Bonk- "Hey migit" Uncle Otem says calling bonk over to the counter. "Dis is for you" Otem hands Bonk the phone.
"Ello?" Bonk speaks to the mic. "Hey there good buddy, Carl here and have i got a job for you!" "It come with mustard? Frank is feeling hungry today." Bonk replied. "Sure... anyhting you want Bonk just meet me at Harpy's at 7:30 k?"
"And ketchup?" Was Bonks reply. "ill take that as a yes.. see you then Bonk." And the line goes dead. "Hey uncle meez going to da other place now, bye bye." Bonk leaves the bar with back pack full of molding hot dogs clung tight to his back.

D-Trip- "HEY HONEY!" D-Trips mother shouted to him as he tryed to sneak his way out the side door. "You come ere lok at this right now. You see here, " She holds out a wrinkled news paper 2 days old with a title RACING win BIG! printed in bold letters. " you ought to go and get urself involvewd in this here thing make u famous and i could be proud of you for once."
"yes mama ill do that right away" D-Trip replys as he works his way out the door with his head hung low and sighs. "Some day mama you wil;l be proud of me"he wispers under his breathe. With that he walks Around the corner whre a few of his buddys are waiting for him. As he approuches his phone rings.
"Hello?"
"I got a hot scoop for you,"A deep resounding voice slightly muffled announces. "meet a Mr. Warfield at Harpys at 7:30 tonight and dont be late this ones for real just figured you could use the extra cash since showing to this meeting gets you 5k up front just for coming. Peace."

Chauncy- The smell of burnt rubber is in the air, you cna feel the wind changing as the sound of sirens screech from a now to far away distance. Suddenly two cars come flying around a corner near you, one a Van and one a sports car. As the turn continues the driver of the sports car looses control of the wheel and spins out flying side long into a building with such force you cna feel your feet tremble. The Van steams on unneffected by the demise of its opponent, and just then 4 Knights Errant Cars come racing around the corner a bit more carefull and slower then the 2 racers and the Van easily makes a get away.

*Later that night* Chauncy blinks at his friend Harald stairing into what seams like an endless space that we call reality, but to him it all just a dream really a world he never seems tog et to wake from. "Damn Chaunce that was some HELLA driving you did tonight you didnt even flinch when that car went intot he building... to bad the idiot recked it. Remind me to never have us run for pink slips again aye? You alright man you aiunt said a thing all night?"

Chauncy just blinked and walked away thinking to himself how crude humans could be and how he would much rather be with his robots.. his true friends.

Chauncy arrvied home to a blackness he hasnt known in his home before the lights wouldnt turn on and a odd presence reverbirated from the place. "Tonight 7:30, Warfield, Harpy. He heard and yet didnt hear as the sound vibrated through his skull...

Pappa Deaux- The sweet chill of the drink as it sinks down your throat begins to burn slightly. Across the table is the last man standing other then you in the hard card game of poker. This ones for chump change you think to yourself seeing the 5k in chips laying across the table. But you gotta start somewhre right? This fool your against has it all wrong and every time you give him your icy glare he seems to freak out and almost show you he hasnt got a strong hand but at the same time hes a stubborn one and has bet what might be his life savings. Never stopped you before and it sure aint gonan now. You lay down, 4 aces and a king. "heh" you tease with a slight grin, as the man goes pale and practicly faints. Gathering your chips you cash in at the counter and a man bumps hard into your side you turn to "show him a lesson" and a black mist forms where he should have been, a note with your name on it falling to the ground. Slowly you reach down and pick it up, sliding a weary fingure through it you open it with a slight rip. inside is a hologram card that says Harpy's Downtown Mr. Warfield. 7:30.

Tray- Years of hard work under the corp banner has got you wondering what exactly you are going to do next. a few odd conjuring jobs have poped upa nd kept the goverment and local police off your ass but you know either somehting is going to happen or your all done. Your good friend Vinny thats been housing you "for a small fee" comes to you late one night after you have drowned yourself into a 5th of Jack.
"Look kid," Thats od hes never called you kid before. " its time we got somethign strait aye? You know as well as i do something out there is seriously wrong with this world and its time something has done with it. You cna make a difference." At this point you realive its not Vinny at all its a a a GHOST dear lor dits your FATHER. the man died years ago why would he come to you now. " Kid do me a favor aye? a very old friend of mine that owes me a thing or 2 from the real world has a job and hes looking for a few rookies to the shadow biz, you didnt know it but i as a runner, heh your mom hated me for it but hey u cant change a mans stripes aye? Got me killed but was fun while it lasted. Go to Harpys at 7:30 or die here loney and with your secrets yet to uncover the choice is yours... warfield, he will take care of ya" With a grin hes gone and you pass out.

Mr. White- Upon one of your late night outs with the boyz you have made your way into a closed facility lightly guarded by rent-a-cops. This si the longest shadow run team you ahve ever had, all 3 weeks of it. Some how you always manage to live through the explosions or the mini guns but everyoen else ends up as scrag. You have thus since decided to just attribute it to your totem loving you and moved on. Over time you have made a name for yourself as a Wizzy SR looking for a few odd jobs to pay the bills. A few minor thigns have come up and were well enough but nothing major and exciting has tickled your fancy. Maybe thats why they always get blown up or trashed... you like such hardcore jobs... but a Flash from the side makes you jump a large explosion leaves you singed and bleeding and with a groan you rise and take off down teh street leaving a trail of debris behind you. Damn team got themselves killed again *sigh* time to look for a new job. As you turn into an alley a flying drone flips past your head droping a small micro chip on the ground. You pick it up and stuff it into your personal comp. Bright flashing letters scan across the screen screaming Harpys 730 meet with Mr Warfield! you take the chip out and break it in half while thinking hmm been a while since i got a random message they must finnaly have seen the beauty of my work.

Os- The night lagged on as you wiggled your way throught he ventalation system of the library. Damn real professionslas didnt ahve to do this crap. They Always trow me the har mission. All greased up you feel like a ball of jelly as you cut out a piece of the vent just big enough for you to fit in. below you ranges all sorts of artifacts and you lower yourself down to where a special one surrounded by glowing red beams of the alarm system wait hoping you will set them off and give thier life a voice. But you the professional easily bypass these beams and work your way to the case. Just then you pager goes off and the vibration ever so slightly moves the crease of your shirt which because it was greased now tears slightly lowering you faster then you ment and you end up flying through a beam of red energy... and thus comes hte alarm. "Aww fuck" you stae as you release your harness and jump tot eh floor taking out your maglight and looking at the case, glass. you go for your toolkit and then think about it. With that you smash open the case taking the valuble form within and race out the front door as the sirens from the local pigs scream throguht eh night. Free you pull out your damned pager and go to throw it but somethign holds you back and you rbing it down in front of you look at the letters as they cross the screen. "Harpys, 7:30 , Mr. Warfield."

