Location Unkown, May 5th 2064

"I’m going to need out of town talent. People who are new. People who can be trusted."

"I know just the lady. Zoe is her trade name."

"Excellent then. The package will arrive at the the Tacoma airfield at 11:55. Team Alpha will have five mintues on the ground, and only five minutes. Who ever shows up better be on time."

"I’m sure it can be arranged."

It had been a week since the lot of you had gotten together. A week that felt like forever. Usually the six of you hung out during the weekday. Either kicking it at O’Malley’s Pub or at Don’t Sweat the Details.

This week had been a little different. Oz was scrambling around trying to find more business for the shop. Of late it hadn’t been doing well. Especially since a larger, more upscale joint had opened up a half mile away. Located just far enough outside the DMZ that they could get away with real advertising and employees that didn’t need to carry guns.

To make matter worse, Slick had been sick all week so most of the paying work he could have gotten done, was collecting dust in the back of the shop. Rex and Bunny were supposed to have dropped by but the two had gotten caught up in other business.

Which left Mercury and Crow. Mercury had been out of town all week in CalFree. She was in the exclusive ‘Girls of the North West’ fashion show. Unfortunately for her it ended up being a complete bust. None of the designers wanted brunettes in their lineup. And since she only got paid if she walked the runway… well, she spent most of the week helping other girls get paid.

Out of all of you, the one person who was working almost every night, was the one person who didn’t want to; Scarecrow. Apparently the Halloweeners had taken up refuge at ‘The Skeleton the not so trendy, and very seedy joint Crow worked at. Her boss, being the anal retentive pie hole that he was, wanted them gone. But you just don’t say know to the third largest gang in the sprawl. So he figured if enough of them got pounded by Crow and the rest of the bouncers, they would find a new spot.

Which of course was the exact opposite of what actually happened. The first night went fine. Crow and her bouncing buddies had beaten the tar out of a few members. It had been easy. The next night, twice the same number showed. Again, the outcome was preordained. Accept this time out of the five bouncers that fought, only two were able to walk away under their own power. On the third night, the plan had seemed to work.

Well it didn’t. The Halloweeners weren’t holding ‘The Skeleton responsible, they were holding Crow responsible. Ten of them jumped her after her shift. Three of them slept permanently, and the other seven needed intensive care. Crow just needed a lot of ice.

After that they seemed to leave her alone, but who knows, gangs have a long memory for that sort of thing.

The pizza was almost gone, and the movie was almost over. It had been a nice quiet night at the apartment. Crow and Mercury were nestled on the couch and surrounded by blankets. Oz was chilling on the old beat up laz-e-boy. Bunny was leaned up against that and Rex was lying on the floor. Slick had wondered off a few minutes before to find some food in the very bare kitchenette that adorned the girls apartment.

Just as the villain was starting his rant, Mercury’s cell phone cut the air with it’s remarkably boring ring. She literally climbed over Crow to get to the phone. She scooped it up and headed to her room with out missing a beat. The first part of her conversation echoed down the hallway,

“So, do we get the job?”

Twenty long minutes passed by before Mercury returned. The movie was over and the remaining Pizza was cold, and 10 eyes were on the runway model.

“Here’s the deal. We have an opportunity to make some real nuyen. I mean real nuyen, to the tune of 6k apiece. A friend of mine turned me on to a women who is a contractor of sorts. She find’s people to do things for other people. Sometimes these things are perfectly legit, others not so much. She needs us to pickup and deliver a package, easy peasy. I don’t want to do it without you guys so let me know if your in or out.”

One by one the lot of you nodded your agreement. 6K to deliver a package? How hard could it be.

The job was simple. Be at the Tacoma air field by 11:55 PM on the night of the 6th (tonight). Pick up a package that would arrive via aircraft and deliver it to a house in Everett. A quick look at the time told you that you had an hour to get there. Which left very little time for discussion.

Five of you piled into Oz’s Plymouth Prowler, it was a tight squeeze but you all managed to fit in. Crow hopped on her Opel Mirage and road point. It was a Friday night so the roads were definitely busier than usual. Your normal chatter was unusually quiet as the tension mounted. Every kilometer that brought you closer to the airport seemed to double the excitement in the car.

