August 12, 2063 - Seattle

Grey skies loom over the Seattle metroplex, threatening the city with rain. The air was already humid enough that rain would seemingly make little difference to how damp the residents were.

The heat today is almost oppressive... the thermometer reads around 25 degrees Celsius, but with the humidity and smog it feels a lot worse.

All of you are at home, doing as little as possible when your telecomm starts beeping, signalling an incoming call. The LTG number displayed tells you that it is your fixer calling, hopefully with the prospect of some work.

Preferably, somewhere with air conditioning...

The muggy afternoon heat was really getting to the Elf. It was bad enough staying up all night studying for , money was becoming an issue again and she hadn’t worked in 6 months.

Damn bastard, got what he deserved.

Her last job had ended up costing her more than it had earned. She had lost her bike, a prize of custom mechanics that had set her back nearly 30 grand. About what she made for the job. There had been her brief affair with Belfast, the charismatic Irish mage. But his seemingly inability to get past his bigotry of elves doomed them to a very short, however passionate, time together.

And of course she paid for the time away from school, and the shadows. Her account was nearly dry, her finals in Para zoology and Chemistry were do next week and she still had a looming incomplete in Physics.

Is this what you had in mind when you left Angel? You haven’t even been in Seattle a year and you’ve turned your back on what you were raised to do and believe. And what have you got to show for it?

She was on the cusp of 19, still filled with the mental foolishness of a teenage girl, in the body of an adult. Physically she was tough and beautiful. A life time of physical training for sports would do that to anyone. But inside she was still frail lost little girl.

She currently was lounged on her couch watching mindless Trid. She was dressed light, cotton tank top and a pair of old shorts, because of the heat. Her nearest gun was the Pred under the couch. She new it was there, and she new how long it took to get to it if someone came through the door.

Angela shifted her mindset as the Telcom rang. The little girl stayed on the couch, Raven the Shadowrunner got up. The machine was set by default to not display her image, and do a voice only.

“Raven, speak.”

Rei has been in hiding for almost a week now. He'd been hanging out at a club in downtown looking for some contacts when a group of Japanese business men came in for some drinks. One of them must have had some Yak connections, because he kept checking Rei out, looking at him funny. Not wanting to take a chance, Rei turned on his board band Jammer, killing all cell phones and radios in the area. He knew he'd hit a nerve, cause the businessman got real nervious after that and started to head for the door. When the guy looked back to see if Rei was watching him, the fear took him, as the assassin was nowhere to be found.

Being on the run from the Yakuza was no joy, but Rei has been doing his best to deal with his, making sure to cover his tracks everywhere he went. Tonight was no different. By the time the guy had made it out the door and out to his car, Rei was waiting for him. The guy never saw it coming. A quick flash of movment came from the shadows and the guy was missing his head. Quick and silent.

Holding the fort down in the rented hotel room, Rei smiled as the red LED in the corner of his vision lit up. Good. I've been needing some work. Can't hide for the rest of my life. Opening the line, the assassin answers, "Speak."

Sprawled out on the couch in nothing but a large pair of boxers on. James had a hard enough time with his body, this damn heat was only making things harder on him. He reaches for some soda as he chews an anticoagulant pill and some painkillers. He try’s to stay away from the hard stuff, but a little Motrin in the morning seems to take the edge off.

His phone goes off right when he is chasing the chopped pills with some soda. Very few people have his number so he knows its work. He grabs the phone and sticks the ear peace in. Looking down at the display he sees he was right. Its Just Johnny his fixer. He presses the talk button and grunts out a few words.

"I called you last week for work...I hope you have something for me."

Raven:

"Raven, it's Fredrick. Listen, I got a line on some work, but it's pretty short notice. The meet's tonight. I need to know if you're interested, cause if yer not, I gotta track someone else down..."

Rei:

"Konnichiwa, my friend," Choi, Rei's fixer, said. The Asian businessman continued in Japanese. "Might you be interested in some work this evening?"

Dead End:

"Yeah, yeah, Deady... sorry bout that. Sorry, I didn't back to ya sooner, but you know..." Johnny trailed off.

