah, I got a call from him so I figured I'd do everybody a favour and check out the place as a freebie. Why not, right? It'll take me a while longer, plenty of old conduit and disused crawlspaces to go through. You never know what critters you'll find. Raccoons are pretty much a guarantee, often bats, urban squirr'ls, possum, weasels sometimes. Near the water, some of the lower levels get seepage flooding, and you even find clams and mussels. A sump pump would work overtime. Invasive species too, like them giant land snails. Hell, if you wanna show I can hook up to a projector so you can swear off urban living forever."

"Heh. No thanks," Bongo replies. "A lot of what I do works with people. People are mostly urban. Most of all, I'm a musician.

"Which is a bit of an issue here because right next door to the west are musicians playing badly. Maybe after you're done your thing here, we could go over together and I can give them an impromptu lesson. It might make my life here a little easier. And it wouldn't hurt to know the layout of the next door neighbour."

[OOC: I think normally I won't show rolls to not give away numbers, but I ought to know how to do this. Also that was way overkill on Willie's part, but anyone watching might be able to tell they have incredible control ]


Rat Finks gibbers excitedly at Willies move ahead of him, but doesn't slow down and zips past Willie. As he comes to the next turn he puts in a little lean, lifting one of the rear wheels and getting the other to spin out for a moment, letting him drift around the corner before roughly landing, barely managing the trick.

Still, he howls happily after. He doesn't go all that much farther before pulling over, having reached his destination. He excitedly waves Willie into the open garage door, not the pedestrian door, to HomeBoyz Auto.

Not very far from the store a number of shacks have been set up in a row of parking spaces. Mostly out of corrugated tin by the looks of it. The store already has a light level of activity this early, and gangers seem to be occupying the shacks as well has having some folks just sort of loitering around, some wave at Rat Fink but he isn't paying attention.

"Yeah, why not? Tell you what, though, I'd stay near the exit or a window. I'd bet you dollars to doughnuts they're not holding to fire code, no matter what the uptowners above them think. Reckon it's a healthier lifestyle than the zombies on the other side, and a better audience. Although ..." and here Paul takes a long, sidelong look at the flophouse "... whoever runs that may have it wired. Or whoever's watching 'em. Think I oughta look into that?"

Bongo considers for a moment. "If it is an illegal bar, they might have some kind of surveillance set up to warn about police, so if you can do it discreetly, it sounds like a good idea and go ahead. Otherwise, I wouldn't want to upset the locals right at first meeting. " He walks toward number 709 and, if no one blocks his entry, goes in to see the goings on.

Willie follows Rat Fink into the auto shop. It all looks quite familiar, though his rookie mechanic eyes maybe notice a bit more ... artistic ... add-ons dotted around the shop.

Paul stands up from the van to gently put a hand in front of Bongo. "Whoa there for a second. Don't mind joining you, but it'll take me a bit to finish this. Or I could stay out here and you can tell me over 'link how it's going. Either way's good."

"Oh, sorry." His Canadian roots show. "I thought you were finished. I'll wait. Maybe by the time you are done, Willie will show up and the three of us can go check it out. As a team!"

"Hey, no rush. I'd offer you a beer, but it's a bit early and I haven't even finished my first soykaf. Tell you what, I got a thermos back there if you want some, or I got sports drinks and soda in the minifridge. This time of the morning I figure the only people in there are the burnouts and the staff who wanna toss them into the street, face first."

He turns and rummages in a rucksack, before hauling out something that looks like a cross between an earthworm, a snake, and a pair of pliers.

"You asked about discretion. I have a few options. These little wrigglers will slither in through nearly anywhere. Even wall spaces. They're good for finding listening devices that other folks think are hidden."