Ghost- True to your name you slide out of the shadows of the Barrens behind a small hut and pull out you choke wire. The unsuspecting Ork Gang leader on the bike hasnt got a prayer. Quickly you pull the wire over his neck and he trys to scream but all that comes out is a gurgle. You watch as the life from his eyes fades and he goes limp in your arms. Another job done. but now was the time to make fast tracks and ge the hell out not wait for the possey to come back from thier trashing of the local store to see thier leader slain and going for revenge. Later that night you enter a small nightclub ready to relax and a man with green hair and a lip ring smiles at you as you walk in. Through the night you see him here and there and you get the feeling to persue him. Adrenaline jumps with the case and you follow him up the stairs to where the private rooms are. inside you find him standing the the hallway with a knife in hand and a hard look on his face he lunges for you and cat like reflexes save your life. Jumping to the side you take a jab at his throat but this is not your real attack that comes from a backwards kick to the knee shattering the bone and the man goes down. scraping the fallen knife fromt he floor you lunge for him and bury it deep into his heart but as you do he turns to mist an the knife his wood slicking in several inches. "what the hell" you state. and a voice resounds, "that will do, meet Mr. Warfield at 7:30 tongiht at Harpys." Witht hat the mist fades and you are left sweating in wonder of what just happneed.

*NOTE* if you were not posted ehre its cause i didnt see enough info on your character to do so. Also if i did your character injustice plz return unused portion for a full refund and contact me with a way you would like to been seen and ill be happy to ablige. I will be posting more here shortly but i cna only type so much without my ass falling off =)

For the moment this is all im gonna let you all post stating a little about your char if u like or what you do then i post another long one on the meet with Mr. Warfield. Probably late tonight...

Mr. White, Gets back to his car and casually looks around making sure he was not followed.
"Maybe i'll finely have that extra cash I need to get my lodge set back up."
The power of teh White Owl flows threw him as the bruses and scrapes fade away laike a bad memory. He cheerfully pulls out into the early morning traffic and gets home before the sun comes up.
"Gess ill need to get up early for the meet"

Before he hits the hay he lays out his gear for the next evening, makes sure the curtains are closed nice and tight from the sun, and goes to bed. Sleep falls onto him, as he feels his totems strength leave him.

Sometime between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. he wakes up eats breakfast and gets ready for the meet. He puts on all but the hood of his F.F.B.A.. Makes sure that the fiber-optic cable for his smart-link is laid out properly, and puts on his White Execusuit, personal body armor. He checks his hair and put on one of his most prized possession. His custom made Shades. He sets the flare comp to day light and heads out with his trusted guns inside his coat.

In the car he adjust the tinted windows until the sunlight stops bothering him to-much and sets out for the meet. He always likes to give himself an extra hour to get to the meet, especially during the day when its so bright outside.

Harpys sounds like a place he can get some grub, so he'll get there an hour early and have some lunch. If the place is to expensive for him (say more than $300, he's filling like some real food not soy stuff) he'll go down to the local stuffer shack instead.

He will leave the Remington in the car but keep the Guardian on him. (concelability 7/w holster) He keeps the gun on him mostly for show and will hand it over without fuss if needed.

Os returned to his temporary domicile by foot, taking pains to keep to the shadows and avoid notice, both from the local constabulary and any residents that may have been up at the very early hour. Entering into the coffin motel, the human checked, briefly, for any observers. Finding only the desk clerk, who was asleep, Os quickly and quietly made his way to his coffin, then swiftly went to the communal showers. Disrobing and putting the greased clothes in a garbage bag, he jumped in the shower and turned up the hot water until it started to sting.

Never again, he vowed, silently, as he degreased himself. Next time I need to steal something, I'm not going in with anything less than a team.

But he knew that working these solo jobs would earn him credit with the Detroit shadow community, as small as it was. He already had a solid reputation in Seattle, but it couldn't hurt to diversify a little, and maybe make a few new contacts while he was at it.

Harpy's. 7:30. Mr Warfield

It was already paying off.

Os stepped out of the shower and dressed in fresh clothes: A suit and tie ensemble. He returned to his rented coffin and repacked his towel and soforth into his duffel bag, exchanging them for the valuable he'd stolen from the library, which he placed in his suit pocket. Then he took a sleek, metallic briefcase out of the coffin and closed the door to the living unit. He checked his watch, which read 3:28 AM.

Os walked down to his car in the basement parking lot of the coffin motel. He opened the Ford and hopped into the driver's seat, placing the briefcase on the passenger seat and opening it. Inside was Os' Viper and Alpha, along with a sound suppressor for the latter, and several loaded magazines for both. Os inserted a magazine into the Viper and put the pistol into his shoulder holster, then he closed the briefcase and placed it in the passenger foot rest.

He started the car and drove it out to the street, calling up assistance from the navigation tools in the Americar to find the location of the drop point.

23 November 2064, 23:30, Killjoy Club
Ghost

Ghost looked at where the body was crumpled on the ground before it vanished, sighing Ghost tucked the blade into a belt and headed back downstairs. Exiting the club Ghost headed to the nearest Matrix-Cafe.

Tossing a few cred onto the counter Ghost headed over to one of the cubicles and pluged into the trix. Pulling up the Denver local entertainment list searching for the listing for Harpy's. Ghost checked over the site taking note of its location, target clientel who owns the place, and any other notes of interest.

Joining the local chat server, Ghost discreetly placed a few inquires into Mr Warfield.

Next thing Tray remebered it was morning. From the smells of breakfast coming from the kitchen, apparently Vinny had come in some time during the night. Attempting to push himself out of the chair, he found himself quickly back where he started as his head started pounding and the room started swirling.

"I seem to recall you holding your drink better back in the day..." Vinny commented, popping out of the kitchen to check on him. "Breakfast's ready."

"I seem to recall you weren't much of a morning person back in the day." Tray retorted.

"Not morning more like...1 pm." he said, tossing the asprin bottle to his friend, who fumbled to catch it, only to have it drop in his lap. Tray took two, and was relieved as his headache faded to a dull roar.

"Seeing you last night, would have thought you had seen a ghost..."