"Anyways, something just came in and it's one of these impatient buggers. Wants a meet tonight. Can you manage that?"

"Where and when?"

Raven:

Fredrick seems to relax slightly when you take the job. "Not your standard fare... the meet is at 2030 hours at an old warehouse in Renton. 746 Commercial Rd. Sounds like the pay is decent and it'll probably take you outta town for a few days...

The chill in her voice lowers the rooms temperture a few degrees.

"Fine, out of town. This goes bad Freddie just remember, you have used up your cred with me."

Raven disconects the phone before the older man can respond.

“Great,” she said to no one in particular.

'Out of town' meant a lot of money, and that meant something stupid, hard, or both.

Rei simply replied, "はい私に細部を与えなさい"

Downtown Seattle, St. Teresa’s mission

A young Latino elf wipes down the tables and chairs in the dining room. He’s cleaning up after Kid’s Charity Day, the one day a week event where any child under twelve can get a nutritious meal. A phone trills softly and the janitor paused briefly to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Oui, iz zis Chris?” replies the voice on the phone.
“Oui, this is Chris.” The janitor’s voice has changed slightly, becoming a slight French accent. “What is it Jacques?”

Erensuge was watching trid and enjoying a nice glass of Spanish wine when his phone beeped.

"Hola." It was his fixer, Dexter.

"Hey chum, how are you feeling?" Dexter flashed a toothy grin. SURGE had left him a dwarf with horns and large tusks, a miniature troll.

"Asi-asi, 'mano. Que pasa?"

Dexter ignored the spanish and carried on. "I've got some work for you if you're interested. Foreign, looks to be in your old back yard."

This piqued Eren's interest. Going back to a place where he was wanted seemed dangerous. However, they had nothing on him but a pseudonym - Noche-que-Camina, Shadow-who-Walks. It would be interesting to get back there, see how his old friends were doing in the Basque country. It'd be nice to get out of this horrible humidity, at least.

"Si, I will have it."

2030… that’s what? 8:30, so that gives me a couple of hours.

Raven was still sitting in her living room absorbing the meet. Her long legs were folded up over the arm of the couch and she was laying down. She had purchased several fans to cool her down but the oppressive heat was unstoppable.

She reached over and picked up the card sized cell off the coffee table.

“Rick, hey its Angel, yeah I won’t be into night… cool. I need a couple of things. I’m dry on 7.62, I need 10 each, ballistic and bang. Yeah if I could pick them up in a couple of hours that would be great. Uh yeah, I have the money… somewhere. Right will do, thanks.”

Well that takes care of the ammo problem.

Her closet was somewhat bear, full of Shadowrunning gear and a couple of dresses she never wore. As she thumbed through her clothes she dialed the number for Zoe’s drop box. The elusive fixer rarely answered the phone in person.

“Hey Zoe, Raven here. I need to know if there’s anything going on in Redmond that sets of any alarms. I have a meet there tonight and I wouldn’t mind an upper hand. The deals at 8-ish so if you got nothing before then, don’t sweat it. Thanks.” She slipped her phone onto the closets shelf as she contemplated her choices.

It was pushing a hundred out side and full on body armor just wouldn’t work. No way she could stand it for more than an hour let alone all night. She decided on jeans and a thin white cotton tank top, sans her form fitting body armor. The layer of chemically treated armor would just be to hot to wear. She did however stuff a set in her overnight bag along with her Vashion armored clothes just in case.

Over her tank she strapped on her predators side holster. It allowed the gun to hug her side just below her left breast, making it hard to spot.

She wasn’t completely un armored though, she shrugged on her black and grey urban camouflaged secure coat. If she left it open it would breath easily, and it was easy enough to take off and put on if the case called for it.

4 magazines of standard ammo fit into her right pocket and one in the Pred itself and she was ready. She stuffed the rest of her gear into the over night duffle she carried. If it was out of town who knew when she could come back.

