In the Shade of the Apple Tree (IC)

[Space Lawyer]

3 February 2075
0700

It was one of those grey and dreary days, the omnipresent gloom cut only by the neon glows of signs, both physical and ARO. Nature was almost mocking the residents of New York City; the weather was cold, and it was wet, but there was no snow. Instead, it was just rain and mist, blown by the cold steel wind.

On this inauspicious day, three particular individuals awake. They have found themselves even further in the darkness than most others in this overcast city, because they live in the shadows. The storm rolls in (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sR8oMMRm_IE).

Harmony

The commlink makes an annoying buzz, slowly rising to a screech, as the cybereyes begin to feed in more optical data, lightening the world. Not really the most pleasant way to wake up, but it certainly was effective. An explosion of data coalesces into a series of ideograms; all systems were functioning normally. Too bad the weather report didn't look so nice.

Clean Knuckles

BUM
BOOM
BUM

Clean Knuckles' head is pounding. That series of clubs last night had been fun, but nobody could take that much bass without incurring some aftereffects. Some of that music could probably have been classified as sonic weaponry if people hadn't decided it was fun to dance to. Wrestles With Drakes snores rattle the thin walls, oddly in time with the pulsating beat of the headache. The first spatters of rain beat ping against the window.

Saito

It was always a hard placating a spirit that had a justified reason for being upset. Seriously, filling up the spirit's favorite koi pond with some oversized goldfish? Sachiko wouldn't be making that same mistake again. He could have been a bit more grateful for being saved from losing a finger or three for such a dumb mistake though. Still, a good deed done and a few restful hours of sleep have left Saito ready for this ugly day.

[SlyJohnny]

Saito

Saito rises from the bench where he'd been dozing off, rubbing his eyes and staring up ruefully at the overcast sky, trying very hard not to actively resent it. He briefly considers summoning the spirit he just spoke with and asking her to kindly rearrange the weather to something nicer to be outside in and more likely to improve his mood, but chides himself. Kannushi should not always seek to shape the world to better suit their every whim or petty complaint. He performs a morning cleansing ritual and says a quick prayer, casting a spell intended to aid his social awareness and increase his personal magnetism.

Casting Increase Charisma at Force 4.

Spellcasting: [roll0]
Resist Drain (1): at least [roll1]

He removes his commlink from inside his suit jacket to send a message to Sachiko, and forces himself to smile as he speaks, so as to aid the flow of the polite words and entreaties that he must carefully arrange into sentences. Sachiko is a vaguely-remembered young street punk with delusions of grandeur, a girl's name, and a chip on his shoulder about it. Saito has always found him vaguely annoying, but he's running short of nuyen, and the kid might have a lead of some kind. Not that running errands for the yakuza like some kind of street urchin was something Saito ever envisioned for his life, but needs as must.

"Sachiko,

It is done. Konohana is calm again, and has agreed to cease disturbing your sleep. The next time you overindulge in sake and feel the urge to make a public nuisance of yourself, I suggest you steal traffic cones or purchase a whore like everyone else. Leave her pond alone.

It was good to see you again, Sachiko-kun. I am glad that you seem to have settled in to this city; you seem very much at home in this country. For my part, I was happy to see a familiar face. I will likely be in New York searching for work for the foreseeable future, so if you antagonize any more spirits- and I emphasize again that you should not- I will be on hand to make entreaties on your behalf. Pass my regards on to your kyodai."

He sends the message. He worries for a moment that his request wasn't explicit enough, that his pride has kept him from asking for a lead or help once again, but there's nothing to be done about it now. He sighs, takes a moment to admire the pond before bowing respectfully towards the centre of it, and decides to busy himself with preparing some charms and protections for the day, before spend the morning exploring the area around the pond for reagents.

