Assorted Shadowrun Adventures (IC)

[Orrin]

Here is the IC thread for my Shadowrun group
Kirindal
Valgunn
Night Monkey
and Kazaran

If you're not one of these people, don't post in here.

[Orrin]

For the last several weeks, each of you has been feeling watched. Though not watched as in people are seeing you as an interesting person, more like stalking. You've felt it on the jobs you've went on, throughout your day, even when you were in your own house. Though no matter where you look, you don't see anybody. So you just write it off as being on the job too much and getting paranoid, happens to the best runners.

(I'll do these one by one for the sake of clarity)

Ms Red:

As you sit in your apartment, ignoring the newest ******* to crash on your couch which had been well used for days, a piece of mail slides under your door, and if somehow guided by a force, manages to slide all the way to your leg, poking it roughly. It's unmarked, and has a wax seal on it. This is odd, mostly due to the fact that snail-mail stopped being mainstream a couple dozen years ago. Cracking open the envelope reveals the following:

Sebastian:

The feeling of a job well done. A feeling one only gets when they see the nuyen going into their bank accounts, which, after talking for awhile with Harris, you're finally able to see before he leaves, heading back to his boss with the new data. As soon as he's gone a pale girl, one who's obviously not legal, but has done things that would curl your hair, comes over and places an envelope on your table, gives you a toothy grin and strides out the door. The envelope contains the following letter:

Raptor:

A new house, a new place to test your very unique 'hunting' skills. But first, a nice sandwich, at least it would be if the sound of several gunshots didn't just reach your ears from outside. Standing up immediately, you do what any sane person would do, grab the biggest gun you can carry and zip to the door. Kicking it open and pointing it out you see the poor drek who just got gunned down. He looks official, and he's packing an Ares Predator, but that's all you can tell from him besides the fact that he's got several gunshot wounds in his head and torso and a completely glitched look in his eyes. Like he's completely horrified. On his corpse is an envelope that was put there post mortim. Shoving him in whatever place would best hide a corpse from sight you open the envelope and pull out the letter:

Vixin:

As you're messing around with a new spell you hear screams from outside. Then cracking as the door is busted down by some sort of troll samurai, though the troll's red skin looks like it's only holding him together, wounds covering his entire body. He levels his blade towards you and runs directly at you. With speed a Troll shouldn't have. As he gets to you and raises the sword, ready to kill you with a decapitating blow, every wound on his body seems to open at the same time and he literally falls apart, blood squirting all around as the limbs fall to the ground. You are able to see an envelope held in what used to be his chest and something about it makes you grab it and open the seal slowly. Pulling out the letter shows this:

Dear Ms Red, Mr. Morrison, Mr. Raptor and Ms. Vixin,
As I write these four letters I don't know which ones will get to you, and so I'll address you all. We know you, we know who you are, what you are and most importantly, as these letters show, who you are. We can find you no matter where you go, and if you don't do as we ask, we can make life very difficult. If you wish to keep your lives uncomplicated then I suggest you meet myself and my friends at The Styx tonight. Please bring appropriate attire. This is where you'll meet your new team and learn of your next job.

The writer didn't include another name.

[Kirindal]

Sebastian sneered at the letter. What sort of threat was that? 'We know who you are, what you are, and if you don't do what we ask of you we'll make life miserable for you and kick your little puppy too...' Typical of some bigshot Mr. Johnson or small fish with delusions of grandeur.

On the other hand, whomever the Johnson was they apparently had backup and the fewer people Sebastian could potentially torque off, the better. He preferred having his lifestyle uninterrupted by constant threats of violence. With luck, perhaps there would even be some nuyen in it for his troubles. Then there was the potential cards for the hand that the Johnson had invited too. A stacked hand was always better than a standard one.

Sebastian headed out and gestured for a taxi to take him towards Downtown. He would need some new threads for the Styx and it was the perfect excuse to splurge a bit on that line from Vashon Island. He fired up his commlink and called Raquel Ellison. Time to see what sort of cards were in his hand.

[Valgunn]

Miss Red

Adelaida was sitting on her kitchen counter sipping a soycaf when the letter slipped underneath her door and poked her bare foot. She leaned down and picked up the letter with one hand while the other blindly deposited her soycaf on the counter next to her. "Whoa..." she exclaimed. "So retro." Voicing the rarity, but not complete absence, of snail-mail she flicked open the envelope and pulled out the letter. She then performed what would have been a spit-take if she had still been drinking her soycaf. "We know what you are." She mouthed the words noiselessly as she recalled the rumoured black projects involving the Otaku 2.0. She shuddered at the thought.

Leaning even harder on the counter top she looked down at her appearance; dull red sweatshirt and black jogging trousers. "Not something I should wear, I guess." Lifting the letter back up to her eyes she read out loud her destination "The Styx..." and as she spoke her biological AR responded with a box:

Search: The Styx + Seattle

OOC:
Initiating a Data Search for this particular place; limiting the search to Seattle of course. It'll be set to auto-run while she gets ready, puts on nicer clothes, write a note, and just the general humdrum you do before you go out.

[Night Monkey]

Raptor read the letter slowly, continuing to eat his sandwich pensively. On completing both tasks, he licked his lips, and wiped his juice-stained fingers in the paper. Somebody, apparantly, had a burning desire to shuffle off their mortal coil before their due date.

But first, the slow pursuit. Making the meet would be the first step towards his newfound goal, and maybe he'd have some fun along the way.

Time to dress for dinner, he thought, collecting his Ares Predator, his shotgun and his semi-automatic sniper rifle and concealing them about his person, leaving behind his elephant gun with some reluctance. It just wasn't welcome at most respectable establishments.

Not that 'The Styx' sounds all that respectable. A shady hub of a world most people want to forget. Suits me fine, I like it when all the cards are on the table.