The elevator door opened into the underground garage a few minutes later. Raven exited out and headed for the White Saab parked where she left it. The car was gas powered so she didn’t take it out much when she was low on funds. The hi-tech sports car started with a purr. Carefully Raven pulled it out of the garage, driving easily and defensively. She turned onto 14th and headed for the Range, hoping Rick would have her ammo for her.

On the phone with johnny... "Ok johnny, enough talk. I go the address. I will be there. Just tell me, should I go packing and ready to leave or unarmed and helpless...hehe."

When talking with johnny he is cleaning a smug off his custom vindicator. Do to its size and the insane amount of noise it makes with the EX rounds, he hardly gets to use it on a run. He moves over and puts on his armor and his BDU's, then searchs his apartment for a new cigar.

Jacques continues: “Chris? Good. I have the tools you requested. You may pick them up at your convenience. I also have news of a job that may require their use, if you are interested?”
The janitor glances around before answering: “Yes, I am interested. Shall I come down to get the details?”
“No, I do not have the details. The client will give you those. They will meet with you at 8:30 this evening, 746 Commercial Road in Renton. I do not know anything more…”
“Merci, Jacques; I am in your debt. I will come today to get the tools.”
“Good. Au revior.”
“A bientôt.”
The janitor folds the small phone closed and slips it back into his pocket. He continues wiping down the tables and chairs, although now he flips the chairs up onto the tables as he goes.
Excellent… He thinks, with the electronics tools I can begin stealing more things – but a job, even better! If things go well…
Finished with the tables he goes back and stacks the remaining chairs on the tables and then hurriedly mops the floor. It’s not the usual quality of his work, but the Sisters shouldn’t mind – the only ‘pay’ he gets is to eat and sleep in the janitor’s closet.
He goes to that closet, pausing briefly to tell Sister Alisha that the hall has been cleaned. Inside he strips and takes a quick sponge bath, then searches in his duffle bag for the clean clothes. Washed and changed, he takes a last look around the small space that has been his home for the last month – yes, it appears that all his belongings are packed in the duffle.
Taking the spray bottle of bleach solution he used for the tables he begins spraying every square centimeter of the closet, and wiping down any surface that he might have touched. Having worked his way to the door he turns off the light, wipes down the switch, and drops the bottle and cloth into the duffle.
Satisfied with his work he takes the black bag, scoots the door shut with his shoe and begins to leave. Straightening his body when he sees Sister Donna, to hide the weight of the bag, he tells her that he is going to the laundry to wash his clothes. With that, he makes good his escape…

Rei:

<in Japanese> "The meet is at 2030 hours tonight, at a warehouse in Renton. The address is 746 Commercial Road. The pay promises to be fairly good, but it's outside the plex...quite a bit outside, actually.

Are you still interested Rei-san?"

Noche:

"Excellent! The meet is at 8:30 tonight, at a warehouse in Renton. Nothing striking about the location, that I've noticed. The warehouse is at 746 Commercial Road. Anything else you need from me, chummer?"

Raven:

After the drive to the range, Raven felt a little more relaxed. Sitting on a bench outside the range was Rick, reading a newspaper. He pretended not to notice Raven, as she stepped out of her car. She could see a box sitting under the bench, which Rick nudged with his foot.

Raven sat down beside Rick and lifted the box from the ground. Subtlely lifting the lid of the box, she noticed that the ammunition she requested was inside.

"I know you're strapped, so pay me when you're done..." Rick said as he folded his newspaper, and stood to leave.

Dead End:

"If you're gonna pack, pack light compadre," Johnny said. "You're going into ganger turf, but don't try to impress the J with the size of your piece, so ka? Have fun, omae."

Johnny stabbed the disconnect button to allow Dead End to prepare.

"Hai. I will be there. Thank you Choi."

"No, no, amigo. Is good, is good. I be there."

8:00/Eren's place/Tacoma

Eren packed up his gear in a large duffel bag. He donned his secure longvest and put his Predator III in its concealed holster. The Great Dragon, Valiant Smart2 and M22A2 all went in his Jackrabbit, along with his combat armor. He was sure to drive carefully when the autonav wasn't on.

He set the autonav for the warehouse and hit the "go" button.