Current SIN: Hachi Tsao
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects (drugs, spells, etc.): Increase Charisma (+4), sustained.
Armor preparation, Potency 3 (5 hours 55 minutes until degradation)
Increase Reflex preparation, Potency 4 (8 hours until degradation)
Physical Damage: 0
Stun Damage: 2 drain
Initiative: 6+1d6

[SlyJohnny]

Assuming I am uninterrupted, I'll recast the Force 4 Increase Charisma until I get four hits:

Spellcasting [roll0]
Resist Drain (1) at least [roll1]
Spellcasting [roll2]
Resist Drain (1) at least [roll3]
Spellcasting [roll4]
Resist Drain (1) at least [roll5]
Spellcasting [roll6]
Resist Drain (1) at least [roll7]
Spellcasting [roll8]
Resist Drain (1) at least [roll9]
Spellcasting [roll10]
Resist Drain (1) at least [rollv]12d6[/rollv

Further assuming I have 10 uninterrupted minutes to screw around rubbing dirt and such onto a ribbon and a coin, I'll prepare a couple alchemical preparations:

Armor, Force 5 (Contact preparation. Lynchpin: peice of gohei ribbon)
[roll11]
Resist Drain (4) [roll12]
Increase Reflexes, Force 5 (Contact preparation. Lynchpin: 1 nuyen coin) [roll13]
Resist Drain (6) [roll14]

[babel_matrix]

Clean Knuckles

C.K. shot the rain a smile that only worsened the headache. She refused drinks all of last night, when she was able to make out the offers, but the audio overload had obviously struck deep enough to mold her brain into sludge. Sitting up in her bed, she looked down to find that she hadn't even changed out of her clubbing outfit... another reason to be grateful that her father had yet to awake. She exhaled, surprised to see her breath until the biting cold finally reached her through the numbness of waking.

Through squinting eyes she dug through her closet, peeling away layers with the same liquid pace as she replaced them, until black yoga pants and her cleanest, off-white tank-top replaced the racier outfit. The snoring suddenly stopped, though the pulsing in her brain refused to follow suit. C.K. raised her eyebrow, worried. "Dad?"

A silence... and a half-snarl, half-snore started his cycle all over again. She sighed a small laugh before heading, barefoot, to the kitchen/living room/hallway. Living on the third-to-highest floor meant dealing with noisy neighbors in almost every direction, but it also meant no leaks; she had heard the top floor inhabitants complain enough about them to the landlord to be grateful for that. With her eyes scanning the forbidding sky through a soot-stained window, she briefly contemplated the day's options while activating the switch on a small, plastic nozzle that hung over the largest plate they owned. With a shuddering heave, the tube filled with semi-solid soy until it exited from its mouth. Hands working carefully to mold the beige material as the dispenser vomited it into a plate, she gave a careful kick to the radiator next to the kitchen counter, starting it back up again with an ugly hum. "Let's see..." She pressed softly onto the cabinet door, watching it dilate to reveal the flavoring rack. "Spark's chef friend said Cooked Beef 12 and Broccoli 3 can be mixed to make it taste like authentic cooked sausage," she muttered to herself, scooping the bottles as she did so, "so I can't imagine that Ham 9 and Asparagus 2 would be far behind... right?" They both hailed from the same groups as the things she was trying to replace: animals she had only seen in vids and greens that wouldn't grow anywhere near New York City. She shrugged, deciding her father would serve as the best test subject for her latest adventure in "cooking".

Current SIN: Felicity Williams
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Enthusiasm, Intrepid Youth
Physical Damage: □□□□□□□□□□
Stun Damage: □□□□□□□□□□
Initiative: 9+2d6

[Jade_Tarem]

Harmony

Androids may or may not dream of electric sheep, but cyborgs, today, dreamed of... something hazy. Something nonsensical involving baseball and aliens.

The real world, interrupting in the rude manner that it usually did, replaced sleep with high definition, gritty reality and the alert that she would be unable to eat regularly and pay the utilities and make next month's rent. The run she'd been on a few days ago should have fixed that, but it was amazing what a few more guards than advertised could do to send a simple lookout south, and after the subsequent repairs, she'd barely broken even. On top of that, February was a short month, a fact that Meanface McTightwad, or whatever the name of her landlord was, refused to acknowledge when the rent came due.

Looking for work could wait, though, until she was ready to face the day. Showering was something she'd long since figured out - the cybernetics themselves were waterproof, but the connections to the flesh needed some extra attention to keep grime and soap scum from accumulating there - and her teeth were mostly still hers, and still needed cleaning. After that it was breakfast, a soy-based cereal that she barely tasted while surfing the Matrix, looking for noteworthy local news.