"If I didn't know I was drunk last night, I would have said you're right. My father's ghost pointing me towards a job...don't know where that came from."

"That's...odd. We do need to find you something, though. Problem is, not much in your area of experience."

"Call it a lark, but think I might just wander down to the Harpy...if nothing else, it will get me out of the house for a bit."

"You sure about that? This ghost of yours mention a name?"

"Warfield."

"Never know with you magic types...might be some premonition...anyways, I'll ask around my friends see if this guy actually exists. But anyways, the food is getting cold."

Finally being in shape to move from the chair, Tray proceeded to join Vinny at the table for breakfast, and listened while Vinny made some calls.

D-Trip

While flipping the screen back down on his wrist phone, D-Trip put an exaggerated strut into his walk. It was very pleasing news. He started manufacturing lies to tell his mother, because he would need to explain the extra nuyen he was hoping to make. D-Trip couldn't place the voice that had just called him, "maybe Coke-boy" he thought. Not dwelling on it too much, he considered that Harpy's was a public place, safe as anywhere else in the sprawl. But Warfield was a strange name; he'd need to see Alfonse before he went to this meet.

He made his way to where a trio from Shogs gang where watching his bike. Shogs crew accepted payment in BTLs for watching D-Trips Viking. The gang contributed to the bulk of D-Trips sales. They accepted durable chips that could be shared around, but their tastes were becoming more twisted of late, for which D-Trip charged them more. He is worried that they are going to snap soon, they certainly aren't as gallarous as they used to be.

Payment given, D-Trip started drinking an apple-soy juice. One of many he keeps in his bikes storage compartment, along with other food such as soy cakes and krill wafers. He kept a change of clothes in there to, he couldn't stand doing the door at the Club looking like a psycho, with some fools blood on him. He finished his juice as the bike warmed up. Gesturing a farewell to Shogs boys, he was unsurprised that they had already scurried away to divide the Beetles.

Riding the Viking to Alfonse's club, D-Trip wondered what he'd have to do for the 5K. The offer of free cred made him nervous. Other than asking Alfonse about this Warfield guy, he didn't know what he could do about his nerves. He had his Morrissey Alta, the chrome in his brain, and his spur was snug in the meat of his arm. He was ready as he was ever going to be.

Pappa Deaux grins as he picks up the hologram. Advertising these days.

It was a taxi cab, followed by a 4 block walk too Deaux's humble home. It was a small apartment complex in an area just outisde the barrens, hard working and good people. Lots of them anglo-immigrants from the Sioux Nation.

His apartment was a place of rest. The voodoo motifs, and vevers served as a place of peace for him...a lodge... a hounfour. Drinking never made Deaux sleepy, but feeling content enough with the day, Deaux collapsed onto his matress and slept.

The next day at around 1pm, Deaux woke up, and checked the holocard again as he headed to a local cafe. "Harpy's...." He kept muttering to himself as he drank a cup of coffee black (with a little bit more then a splash of cheap grain alcohol) and read his newspaper.

Deaux returned home at 3PM, and locked himself in the bathroom. He placed a call to 'his' Fixer Alex Jackson (not a real name of course, just a crappy nickname.) "Hey, Alex it's Deaux.... Yeah muthafuckin' Pappa Deaux from Lousiana... yeah I'm good... need a bit of info though, what do you know about a place called Harpy's or a Mr. Warfield?"

The sound of the voice made Chauncy pause a moment. Magic, he assessed. Someone apprently felt the need to start things off with a flair for the dramatic. He could appreciate their production values.

He wieghed the offer as he restocked Big Dog's supplies, clipping the rifle and shotgun back into place in the storage locker beneath the middle bench seat, topping off the ammo bin for the turret, buffing off the scratches on the bumper from when Big Dog had glanced off the closing gate on the way out.

Pulling a neatly organized chip case from one of the drawers of his tool cabinet, he slotted his Computer chip, then jacked into the telecom to start a search on Harpy's, and Mr. Warfield. If you identified the actors before going in to the movie, you could make a guess about what part they would play.

As he sent of the searches, he realized that he had never gotten around to saying anything to Harold. He would have to apolegize for that. Harold had done a good job. He deserved to be recognized for how well he played his part. Big Dog hadn't even gotten any dents during the gettaway, thanks to Harold's efforts.

As the searches went off, Chauncy slotted another chip while he waited for the results. The babble of a thousand voices filled his ears, and the sight of his garage faded out, replaced by an endless crowd milling around him. His telecom beeped to annouce it had the search results, and he disengaged the chip.

He found the results interesting. Harpy's seemed to have a rep to be the kind of place that had deep shadows. The results made it seem like this was a reputation well earned, and not the result of a marketing ploy to draw in runner poseurs.

On Warwick there was no relevant data. That did not particularly surprise him, since all he had was a surname to go on. He put both chips back in their case, and then pulled out one more, lying down on a couch that had started it's life as the back seat of a van. The invitation sounded interesting, but he'd just gotten done with a run, and had enough scratch to last him for a while. He'd have to think about it for a bit. He closed his eyes and let the chip engage, watching the earth spin below him as Ares Gigas probe cast free of its launch shell, it's rockets firing and carrying him off into the endless night.

-----------

As evening approached the next day, he decided that it would be a good idea to answer the invitation. This might be the next step up in recognition, moving up from bit parts. He'd take the Tsarina. Big Dog didn't need to go out again, and it would be a little conspicuous.

He realized that he hadn't spoken with Harold yet. It was a simple matter to call up his number on the telecom. "Hello Harold. Thank you for your help, it was greatly appreciated. And you were right, no more Pink Slips." He closed the connection before the other man had a chance to do more than look startled, and opened another drawer on his tool cabinet, reaching in to choose an armament.

He checked the fill on his Super Squirt, and then slid that into the pocket holster on his jacket. He didn't feel any pressing need to carry a weapon, but you never knew when a betrayl might be thrown into the script. It was best to be prepared.

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

There was a staggered line at the door to Harpy's when Chauncy arrived, even though it was still quite early in the evening.

"Scram shortstuff, no kiddie menus here," one of the guys at the door said when Chauncy cut around the line and walked straight up to them. It was an easy mistake to make. With a baseball cap covering his eyes, it was easy to mistake Chauncy for a kid, until you got close enough to see that the 'kid' had a five o'clock shadow.

"I'm hear to see Warfield," he said, then waited for a response.

