Bob goes back to his prescious matrix, rolling the screen out next to him. As soon as he's jacked in, a message appears on its surface:

"Guys: I am looking for facial matches and any other data. I'm also seeing if I can reconstruct any other data from Borstad's head.

That means, of course, that I will be far too busy to come with you this evening - terribly sorry - but GOOD LUCK!"

It was a little after eight p.m when Piper finally opened his eyes. The place seemed gloomy, even though it was well lit; then he realised that the shadows in the corner was no shadow. It stirred in its sleep and the Irishman smiled. She knows she‘s safe, at least for the moment. He got up and headed for the small primus to make tea. Setting the pan on to boil he quickly went and got rid of the last cup he‘d had some four hours ago.

Returning to the main room he made a suggestion. It had been brewing in his sub-conscious whilst he‘d slept. “The break in at the Duke’s office needs some finesse I reckon. Which means that Deuce, Tyen and Sandy are best suited to the task.“

He mashed tea. "The other half of the equation should be up to me and you two guys.“ He looked at the heavy weight Trolls as he spoke. “The Gangers obviously knew more than I or you could really find out, so what say we take a stroll back into the Squeeze and emphasise that we really do want to know what happened to the case Mr Borstad was carrying when they chased him out onto a loose fire escape?”

Sandy...having woken at the sound of movement, listened to what was being said. "Sounds like a good plan to me, although I wouldnt mind knowing there is some heavy backup if we need it!"

She liked the idea of breaking into this place... finally a job worthy of her skill!

:: Tyen awakes and listens to the conversation quietly, part of her comfortable enough in her dark corner that she postpones the inevitable effort to rejoin the conscious world. However, as the soft tinkering of the tea set makes it's way to her ears, she remembers the cup before dinner and decides another is worth her rejoining the group properly. ::

:: As she uncurls from her position, she stretches like a cat in a sunbeam before pushing her hair back out of her face. Having dried as she was sleeping, the dark waves have a noticeable amount of curl to them, but not enough to be considered bona fide curly. Smiling at Piper and holding out the cup from the hours before her sleep, she nods at his assessment of the next steps. ::

"I will be good in either capacity. My influence could help with gangers, but I also have fair skills in stealth for the office. Wherever you think I am best suited, as I trust your judgement..."

well...as much as I can trust anything....

Filling the woman's cup with dark, rich tea. “I take the point about `backup’ Sandy. There’s no reason why a couple of Elves and a human wouldn’t have a bodyguard I suppose, even in the high class part of this fair City. And I do think two women would be better in Park Lane. Besides, you'll be able to keep Deuce in check. `General' indeed! “

Piper grinned as he turned to look at the two Trolls. “Stone, you’d better go with them, if you’re agreeable. You look more like the classic, buff bodyguard the ladies would go for. Besides, Tyrone here looks far more intimidating for the work we’ll have to do.”

The Irishman drained his cup. “Assuming we’re all set, we may as well get on with it.”

Deuce enjoyed his time away from the hideout. he had managed to have a decent meal, a nice drink and to catch 40 winks in the back of the limo. As he waltz through the door he was a little surprised to see that the group was all up and deep in discussion as to what to do next. Not to show his annoyance, he moved over to the wall and leaned back, pulling a cigarette from its metallic case.

Assuming some sort of distraction was needed, she picks up her Hold All that she had left in the corner, she walked into the bathroom and locked the door....

After stripping off she opens the large bag up and proceeds to get changed into the appropriate gear ready for some more upper class work. I loved playing dress up as a girl...and the sad thing is I still do!!! she thought to herself....

Emerging from the bathroom everybody present can see the transformation from street girl/ganger to a killer corperate women, and anybody who looks closely can tell that she prefers being like this! Now dressed in a stunning black Vashion Island skirt and jacket set Sandy is now wearing matching high heels, white blouse and a matching set of earings and necklace (green... it brings out the colour in her eyes). Ignoring the gawping eyes of Deuce she presents herself to everybody....