Current SIN: Lindsay Wagner
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Active AR
Physical Damage: 0
Stun Damage: 0
Initiative: 11+1d6

[Space Lawyer]

Saito

The park is unfortunately clear of reagents. In fact, it is unusually clear of things that might be reagents. The efficiency of various night prowlers, grabbing anything that might be able to be sold as a real reagent to those who knew them and as a convincing fake to those who didn't, was impressive.

The clearing calm of Saito's search is interrupted by a beep from the commlink in his pocket. It is a message.

CK

CK's experiment produces something that is a close to sausage as an animatronic theme park character is to fully mobile and sentient robot. The principle is the same, but the product is entirely different, and rather unpleasant.

Drakes hobbles out his bedroom with a mighty yawn. The hearts on his XXXL boxers are probably about the same size as CK's actual heart. Aided by a crutch, he manages to cross the kitchen in a single stride and sit in his cheap but heavily reinforced chair. He notices the plate of . . . whatever it was in front of him. He takes a mighty sniff. "Girl, I don't know what you did here, but it smells fantastic!" He takes a ladle-sized spoon and begins eating with gusto.

CK's own breakfast is disrupted by an insistent beeping from her commlink. It is a forwarded message from V-Necker.

Hey, I've got word of something you might be interested in. Good pay, low risk, all the usual lies. I've got info that the source is solid though.

Harmony

The news was almost as bland as the cereal Harmony was chewing in mechanical rhythm. The top item was the mayoral race, as it had been for the last two weeks. Bledsoe had some sort of man-of-the-people event at a pizza joint in Brooklyn, while Yaeger was at a black-tie event at Evo, and Skinner gave a nice stump speech to his base crowd. Next was the financial news. Saeder-Krupp stock had taken a nearly 2% drop. The shadow sites suggested it might be a good idea to stay away from S-K jobs for the next week in case the corp was feeling a bit feisty after a hit like that.

Something a lot more interesting than the news popped up in her vision, a little message icon.

The Message

The message is text-only. Somebody clearly didn't want to be identified. Need a job? Of course you do. Be at Taromka at 2300. Theres an attached code that'll get you in the door. Go to the third floor, private room 4. Don't come all decked out; Dreamweaver is on tonight and you'll look ridiculously out of place. See you tonight!

Nartaki

[SlyJohnny]

Saito muses, silently. A mysterious job offer from a stranger. It's not like he could have expected better. And even an attempted robbery would likely relieve his current boredom.

Gauging that this potential employer will appreciate brevity more than lengthy polished etiquette, Saito taps back only a very quick message. Acknowledged. I will attend. How am I to know you on meeting?

He also stabs off a quick text message to Masato.

Masato-san,

I go to Taromka tonight to meet someone named Nartaki about a job. Is this a name that has weight in the circles you travel?

-Saito

He returns to his bench and catches another hour of shut-eye, before he performs a few quick searches on the public grid for the three terms he doesn't recognise. Taromka is presumably a venue he must learn the location and dresscode of, Dreamweaver some kind of performer or band he should probably study up on, and Nartaki isn't a name he expects to come up on a rudimentary matrix search, but he tries anyway.

[roll0] for hours rest.

Doing matrix search on Taromka, Nataki, and Dreamweaver. Do you want me to roll for those? I'll keep retrying until I get at least one hit on each.

Current SIN: Hachi Tsao
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects (drugs, spells, etc.): Increase Charisma (+4), sustained.
Armor preparation, Potency 3 (5 hours 55 minutes until degradation)
Increase Reflex preparation, Potency 4 (8 hours until degradation)
Physical Damage: 0
Stun Damage: 0
Initiative: 6+1d6

[babel_matrix]