The clock read 11:45PM when Oz and Crow pulled their vehicles on to the semi abandoned airport. A large chain link fence surrounded the airfield, with a gate that hung open.

On the fence itself a large sign proclaimed ‘Electric Fence: Danger’ in big yellow letters. Six hangars sat next to the runway itself. Each was the traditional crescent shaped steel building.

A chill wind swept across the tarmac while the group waited. The temp had pegged eighty at noon and the cool breeze of the Puget Sound was welcome relief.

The instant the clock struck 11:55 the dull roar of turbo props could be heard echoing over the water. Thirty seconds later the large hulking form of an Osprey crested the end of the runway. It glided over the asphalt, almost hovering as it's wheels touched down. The flat black aircraft with it's massive wing span dwarfed the nearby smaller commuter aircraft.

The plane taxied to a halt nearly thirty meters away from you. The landing had been spectacular fast, and any layman could tell that it had also been very, very risky.

The side door opened and a tall human with very short brown hair disembarked. He carried with him a large black briefcase. He half walked, half jogged the distance to where Mercury stood next to the car.

"You Mercury?"

Crow, still mounted on the back of her bike, lackadaisically flicks her metallic razors in and out of her fingers while waiting for the plane to arrive. Seeing it approaches, her lithe muscles visablly tense and her demeanor shifts from casual to predatory as it taxies to a stop.

When the human steps off the plane, Crow just sort of stared for a moment. She cocked a single brow high into the air before turning to gaze back at Oz leaning against his Prowler, before turning back to the human. Then to the dwarf. Then to the human. Then back to the dwarf.

"You guys related or something?"

Oscar "Oz" Chavez
Tacoma Air Field, 11:45pm

Casually leaning against the driver's side of his Prowler, Oz had just tuned in to an oldies station that was oozing some classic Tool out of his thousand-nuyen speakers. He was decked out like he was auditioning for the lead in one of those clichéd shadowrunner simflicks, complete with a pair of grey-lensed Oakleys and the requisite leather jacket. Everyone had given him a hard time on the ride over, but he knew it was mostly in jest. Mostly. But hey, those flicks were the only thing he had to work off of. Give a rigger a break.

It wasn't until the Osprey of Brobdingnagian proportions made its descent that he reached into the Mad Dog -- the affectionate name he had christened his ride with -- and turned the music down. "Time to get on the clock," he quipped, borrowing another clichéd line from the same clichéd simflick he had borrowed his threads from. His brow furrowed at the stiffled snickering he received from a few of the others. "Hmpf," was his only retort. "Just trying to be professional. But nooo... let's all make fun of the old guy. Hardy-fraggin'-har."

As the Osprey made its rather impressive touch-down, Oz reached into his jacket and lit up one of his cigars. He only did that when his nerves were getting the better of him, and it was only this well-known fact amongst his friends that showed the anxiety in his otherwise typically-cool demeanor.

There was silence as he waited with baited breath for the show to begin, but no one was prepared for what emerged from the hulkish aircraft. Out of the corner of his eyes he could spot Crow staring first at the breeder, then at him, then back again a few times before asking another one of her oh-so-witty comments. But no one could deny the point of her question -- slash off the human's legs and put his head in a vice a bit, and he'd be a spitting image for Oz. Freaky.

"Ha!" he laughed at his own inner monologue, "and they thought I was a bad stereotype. Check out that fragger! He looks ridic... oh, wait."

There was a moment of self-doubt that was shattered when the Johnny asked Merc if she was who she was. It was enough for Oz to quickly regain his composure, at which point he then proceeded to do his best to look like he knew what he was doing while waiting for the silver-tongued lass to work her magic.

Mercury had spent the last ten minutes desperatey trying to decide where to put her arms and hands. Behind her back, she decided, was too casual. Crossed, too confrontational. Her slender fingers were shaking too much to leave them at her sides. She wished briefly that she could see Crow, before mentally berating herself for a baby. She finally clasped her hands in front of her just as the leather clad man opened his mouth to speak.

She nodded curtly to him. "I am."