"I hope this will do! I am going to assume that they arent expecting any shadowrunners to walk in through the front door... so if we can sort out a cover story to get us in the building and some papers, then I am sure we can simpley talk our way in....."

ignore this

:: Tyen gives a crooked smile at the Corporate Jane transformation. ::

"I was thinking more of wearing my rhythenium cloak, I prefer not to be seen at all, but this opens many possibilities....stealth is my strength, but I am no thief. I have no skills at bypassing the security devices most use."

"Hmmm well that's why you let some yen do the talking if you know what I mean. Everyone has their price, whether they know it or not," says the elf as he casually flicks some ash onto the already disgusting floor, "The trick is getting them to understand that it is what you tell them it is."

"Hey Bob...can you get any information on the place we are going to? Maybe look up purchase orders for any new installed survellience stuff? Who runs their security? What we can expect going in? Hell, even a floormap would be helpful."

The run into the Squeeze couldn‘t have been easier. Tyrone‘s taxi was obviously well known to the guards on the southern end of the Lambeth Bridge and, with Piper‘s obvious military attire, seated comfortably in the back, they just gave the runners a cursory glance and waved them through the barrier.

“I suspect we should walk from here.” Piper suggested, but got a non-committal grunt and the vehicle kept on moving. Obviously Tyrone didn’t go much on walking when he could ride. He pulled up in front of the three story Victorian terraced house where Piper had confronted the young woman and discovered the sawn fire escape.

Leaving the Troll to make such arrangements for the safety of their transport as he thought necessary, the Irishman went into the building, climbing the stairs to the first floor. The landing was dimly lit from a small, fly specked bulb rammed into a ceiling rose with no shade. Tyen’d like these shadows. crossed Piper’s mind as he listened intently at the door he knew accessed the flat where the girl had come from.

Heavy footsteps behind him made the soldier glance back to see the huge dumpy figure of Tyrone puffing around the head of the stairs. In here. I can hear at least three voices, two men and a woman.

The splintering crash of the door as it yielded to the Troll’s interest in it showed the man wasn’t about to go pussy footing around on any covert mission. Piper drew his gun and side stepped past Tyrone and into the room, covering anything stupid enough to move.

"So folks, I am ready when you are," Deuce says as he tightens up his jet black ponytail and smooths out his suit.

Park Lane and Mayfair, two of the best known streets in the west end of the sprawling metropolis which is London. They’re so well known, in fact, that they appeared on a board game which is played even today. The only difference is that there are no hotels in either of the thoroughfares, and if there were, it’d cost a damn sight more than the £3K the game tells you to pay to stay there.

Unlike much of the city, the lights are bright in Park Lane, fountains play at the frontage of some of the most expensive real estate in the land. Security patrols, independents mostly, parade their side arms along broad pavements, checking in with their HQ and each other at regular fifteen minute intervals. Although there is friendly competition between the Security Companies, the leg men will all go to each others assistance if Bad Guys get ugly.

Number 34 Park Lane is no different. A wide drive skirts the twelve story block of concrete and glass before a five metre pair of glass doors, constantly locked. The only way in, day or night, is to announce yourself and hope the Guard is having a good day.

Of course, if you have an appointment, or the right credentials, there’s no problem. If not…..well, you just don’t get in. At least by the front door that is.

Pulling up in the limo should draw some attention from the guards, the right kind of attention.
"Well folks, it's showtime," says the elf as he exhales a bluish cloud of smoke and snuffs out the butt in the asktray. He glances over to Sandy and smiles, "You're up, break a leg baby," as Fist opens their door and she steps out first.

:: Tyen pulls the hood of her cloak tight around her face and drapes the generous material around her carefully before activating the special polymers that render the cloak and it's inhabitant invisible. Stepping carefully after Sandy but before Duece, she pads carefully around her companions and slipping into the darker patches of the wide walkway using her skills, the natural shadows and the rhytheniums, she is effectively invisible to the mundane watchers on the street. ::

Knowing that first impressions were always important, Sandy makes sure that the guard on the door knows whos in charge before even a word is said. The limo driver walks around the car and opens the door for her, Stepping out from behind the tinted windows she begins to stride up towards the front door.... trying to appear casual but bussinesslike she takes a brief look around before looking directly into the eyes of the security guard on duty by the doors.