Clean Knuckles

Knuckles smiled brightly at her father's approval before moving towards her own bed and covey hole. In a few moments, the message that blinked across her contact lens was blown up into an sheet-like ARO, her AR gloves dancing across it to highlight terms and names for future reference, though taking care not to run any active searches. Nartaki... She had long since learned to stop talking about business aloud, lest her father lean in and forbid her for whatever reason he could conjure. Sadly, her limited list of contacts offered no elaboration... and V-Necker already provided that wonderfully vague introduction, meaning if he did know anything else... I'm to be none the wiser. She pouted... and then grimaced as she took the first bite of her food. Seeing her father almost finish his serving, she suppressed the grimace and forced the vile creation down with a smile. She made her smalltalk with her father, all while calculating how she might approach this meeting: a conservative club outfit, blue contacts and comm-link, advertising the Dallas SIN she'd never refer to aloud to a client. Looking up, she noticed her father casting a worried look at her... one she couldn't answer just yet. Not with the budget they were on. "I'm going out, {father}," she all but sang, planting a kiss on his cheek as she rushed past him.

He grumbled mid-swallow. "Out? But we've training today!"

"We had training all last week! I'll totally make it up later." She skipped into the bathroom, the only door in the apartment and thin as it was (for a troll) between the two openings for their respective bedrooms. To her, of course, the bathroom may as well have been a royal suite. Leaving the comm-link and AR gloves on a shelf built into the wall next to its entrance, she answered through the closing shudder door. She could almost feel his disbelief, and so she hastily added, "I'm just doing a few groceries, getting some things we need. Then I'm hanging out with some friends tonight."

Drakes looked at the comm-link, eyes suspicious. If the damn thing wouldn't fry in his hands half the time he tried to use it, he'd probe for his own answers. Instead, he grumbled as he tried to think of some other excuse to anchor his energetic student. None that were convincing came to mind before he heard her enter the bath, sighing to himself as he readjusted his huge frame. "Then be sure V-Necker remembers whose daughter you are."

Movement in the water was her only reply. The dragon that covered Drakes' body, sliced into even bits everywhere it showed, moved almost imperceptibly. The old shaman paid it no heed; he didn't need an omen to tell him his daughter might be in over her head. He offered a small gratitude to the Dragon-Slayer, the master of his fate, for his continued freedom and the protection of his only charge... and hoped for the same to be passed onto her in his place, tenfold.

Condition Monitor:
Current SIN: Felicity Williams
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Enthusiasm, Intrepid Youth
Physical Damage: □□□□□□□□□□
Stun Damage: □□□□□□□□□□
Initiative: 9+2d6

[Jade_Tarem]

Harmony

Harmony suppresses a snort at Nartaki's blithe faith that she could easily blend in anywhere. With the exception of her headware, her mechanical parts were all a matching shade of deep blue, save for the silver patches where the serial numbers had been filed off and the anti-theft transponders had been pulled out. Add in the cybereyes, the headware, the long blue hair, and you got an effect that was distinctive enough to be memorable even to the most jaded eye in New York.

Nor did her troubles end there. Her disposable SIN had been, well, disposed of after her last run. She just couldn't risk using it again, but using her day-to-day SIN was a whole new risk. Maybe she could pay with credsticks through the evening.

Harmony continued idly chewing on the bland food even as she processed the problems. Well, one thing at a time then. She'd pay cash whenever possible and, if that didn't work, hope that nothing too illegal got attached to this event. Dress code was trickier. For that, she'd need to do a little research. Her Augmented Reality expanded into several search windows as she pushed several commands through her commlink - a top of the line piece of hardware, by contrast to her poor implanted deck.

The Search
Running Data Searches on Dreamweaver, Taromka, and Nartaki.

Dreamweaver: [roll0]
Tarmoka: [roll1]
Nartaki: [roll2]
Status
Current SIN: Lindsay Wagner
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Active AR
Physical Damage: 0
Stun Damage: 0
Initiative: 11+1d6

[Space Lawyer]

Saito

Search results
Dreamweaver: There are too many results to get any useful data. Without better search parameters, the list of performers who go by Dreamweaver is just too big.

Tarmoka: A club in the Williamsburg neighborhood of North Brooklyn.

Nartaki: It means "dancer" in Hindi.

Harmony

Search results
Dreamweaver: There are a huge number of performers who by the name Dreamweaver. However, the only one that seems to be active in NYC right now is a wiz-folk rocker. A quick reference confirms she has a show at Taromka tonight.