Reading Merc's pensiveness at the situation, Crow shakes her head slightly as she makes a show of dismounting her bike. As the human approached, she matched his pace step for step while staring him down as if he were the prey and she the hunter. By the time she made it to Merc's side, her own arms were definitively folded while she waited to see what went down.

Pulling the sides of her jacket closer together, Bunny shivered a little in the breeze. During the winter, it would have been welcome, but during the summer, she got used to the heat instead. As she moved, the outlines of the weapons concealed in her sleaves rippled a little. They were nearly invisible except to those who knew they were there. Her large frame did a good job of hiding them.

The coat itself was nice enough. She'd bought it a few months back to replace one that'd gotten ripped up pretty badly in a bar fight. The clothing underneath was less so. She was wearing ratty jeans and a somewhat too small top that had a cartoonish white rabbit on the front and the words "Follow the rabbit" underneath.

She was bulky, but well built and not entirely unattractive, if the square jaw and close set features of an orc didn't ruin the rest. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail to keep it free from her eyes.

This whole thing felt like a bad idea, but she really did need the money. She did her best to keep her mind calm, just in case. If she let her anger get the better of her, there was no way that she'd be able to help out her friends if something went wrong.

Rex stands to one side, leaning heavily on the wooden staff he has taken to carrying. The steel caps on the end are polished, and the Pheonix burned into the end is facing the Osprey.

The young kid's face is passive, and his eyes have taken on the thousand-mile stare.

To a stranger, Mercury's calm, confident expression didn't flicker as Crow approached. But to those who were familiar with her body language, her relief was immense. Just a slight relaxation of her shoulders, and the subtle shifting of weight.

Such a baby, she reminded herself.

As soon as Oz's Prowler halts at the airstrip, Slick got to work getting his Condor ready for flight.

It takes longer than it should, because Slick starts to cough uncontrollably half way through the set-up, but the sleek mini-blimp is still airborne with a couple of minutes to spare.

Slick sits in the back of the Prowler, a slim fibre optic connecting him to his remote control deck, as he scans the airstrip's perimeter through the Condor's electro-optic sensors.

The man nods and holds out the case.

“Thanks for being on time. It’s a good quality in this biz.”

The man holds the briefcase out to Mercury and let’s her take it. He smiles and nods. He is about to step a way when he sees Oz. A strange expression filters across his face for half a heart beat, before he turns and jogs back to the Osprey.

Once he is on board the large, twin engine tilt wing, powers up it’s engines to full throttle. The aircraft lifts slowly off the ground. It quickly rises strait up ten meters, the wings begin to rotate forward. Slowly and awkwardly the plane starts moving forward.

By the time it is nearly out of site, it is heading back the way it came, wings fully rotated. After a minute the sound of it’s engines drift’s quietly on the wind and then it is gone.

It leaves the six of you, holding a black briefcase in an abandoned airport.

"So... what do we do know?"

Mercury looks down at the suitcase, and then over to Oz, as if to say, "That's it?"
She casts a grateful look at Crow, and then walks back over to the Prowler.

"Well, I suppose now we deliver it. I have the address for the house in Everett, but this is a rush job, so we really do need to go." She nods at the rest of the crew, and then tells Crow to drive safe--knowing how much the sentiment annoyed her.

Oz just shrugs in response to Merc's look.

"Rush job. I can do that. All aboard that's going aboard," he says while slipping into the driver's seat and revving the Prowler up.

While blowing a kiss to Merc in response to her motherly advice, Crow slinks towards her Opel. She lifts a long, sinuous leather-clad leg over the metallic steed and kicks the engine up in one smooth, poetic motion. In all the years you've known her, she's never bothered with a helmet, but she does take the time to slide a pair of black lambskin gloves onto her hands before revving her bike in time with Oz's own testosterone-driven purring.

Crow furrows her brow while listening to both machines purr, then playfully sticking out her tongue at Oz before saying "I guess yours is bigger than mine afterall."

Rex sits in the back seat of the prowler, twisting the small feather on his necklace. "Its kinda cramped back here... lets hurry whereever we are going please... hey.. that give me an idea."