Pulling a worn ‘brawl cap from his hip pocket, Chris snugs it on – carefully pulling it over his ears. As he lets his feet take him to the nearby monorail platform he divides his attention between his supernaturally sharp senses (taking in and prioritizing threats) and his inner senses (relaxing the lower spine, abdominals and shoulders, a bit of slouch in the upper spine, modulating the flush response – easier due to the heat, and dilating the nostrils.)

A few minutes later a nondescript Amerindian wearing a Calgary Cougars cap and carrying a black duffle bag boards the south-bound ‘rail to SeaTac. A warm breeze stirs the air in the car; someone has cleverly bypassed the alarm and opened all of the emergency exit windows. It only helps a little.

Getting off at the southern cargo terminal Chris takes the Metro around the southern end of the air terminal to the Southcenter business district. No one had been as clever on the Metro; as a result the bus was stifling. Chris gladly stepped off at the stop near The French Connection.

Opening his cell phone he punched in the number as he begins to walk.
<ring>
“Zis iz ze French Connection, ze hours are…”
Chris interrupts the announcement, punching #418 to get the telecom’s speaker function:
“Jacques, pick up. It’s Chris and I’m outside.”
After a brief pause the Frenchman’s voice comes on the line:
“Bonjour Chris, a moment and I’ll open the door.”
“Merci.”

Chris folds the phone closed as he rounds the corner; the pawn shop is the second business on this side of the street. He reaches the door before Jacques can disable the alarm and get the inner door open, and waits as the man opens the outer plassteel and monowire mesh door.

“Bonjour Jacques, it is good to see you.” Chris looks at the man – human, late 50s with graying hair, and extremely thin to the point of being gaunt. The place, as always, reeks with the scent of cigar smoke.

“You have come for your tools I presume?” says the old man as he leads the way past crowded shelves to the display counter that serves as the front desk.
“Yes, please.” Chris takes up a position opposite of the Fixer.

The old man retrieves a medium-sized satchel from behind the counter and places it on the glass top. Chris opens it and withdraws five rolls of black cloth. He places them on the counter and unrolls them, unfolding the over-flaps to expose the contents. All the tools of the trade laid-out before him. The old man reaches across and withdraws an object from one of the pouches.

“I specified these for you,…” Jacques says as he opens the case and offers the contents to the elf, “micro-vision shades, variable to 50x – I knew you would appreciate the quality.”
“How much?”
“4000 nuyen, or first choice at any merchandise these tools help you acquire.”
“Done!” says Chris as he quickly re-rolls the tools and puts them away. He places the satchel in the duffle and withdraws a wallet-sized case; “And now I have what you requested.” He opens the case to reveal several rows of optical chips:
“The first chip contains an index, a summary and a jacket for Father Dominic, chips two through thirteen are dumps of his personal and office computers. Chips fourteen and fifteen are motion-activated recordings of his office – I positioned the camera to record from behind the desk, you can see who he speaks with on the telecom. The next two are the same set-up on his desk in his private chamber. The rest are blank. All this information is contained in the index on chip one.”

The old man’s eyes glint; “Very good, excellent! My associate will be very pleased. I shall call him at once.” Jacques brings out a small case: “You seem to have earned this, however my associate will be contacting you if the information is not as promised…”

“Fear not Jacques,” Chris ignores the implied threat, “I gain nothing but enemies if I mis-represent my skills. My clients have always been satisfied.” Chris drops the box into the duffle without checking the contents – knowing the implied threat/trust relationship went both ways. “I must go, I shouldn’t start disappointing clients tonight.” Chris shoulders his duffle as the old man accompanies him to the door.

“You be careful, Mr. Walker; this client is not one of my best – nothing bad, but nothing good either.”
“I shall, my friend, and we will share a bottle of wine when this is over – good wine, not that French swill.”

Chris exits the door with his joke and retraces his steps to the bus stop.