Tarmoka:A club in the Williamsburg neighborhood of North Brooklyn. The name means "starlight" in Hindi. Very popular with two types of people: mojo-slingers and shadowrunners. It has a reputation as being secure and discreet. The agreement among runners seems to be to not cause trouble in and around the place; finding somewhere that caters to their needs, and isn't either a dive or way too overpriced, is too hard to risk ruining a place like this.

Nartaki:It means "dancer" in Hindi. She seems to be a fixer that sets up meetings between Johnsons and runners, usually at Taromka, but never shows herself.

CK

Knowledge results
In addition to Saito's info:

Dreamweaver is a wiz-folk/rock performer. Elf, Indian descent. She came on to the scene in NYC about 3 months ago. Notable for her amazing voice.

Tarmoka is both a club and a top-notch meeting space for making shady deals. The major rule is "don't make trouble, and don't bring your crime here." It would be too inconvenient for a lot of people.

[SlyJohnny]

Saito

Saito refines his matrix search for performers that might be part of the performing lineup at Taromka tonight.

Having found the address, he wanders over in the direction of Brooklyn with the mood of someone in no particular hurry. This lack of a schedule would be relaxing to most people, but it makes Saito edgy, with the result that he arrives at Brooklyn already trying to combat a mood that matches the tenor of the oncoming storm.

At around five thirty in the afternoon, he finds a lonely coffee shop to relax in and get out of the rain. He finds a booth near the back, slips his server 30 nuyen, and indicates with uncharacteristic brevity that they should leave a coffee pot at his table and that he wishes to be left alone.

He sets to work, humming to himself as he twists ribbons around small lengths of wood which are tucked away inside a suit pocket, and carefully etches immaculate kanji lettering into a couple of worn coins, which he secrets carefully away into two silk pouches. The familiarity of the ritual cheers him up, and later, when he calls a spirit of air to him by blowing flecks of rapidly cooling coffee into a napkin, his cheery disposition means he silently negotiates for three full services without too much hassle.

This done, he checks his commlink for any messages from his few contacts in New York, double checks the route to Taromka, and heads out towards the club shortly before 10pm. He wonders about dressing down a little, but he has nowhere to store his suit jacket, and is disinclined to risk losing it anywhere. Perhaps when he gets there people will assume he is one of the event staff.

Current SIN: Hachi Tsao
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Increase Charisma (+4), sustained.
Inijin, Force 6 Spirit of Air (Elemental Attack, Noxious Breath), 3 services owed
Preparations:
Increase Reflexes, potency 4 (8 hours remaining as of ~7.40)
Increase Reflexes, potency 5 (10 hours remaining as of ~8.45)
Armor potency 4 (8 hours remaining as of ~5.30)
Armor potency 5 (10 hours remaining as of ~5.35)
Armor potency 5 (10 hours remaining as of ~8.50)
Armor potency 5 (10 hours remaining as of ~8.55)
Physical Damage: 0
Stun Damage: 0
Initiative: 6+1d6

[Jade_Tarem]

Harmony

After reading up on Taromka, Harmony devoutly wished yet again that her cyberarm had one of the hidden weapon compartments. As it was, if trouble started, she'd need to rely on her decking or her punching, and neither one was the best tactic to employ in a shootout.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. At least the dress code seemed lax. She could bust out a hoodie, some sweats - not too out of place in New York's February at all - and gloves to conceal most of the cybernetics. She wouldn't be turning any heads, but that was fine with her; she got enough of that daily.

With that settled, she started looking for options and advice for upgrading her built-in deck, or making her own. The things were prohibitively expensive, so searching for cheaper alternatives made a lot of sense. Unfortunately, the only places with useful advice seemed to want payment... the free matrix sites only seemed to redirect to the paid ones. What a racket.

[babel_matrix]

Clean Knuckles

Respecting the local traditions was ingrained in C.K. by nearly everyone in her life, and Tarmoka would receive the same respect as any hallowed shrine of the old country. Stepping out of the bathroom with hazel eyes and her comm-link mount on her wrist, she tested the lens' controls, issuing commands by sub-vocals. The skin-toned microphone sticker was registering it fine, greatly magnifying the gray sunlight that danced on a store canopy outside, spotted through the window nearly a block away. With a satisfied smile, she checked her hair one last time in the mirror: the spray-on, fiery orange hair would take vigorous washing to be rid of, but the chance to shake off descriptions was well worth it. Drakes looked at the redheaded, hazel-eyed daughter he never knew he had. "You're not going out looking like that, are ya?"