"Good evening, My name is Kate Holloway and I am here on behalf of Mr Carmicheal. A meeting has been arranged at the last minute and he has requested we collect some materials he is going to need, I am aware that this isnt exactly a social time of day but needs must I am afraid. We wont be long...."

Finishing what she was saying with a slight smile to brighten up this guys evening and to make him think she might be interested... she hoped it would make him take his eye off the ball long enough for him to let them into the building.

Sandy, Blitz and Deuce:

The late hour, although being inherently suspicious, combines with Sandy's good looks and the Doorman's naturally obsequious demeanor. With a veritable "tug at the forelock," the doorman steps back and opens the front door for the pair. "Certainly m'lady. Anything you require and I'll arrange it. Just you let me know!"

The three runners, Blitz nestled almost invisibly in the centre, breezed through the gilted doors with stern impressions, sure to keep them on in case of security cameras, although the doorman's dullness was a moment of useful levity. Inside, the place seemed so much larger than it should be - a trait common in this street - and the main entrance hall offered them a number of options - Up the massive staircase, through the double doors ahead of them, or through either of the single doors on each side.

Decisions, Decisions...


Tyrone and Piper:

"SHIT!!!"

The shout from the other side of Tyrone's foot was muffled somewhat by the troll's bulk, but clear in it's intent. The speaker had clearly been surprised - even by the runners' not-so-stealthy approach. As Piper cleared the Rigger for a firing solution, he saw the reason for the man's lack of attention...

The bed that rested in the centre of the room was occupied - by a woman only now, since the large man had vacated it. He was desperately trying to pull up his trousers and fish out a small bladed dagger from a sheath, whilst maintaining some form of dignity. All the while, of course, he continued the great British tradition of swearing at the duo like a gutter-bred street rat. Which he was. The woman gazed at them in shock, then in a random expression of "hospitality" for the invaders, grabbed the remote and switched off the trid - "Debbie Duz Trollz Volume 2" from the looks of it.

"What the fuck do you want? Get outta my pad before I cut you!"

Whispering to the other two, deuce says "I think we should break off into at least two. It's be a little hard for our disappearing friend to open doors and not have it look suspicious. His office, upstairs?"

"I think it's best to split up 3 ways. If I need to, I can come get one of you to help me. I'll take upstairs."

:: Tyen moves slowly and deliberately allowing her rhytheniums to do their job as she steps carefully to minimize any sound she makes. With catlike precision and stealth, she mounts the stairs one by one. ::

And if she opens a door and a camera spots that, great, there'll be security on the way for sure...
"Well, since she's going up there, I guess I'll go straight," said the elf in an annoyed, hushed tone, more to himself than to Sandy. He headed to the double doors.

Behind the wild man Piper could see the girl in the bed, the grubby sheet held tightly to her neck in some vain expression of modesty, a light of recognition in her eyes together with a pleading for her life.

“You’ll be Jace then?” Piper nodded at the somewhat shiny and certainly sharp blade in the man’s - well really teener’s, hand. “Are your goin to use that or what?!”

Jace faltered, a curtain of fear crossing his face as he glanced quickly first at the Troll and back to Piper. “Watcher wan?” The blade never wavered, held firmly in frontof his body as the ganger leant slightly forward, his trousers, improperly fastened, starting to slip to the floor.

“Why don’t you put up your blade and we’ll talk a bit. ‘Sides, you try and make a fight of it and your teeth will have an argument with the floor;” Piper nodded at Jace’s crotch, smiling. “But your pants’ll get there first, you’ve left your fly undone!

Ain’t no man or Meta man living that wont look down when he hears that. Which is precisely what the boy did and found himself disarmed with a near dislocated thumb.

“Nice blade.” Piper caressed the steel. “You keep it clean and sharp.”