37 minutes and two transfers later Chris arrives at one of Renton’s light industrial districts, actually only two and a half blocks from his target. He checks the time – 57 minutes until the meet. He quickly scouts the area in the fading light and finds a location to wait; a dumpster located at the entrance to a dead-end allyway between 743 and 745. The dumpster doesn’t stink too bad dispite the heat, a quick check reveals that it seems to be used for trash, not garbage. Chris hides the duffle in the dumpster, and then completes his ruse. Any passers by might notice a drunk/drugged/chipped bum sleeping it off (or dead?) near the dumpster.

Chris has an excellent view of the front of the target – now a waiting game begins…

Dead End puts the phone away and starts getting ready. Cigar in mouth, he puts his Shades on and tapes his Micro-Transceiver with Subvocal Microphone in place. The pager and cell phone are set to vibrate, and his Ares Predator gets tucked away in its holster. Before he puts the pistole away he cleans the engraving "Who's Your Daddy". A smile comes over his face as he thinks about the trouble he might be in tonight. He grabs two more clips and lights up on his way out the door.

Once down stairs he hails a cab, the only ones that ever stop for him are other trolls with vehicles that can handel his size. "746 Commercial Rd." he barks at the driver. If he timed things right he will be there 30 min early and just sit out on the street with his cigar until the appointed meeting time.

"Thanks Omae, see you in a few days."

Raven popped the trunk on the car and put the rounds in the same container as her rifle. The sporty Remington was a precision weapon that she didn't get to use often. But when she did it was beautiful.

A few minutes later she was cruising down I-5 with the window down and Concrete Wall blasting out over the radio. It was still early but she wanted to get down there and do a little recon first.

Rei steps out of the shower and towels off quickly. He step he took, he was quarrying what he'd need for the next step. Do I go with my regular street clothes, or show up in full gear and a stealth suit. Well, Choi said we may be leaving the area, so it only makes sense that they'd give us time to gather our things. Hmmm... Screw it, I'll bring both. May as well be ready to run from the start.

Fifteen minutes later, the japanese assassin is geared up for a night of running. A form fitting full suit under a secure vest and a lined coat. Various shuriken were planted inside the lined coat, some coated in a variety of chemistry, some not. He slung his rucksack over his shoulder and headed downstairs to his bike. He has always loved the Aurora. It was sleek and fast, everything he wanted in a transport. He stowed his pack under the seat, then climbed on and headed out into the night.

Sometime later, Rei pulled his bike into an alley about two blocks away from where his Autonav told him the meet would be. He killed his bike and scanned the alley for any signs of life. Only a few heat signatures of rats scurrying around told him he was alone. A thought kept running itself through his head on the drive over, and he has learned to trust his guts a long time ago. What if this is a Yak setup? Time to check it out.

Climbing off the bike, he lifted the seat and unzipped the pack in the storage compartment. He pulled out his stealth suit and closed the lid. Stripping out of his street clothes, Rei quickly changed into his ninja suit, a heavily modified set of full camo armor, complete with thermal dampers and ruthenium polymers.

He made his way through the shadows towards the address given, checking out the place to make sure it isn't a setup.

Noche-que-Camina parked his car in an alley 3 blocks from the warehouse, next to an abandoned building of some form, the tallest one for a couple of blocks. Good vantage point, he thought to himself. He opened the door very carefully, the Colt M22A2 at the ready. Pacing slowly towards the stairs, eyes and ears dialed to the max, he felt calm wash over him. Esto es no problemo, amigo, he thought to himself. No one is crazy enough to try and jump a guy with a machine gun.

He made it up the stairs with no problem and took vantage on the roof, eyes and ears still dialed up, looking for anyone doing the same or trying to muck up the meeting. He didn't attempt to obscure himself at all, and had no obvious weapons. To anyone looking at him, he was a squatter enjoying the night air.

The warehouse at 746 Commercial has seen better days. It doesn't appear that a specific company has used the site for much recently, as the outer walls have been heavily "decorated" by the graffiti of the nearby gangs.

The surrounding neighbourhood is busy with gangs of two different colours on opposite sides of the warehouse. The two gangs seem to be keeping their distance from the building, as if there might be a bigger fish in the water this night.

Once the appointed time has approached, Dead End walks to the front door of the warehouse and knocks. Three times very hard and loud. He then waits for a response or some one to open the door.