Knuckles stuck her tongue out at her father, barely holding back a grin as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't wait up for me... I'll see you in the morning." Purse in tow, she checked it again to make sure she was coming clean; from what she knew of Tarmoka, the last thing she wanted to do was waltz in packing enough heat to draw attention. "Love you, daddy!" She called it out as she left, waving goodbye until the door finally closed... and with a determined brow, she dashed through the halls, making small leaps over staircase railings as she worked her way down the emergency stairs, giving small waves to the "watchmen" at every level's entrance.

On the ground floor, she nearly toppled the landlord in the first few running steps towards the front door: an orc poser that Family saw fit to run an apartment building full of misfits, and little else. He stared at her while scratching his sad, three-week stubble, his eternal struggle to grow a beard being no match for the wiry, feminine frame nature blessed him with. A green mohawk and a jacket covered in patches for every goblin band Clean Knuckles never heard of were his hallmarks, and he wore them proudly even now. "No running in the Family's house!" he warned.

She bowed deeply, doing her best to feign humble shame. "[My apologies, sir.]" His Japanese was probably rusty at best, but his suddenly smug look indicated that he at least appreciated the motions. "May the day find you well, Mr.-" She stopped herself, recalling how much he despised his real name. "- Skrunky."

"Just Skrunky, you..." He almost visually swore as he curbed the meta slurs. "Yeah, well, don't forget that the Family has only forgiven your debt and thrown an extra month for good behavior... you've got another payment due in 30 days, same as always." He sneered, trying his best to make already hideous teeth more noticeable. Had he the bravery, Knuckles had no doubt he would've installed false tusks by now. "Maybe this time your father will pay on time?"

"He will, sir," she said softly, bowing her head again even as a smile crept onto her face. Looking back up, she caught him staring at her hair... she frowned. Eventually they'd get word she was no longer running jobs for the Family alone... "I will make sure of it." Shrugging his small shoulders, he muttered a dismissal, suddenly embarrassed to meet her eyes. This served her fine, as she made her quick sprint to Tarmoka to get a feel for it ahead of time.

Condition Monitor:
Current SIN: Felicity Williams
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Enthusiasm, Intrepid Youth
Physical Damage: □□□□□□□□□□
Stun Damage: □□□□□□□□□□
Initiative: 9+2d6
Carried Gear:
Clubbing Outfit
Hair Coloring: Redhead
Enhanced Contact Lens: Hazel
Comm-link (sub-vocal microphone, AR gloves in purse)

[Space Lawyer]

Tarmoka, Williamsburg, North Brooklyn
2230

CK

Tarmoka is in a stretch of road much like the dozens of club rows CK has visited before - neon lights and AROs vie for attention, while the booming beat can be felt as much as heard coming out of the clubs. The people are dressed in their clubbing finest, though what that means is dependent on the club they are trying to get into. The corp-clones are all in sharp suits and barely-there dresses, in line for the latest trend spot, while a rather intimidating crowd gathers outside a biker bar, looking like a(nother) fight might break out any second. For Taromka, it seems that just about anything goes, though natural fibers and a lot of bare skin dominates over suits and street clothes.

The line outside is about 40 people long. An ARO outside features Dreamweaver herself. Seems to fit the pictures from the Matrix; stunningly gorgeous elf of Indian descent, lots of body paint, and not much else. Two troll bouncers, obviously chosen for being big even by that metatype's standards, stand outside the door. One holds a tablet in his hand, waving through people after checking on the device, while the other just stands looking extra-intimidating.

CK gets in line behind a male orc couple, who are very much dressed out for this sort of thing in the shaman look. Feathers, beads, the whole getup. The one on the left can barely contain himself. "Jim, I still can't believe you got us on the guest list for this on my birthday!"