Jace recovered, to give him his due, and stood upright. “Do watcher wan wiv me, but leave me girl alone.

“That pretty little thing? No worries, but no promises. You have some information we need. If you play nice, we’ll just go about our business and leave you be.” Piper laid the blade on a small chest of drawers, well out of reach.

The effort of bravery collapsed. “Watcher wanna know?”

It took a few minutes to explain and ask question. Who’d put Jace up to chasing Borstad? Was he to kill the man or make sure he had an `accident’? And, most importantly, what had happened to the case the man had been carrying?

Park Lane Sneakster-Trio:

The building was eerily quiet, in the almost dead of night, with nary a creak from the floorboards.

Tyen mounted the stairs carefully, keeping to the sides where there would likely be less sound. reaching teh landing she found herself confronted with a long narrow corridor stretching toward teh back of the building. Scouting along it quickly revealed nought but an array of expensive looking real-wood furniture and a large picture window at the rear looking out onto a paved and well-maintained flower garden. Which left the only options as the five doors along the perimiter of the corridor...

Below, meanwhile, Deuce made his way to the double doors, carefully opening them. The room within was darkened, but his natural low-light vision made out fairly clearly the shapes of huge book-cases lining the walls. The unlit fire in the far wall was made-up and ready for the torch, with a pair of high-backed leather wing-chairs sitting nearby, a small table bearing a trio of delicate looking cut crystal decanters in an open mahogany tantalus. To either side of the fireplace, heavy velvet drapes obscured what had to be floor-to-ceiling french windows...

In the hall, Sandy tried to decide which door to open. Her sensitive Elven senses discerned no clue as to what might lay behind the respective portals, and that was as worrying as anything else in this opulent abode...


Lambeth Heavy Hitters:

Shaking out a sore hand, the boy, Jace, fastened his attire and "schlomped" down onto the bed.

"I got nothin' to tell ya. This geezer was just runnin' and we chased 'im, s'all. It's like the old bill, y'know? They don't chase ya if ya don't run. But he did, so we had a quick game of chase-me-charlie. It was a laugh, y'know? I didn't know the damn fire escape was gonna break, I swear! And if he had a case, I don't know what happened to it - I was at the back of the pack." The runners regarded him - it seemed likely since he was obviously built for strength, not speed.

"I'd ask the younger kids if I were you - they were at the front. An' I 'eard 'em shoutin' down the alley after, so there might 'ave been someone else there too - I just don't know! Promise!"

:: Tyen now turns her attention upwards and carefully walks along the perimeter, looking for any camera that may be pointed towards any of the doors, then checking to make sure no light eminates from below any of the 5 doors available to her. ::

Having a bright idea... Sandy looks around for a reception desk, knowing that these things usuall have lists on the desks as to where to find various offices. Knowing that if she finds it she will just use her comm to let the others know and meet them up there.

If she doesnt find a list.... she simply picks the door on her right hand side (knowing that neither offer any clue as to where they go) and carefully walks through.

The boy obviously didn’t know much about the actual hit on Borstad. He was a heavy back-up to the Gangers and had remained in the background on a `need to know’ basis, and he obviously hadn’t needed to know.

What he did confirm was that the youngsters who had been at the forefront of the attack came from underground, Trogs as Jace called them. They lived in the long disused Tube tunnels on this side of the Thames where it was always warm and stolen electricity made life fairly comfortable.

The group in question evidently made there base at the old Lambeth North Station at the tail end of the Bakerloo line, It was a nice spot, Piper knew. Central without the likelihood of much in the way of Security patrols, and a clear route north into the heart of London’s West End whenever the need arose.

The case must have gone there for forwarding, of that he felt sure. Whoever was at the back of this wouldn’t demean themselves by collecting the item. So the next step was to find the courier, before he or she also got bumped off.

“Come on my burly friend, we’ve worried these people long enough.! The Irishman headed out of the door, the heavy steps of Tyrone right behind him.