Rei moves in on the gangers, trying to pick up any bits of conversation and see what information can be learned.

Rei:

Skirting around the edges of the nearby buildings, Rei nears the cluster of gangers hanging around within visual range of the warehouse.

"What're we doin', Basher? This is borin' as drek..." one of the thugs asks.

"We're keepin an eye out for Punishers, that's what."

"Dey wouldn't be dumb enuf to go near dat place tonight," an ork added.

"They don't have to go near it to come into our turf. The warehouse ain't huge, ya know..."

"What're we really doin' here?"

Basher looked toward the youngest member of his faction of the Crazy Eyes. Too smart for his own good...

"I'm waitin' for their business to end."

"Wha for?"

"When the pinstripes leave, we're takin the building for the Crazies. Push those bastard Punishers back a notch."

The gangers became more excited and eagerly observed the meet location for their sign to move in.

Dead End is at the front door knocking loudly even know its 15 min early

Interesting... Nothing like a litlte gang war to finish a night of business. Checking his watch, Rei saw that he still had about another twenty minutes left before the meet was to take place. Moving around to the other side of the building, he checked in on the Punishers to see what they were up to.

Seeing possible team mates snooping on a group of gangers, Eren decided to end his surveillance. He headed back down the stairs, gun at the ready, and got back in his car. At 5 minutes until the meet, he backed his Jackrabbit out and headed toward the warehouse.

Dead End:

Knocking loudly on the door, you hear a quick sliding back of a deadbolt and the door opens a crack. The eye on the far side of the door looks him up and down, before a voice asked, "Whatcha want?"

Rei:

Circling the warehouses, Rei sees a group of Punishers competing in an arm wrestling competition, not far from the meet location. Their weapons of choice are not far away.

After a prolonged match, the one ork beats out the other and cheers a victory before grabbing his reward: the last beer.

Despite the laid back attitude of the gangers, the surrounding buildings are littered with gangers, all closely observing the surrounding buildings and the warehouse the meet will occur in. Rei notices a dwarven ganger squinting in his direction, as if trying to better make something out.

To the person who opened the door. "Thats my line, some one asked for me to come here, I am a little early because I hate being late. Are you going to let me in or should I go home?"

Dead End waits for a response, he looks over the man and assures himself he could knock him out with one fast punch.

Rei smiles inwardly, damn mages. Hmm.. perhaps I can use this to my advantage though... Turning off his Rutheniums and pulling back the hood of his stealth suit, he approaches the dwarf that had spoted him.

"I have some information for you. How about a trade? Call it a favor for a favor..."

Dead End:

The door opens slightly wider to size up the enormous troll standing outside the warehouse. After a brief moment's contemplation, he opens the door to let the troll in.

The inside of the warehouse is spartan and nearly devoid of furniture. At the center of the floor is a long table surrounded in assorted chairs. At the head of the table sits an older gentleman in a charcoal grey suit, who is currently cleaning his glasses with religious fervor.

Sweeping the warehouse with his thermographic vision, Dead End takes note of several men at the far side of the warehouse, situated on crates. Each has a long gun for taking down unscrupulous runners.

"Gimme yer guns and take a seat," the doorman says.

Rei:

The dwarf's eyes widen as Rei reveals himself and soon the other gangers are clamoring for their weapons.

"Calm down, ya dumbasses..." the dwarf says. The other gangers pause and look over at Rei, sizing him up.

"So, you got the skinny on some gen, do ya? If I think it's worth my time, I will consider givin' ya some info back. If not, you walk away real quick-like...so ka?"

"Theres a meet about to go down inside this werehouse. I just happened to overhear a few Crazies around the other side of it saying they plan on taking the turf from you once the meet is over. I figure they're plannin' on a surprise strike, so now you can gear up and not be so surprised. Now. I did you a favor, seem you'd owe me one now as well, yes?"

Dead End takes his gun out with out gripping it around the handle. He hands the custom weapon over and says, "Just make sure it does not get scratched" He then walks over to the other head of the table and pulls out the chair, he inspects the chair and realizes that it will not support his weight. He pushes the chair aside and kneels in front of the table. His head is still higher than a none troll would be, so he feels content.