[OOC: Well, Tubesnake seems like he isn't going to be distracted. One thing he'll find on examining the basement is a very poorly hidden trapdoor under a carpet in the front east bedroom. It's made out of someone cutting rather roughly through the home's old cement slab. It isn't locked, but it has a heavy latch with a metal crosspiece so it couldn't easily be opened from underneath. The latch has to bear the weight of the 2 foot by 3 foot by six inch door, so it'd take some muscle to get that crosspiece out even from above. There are couple handholds roughly cut into the slab, presumably to help make that easier or to pull it closed again. Currently it would open onto an empty parking spot on sublevel 2 of the garage. Somebody tried to hide the door from below using clay, but they either didn't do a very good job or didn't keep it up. Either way it isn't so well hidden from below.

He also mentioned the crawlspace, and there is a little one. Two feet between the old roof of the house and the base of the uptown structure. It has reinforcing columns and the ductwork going from the old chimney and vents to the front of the house. His drones can get there from those ducts.

Inside he'll find another trapdoor. This one much more carefully made in the roof of the top west bedroom. It seems you might open it by pulling hard on the ceiling light over the bed, but from underneath someone went to the effort of painting the ceiling so you really can't see it from below. Within quick reach if you opened the trapdoor are a loaded HK227X, a survival knife, a flash bang, and a HE grenade. A little ways away is a duffle bag. Towards the rear of the house, holes have been drilled, filled with what is presumably plastic explosives, and rigged together to a wireless detonator, with its battery out sitting next to it. This looks like it would open up a sudden hole into the top of the garage. Judging by the dust and spider webs, this has all been here a while. Normally to get in there you'd need a ladder and to remove the vent plates on the front of the house. ]

IC:
At HomeBoyz Auto Rat Fink excitedly waves over one of the guys working there. Or rather his expansive gestures seemed to be calling them all over, but an gets up an heads over. He's got on a mechanics coveralls, but he has on some overly expensive high tops, and his teeth glitter with some kind of crystal inlays. And he smiles widely at Willie. "Hey. Nice bike. Awfully stock though. Let's get you set up with something before someone thinks it's just some corper's and jacks the thing. Maybe some spikes or speakers depending on whether you want folks to keep their distance or maybe some ladies take an interest? "

Rat Fink nods excitedly "yeah yeah!"

Tubesnake affords Bongo a sort of meditative commentary while he pilots his little helpers through various nooks and crannies. "You know, there's a lot to take in when you do a complete inspection like this. You're building a structural, electrical, fluid management and human dimension map of the whole building. Le Corbusier, the architect, said that a house is a machine for living and I reckon he was right. In the age of drones, that dimension expands. By the way, when you were in there, did you see a domestic drone or node setup?"

Paul sips long from his coffee at one point, and then gets to his feet to slip a multimeter onto one of his flatworkers. He goes straight to the front of the garage before plopping it down and letting it slither like a gigantic slug up the old gutter structure and into the narrow spaces above. "Can't just take things for granted. Some really old buildings even have asbestos in them, while others have leftover batteries and things. Have to test 'em all, you know. It can get real sketchy, 'specially when a corp buys out the space around and above it, and disclaims responsibility for a building they leave below. Most times, there's nobody maintaining it, fixing the broken stuff. Of course, that keeps me in business."

Yes, thoroughness takes time, Bongo acknowledges to himself. "Nope," Bongo replies. "I didn't see anything like that. I didn't go poking inside walls, though. Let me know if you find anything interesting. I'd like to enhance my ability to find things, and anything you can point out will add to my checklist in future."

Willie considers options presented to him and others that come to mind. He resists mightily his old practice of enumerating points to himself by counting fingers. "Keeping distance is a good idea, but I don't want anything to get in the way of speed and manoeuvrability. This machine is mostly for business, not for show. I don't wanna get caught on a spike as I jump on the machine to get away from little people with big guns. Or," he chuckles, " when I do a little drive-by bullet spray."

When Cole checks in to see if everything was going as planned, Selina replies: << Yeah, I got everything from Brewster. There's even a safehouse prepared, already. Havn't been there, yet. Just got my bike and the rest of my stuff out of the harbor, and will make my way over there now. The bigger luggage is already at the house, apparantly. Hopefully. But I will also need my own place, obviously. How's that going? Once you update Kimberly's credentials, she needs an address here. Something like my old place back in Downtown. I guess you know that, but that word has a whole different meaning here. Best sent me a few choices, you know how picky I can be sometimes. And not one of those caves. It needs to be perfect, but I know you will deliver. No worries here. Thanks again and talk soon. >>

With that done, the elf jumps on her bike and sets off towards the provided address of the townhouse.