The wail of the affronted Jace followed the pair down the stairs. “Hey, wadd I get out of this?”

“You’re still breathing!” Piper retorted as he stepped out onto the dark street.

Sandy:

The reception desk, though present, was as bare as a roast chicken at a nudist dinner party. It figured, since the low - and very select - traffic levels would not require such a list. If you didn't know precisely where you were going, you shouldn't be going there.

Going for broke, Sandy moved to the first door on the right. Not a sound issued from within, but upon opening the door, she found the room to be occupied!

Along the far wall, in the lower portion on a functional looking bunk-bed was a slumbering human man, mouth agape and drooling. From the looks of the uniform strewn at the foot of the bed he was another "doorman" like the one out front - possible another shift...

Tyen:

Not a light or a sound escaped the grasp of the first floor rooms - testament either to their emptiness or the skill of the designers. With no clues to indicate which door might lead to her goal, Tyen inspected the hall itself.

Carpeted in a luxurious red, the hallway showed signs of the "holy trinity" of the nobility - Lots of money, lots of taste, and the desire to "show off" both of them. Between each door stood a waist-high pillar bearing the weight of some form of ornament - a classically styled vase, a sculpture, a bust of some un-identified figure. At the end, beneath the window, a gilted cabinet contained little of note - a neatly folded polishing rag and tube of metal polish in the bottom. Antiques of such quality should not be sullied by such concerns as functionality...

The doros themselves offered little inspiration. Each was oak, and appeared extremely solid. Each had identical fittings - appearing to be of gold, but more likely highly-polished brass. No keyholes or maglocks marred their finish. Not even scuffing on the floor could tell of frequency of use, since the doors all opened off the hall.

All in all, a mystery... but everyone loves a mystery, right?

Bah nothing much here really... Deuce wasn't sure exactly what to look for. He flipped on the over head light and wandered about the room, checking out the book case, casually peering out the window. He fiddled around with the decanter and lightly touched the tables, Nice place though, I wonder who their decorator is?

Outside the ganger's apartment...

Bloody motorcycle. First the bedamned Blitzen had sprung an oil leak on the way back from the meet with Crow, then decided to up and slip its drive chain on the way to the apartment. That had left him out on watch duty outside, as Piper and Tyrone went in to roust the ganger.

Stone glanced up as Piper stepped back out onto the street, ground out his Superkings cigarette with a massive boot, and moved forward quietly. "Been pretty quiet out here. What's the word from that bugger?" he asked, tossing his head towards the apartment.

The stolid figure of the other Troll surprised Piper as he spoke. He’d thought that Stone would have gone with the Elves and Tyen as their back up, but evidently not.

“Just as well you’re here. The trail leads to the old Lambeth North Station at the tail end of the Bakerloo line and a nice little gang of tea leaves.“ The soldier pointed north east, toward the long bend in the river. “Lots of warehousing and, according to the youngster in there,” He thumbed back toward the building, “they’re gonna need some persuading to tell us what they did with Borstad’s case. It’ll be their turf remember, so we’d better keep our wits about us.”

The three runners headed for the Station by bike and taxi, adrenaline starting to flow, anticipating a fight.

Hoping that she hadnt woken him... Sandy moves silently backwords and shuts the door slowly and quietly.... "Frag, Frag, FRAG" keeps running through her mind...she didnt think their target would have an office on the ground floor, people like this never did. time to head upstairs

Pressing the butten on the subvocal mike she lets Deuce know where shes going....

:: Tyen, now satisfied that there are no camera's about, settles down on her knees in the middle of the plush carpeting. Bowing her head, she gazes into the depths of the shadows that surround her and begins to focus her energy upon them. Her mind stretches out and grasps the shadows like dark putty and by sheer will, she shapes the shadow. The incorporeal form recognizes it's mistress with a thought and waits to hear what is expected of it. ::

:: Tyen's dark eyes make contact with the strange creature on a completely seperate plane of existance and her question was communicated soundlessly. ::

"I am Tyen, Shaman of Shadows, friend and holder of the secrets we possess. A man holds his secrets here under our watchful eye. Can you tell me which room secures them now?"