Once this is over he speaks to the man in the gray suit. "I do hope those men with the pea shooters are here incase we act up because if you were planning on taking me out with anything less than a cannon you are going to be disappointed"

Dead End Smiles and hopes that his special form of comedy gets a smile from the Johnson.

Raven maneuvers her car at reckless speeds through the potholed, barricaded streets. The high performance suspension takes a beating as she drives, swerving from one side of the street to the other.

Damn stupid street design.

She slammed the breaks and turned the car sideways to avoid an overturned truck int he intersection north of Commercial Boulevard. She wasted no time getting back on the gas and spinning the tires on the wet pavement. The cars clock told her she had on minute as she shifted into fourth gear.

The building came into view at the end of the block, the muddy half paved parking lot seemed to be filled with loiters of all kinds. Raven slapped the horn to get one idiot to move. She turned the wheel, pulled the e-brake and screeched the tires as the car came to a halt outside. By no understanding of the word 'good' was her parking job.

Raven slipped on her coat against the chill of the quickly cooling night before knocking on the warehouse door. The enormous troll cracked the door and its typical races voice grumbled out some words that Raven strung together to mean 'come in'.

She brushed her way pass the doorman, un-impressed by his size. Trolls as doorman were great, cause she could always count on them to rely on their size and strength to fight, and not their speed or brains.

"Gimme yer guns and take a seat," the troll said to her.

Raven took in the sight of the building, especially the men at the end of the building with sniper rifles. She turned her head slowly and with a steely gaze locked eyes with the troll.

"No."

Dead Ends attention is brought to the women who just walked in and started to push the bouncer around. A good looking women with a gun who pushed trolls around was HOT. Dead End adjusts his feet so that his toes are on flat on the ground letting him spring into action more quickly if needed.

After looking her over for a moment he remembers the guys in the back and quickly turns his head back to keep an eye on them.

Although the bum appears not to notice; Chris notes the arrival of a troll at about 20:15. Using his hypersensitive hearing, he makes out “…hate being late. Are you going to let me in or should I go home?”
The bum shifts position – Chris takes a closer look at the figure by the door. The exchange is brief and the troll enters.
Waiting until 20:23, Chris gets up, retrives his bag and heads across the street, narrowly avoiding being run down by the driver of a car that squeals to a stop in the warehouse lot. He watches as the driver gets out and storms through the opened door.
He approaches the door, unsure of the protocols for this sort of assignment, and raps lightly on the doorframe.

Eren saw Raven's car (even though he did not recognize the occupant), hopped in his car and drove very carefully down the street.

"This is why you always had drivers, hermano," he said to himself. "You can barely drive on good streets, much less this pile."

He parked his Jackrabbit next to the other vehicle, grabbed his duffel bag, holstered his SMG and pistol, threw the duffel bag on his shoulder and walked slowly toward the door, assault rifle at the ready.

Rei:

The Punishers began muttering back and forth with the discussion of a surprise attack by the Crazies.

"Knew about the meet, chummer. We were not-so-politely asked to keep our distance. But those Crazies are off their rocker, if they think they could take us, even with a surprise attack. So, we'll set up a trap for the slots... as for a favor, what did ya have in mind?"

Dead End:

The Johnson shows a nervous smirk and looks at his protectors anxiously. He continues to clean his glasses, as if they could never be clean enough.

Raven:

The doorman glares down at Raven, indignant that she ignored his simple request.

"Look, ya can't be packin' heat when you talk wit da J," he said. "It would be very bad..."

Chris:

You lightly rap on the door, but the door doesn't open. You hear a discussion on the far side of the door, as if someone were having a serious discussion with the doorman. You do note that the door is unlatched.

Noche:

As you approach the door, you see another runner at the door, awaiting entrance. With little else to do, you wait near the other runner for whoever is running this show to allow you entrance.

Wanting to scream inside but having to keep her cool outside (at least she thinks she does) Raven un holsters her pistol, spins it around and hands it to the Troll.

Come on girl think of something scary to say.