The kid keeps playing with the feather and begins to sing softly, calling to something.

Bunny climbs into the Prowler along with everyone else. The fit is tight, but she manages to aquire a seat where she can keep one arm free, just in case.

"Dammit, Rex, watch the mojo in the car. You know what happens if you go all sparkly on Oz while he's driving.

Slick sets the Condor's autopilot to take it to their destination.

He says to the others, "I've sent my bird across the sound, it's a more direct route so it should reach Everett before us. I'll keep overwatch once we're back in comms range."

Crow thought to herself as the Condor zipped past her peripheral vision, "Slick does have some fascinating toys, perhaps he could help me take down that son of a bitch, Dom. Or, at least help me, make his life more miserable before I kill him."

Crow unexpectedly smiled, looking back to see if the motley crew was following her. "I'd better kick it down now, before Oz attempts to catch up to me."

The motorcade, led by the leather clad Crow, rolled out of the airport and onto the cracked streets of Tacoma. It took fifteen minutes of driving on the beat up Gig Harbor highway to reach the intersection the lead to I-5 north. It being a friday night the majority of the traffic was heading south. With the exception of a few stragglers. The ride was comfortable, if a bit warm, in Oz's Prowler. The Fife exit flew by and it was starting to look like it was going to be a smooth ride....

Bunny watched the world zipping past silently. Riding at night was one of those experiences she enjoyed, though more so when she had more arm room. She sighed and leaned against the door a little more as the ride progressed.

After waiting for everyone to hop in and upon hearing Bunny's warning to Rex, Oz reaches up and flips down the sun visor. A small list of rules can be found therein.

• If you're not buckled up, we're not going anywhere. No exceptions.
• No fraggin' mojoslingin' in the car.
• I said NO fraggin' mojoslingin' in the car. This means you, Rex.

He doesn't say a word, but once everyone is strapped into their APPS, he guns the engines and takes off after Crow.

The Fife exit sails by the car. The warm wind rolls in the window casting a light . The usual stench that flows from the inustrial park is thankfully being blown in another direction.

By the third time Oz caught a glimpse of the same two sports cars in his sensors despite having used two different exits to get right back ont he same freeway, his suspicions gets the better of him.

Patching into the comm system so Crow can hear, he lets the others know. "We're being followed. A pair of Eurocar Westwinds, both black. Brace yourself, it's gonna get ugly."

Bunny slides a Browning out of one of her sleeves and hangs on as Oz takes evasive action. She tries to catch a glimpse of the tailing cars, but with the full back seat it proves impossible. Instead, she slows her breathing and tries to concentrate on what she needs to do if a shootout starts.

Slick nods his head, "Yeah, seen 'em too Oz, they're definitely trailing us."

He then pulls his own Browning from it's holster, "Hope you can loose them, I'm not so good with these things."

Upon hearing Oz's comment, Crow casually, over the span of a minute or so, begins to decelerate until Oz is forced to pass her. Once passed, she accelerates to his speed and tries to keep up when the shit hits the fan.

Crow falls back slowing down enough that most cars pass her. She scoots in tight behind the prowler. Oz mimics her move exactly. He drifts over into the carpool lane and start to slow down. The few other cars on the freeway speed by and hurl insults. One of the Eurocars speeds up. It’s black tinted windows make the occupant’s invisible as the high performance sports car fly’s by.

The next exit approaches slowly. It is the first of five exits that lead to Redmond. The first two lead to the more respectable part, the rest to the Barrens you all know and love.

Oz carefully slows the car down, forcing his followers to either reveal themselves, or pass. They do both. One car speeds up and drives by the slowing vehicle. The tinted black windows reveal nothing.

The first exit slowly diverges from the main lane into it’s own. A gentle turn that leads down. At the absolute last second, Oz hits the gas, and turns the wheel hard over. The wheels screech as they grab the pavement and jerk the car over the meridian of grass, down the incline and on to the Redmond Exit.

Crow, not to be out done, puts her bike into a partial slide as she leans hard over. She revs the engine and breaks the rear tire loose as she hits the exit. While the incline is not very steep, it is enough for her to get air. The bike slams into the ground behind the Prowler threatening to loose control. Crows ever precise balance however keeps the metal beast in check.