"You sure his name was Warfield?" Vinny asked. Seeing Tray nod, he added "I got nothing. The Harpy though...you might be having delusions of grandure. It's got good atmosphere, and it's the place where the big boys play. Though I seriously doubt you'd run into trouble, if you're insistant in going, I'd keep an eye out for anyone you might recognize."

"Thanks for the heads up. Sure you don't want to join me for the ghost hunt?"

"Nah. It's your show. Besides, I have some business of my own to attend to tonight."

________

Later that night, Tray headed for the Harpy a bit early, only to find the line and a distinct lack of parking spaces. But with some perserverance, he found the parking spot. Doubting he had the time to wait on the line, he decided to try the direct route, in time to overhear the dwarf asking to see Warfield. "Ah...make that two."

Arriving an hour early to scope the place out, Os got settled in well before the crowds began to turn up. Although it was pretty slow up until 7, he still watched each person closely as they walked up to the door, inconspicuously zooming in on them with his magnification eye-mods to check for unusual bulges in their jackets. This surveillance also served to search out anyone sporting body-guards, which might give him a heads up as to who could be the Johnson for the night. One last thing, was that it gave him the opportunity to check for other runners, so as to confirm that the meet was not a trap.

Happy that enough out-of-place individuals had arrived at the meet, Os replaced the holster-rig, complete with gun, and put on his suit jacket before stepping out of his car. He walked up to the bouncer and said, "I'm here to see Mr Warfield."

D-Trip

Alfonse had nothing for him; no-one had anything on Warfield. D-trip had left Alfonses' club disappointed, and remaining nervous. That was why he was stuffing his face with krill wafers in the car-park of Harpys'. He started an apple-soy juice as he checked his clothes, making sure he looked neat and clean and his breath wasn't offensive. Slinging his Fuchi Dreamliner over his shoulder, he left his Viking thumbing on the anti-theft system, and made his way to the entrance.

D-Trip sleazed onto the concierge that worked the door of Harpys, attempting to shine some information on Warfield. He then rushes on into the establishment, keen to see if he knew anyone that was inside. But he is still dragging his nerves, and feeling out of place. The only thing that would take the edge off for D-Trip, was a BTL hit. He had arrived an hour early for the meet especially, to do just that, to take a hit. The Dreamliner was modified with a RAS over-ride, but was hardwired to give him only 10 minutes of chipping a day. He planned to spend those few minutes, feeling stuzzy and wavy inside Harpys, relaxing.

Time slowed down as D-Trip went to turn on the Dreamliner, like he had jazzed the chips for his reflexes. His existence was reduced to his finger reaching for the decks power, taking eternity to do it. Harpys and Detroit disappeared during that time. D-Trips vision narrowed to the button on his deck, and the plastic around it. Then everything felt smooth and wavy.

The come down was mild, a little synth-ahol put things in place. And the nerves were gone, which was the point in the first place. Maybe he wasn't paranoid enough, but he was looking forward to finding out what this Mr Warfield wanted. D-Trip attempted to warm up to the other patrons to pass the time, and scan conversations with his hearing amp and sound filter, when there was no company. Finally his cyber ears were doing something other than filtering out the sound of his mothers nagging voice!

24 November 2064, 24:00, Local Matrix Cafe

Ghost unjacked from the trix. "Ah well, guess we'll find out tomorrow just who this Warfield is."

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24 November 2064, 18:00, Down Town Detroit

Scott slid the Leather Jacket over his shoulders, his holstered gun concealed beneath it. Pulling his boots on he locked the appartment behind him and headed down stairs to where his car was parked.

A short drive later Scott arrived outside Harpy's. Parking just down the street he waited a while before climing out and heading over to the enterance. Ignoring the forming cue he approached the large bouncers standing guard over the door. Looking up at them without batting an eyelid before they could speak, "I'm here to see Warfield", and wandered in passed them.

Grabing a drink from the bar Scott observed the on goings, keeping an eye out for the myserious host and anyone else who looked somewhat suspicious, not that there would be any unsuspicious people in a place like this., given its reputation.

Seeing the add for Harpy as a Grill/ Nightclub, Mr. White decides he'll wait till after the meet to get lunch. Showing up and parking near the club a little before the club changes things up. Sitting in his car he waits patently observing the place through his heavily tinted windows astrally. As the comforting feel of his totem returns to him, He decides to cheak the place out astrally. "It's always good to know what if any magical threats are in the area, and working out the layout is always helpful too.

Around 7:00 pm he puts the last of his attire for the evening on and walks up to the club.

Walking up to the front door.

"I'm Mr. White with Mr Warfield's party. He should be expecting me."

Deaux takes out a notepad as Alex gives him a quick rundown on Harpy's.... but the potential Johnson seems to have a clean rap sheet.... in fact he doesn't even have one. Curious.

Deaux quickly washes his face, and puts on far too much cologne. Probubly not a good night for drinking. Deaux pulls a bottle of whiskey from under the sink, and takes a swig of it. He pats his chest, to be sure the armor vest is still on, and walks towards the door, grabbing his Ares Predator and flask from under his pillow as he does.

Deaux takes a taxi too the night-club, arriving at around 7:24. He takes a dramatic swig from his flask, before says to the bouncer "I'm Pappa Deaux, aka Da Doc, but you can call me Big-ass-Doc.... Actually call me Big Bad Voodoo Smooth Daddy. I'm here for some bitch named Mr. Warfield, I'm supposed to meet him and shit." Deaux grins, showing off his yellowing teeth.

Just the name warfield gets you in the door. As you enter Harpy's the sights and smells of the place bash your sensory without resolve. Smells of sweat poor from the air mixed with cigarette smoke and a overall perfume odor. Sight on the other hand is much more apeasing. All around you are the most beautifull men and women of Detriot, and all of them are having the time of their lives.

When you walk in several men at the door ask for your gun and any other weapons then pat you down and make you go through a scanner making anything not a thumb tack unable to make it through. The give you a tag and say " you cna get em back when you leave." Anyone who resists is thrown back on the street and no longer allowed into the place indefinitly, as you have seen several times while waiting in line.

While walking around the Club a figure keeps poping up. Almost like hes following you or something... you ask around a few times for a Mr. Warfield and get nothing everyone just looks at you with a blank stare and a whos that? You work your way to the dance floor with a sigh seeing yet another wasted night in your near future and as you scan the area you notice a man, mid 50's bleach blond hair with a cigare looking down at you. With a nod of his head he pulls your attention to a booth with no one in it, or around it for that matter, and then he moves to sit down. When you get tot he top of the stairs and to the booth you notice many others suddenly walking up at the exact same time. You all take a seat with what you assume is Warfield and check the man over, he seems very relaxed and headstrong as if nothing in the world could bother him.

