[03-25-2064 3:00 PM]
It’s a brisk afternoon in the Sprawl, as good a reason as any to find yourself shooting a game of 9-ball with the boys at the hall. Ol’ Scratch your just about the lay into the break when your pager goes off, spoiling the shot and the inevitable scratch.
Rex slaps you on the back as he shouts across the hall to Roxie, “Scratch here just bought the next round Roxie!”
Uttering a slight curse to yourself as you step away and check the offensive little piece of plastic. Seems Mr. Pew has a job offer for the team he wants to talk to you about.

OL' SCRATCH
A seedy poolhall in Bellevue, Seattle around 3:00pm - March 25th, 2064

A string of profanity so indecent that it would make a sailor blush with shame filled the air as Ol' Scratch watched his cue ball sink into the corner pocket. "This better be fraggin' important," he snorted as he glared down at the still-vibrating gizmo attached to his belt. When Rex made his comment to Roxie, the satyr simply flashed a sarcastic "ha ha" look before clearing the pager. "Sorry, cerro*, but it looks like I have to go pay the bills... I wanna rematch next time I see your sorry ass, though. You got that, pal?!" He was doing his best to hide a smile as he mustered up some playful bravado.

With that, Scratch tossed the broken-tusked ork the stick he had been playing with, grabbed his jacket, and proceeded to make his way towards the bar. Once there he hopped up onto an empty stool and pulled out a cellphone, an old notepad, and a pencil worn down to a nub. A snap of the wrist flipped the phone open whereupon he proceeded to manually punch a number in while using the pencil. A familiar voice soon answered.

"Got your message," was all Scratch's distinctive drink-ruined voice said in response, never once mentioning his name. "Where do you wanna meet about this scutwork?"

The old runner nodded to himself as he listened to the man on the other end of the phone. He raced to scribble down the information using a nearly illegible form of handwriting that could only be considered handwriting if you used a loose interpretation of the word. He repeated the important parts back and, satisfied that he had the info right, he ended the coversation by saying "got it, I'll be there and dinner's on you" just before he clicked the phone shut.

By the time he was putting his drek back into his pockets, Roxie showed up with six bottles of Chango beer. Scratch grabbed one of the bottles and popped its lid with this thumb. He then slipped off the stool and prepared to leave, figuring he'd wait until he was in the privacy of his car before he called up the rest of the crew to let 'em know what was going down.

"So what's the damage this week, dollface?"

* Cerro is a vulgar form of the Or'zet word for friend or chummer.

Mr. Pew reesponds, his voice low as usual, "I'll make reservations at the Soiled Dove Bar & Grill over near the docks. Meet me there around 7:30. Dinner's on Mr. J ultimately."
After setting up a round for the boys, Roxie looks Scratch over a bit and smiles, "Your reputation if you keep flubbing the break like that hon; the round comes out to one hundred and fifty, but with the rabble you helped out with the other day, we'll just call it even. Need one for the road before you head out?"

Fritz
Howard Electronics in Bellevue, Seattle around 3:00pm - March 25th, 2064

The smell of solder hangs in the air like smog on a cold Seattle. Two dwarves working over a Seattle Parks maintainance droid. Fritz watches as Howard find his way around the circuit boards, replacing resister, capacitors and condensers. Howards father thought his some well, as like a day today Howard runs his fathers business.

As Fritz puts the last chassis plate in place and screws it the screw in, he shouts "Done". Howard punches the clock. "That was not bad time at all, we are just 15 Seconds out to our record." Fritz places the screw driver down on the lowered tool bench. "Lets see if this hunk of junk works." flipping the circuit test switch, the robot runs through its circuit test program. The bleeps out in a tinny synthisysed voice. "All systems checks are passed."

Howard turns to Fritz pats him on the back. "I am glad you still come around to give me a hand Fritz, I really appreciate the assistance you give me." Putting his mortimer and his stetson cowboy hat. "Howard old friend, any time for what you father has taught me, I will never be a stranger to this shop. A extra pair of hand always goes the extra mile." Shaking hands " Now Howard I have to go and buy a cell phone. I have managed with out for so long . I am surprised that the rest of my friend have not taken a good brawl with me for not having one. If anyone call for me Take message I should be back by 5pm"

Pushing the door open a old fashioned door bell rings a resounding ting-a-ling, and Fritz vanishes into the crowd.

Ol' Scratch pauses in mid-swig of his beer, totally letting the reputation crack go. "Uh," he begins as he pulls it away and looks at the bottle for a moment, then turns his attention back to the bartender, "yeah, I'll take another one for the road." With that he pulled his head back to finish the beer off and set the now-empty bottle on the bar while waiting for her to retrieve a replacement. "Oh hell, I've got some cred coming my way so I might as well clear my tab while I'm here. What's it up to? 500¥?"