The Eurocar begins to attempt the same maneuver, however the driver seems plagued with indecision. He turns, then aborts, and then turns again, but by then it is too late.

"Damn fragging showoffs," Merc mutters, readjusting her Gucci tortoiseshell sunglasses. She raises her voice a bit. "Don't know what's worse, Oz, the BTLs or you egging her on."

The jibe is delivered by the same sharp edged tongue that you're all quite familiar with, but there's a river of tension beneath it. Merc tilts her head to see if she can catch a glimpse of Crow in the side mirror.

Rex pipes up from the back seat, "Well, at least Oz can't complain about my spirit... it hasn't done anything yet."

Its hard to tell whether the kid is pouting or trying not to laugh.

Bunny twists her shoulders and gives an outward "push" trying to get the other people in the back seat to not crowd her as badly as they were. The turn had sent them sliding her way and it was constraining. "Frag, hope that's the worst of it..."

Rex can feel the astral presence of his spirit surrounding the car, protecting it from harm, but not actively doing anything at the moment. ‘Lowrider’ speeds through the suburbia section of Redmond in an effort to get through the side streets as quickly as possible and back on to a main thoroughfare.

Crow sticks to the tail of the Prowler like glue, never more than twenty feet behind the low slung sports car.

While cruising through an unusually quiet portion of the backstreets and satisfied that he lost the Westwinds, Oz shifts the Prowler's paintjob to a simple green tone and flips the transponder library and plates to a random setting only a few moments before hitting the exit back onto the freeway leading out of Redmond. He stays on the freeway just long enough to get to a point where he can disappear back onto the sidestreets until they hit their destination.

"Yeah! Nice drivin Oz," Slick heaves a sigh of relief and reholsters his Browning.

"Yeah, nice," Bunny grumbles as she tries to put some space between herself and the car door and back off the edge of the seat. "Can't say you didn't warn us," she mutters under her breath in typical surly fashion.

A few minutes pass as everyone is very careful to check for tails. The two black sports cars see, gone for good. Twenty minutes later the Prowler is pulling up to the address in the Everett.

The house is big. Easily the size of Crow's and Mercury's whole complex. A stone wall surrounds it, and a wrought iron gate protects it. Next to the gate is a security terminal.

Merc checks the place out as Oz pulls up to the gate, looking specifically for cameras and other security measures.

"I didn't get any special instructions for this part. Oz, go ahead and ring the doorbell." Merc nods toward the security terminal on the driver's side, and then looks over her shoulder at Rex. "Can you have one of your little friends case the house for us? Don't set off any alarms. Just give it a once over."

Rex looks a bit pensive... "Well, I can try... but that takes a few moments and I can't do it without getting out of the car and being a bit obvious about it... How about we just try the doorbell first?"

Merc frowns, peering up at the large house. "I'd rather be sure there's nothing special going on before we announce ourselves. Can you project, and check it out yourself?"

Rex sighs... "Rules off now? Bandages and Spray-On Skin at the ready? Remember what happened when I decided to see what Downtown was like projecting? Are you prepared to see that again?"

"Oh for frag's sake, quit bein' a baby and do it already."

Slick reacquires his Condor's signal as the Prowler enters Everett, and uses the drones passive sensors to check out the building.

"I'm checking the place out now, so lets all stay inside for a minute."

Fidgeting, Bunny waits for the recon to complete.

Rex spreads his astral wings, feeling the flames of his totem wrap around his soul as he slips from his mortal body into the Astral Plane.

The young scamp stands proud and naked in the astral, clothed only in the flames of Pheonix. He approaches the wall and the security terminal, examining the place from all angles if necessary or possible.

Astrally the place looks like any other, except for the rather bright ward that surrounds the house itself. A few watcher spirits roam the grounds. They seem to completely ignore anything outside the gates.

Rex returns swiftly to the Prowler, settling back into his body.

"Well, the house is protected, little spirit-critters roaming the yard. Otherwise normal."

"Ok, they've got pretty heavy mundane security here, but I haven't seen anything suspicious."