:: The power of thought was evidenced in that as she imagined the words, around them spawned visions and emotions of that which she referred to. A glimpse into her soul to bare the connection she felt to the darkness. An image of not just the man called Lord Protector (which every informed citizen knew) but also an impression of everything she had learned about his personality or mannerisms. Visions of a mydrid of storage devices, from high tech computers, to hand held storage disks to old fashioned file cabinets stuffed with heavy paper folders to archaic pen, ink and scrolls. The visions conveyed themselves purely from her subconscious with only the hint of effort. Then she awaited his response. ::

Walking slowly upstairs, Sandy makes a note of any cameras that may be set up... so that she knows to keep her back to them or obscure her face as she passes.

Deuce, using his subvocal, contacted sandy,"Hey honey, did you check out all the doors on the first floor? Nothing much in my room here, more like a meeting place."

Letting Deuce know which door she opened and what was behind it, she carries on up the stairs.... knowing that duece will have the other one covered.

The old Lambeth North Station. A darker den of iniquity you couldn’t - wouldn’t wish to find. The pavements and street, littered with the trappings of `civilised society’ gone to Hell along with an odd severed arm and, Piper swore, what appeared to be the skull of some underdog, tendrils of rotting flesh hanging from its cheeks, stuck on the spiked end of an iron railing. Traditional warning if ever he saw one.

“Looks like we wont be welcome here.” Piper nodded at the entrance, easing his preferred weapon from its holster. “Ready?” The question was rhetorical as the Irishman shouldered his was between rusting metal gates at the Station entrance.

The place stank. Not just musty but all of the unpleasant smells he’d ever come across, and he’d smelt some pretty nasty stuff in his time. Ignoring the cloying, penetrating stench, he hugged the right hand wall and edged forward, pointing at the far wall for Stone to follow, Tyrone bringing up the rear.

The old booking hall, with its spacious ticket office, was covered in graffiti and the Tribal emblems of the occupants of the nether regions of the London Underground. Actually, some of it was well done and Piper had to admire the artistic talent that went with total anarchy.

The itch at the back of his neck made him drop, bending his knees and levelling his gun in the direction from which an ugly looking blade had flown. The shadow, fast disappearing around a corner, wasn’t worth the shot. Piper activated his micro-bead. “Escalators. Just around that bend I think.” He watched as Stone eased forward, weapon covering the cross line of fire. The Troll nodded and Piper moved, running crouched, to the partial cover of the far wall.

The knife thrower was long gone, not even footsteps could be heard. But then, the escalator was one of the steep types. He, she or it could be laying prone just a few steps down and be totally hidden. Oh for a frag grenade! Piper wished fervently.

Nothing for it! He signalled Stone to let a couple go at the escalator and made a run, taking the quickest of glances down the old wooden, stationary staircase before crouching between the up and down flights.

He’d seen nothing, but that didn’t mean that no one was hiding at the bottom. Close to his left foot he saw a half house brick. That would do. Grabbing it he lobbed it down the steps, making it ricochet from side to side to make as much noise as possible, watching it fall, his gun trained down at the bottom.

The briefest of glimpses, a dark shaggy head followed by a body, standing and turning, ready to run. Piper fired at the fleeing arse; he needed a prisoner!

Testing Thread...

[This is Tony's Post (DB) not Dave's (Rak)]

Piper and Stone (since I want to move it on...):

Piper wildly swings his beretta in the direction of the fleeing posterior, the shot ricocheting off the ground below. Footsteps echo around the escalator shaft as the ganger dissappears into the depths. As the pair move to the head of the stairway, Tyrone joins them, a throwing knife jutting from his bull-shoulder. "Next time, irish, don't duck!"

Carefully, at the head of the steps, the trio peek out over the edge. Nothing is moving in the darkness - even to the trolls' natural thermographic vision.

With Stone in the lead, Piper leaning out over the central divider providing cover, the trio descend into the darkness.