"Add a thousand on top of that and you'll be a bit closer."

Scratch paused and stared at the nubile young woman again but didn't say anything as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a huge wad of cash. He thumbed out 1,500¥ in UCAS dollars and slid it across the bar.

"Right, there ya go. See ya in a few days, love."

And with that, Scratch was heading out the door and into the parking lot across the street. When he opened Black Betty's door, a few empty beer bottles rolled out and onto the asphalt. The satyr didn't seem to pay it any mind as he slid in and programmed the Ford muscle car to take him back to his apartment in Casino Corner. After they were on the highway, he reclined his seat a bit and began composing a mass voicemail.

"Well boys and girls, it looks like we might have a job as of tonight. If any of you are interested in hitting the joint with me to negotiate the details, meet me at the usual place at 6:30 tonight. Otherwise, meet the rest of us back at you-know-where by 9 tonight and be ready to get on the clock. Scratch out."

Satisfied with the message, Scratch ordered Cadbury to clean it up a bit and had the pocket secretary transmit it to everyone's voicemail accounts or pagers as appropriate. He then squirmed in his seat a few times until he was comfy and waited for his ride to take him home so he could cleaned up before the meet.

Momus looks over the message, and responds with one of his own "See you at 6:30, want a ride in?"

As the voice mail notification went off, a hand reached out from under the blankets to grab the alarm clock and throw it across the room. A satisfying crunch was heard, but the alarm didn't go away. Finally giving in to the inevitable, Random emerged from under the covers to see what it was.

Seeing what it was, he wondered why he didn't change one of the alarms. He lost more alarm clocks that way. Noting his sleep fuddled mind, he was reminded that he'd sleep through messages if he did. Oh well. Reading the message, he saw that a meet was upcoming. He sent a simple message back. "Sre...see you tere."
Pulling out the back up alarm clock, he set it for 6, and went back to sleep.

The pager went off as Mason slid the clip into Grace, loading a round into the chamber and flicking the safety on. Turning off the alarm he glanced over the message.

"Ah some work hopefully, things have been quiet since the departure from Wuxing, Guaranteed money had its advantages," Mason thought to himself.

Picking up the nearest phone he contacted Momus, " Aye lad. Do me a favour, pass by the HQ on ye way in, Ah could use a ride."

Mason headed for the shower, after cleaning up, he pulled on his form fitting, and a smart yet comfortable pair of clothes. As always he pulled on his spec ops boots, no matter what he tried, no other pair of shoes felt comfortable.

Sheathing his Predator in his concealed holster under his arm he grabed his jacket off the couch, slinging it over his shoulder.

Fritz
The anonymity afforded those within the crowd is comforting as the hustle and bustle of the crowd guides you along the main drag past small time shops and hoods alike. Mostly the press of metahumanity staves off the brisk chill as you walk along looking for the right shop. Up ahead you see a small Stuffer Shack, the display windows muddied from recent go-gang activity but still as warm and inviting as anything is in the Sprawl.

Random
As you drift back to sleep, you find yourself within your usual dream. You’re a digital raccoon sorting through cans of data other people discard, this one contains juicy bits of transaction leftovers that one has some slightly rancid but still tasty shipping schedules, etc. Digging further down, you find a sweet cache of ID’s and passwords from some unprotected SysOp log and are about to ingest it when the can begins to whine loudly and you awake with a start as you find yourself listening to the backup alarm, all 70 wonderful Db of alarm. It’s 6:02 PM, and the sun is just setting.

Scratch
The ride home is uneventful aside from a quickly received return message from Momus and an undeliverable notice from Fritz, a few minor course corrections as the autonav is directed around yet another Sprawl statistic in the making, two gangers have decided that the middle of the street at 3:15 is the right time for a rumble. It all ends as most poor decisions do, a flash of light, a grunt and a small but rapidly growing pool of blood as a young girl is taken into ‘Star custody.

Fortunatly for the alarm clock, this time Random had remebered to move the alarm clock out of reach so that he'd actually have to get up to turn it off. Seeing the time, he quickly got washed up and changed, gathered his gear and headed off to the 'normal place', grumbling about the disrupted dream the entire way, totally oblivious to the fact that his shirt was pink and the pants lime green.

::Communication Shop in Bellevue, Seattle around 3:37pm - March 25th, 2064::

Fritz spend some time looking the different options, just as maticulas as he is with his work. After reading pamphlets and technical data a specs, a choice is made. As well a pager is added to the list. Finally happy with the purchase and the paper work checked out.

Some UCAS dollar get handed over.

4:59pm

Team
"Hey I have finally decided to buy this amazing communications device. Looked through a pile of documentation and specifications. I compared the receptions and put them through the Fritz test of durability. Its amazing what these things can do.
I bought it with added features, this cell is so small I need a magnifine glass to see the keypad. I am now in contact. By the way here is my number. waffel waffel waffel. Good you got it now."