"How do you like my place?" The man says. As you look at him blankly he grins and adds " oh yes yes im Mr. Warfield, but you my good friends may call me Jed."

"Now before all of your questions, which i know are coming, i'll get right to the business at hand. Im looking for a team of indiviuals to do a job for me. Im not much of one for being discrete so ill be blunt. Your shadow runners and im an employer. Now each of you has been seleted for a number of reasons but before i get to any of that ill explain expatly what it is you will be doing. please leave all questions to the end as i dont like being interupted. My lovly daughter Elisa has decided that she wants to be a racer. now while being a racer is fine and well and i wish my daughter the best in whatever she chooses she hasnt exactly chosen the normal type of racing. There is a competition called "Reaches End" its a world race. If you would like to look it up you will find hundreds of files on the junk but there is one catch. Its deadly. Four out of five racing groups dont survive the treck and of the ones that do most dont come out fully intact. While the company that runs this race wouldliek us all to belive that these are accidents that kill so many conteners lets be reasonable... its each other... hell they televise most of it live and you cna se one group BLOW UP another. This contest if won is woth 10 million nuyen just for first place and has an entry fee of 250000. Dont worry about the fee ill cover it and i dont expect you will take any of the top 3 paying slots so ill also pay you for this."

"Now heres where you come in, my daughter is goign to contend and well frankly there isnt jack i can do about it. So instead of keeping her here i'll keep her safe. Your job at ALL costs is to keep my daughter safe and unharmed. Upon taking this job you will be payed 25,000 nuyen each up front with a 125,000 nuyen at finish. You will also be provided 50,000 nuyen for expensise but you only have 3 days to pack and buy before you leave. All winnings if you do manage to place in the top 3 will be split between all surviving members of the group and you will all also be payed the 125k. Now heres the tricky part my daughter is not to know that i hired you. Her team is going to dissappear shortly and she will be very upset at which time you being one member short of a full team and sponsered by "Ford Motor Team" which is being set up as we speak will be needed a member of her talents seeing as your lat member has become extremely ill. You will pick her up as she enters the free market. After that your goal is to one protect herand two ...win."

"Any Questions?"

7:30PM " Good bye uncle!" shouts Bonk as he leaves the bar. Any response is lost in the shouts and cries from inside.
Bonk looks down at his watch, "Gah ima be late for mr persons party, man... franks gonna be so mad at me." Bonk begins to trot down the street to his destination.
7:38PM "Hey frank isnt like that!" shouts Bonk at the bouncers that rifle through his bag of moldy hot dogs. "Mr Warfield said i could bring Frank too!"
The councer dials a few numbers on the phone and says "Some orc is here claiming that you allowed him to bring a so called "Frank" with him. Yes sir, right away."
The bouncer hangs up the phone and says "Right this way, Mr. Bonk."

7:45PM An orc wearing a black three piece suit walks into the booth with a backpack on his back and a hot dog held on by a piece of twine on his shoulder and says "Hey... he didnt forget my mustard."
Bonk plops down and begins to eat a bite of hot dog and squirt mustard in his mouth. He stops for a moment and says "Thanks you Mr. Warfield, sorry i'm late, what did Frank and i miss?"

Deaux blinks, "Oh... shit... Let's back up here now man. You want us to race around the world with your daughter... in a race we each have a 20% chance in returning from?" Deaux seems to be avoiding cursing like a sailor infront of his employer. He takes out his flask, takes a swig, let's out a contented sigh and continues. "So what makes this race so dangerous? How is it done?"

Mr. White looks in Jeds direction for a moment and then looks around the table at all the other runners. After a moment of thought he looks back at Jed

“You say that we were carefully selected, so I assume that you are fully aware of our capabilities and limitations, Correct? If this is the case then you have an idea of what services and areas of expertise each of us would provide in keeping your daughter safe. If you don’t mind, What are those?”

Bonk looks around, "Wow all these people... we have like a 140% chance of coming back if we stick together.. seesh." Bonk begins to tear up, "Frank, you are so smart some times."

Bonk's eyes appear to return to the real world for a moment and he says "Hey if we're gonna go racing around, dibs on a seat belt!"

So, all up, you're willing to spend 200k on each of us...in excess of 1 million nuyen for the whole team? What can you tell us about the rules of the tournament, specifically, relating to firearms, explosives and so forth? And another thing: what kind of roles are these teams made up of?

Chauncy hands his super squirt over at the door. The efficeincy with which the bouncers were operating, and the way that they handled anyone who tried to argue the fact reassured him that he would not need to keep himself armed. Although the name, 'Warfield' got him through the door, once inside no one gave him any clue as to who the man was. When an older man signaled him (and he quickly realized several other people as well) to the upper floor, he did not know whether this was Mr. Warfield himself, or an underling.

Mr Warfield quickly made his identity clear, and Chauncy lets the others talk, assessing each on by their intial behavior. The cast he would be working with seemed... interesting, to say the least. When there was finally a moment of silence, he raised his voice. "You want me for driving, yes? I presume you know my reputation, my wheels. Big Dog will keep your girl safe, but is solid, not fast. The prepayment is generous, but three days leaves time for no more than minimal modifications. If you have dossiers on the other teams, I want to see them to know what I am up against. I would like full explanation of the format of the race. If I must rig vehicles other than Big Dog, those will also require preparations." Even as he's talking, he's assembling a mental matrix of what can be done with 75,000 nuyen in three days. There just a few variables he needs to have nailed down first. "Big Dog is a city truck. If this race is not going to stick to roads, I'll need to get his suspension changed immediately if I want it done in time."

D-Trip

He was looking forward to hearing what Warfield wanted done, but as Warfield spoke, a shroud of paranoia descended on D-Trip. Maybe it was the come down, but this was spooky. Warfield was asking him to do, what his mother had told him to do. He thought about running out of there, and giving up the dreams of becoming a troll running the shadows. There was most likely a BTL that could make him feel just like a prime runner, he didn't need this drek.

He decided to at least hear the man out, he could leave later, and say the run wasn't to his tastes. But when Warfield mentioned the cred, D-Trips mouth salivated, and he ignored the paranoia and the conspiracies he was creating. 'Maybe it's time to grow up', he thought. So he trashed the lies he had created to tell his mother. He could just say he's entering the race. 'She'll probably be pissed that i'm going away for so long', he mused.