Half-way down, they are stopped by a voice.

"Fek off, dirty topside scum! And take your damn trogs wiv ya! There's more trouble down here than ya' want, scan?"

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

Tien and Sandy:

Taking form, shadows coalesce into floating apparitions as of a child's nightmare. Silently they drift amongst the furnishings, pausing at each door as if to listen - or to discern the contents.

Starting at the window, they move along the corridor toward the stairs, until they are interrupted! The delicate arrival of the ebony elf sets them reeling, as if she had interrupted the rite of their concentration. Without even a sound, they swirl as if caught in a whirlwind and vanish into the corners that spawned them - but not before imparting their knowledge to their mistress as she feels drawn to the door nearest the stairs.

Although perhaps a little disconcerted by the amorphous black forms, Sandy steps into the hallway, peering into the gloom to try and pick out the invisible shaman. With her practiced eye, she quickly assesses the area and, most noteworthy, decides that whoever decorated was indeed of high class and impecable taste - probably with a massive budget behind them...

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

Deuce:

With Sandy's failure to answer adequately, the American's exasperation grew. Would he have to search the entire floor by himself? With a little sigh in the dark, he turned to exit the library room. Even as he was easing the door closed, however, his delicate elven hearing discerned a faint click behind him, and his body threw a faint shadow onto the portal in front of him - a light had come on!

:: Tyen rises silently, but lifts her head high enough for the deep cowl to reveal her face to her companion. ::

"Dis is the one."

:: Her gloved hand takes hold of the door handle and gently applies just enough pressure to test the mechanism for an engaged latch or lock of any kind. ::

On impulse of the light that come on behind him, Deuce turned around. he gave the door a light knock, "Hello?" he said, trying to appear as if he had just lost his way. he pushed the door slighty ajar and looked back in the room.

Not quiet being able to spot the shamen, Sandy calls out..."Tyen? you there?"

"Shhh....the door by the stairs...don't step on me."

:: Her voice is a soft whisper, barely brushing on the Elf's ears. ::

For the benifit of any cameras that were in this building (which there doubtlessly were) she resumes the act of knowing where shes going. Walking towards the door with confidence she carefully avoids the shadows and reaches for the door handle, pressing down on the leaver she makes her way in.

"Fek off, dirty topside scum! And take your damn trogs wiv ya! There's more trouble down here than ya' want, scan?"

“We scan.” Piper shouted. “No ruckus. Just want info. Innifor!”

There was a momentary silence and the runners waited for an onslaught. It didn’t materialise. Instead the reedy voice floated back up at them. “Was innifo?”

“Cansa. Lossa cansa. ‘N gear too, mebe blades, fer right info.” Again the pregnant pause.

“Come ahead. Jus you. Leave em trogs upside.” The tattered person, there was no way to tell if it was male or female, appeared briefly at the foot of the stairs, showing willingness to talk but dodging back immediately, expecting shots.

Piper nodded at the two Trolls. “I’ll go down. Give me two minutes and then move down as well - quietly!” How quietly a Troll could move, when he had to, the Irishman well knew, and it would be nice to think he had backup close at hand.

Carefully dropping down the thirty or so steps to the lower concourse, Piper peered about in the gloom. The dwellers here were picking up juice from somewhere, probably a hook back across the river, and there were three old neons filling the place with guttering light, the 50Hz buzz loud in the ears.

“Whereya?” Piper sidled to the left hand wall, Beretta trained ahead. A soft sound of cloth to his right swung the gun in that direction as a small body appeared, lank long brown hair that hadn’t seen a comb in a decade, topped what must once have been a gaberdine overcoat flapping around cowboy boots that seemed two sizes too big.

“Where’s cansa?” Eyes flicked from side to side and back up the escalator.

“Topside. Getcha ten fer right info.” Piper lowered his weapon slightly.

“Nahway. Fifty or no deal.” The rag tag moved back into the darkness leading to the platform, waving a dismissive hand.