Fritz
::Communication Shop in Bellevue, Seattle around 3:37pm - March 25th, 2064::
The lone clerk watches you, bored silly as you ask for manual after manual, asking for details that weren't covered in the prodeuct scream sheet (which she probably only casually perused). It's a sad state really, when someone merely clocks in for a paycheck and cannot become excited about the products they sell, but that's life in retail for you.
Once you become satisfied with your purchase, she processes the paperwork and hands your your phone, not bothering to instruct you as you likely know more about the item than she at this point.




Rest of Team
[4:59 PM]
You get a call from a number you don't recognize. Letting it go to voice mail you retrieve the following message from Fritz:
"Hey I have finally decided to buy this amazing communications device. Looked through a pile of documentation and specifications. I compared the receptions and put them through the Fritz test of durability. Its amazing what these things can do.
I bought it with added features, this cell is so small I need a magnifine glass to see the keypad. I am now in contact. By the way here is my number. waffel waffel waffel. Good you got it now."

Ol' Scratch
Madame Rue's Palm Reading Shop, Casino Corner - 3:45ish pm

When Scratch finally made it home, he pulled up Cadbury's window and noticed that he had a few confirmations already. His cloven hooves clip-clopped as he skittered down the steps leading to the lush apartment in the basement and rubbed his chin at Random's rather (and typically) encryptic response. "'Think we should go left or right, Random?' 'Yes.' Oy." he thought to himself. "Feh, it doesn't matter which 'there' he meant. Pew's footing the bill this time. The more the merrier."

The next hour and a half was spent in the bathroom getting ready. By the time he emerged he was looking like a whole new man... an image he was about to spoil by throwing on an old Hustler t-shirt that should probably have been washed rather than worn and some cheap cologne.

Just as he was heading out the door to do some last minute prep work, he finally noticed the tell-tale flashing on his pocket secretary that indicated he had a message waiting. When he pulled it up and heard Fritz's voice, he already knew what was coming. "Frag me in the goat ass," he began his response! "Fritz... just... frag, man. Didn't Random hook you up with that anonymous voicemail box after the last job? I could have sworn he even showed you how to check it from a payphone. Drek, man. But whatever, look, we have another job offer tonight. If you want to hit the meet with the rest of us, be at you-know-where at 6:30. If not, be there by 9:00 so we can get work out any details we need to if the job sounds kosher. Got it? Good. See you there one way or the other. And.. just... just frag, man!"

With that, Ol' Scratch was out and in his beloved Black Betty before the 6:00 mark. He punched in his destination to their Pullyup crash pad and sat back to enjoy the ride.

Scratch
The drive into the 'office' is quiet, uneventful, and eerily clear of the usual street trash, walking vendors and various other characters that make up the backdrop for life here in the neglected former commercial district. As the oddness washes over, you see the cause; a trio of black Toyota Elites, is sitting in front of Ms. Yao's Noodle & Tea, seems it's collection day for the neighborhood from your friendly neighborhood Yakuza. Pulling in the back alley entrance, you park Betty and prep the office for the others, meaning mainly you crack open a brew and sit on your duff till they get there.

Ol' Scratch plopped down in one of the recliners he salvaged a few months back and popped open another Chango. Grabbing the trid's remote, he began flipping channels until he stumbled upon an old rerun of The Odd Coven. "Eh, what the hell," he thought to himself as he dropped the remote back on the coffee table and waited for the rest of his motley crue to show up.

In the back of his mind he knew those Yaks were probably going to come a-knockin' in order to stir up some trouble... but they could eat his drek for all he cared (especially since he parked Betty in the garage around back). Besides, the pad's alarm system was state of the art and he'd know they were coming ten minutes before they did. And come on, this was the episode where Felix accidently threw out Oscar's shamanic lodge -- it's a classic!

Fritz
same shopping mall some time after 5:00pm

Fritz heads back to Howards, when Ol Scratch returns the message. As quickas he is with a trigger, Fritz fumbles over the device like a amature, with the excitemnt of a child with a new toy. Final after 5 minutes standing in the middle of the walk way, Fritz gets it right to recieve the message.

Browsing it over he takes a brisk walk, his duster flapping as the dwarf with a stetson would. Finally make Howards shop, Fritz walks in to the workshop collects his kit.
"Howard old friend I have some business that I have to attend too. I will be incontact. Here is mu new number and pager number ol pal. Take care."

Giving his dear friend a great big hug he heads out the door to the meeting spot that was sent to him.

Pullyup pad at 5:45pm
Arriving a few minute before the meet. Heading for his favourite soyo shack for a take away, of his favourite junk food. The Chilli Foot Long.