D-Trip scanned the faces of the others with him in the room, some he knew, some he didn't. Seeing Chauncey put him at ease, and Papa Deux was gonna be alot of fun. The ork eating in the corner had him a little worried, but who was he to judge? He'd never pulled a scam as big as this before anyway. Although very keen to accept the job with such a distinguished crew, D-Trip was worried about actually getting there, Chauncey was wired up more than a trideo set, and D-trip himself wasn't exactly a full bred meat puppet. So waiting his turn to speak he asks, 'How are we going to get to the race? Because it sounds like we're leaving Detroit. I have more than a couple of troubles getting through customs'.

Scott sat back in the chair, glancing around from behind his mirrored shades, listening to Mr Warfields offer and the questions that arose.

"Sounds like a million thrills a second. Yea a list of who's involved would be whiz. Where does the race start, end and how long inbetween. "

"Wow...a televised world wide race...sounds exciting..." Tray commented. And getting out of Detroit for a time was likely a pretty good idea. If he was going to get killed in this shadowrunning business, at least he could get his 15 seconds of fame in the process. But he prefered to think positive. "So what position will your daughter be taking?"

Thinking of positions...he was reminded of his own ineptitude when it came to cars outside of simple day to day driving. He also wondered if there'd be any time aside in which he'd be able to ask their employer about his connection to his father...Warfield was real, so apparently was the ghost.

"To answer the few questions thus far basicly i know very little about the race other then what was stated but i would assume u do a search and you will turn up hundreds of files on it. As for the Mods on the vehicle you will have 2 weeks ofprep time once you get to Russia where the race will start. They dont tell you what the races parameters are untill you get there so as for where you will be traveling o what vehicles you will need i do not know. From what i have found out the race on average takes about 7-9 MONTHS for the winner to complete. Were talking the long hall here folks. With that said i will feed you each 10k a month for expenses on the way.

For other questions someone asked do we have to win? No, Frankly i dont care if you come in last, BUT you are to give the best effort you can or my daughter will find out that i have set her up and you ALL will be to blaim, lets put it this way for clerification... you botch this and my daughter finds out and you get no pay whatsoever, plus ell you should want to win cause you will make even more money."

With that he tips back another shot and relaxs onto his chair.

"Here are the documents for where the meet it is start. You wil be flying my privae jet and there is a comm unit with a head set for each of you top of the line stuff that will meet u on the plane. If there are no further questions i suggest you get packing and make your way to Detriot Metro Airport. Questions?"

"Yes," Chauncy says as he stands, taking a moment to record everyone's face into his memory. "Who else will be driving? Big Dog alone will not be suitable for the whole team to inhabit for nine monts, yes. Another vehicle will be required, an RV, yes. Do any of you drive a vehicle like that? I know a good mechanic, who can help plan the modifications it will need before leaving for Russia." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a business card. "I can be reached through here." He then turns and briefly bows his head to Mr. Warfield. "I will be at Detroit Metro in three days." He stands still for a moment, then leaves.

As soon as he's got his Tsarina on the road, he puts a call through to a friend of his. "Kuruma? Chauncy. I hope you're not busy." A note of eager anticipation enters his voice. "Big Dog is going to be getting an overhaul. Pull up the schematics, we've got a lot of planning to do."

Mr. White

"I have nothing eals, I will be at the Air Port in three days. Most of my other conserns involve my new team mates."

He looks around the table, gets his copp of teh info along with contactifo for the rest of teh team and gets up, with his front money.

"O one more thing the funds for preping for the run was that 50 total or 50 per idividual bassis? Your acount, or ours?"

After that he heads out to make some calls.

"Gess its a good thing i dont have my lodge yet" to self

Bonk smiles, "Oh i might know of a "recreational vehicle", if any of you need me you know where to call."

The orc gathers his backpack and stands, takes his money and walks out of the room.

Os lets the idea of travelling for up to nine months roll around in his mind, considering, in the greater picture, what impact this mission would have on him and his 'professional' career. In the end, he came to the conclusion that this run, all in all, would probably be more effort, and risk, than it was worth.

"Mr Warfield, I'm afraid that I have to decline your offer of employment. I wish you luck in this endevour."

Standing and offering a brief, casual, almost mockery of a salute, Os swiftly walks out to the exit, collecting his deposited possessions and leaving without another word.

"No problem Os i didnt expect everyone would be willing but im glad you at least showed up." With that he hands OS a 5k Cred stick and Os leaves. "Now Since the rest of you are all here i assume you will be staying. With that said you leave for russia in 3 dyas. Tonight drinks are on me take these passes if you wish to stay in the club and they will get u free drinks all night." With that Warfield stands up and walks into a door behind the booth you were all sitting in leaving you to your selves.

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You Arrive at Metro Airport at 4pm EST. The place is slightly busy and a man aproaches you as you enter taking your bags and leading you to where a medium sized jet plane awaits you. Next to it is what apears to be a Carrier plane that the man states will bring along your vehicles, and when you look inside there is a V-Tol
a Medium Tred ATV and several all terrian jeeps, motor cycles ect. The men state that those have been provided to you by Warfield Enterprises. Each has a Large paint job with Black and Gold and a sign on the side with Team Razor writen ont he side. Also on the Vehicles is a FORD motor company stamp showing them as your sponsor. A beautifull young human female awaits you on the plane, she is 5'7" muscular and her hair blends to show a redish blond coloring. She has eyes that could pierce a tank and a sullen facial expresion greats you.

"You must be team Razor? Well im Cassey" She gives a slight grin but her eyes poray that she seems to be greaving over something. " Glad you all could take me along, my team kinda had a accedent," now nearly in tears she turns from you walking to where her seat ont eh plane is and the next time you see her face it is hard and slightly red colored with waht apears to be rage. " Lets go win us a race shall we?"

Chauncy arrives at the airport looking a little bleary and hollow eyed, like he hadn't slept in two days (which he hadn't. He and Kuruma had worked straight through the past forty eight hours, diagramming all the modifications that Big Dog was to undergo in Russia, and making a few calls to the right people to get the parts moving ahead of time). The stepvan moves pounderously as he is guided to the tarmac, loaded down with gear, tires, and parts.

Chauncy's clean shaven this time, which if not for the bags under his eyes, would make him look like he's pushing twelve years old. He's wearing his driving jump suit too, which also helps make him look closer to his age. He greets Cassey politely, if distantly and immediately begins checking out the vehicles, identifying the models, which have been rigger adapted and other points of interest.