The area isn't great, obviously, but she has seen worse. Slowly pulling up to the townhouse, her white Mirage comes to a stop in front of the building. She takes off the helmet, revealing her pretty face and shoulder-long, blonde hair. Hanging the helmet on one of the bike's handles for now, she steps closer to the door to enter the code she received from Brewster. Her slender body is tightly wrapped in a black bodysuit and will likely draw some attention, but she is used to that. The zoned-out punks littering the sidewalk towards the east definitely do not take much notice, though.

As the door opens, a black cat strolls around the corner and hops onto the bike to make herself comfortable on the still warm seat. The elf turns around for a moment, saying: "Keep an eye on it for a moment, will you? Thank you!" The cat purrs, obviously quite content with her place for the time being.

No way Bongo misses the arrival of someone who looks like Selina, and he pays close attention to her. He keeps an ear tuned to what Tubesnake is saying, but sings the first few lines of an oldie but goodie:

Uptown girl
She's been living in her uptown world
I bet she's never had a backstreet guy
I bet her momma never told her why

"Uptown world? Not quite yet, but we're getting there..." The elf smiles. "Maybe they should hire you next door. That would definitely be a big improvement."

She inclines her head towards the west.

"For now, this here has to suffice. Hopefully, the place is clean. I suppose, we have a common friend named Brewster? You can call me Selina. Is there any designated place where I can leave my bike?"

Looking around, she spots a mid-sized suitcase, looking pleased. That part definitely worked out.

"Pleased to meet you Selina. I go by Bongo Slade and my friend here is Tubesnake. We're both here at the invitation of Brewster. Yeah," Bongo replies. "I'm going to have to do something about the quality of music coming out of there.

"There are some parking spots here and storage units in the garage assigned to us. Allegedly they are under protection of the local biker gang, the Homeboyz. My buddy, Quick Willie is also on the roster. He is in the garage playing with the Homeboyz now. Bikes and Willie go together."

Paul certainly sees Selina's arrival through his AR distractions, but rather than hassle the pretty lady who's even slightly taller than him, about fifty points hotter, and an elf to boot, he settles down for soykaf number three from his thermos and quietly sends up a flyspy to do a circuit of the place, checking out what the back of the property looks like, and what the lighting situation from above is like from all angles.

Selina is genuinely surprised but quickly shows a big grin.

"Nice to meet you! ... Wait ... No way! Willie is here? Big ork... about this tall..." The small elf has some trouble to actually reach that height with her arm stretching out. "Likes it fast... I actually know him from Seattle. The world is so small sometimes..."

She nods towards the rigger, who seems to be occupied in VR from the looks of it.

"He seems busy. Do you guys have comms set up, already? And, yeah, Brewster mentioned those HomeBoyz. Are they cool? I should pull my bike into the garage, then. Even though, if this is their turf, nothing should happen to it, when it is parked out front, right? But you never know, the garage is probably better."

Paul clearly isn't completely lost, because when Selina indicates him he raises a hand to the brim of his cap in salute. However he quickly returns to the task at hand by holding up a hand on which his flyspy comes to land. With this, he gets back up and returns to the interior of the van to put it away. A good workman doesn't blame his tools; he takes care of them.

The Ork with the Grill thinks for a just a moment and says "Well, maybe what you need is some personalization with some flexibility. We can work up some custom cowlings and fairings to express your style around here, and if you feel the need to do something you'd rather not be known for, you could take them off for a little while. Clip them back on if you don't want to match the description ya know? He gives a broad smile. And then he leans in closer. "If you have the nuyen, and Rat Fink will vouch for you, there are some more boring but practical mods to software and plates we sometimes arrange. "

Rat Fink seems full of energy and bobs around the conversation muttering. Other gangers around the shop seem to be taking an interest in what Willie is going to do.