“Haggle later. Gotta know if’n you got right info furst.” Piper took a slow step toward the troglodyte. “Gangers took a dapper, two nights ago. Left im dead. No worry whatcha got offen, but gotta briefcase too. I gotta fine da case. Whatcha know?”

[OOC: Muahaha! Fixed it! Something about a non-deleted cookie and Daylight Saving time...]

[b]Piper, Stone and Tyrone:

The emaciated looking ganger seemed thoroughly enraptured by the idea of bargaining with the ex-soldier. It looked to Piper as though he was on teh home stretch with this kid when, at the corners of his perception, movement set his scalp tingling.

Stonen was there with him instantly, the both of them aware of multiple bodies in the dark of the station. The negotiating ganger started to whine, mumbling to himself, as four bodies launched themselves from side-alleys to attack the runners. "Dammit! Never lemme bargain! We gonna starve, twits!" But even as he spoke, he knew a fight was inevitable, and ducked away from what he expected to be an iminent bloodbath.

[ooc: roll initiative, guys...]

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Sandy and Tyen:

The women were bumping into each other in the hall, invisibility and impatience getting the better of them. Eventually, however, the door opened and they stepped within.

The room was a traditional style office - if you were traditionally a stinkingly rich Victorian gentleman - with multiple concessions to the modern era spotted around the room in subtle compliment to the decor.

The central item was, of course, the massive desk. Almost spartan in appearance, the inset terminal was cleverly concealed. Multiple bookcases adorned the walls, but mostly contained fiction and recreational reading material. The question was, though, where could the paydata be?

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Deuce:

No response issues from the room. Peering back into the gloom, the yankee spiv notices that the glow is coming from a small table in the corner of the room - a small flatscreen linked to a telecom unit has come alive and seems to be displaying an email - but from his current viewpoint he cannot read it...

Crosssing the room carefully, he reads the message:

"Dear Shadowrunners,

I would offer my congratulations for finding your way in here, but I know precisely how easy it was. Equally, I would urge you not to do anything rash, as the armed gentlemen at the front of the building would be most displeased - and I assure you that you would have quite some difficulty making it out of my home alive.

Whilst I have your (undivided?) attention, might I be so bold as to request that you cease your investigation into the late Mr Borstad. I have the situation in hand and it will be resolved shortly - so there is nothing to worry yourselves about.

Rest assured that failure to comply with my request will not go well for you.

Kindest regards,

JC"

Dammit Deuce hated the idea that someone knew where he was and what exactly he was up to without him knowing who they were.

Or maybe he did know who....

How would this Charmichael guy know exactly what they were up to unless he had inside info? Was their a mole or something amongst them? If so, who? The runners seemed legit. He thought a bit more about that Bob cowboy. he was always at the house it seems, and he's doing his thingy in the 'Trix, would he be in cahoots with this guy?

He contacted Sandy on the subvocal, "Hey sugar, things okay?" She said that the two of them had just entered the room upstairs. "Great," replied deuce, "but be careful. I get the feeling that we're expected, and are being watched. Scratch that. I KNOW we are."

"Why? How? Who?" He could hear the concern in her voice. Deuce gave her a quick rundown of the letter that was still on the screen in front of him.

:: Tyen hisses under her breath. She knew it had been too easy getting in and she had forgotten the first rule of high level government conspiracies, always assume they know more than you. ::

"There wont be anything here worth the effort. We need to leave and soon, did you come armed?"

Sandy is annoyed, she hates it when she can't talk her way out of a situation.... "Yeah, but its only a hold out pistol because I figured we wouldnt get anything bigger past rent-a-thug. I still say we have a quick scan of the area, he may be sending that email because we are close, and besides, what have we got to loose if security know we are here?"

:: Tyen smiles slyly as her eyes refocus a moment, opening her inner self to the secrets the room hides. ::

"I'll wait for you two at the bottom of the stairs back in the lobby," he tells Sandy. Deuce was still pissed. He figured that they were close to something, and this guy was just nervous. He straightened his hair, gave a crack to his neck, and walked back to the door.