D-Trip

He was relieved to finally get to the airport. Momma had put up such a stink when he told her he was going for 9 months. His nerves where shot after 3 days, she still wanted him to go, but reserved the right to be disappointed in him for leaving his momma for so long. He promised to call and to send money so his momma didn't have to go and live in the slummier parts of Detroit again. When D-Trip finally left his mom, his eyes welled up and he gave her a big hug. She slapped him on the face and told him she was proud of him. A tear fell from his eye, even though he was relived that he was now departing.

Cokeboy was just as bad. After years of comfortably dealing BTL's with D-Trip, Cokeboy felt abandoned. When D-Trip first mentioned that he was going away for 9 months, Cokeboy stared at him for half a minute, "You're fraggin joking right"?! He gave D-Trip a list of reasons why he would not return from the race, trying to dissuade the head-strong troll. To soften the departure, D-Trip left his Fuchi-Dreamliner with Cokeboy as a promise he'd return. His plan was to kick the BTL's once and for good. And there had never been an opportunity to shake the monkey on his back like this before.

The worst was Alfonse, he screamed black and blue that D-Trip was sabotaging his business on purpose. But when he saw that he could not dissuade D-Trip, he softened, asking "Have you told your mom yet Trip? She's gonna tear you a new hoop my friend!" Alfonse reassured D-Trip that his job would still be here if he wanted, if he came back.

At the airport he watched his Viking being loaded into the cargo hold. It was a good hog, it had replaced his Scorpion a year ago after he crashed while looping a BTL. He bought the Viking because it was closer to troll size before the modifications where made. It was a big change for him, but he stuck by his decision.

Obviously 'Cassey' was Warfields' daughter. He felt for the girl. Her father must have really fragged up her friends. He was glad he never knew his father, cause all they seem to do is screw with their kids. After checking in with Chauncey and the rest of the team, D-Trip turned his attentions to the maudlin Cassey, hoping to lift her spirits. She was going to deplete her performance, thinking about her loses, so D-Trip thanked her for joining the team at such short notice. For good or ill, after an attempt to pick up her spirits, he turned back to Chauncey to discuss tactics and stratergies for their convoy.

Free drinks?

Deaux stays at Harpy's until it closes, and by that time he's too drunk to even attempt to wonder if he has an apartment. This is a problem of course, since Deaux spends the next day "communing with Ghede" (aka he has an awful hangover). The day after that Deaux gets down to business, he buys some ammunition and camo gear, a few nuyen worth of liquor, and spends the rest of the day drinking cheap liquor. His final day Deaux spends going to any store that will sell him any type of precious metal which he hides away. No point in drinking right before his trip, so Deaux digs into his personal stash and gets out a gallon of Whiskey, hopefully he'll be able to buy more liquor in Russia, since he'll have to subsist off of this for more then a week likely (that'll be a test of self control).

Deaux arrives at the airport without much fanfare. His hair is cut slightly shorter, enough that it's not a knotted, nappy mess, and he's wearing a denim jeans, and a faux-leather jacket. He doesn't say much merely introducing himself to Cassey as "Deaux", and then taking his place on the plane. He seems to be alot quieter then he was at Harpy's, and doesn't speak until spoken too.

3:00 am same night as the meet

Mr. White is back at his apartment. His livingroom table is covered with maps from all over the world.

"What to do what to do"

He scribbles on some paper and looks over a number of catalogs.
Tittles like
"wild survivor"
"Road runner"
"Watter racing" are strewn all over the room.

The muttering goes on until the early morning

Free drinks? This guy wasn't that bad. If he regretted not asking his peronal questions, he didn't recall them. He didn't recall just how he managed to get home either. But home he was, and once more Vinny had to present him with the asprin bottle. One of these days he'd have to kick the bottle...perhaps while they were on the trip.

Once the headache had subsided enough for Tray to be functional, Vinny grilled him on the details. He wasn't overly keen on the idea of a seven month trip, let alone a televised one with a reputation for being deadly. But until he got some of those morals ironed out, this was the best thing going.

Vinny insisted on taking Tray shopping for a weapon and some armor himself. Though they had both agreed that Tray was hopeless with a gun, he should have time to at least try to learn. The main purchases out of the way, Vinny gave him some addresses to outdoors equipment stores, and sent him on his way.

After he had his survival equipment, Tray turned to somewhere a bit more familiar. Cassandra smiled a sad smile as he came in. "So what's my fortune for today?" he asked her.

"Much danger." she answered. "Many trials will come your way. It is not clear whether or not you shall survive."

"Cheerful as always." he commented. "Well, I need to stock up for my ordeals..."

_________

On the departure day, Tray showed up with his baggage. There really wasn't much hiding the fact that he looked more like he should be off in some research lab rather than bording as a member of a combat racing team. But Mr. Warfield apparently had confidence that he could be of use. He just hoped he wouldn't be more of a hinderance than a help.

Bonk looks exactly the same as he did three nights ago. A few feet away from the jet the orc stops and says "Wow... the wheels on this thing are huge.."

Bonk gets into the jet and quickly picks a window seat and awaits the departure.

Mr. White shows up on time and parks his car in the extended stay parkgin lot, and pays for 5 moths and has it set up to autdebit is he stays longer.

Mr. White shows up in style like he always tryse to do. He may not look like hes ready for a race but, he brougt the gear he'll need. He gets there just after cassey introduces herself, and another team mate points her out to him and mentions about her team.

"Well lets get going folks we have a race to Win"

Mr. White aproches Cassey

"Hi, I'm Mr. White, but you can call me Whitey. I just wanted to let you know how i apreciate you being abble to join us in this race. I am sorry to hear about your orginal team. If you need an ear to talk to I'll listen." He heads tords his seat and then pauses and looks back in her direction "O, I will be one of the teams medics, and will be asisting with terain issues. Feal free to askme for anythign you need help with. I maynot be abble to help but im sure ill know who can." With that he sits down across the ile from D-trip.

"I hate to pry, but what happened to your team? There is cause for concern that some might be trying to get a head start on eliminating opposition." Tray asked Cassey. They might know it was her father who was behind the accident, but hopefully she didn't. And they should be on the look out for such attacks anyways, if this race was as competitive as he had heard.

D-Trip

Watching Mr. White hunker down across two seats, in a similar way to himself, brings a smirk to his mouth. Looking as uncomfortable as each other, with a knowing look D-Trip says, 'Humans'! and raises his eye brow.

Wondering what kind of entertainment was available for the flight, D-Trip had a niggle of regret for leaving his BTLs behind. Though right now he couldn't see himself looping in front all these people, especially Mr. White. Hopefully simsense was available.