[OOC: Maybe most folks could get away somehow saying "no" in some slick way the gangers couldn't take it as a slight against them and their rides, but Willies logic analyzer has noticed situations with similar heuristics not going well for Uncouth Willie. It would take a roll. Variants on yes would eventually require a negotiation roll]

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

Near the front of the house some of the gangers had noticed Selina. One slightly leaner Ork had started to walk over, but another elbowed them lightly and they stopped. It looks like maybe they have a brief conversation but soon are back to their game, if perhaps a bit more distracted than before.

Bongo nods enthusiastically as Selina describes Willie to a 'T'. "Yup, that's him. The lot of us haven't hooked up comms yet, but I do have a connection to Willie, from before. I'll let him know you are here. "

He messages Willie, <<Hey, Willie. Lady here by the name of Selina says she knows you from Seattle. Looks like she's working with us here in Baltimore. Come on back and say 'Hi'. >>

Willie pauses his conversation and listens as the message comes through. His big smile spreads right away. "Sorry boyz. Old Home Week with a pretty lady just came up back at our safehouse. I'll be back to talk over mods with you later." He hops back on his bike, rip-roars around and heads back to his doss.

Bongo cocks an ear. "Yeah, Willie's on his way. I haven't met the Homeboyz yet, but maybe Willie can fill us in on them. Willie and I have parked our vehicles out back in the garage. Brewster says they can be counted on to keep our gear safe, so we're going with that."

A roar approaches from up the street and Willie pulls up, doing a stoppie right by Tubesnake's vehicle. He jumps off the bike, runs right past Tubesnake and hugs Selina, a little too tight, a little too close, and a little too long since his last bath. But ... that's Willie.

"Selina! Girl, it's good to see ya. You're workin' with us? Awesome!" His tone changes down a gear. "How's Dawn? You still with her?"

This is not Willie being convivial. That's beyond him. He actually does care for the teenager for whom he and others risked their lives.

Is that a twinge of jealousy in the back of Bongo's consciousness?

"Well, well, look who's the... oof!"

Selina struggles a little trying to push Willie away, not that he notices her feeble attempts.

Eventually, she gets free from his friendly hug and backs off a step.

"Okay, you really need a bath."

She wrinkles her nose a bit, but also manages a smile.

"Good to see you, though! As I told Bongo just a moment ago. The world is a small place sometimes. And, yeah, Dawn is doing better. Much better than... well, then. As of now, she is in Seattle still, but she will also come here, to Baltimore, when I have a proper place set up. Not..." she looks around. "... this."

"I dunno," Willie says, looking around. "Best part is Brewster is paying for this. Free always makes something look better. You should see some of the places I've lived in!"

Her comment about odour doesn't seem to faze him.

Paul can't help but notice Willie. He's a presence; a big, loud presence. However, this presence is not directed at him so it doesn't really interfere with his research. Instead, he mutters an aside to Bongo:

"Lotsa rot in some of the old timbers. I know, the supports around the building are all steel and concrete and stuff, but the old house wasn't gutted and rebuilt. That stuff doesn't last forever. All the humidity off the sea settles in, and eventually, some day, rot comes along. Rodent damage, too. By the odds, shoulda burned down a decade ago but the breakers probably tripped and saved it. I oughta get in there and sort that out. In fact, we'd probably get a better 'trix signal in there too if I did that."

"Sounds good. Make the place ours with a few secrets of our own, know what I mean?" Bongo calls over Willie. He noticed his new teammate's reticence to get chummy with the boisterous ork.

"Hey, Willie, this is Tubesnake, part of our team. He does drones and matrix stuff. Tubesnake, this is Quick Willie. The fastest shooter and driver I've ever seen. So, we've got me, the scout and front man, Willie the gunner, Tubesnake the tech guy, and Selina. " He looks over Selina, noticing the style and grace, and that wonderful little cat who seems to know how to sit on a motorbike. Ah, and 'trodes. Telling.