As the big hand envelops the pistol she whispers,

"anything goes wrong you die first."

She release the pistol and walks over to the table. She flops her self down and leans back in the chair, tucking one hand into her pants, the other waves at the snipers.

"Where those really necessary?"

Dead End still stunned by the pushy hot chick who now has her hand down her pants....thoughts of a movie he rented last night titled “Elves like it Big” go through his head until he hears a knock at the door and noticed the door man did not answer it.
"Hay, door man, you have more customers."

Dead End leans over to the girl sitting next to him and whispers, "This Johnson is green...that’s never a good sign..."

He then moves back to his position and waits for the rest to sit at the table.

Raven eyes the troll, letting her large eyes look him over as he stands up, walks over to her, says one line then returns to his seat.

"Yeah," she says loud enough for everyone to hear.

"He's not the only one."

Rei nods to the dwarf ganger, "Lets just say you owe me and I'll come calling one day. Give me a number to reach ya at and I'll keep in touch."

After getting the dwarf's contact info and verifying that it isn't bogus, Rei sets the Rutheniums on his camo suit to a solid black color, then heads towards the warehouse. At the door when asked for his guns, he just smiles and raises his arms to let the troll pat him down, "What guns?"

Chris waits until the commotion inside dies down somewhat, then knocks louder. When the doorman answers, Chris tells him; “The Frenchman sent me.”
After being allowed to enter, he examines is surroundings in normal, thermo, and low-light.
When asked for his guns Chris surrenders his Browning, and opens the duffle so that the troll can inspect it if he wishes. As the troll takes his gun, Chris whispers “There are people in the warehouse with weapons; am I to be disarmed while they remain armed?”
<Regardless of the answer, he will move to take a place at the table.>

He approaches the table and places the duffle on it, digs through it until he finds the bug scanner, and places it on the table.

Addressing no-one in particular, he says;
“I do not know what the Frenchman told you of my abilities but you should know that I specialize in impersonating and infiltrating for the purposes of espionage. If these are not the skills you require I will be happy to leave now with no further knowledge of what you need.” Chris fixes his gaze on the Johnson, “Agreed?”

Seeing one of his potential team mates sat well with Eren. He relaxed a little bit, but still kept the weapon up in case of problems.

"Gimme yer guns and siddown," the big troll said.

Time to act stupid, brother. "Que? No hablo inglish." He looked at the others sitting down. "Hablan espanol? No entiendo a este idiota."

Dead End turns his head and says "Do you understand Italian (in Italian), or German maybe (in German)" If he gets no response from the new guy he will say "Well I tried" and turn back to the Johnson.

Raven leaned back and assessed the situation as it was. The Johnson had really bugged her. First he hired a Troll to play doorman, then the gangers with guns, and all he could do was sit there and clean his glasses.

If it came down to it her plan-of-attack was to go over the table opposite the snipers. Stay low and get the Johnson, use him as a meat shield to her car then get the hell out of dodge.

But it wont come to that, it rarely does. This is all just showman ship. The Johnsons saying 'I can kill you when ever I want, so don't screw up'.

Her teammates so far were less than impressive, the usual troll type and a guy trying an obvious con like he doesn't speak english. If for whatever reason he really didn't he was even more an ameture than Raven felt.

The hand in her pocket was a comfort, it was closed around the remote for her Dynamits Panic button. A suitable blast of noise would provide a distraction if the case called for it. She hoped it didn't.

Rei let the doorman pat him down and sure enough, no guns. He smirks at the doorman, I could kill you before you're brain had time to register danger. Stupid Trog. Moving into the warehouse, Rei pulled a chair out for himself and sat down, making sure not to scoot the chair in and restrict his movement. His eyes fell on everyone at the table, registering each of his 'teammates'. He didn't speak, just finished his gaze on the Johnson and waited.

"Your GUNS, stoopid. GUNS. BANG BANG."

Eren smiled and dropped his duffel, handed over his pistol, SMG and assault rifle. "Lo siento." He quietly took a seat, and in a thick Spanish accent, said "Sorry. I no understand sometime."