Mr. White

Looks over in D-Trips direction. Then back In Casseys direction making shure she is not paying atention to his conversation with D-Trip

"I did'nt get much of a chance to talk to ya the other night. Do you mind If I call ya D?" Looks around the cabbin casualy "I was wonderign what you plane on bringing to the team? I expect my most valuable assets are healing, and what abilities i can offer for terain managment."

Strangly Mr, White is still wear those Silverd shades of his. Even in the planes cabbin. (OOC NOTE: Imagin one of the gost programs from matrix, but 3 metters tall and a not-so ugly troll, in a white buisness suit)

D-Trip

Keeping his voice low as well D-Trip replies to Mr. White, 'I'm just a meat head Mr. W, i talk alot of drek but i mainly smack heads together. So if you're the medic, you can call what ever you want'.

Getting comfortable again D-Trips face lights up as he gets an idea, 'Hoi Mr. W, i don't suppose you're like one of those wizzers that entertain people at Clubs and venues, as well? It's just this flight is going to bore me tears'.

Mr. White

"Well.. I dont do anty prfetional entertainment but....... Once it gets dark, Ill see about doing some impretions. Could be a HOOT. Or I could tell some of the myths I know. O and you can call my Whitey. I use Mr. White more for intimidation, and profetional meets."

D-Trip

'Hang on Whitey, you just made a joke then, didn't you. Not bad!' Said D-Trip as he slapped his leg. 'The only impression i do, is a troll doing an impression of a troll doing an impression. Ha-har!' But then D-Trip gets serious, 'I'll take you up on that story though'. D-Trip starts wiggling in his chair to get comfortable and stops abruptly. Looking back at Mr. White he enquires. 'Unless you can tell me something you may know about our 'new' teammate'? As D-Trips eyes turn towards Cassey he adds, 'That i don't know yet. Is she chromed inside? A troll like you could tell, yes'?

The Trip to Russia goes without a problem, most of you manage a little sleep and Chauncy just flat out passes out. The plane lands and you are all greeted by a man wearing a very nice suit. Hes average height and build, his hair slicked back with gel and a slight grin across his face.

"Hello" He speaks in a heavy accent " You may call me Grevin, i will be your manager for you race and i hope that we can build a great relationship. I know you all have many questions which i will do my best to answer. First i do not have a map or any informaton yet because we get that just a few horus before the race starts to prevent cheating. Now, some information you may or may not be happy to hear. Only 32 teams are allowed to enter this race and with 56 teams here and planning on joining there will need to be a way to choose the 32 that will compete. To do this there will be a interesting challenge ahead of you all and the top 32 teams to complete in the fastest times will enter the race... the others will go home. As of yet all they have given us is that this will be a capture the flag kind of event. Each team will be put into an arena with trained professionals against them. The team must capture a flag so to speak form the other side of the arena and bring it back to their start point. Each arena entry will be set up differently and for the next 25 days you will be waiting for your turn while you train and prepare your vehicles ect. The arena event uses non lethal ammo and will be to subdual only and deaths in the event will disqualify the team although accidents do happen and you enter at your own risk. The drawing for days has been set an yours is in 13 days. Come let us get you all settled in and please ask question i will do my best to answer." With that Grevin walks into a large building appearing much like a barracks and leads you to your rooms.

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(OOC-- now ask all questions u like after your done with questions ill throw up a post with all the info they give u from the Federation Running the event such as maps ect.

Mr. White
"I'l let you know when we get to rusia. By then i should be abble to answer that question for you." Once the sun goes down whity starts to tell one of the many myths from shalish history. (Will post that latter just for D's enjoyment)

Tray

"Any rules on magic aside from the non-lethal rule?" Tray asked, thinking of the possibility of sending air elementals to retrieve the flag while the rest of the team kept the opposition occupied.

Scott hung around at the club for a little over an hour wandering around the floor having the odd drink. He headed straight home after leaving.

The following day Scott ran around doing various errands. Researching what he could on the Race and picking up bits and pieces that were going to be needed over the coming months.


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Ghost prepped a couple days later for the flight. A duffle bag with possibly needed accessible items and a larger case with clothing and various bits and pieces.

Bidding Sakimoto goodbye, leaving him with the car and keys to the apartment in case, Ghost headed out to the small private Jet.

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A young woman approached the plane, no older than perhaps 24. Dressed in a tight black jumpsuit she moves with grace and ease each step seemingly purposely placed. Leaving all her bags but the duffle at the bottom, she ascended the stairs to the cabin. Long wavy black hair tumbles down her back, emerald green eyes piercing the light. A subtle and intriguing beauty caresses her face, though one may wonder when the last time a genuine smile lay upon those lips.

With a small bow she speaks up, a faint Japanese accent noticeable "I am Amaya, though those who have heard of me call me Ghost. I trust that this shall go no further than these walls."

With that Ghost moved to the back of the plane taking a seat against the window she pulled out a book and left the rest to their devices.

Mr. White

A few hours into the flight Mr. White stands up and starts telling one of many storys ifrom shalish mythology. After about 10 minetrs he vigursly points up into teh air and as your eyes return to him, he has changed. No longer is there a 3 meeter white troll all in white standing before you but the Old laddy from the story standing there. She apears quite engrosed in D-Trip, talking to him and keeps calliong him Holow Bull horn or somthing like that. It's like the laddy jumped right off the pages of a storry book. It goe son like that for 2 or three stores, untill Mr, White return to his normal apperance, and sits down for a rest.

"So is that good enuf for ya D? Imprestions and all."

Mr. White begins to laff, "He He He Ha HA hA AHHO HO HOH O HO" and by the time he stobs it almost sounds like an owl hooting.

Bonk is totally mesmerized by the story involving the old lady, you notice as he drools on himself.

--

As Grevin speaks Bonk's mouth creeps into a grin as he he grinds his fist into his palm. "Thirteen days!, Aww man I cant wait that long." he sighs. With a dissapinted look on his face, Bonk heads into the building after Grevin.

Mr. White

After getting off teh plane and lisenign to Grevin, Mr, White ask him a few questions in the safty of teams rooms.

"When will we know what time the qualification contest will be? If there is any way I woudl prefer if the contest took place after supper. Also will the other teams be allowed to watch the events? What will the sponsers of teh race be doing to control and prevent cheatting? What are the Offical rules? What are the unspoken un-offical rules?
"
Mr. White intends to atend all the events and get an idea of the compatetions capabilities