"My Magic isn't into auras and things, but I would guess you are our magician, Selina. And an accomplished one if you have a Familiar. Cat shaman, maybe?"

Willie reaches a big hand out to shake Tubesnake's hand. It's the thing you do when meeting someone new, he has learned. "Pleased ta meetcha!"

Tubesnake gives Willie a relaxed smile and shakes hands. Well, he doesn't have Willie's grip strength, but he's not bad for a tradesman in the era of automated everything.

"Heya. Not much of a hacker, but I can fix most things if they're broken. Also kinda good at what I call automated exploration, which is why I advise that if you appreciate your privacy, I get some good old-fashioned bolts to install on doors in there. Otherwise it's all remote electronics."

Willie considers Tubesnake's comment. "Yeah. That makes sense. I'll do that." And ... it does make sense to Willie. Wow.

Tubesnake nods, and makes notes. "Gottit, yeah. Bolts. If they're not in stock, I can machine some up real easy, it's a lathe, a welder and a press away. If you want a vault door closure, that'll be a bigger job 'cause then I have to replace the whole frame and mill out the door. Or I could add in a restroom style lock that slides in a bolt and reads occupado on the outside. I could also mount a few cameras and get a rigging box for the whole house, maybe make it spider-ready. Ain't no drones or node central to the thing right now - hey, d'ya think Brewster would get mad if I remodeled the place? I could install acoustic and ballistic panels and foam inside the walls, and discreet pop-out gun mounts under the eaves and at tactically valuable corners. Lotsa options here, if we wanna get nuts. F'r example, get ultrasound passives on surveillance mounts, but then place ultrasound sources elsewhere. Even if some goon targets the ultrasound sources, they're not taking out the cameras."

"Good guess," Selina replies with a wink.

"The cat listens to Fiona. She also speaks and is quite formidable, actually."

"Good to know," Bongo returns the wink. "Pleased to meet you, Fiona. "

Tubesnake looks up from his home renovation plans after a little while, and glances around. "I reckon our friend didn't give any specific instructions yet. Anybody know if we're supposed to head somewhere other than here? I sure could use a grill scrapings breakfast. If not, I can fry up a roadkill hash and soykaf."

"Not to me, he didn't," Selina explains.

"Probably gives us some time to settle in. Maybe there is someone coming still? I'm sure, he will give us more information soon enough."

"Awright! Well, in that case, I guess I'll do my job. Home improvement time. I'll be here finishing my survey for a bit, but why don't you all figure out what you need and give me a job list to tackle? Bolts on doors is a good start, and I can also repair rot and start with pest exclusion. It all gets the day started."

"Alright. Bolts for the doors for sure." Bongo says. "If later you need an extra pair of hands, Tubesnake, I'm pretty good with carpenters' tools. Come on, Willie, let's check out our rooms for anything that needs repair or upgrade. When you two," he indicates Selina and Tubesnake, "have picked out your rooms, I can give them a once over as well. I'm good at seeing details and such."

the two of them head back to their rooms, and Bongo does a careful check of the rooms, looking for structural issues that might need some work.

Ooc sorry gor delay. It wasn't clear which room Willie was in. But for the painted roof hatch I don't think there's really anything to see.

Otherwise nothing really interesting in the upper rooms, except marks make it look like occupants might have been using some kind of security devices on their doors that involved a part bolted into the floor.

Paul eventually retrieves his drones, and starts to do the boring work of laying out the design of the building and its environs, combined with a schematic of airflow, water, electrical lines and states of (dis)repair. Into this he adds, in an automated fashion, a list of identifiable code violations. Hey, he might as well. He doesn't bogart the data; if Bongo or Willie or Selina want in on the secrets, he's happy to share it to them in AR.

"What I figure is, someone installed anti-invasion door bars and latches, but they got yanked later. Either that, or this useda be somebody's pet prison. Well, regardless, we can go through this. I can run fresh cable where the varmints chewed 'em up, that's easy."