Harmony

Harmony might have looked out of place at some of the high-end clubs that dotted the street, but it looked like she would blend in just fine at Tarmoka. In fact, she happens to be following a group of girls wearing much the same outfit, who had been talking about the club since getting on the subway. Of course, they were only wearing it to disguise what they really had on underneath, because "Daddy is soooo lame, and wouldn't let me wear what everyone knows you have to wear to these things, amirite?", as the one who had been methodically spraying her hair blue had said.

The club isn't hard to spot. A shimmering veil of AR stars dances above the club, occasionally forming into a constellation spelling out Taromka in three languages. An ARO of Dreamweaver is up on the front, the obviously digitally-augmented elf standing twenty feet high. Blue-hair and her cohorts get into line behind a female with shockingly red hair.

Saito

The old man catches a few odd glances at he walks down the street in his rumpled suit, making his way from the places where the young hotshot execs and the middle-managers who still wanted to feel like they were hotshots tended to gather. "Dreamweaver" catches his eye, and he looks up to see an elf female of Indian descent casting a sultry glance at him. Of course, she is twenty feet tall and electronic, so it isn't quite the same thing as having such a stunner cast that look at him in real life. Still, it confirms that this is the right place.

He gets into line behind a group dressed in street-rat fab, their leader a young girl with hair a poorly-dyed blue.

[Jade_Tarem]

Harmony

Standing in line was one of the many aggravations restricted to meatspace, and spending this long in one was another reminder to Harmony - though she really needed to get back in her NetFire frame of mind - of how many goats this deal blew. She'd left her subbie and her f***-off handgun at her apartment, hidden as well as she could manage, and now stood behind a group of girls that, for the grace of God, could have included her, once. She wasn't resentful of them, necessarily, but she was just a bit aggravated toward Nartaki. Mr. Johnson just *had* to have this meeting in person. I'm going to be late due to the line and probably sweating once I get inside from the clothing. If he'd been willing to pick out a nice matrix host, I could have shown up on time and wearing whatever he likes.

She took a moment to make sure she'd have her access code ready. She was, even in this getup, moderately well armored and tougher than she looked, and she knew that the troll bouncers would not give a single digital crap about her reinforced skeleton and metal bits - if they thought she was trouble, she'd be halfway across the block and probably in pieces, ACME-robot style, before she had time to protest.

[babel_matrix]

Clean Knuckles

C.K. suddenly felt like an old maid, coming with as conservative an outfit as she did, but hopefully the extra cloth might afford her more respect where it didn't help her blend in too well. With discretion on the mind, she readied to flash the given code... hoping that it would work. She thought over the ways to indicate it... no ARO would transmit it without risking strangers making the code's scarcity a moot point. The broad-backed man ahead of her gave his ecstatic squeal, earning a suppressed smile from Knuckles. Looking around, she let her eyes pass over the group behind her without stopping, catching eye-fulls of people in and aside from the line that now developed behind her. With a last, coy glance, she checked the walls of the clubs and buildings nearby... and tried to judge how difficult it might be to simply run over them and sneak into the area behind the bouncers. Of course, they might be here to check off the code's usage and make sure who's coming... Sneaking in was shelved; she would wait in the line with the giggling SINners behind her and the ecstatic Orcs in front of her.

I can't believe I didn't put a point in Perception... -_-

Defaulted Perception [Intuition - 1]: [roll0]

[SlyJohnny]

Saito

Saito self-consciously attempts to smooth out his rumpled suit as he glances around him. Any of these people could be runners, he supposes, even the most obvious cybered-up troll ganger would be just lost amoungst this kind of crowd. He approves of his erstwhile employers choice of meeting place.

He reaches out with his senses into the astral, assensing the auras of those closest to him. He doesn't intend to read each person in the line individually, but he's curious about the most garish or obvious astral auras around him, or if there are any spirits lurking around nearby.

Assensing: [roll0]

Current SIN: Hachi Tsao
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Increase Charisma (+4), sustained.
Inijin, Force 6 Spirit of Air (Elemental Attack, Noxious Breath), 3 services owed
Preparations:
Increase Reflexes, potency 4 (~4 hrs 50 mins remaining)
Increase Reflexes, potency 5 (~8 hrs 15 mins remaining)
Armor potency 4 (~3 hours remaining)
Armor potency 5 (~5 hours 5 mins remaining)
Armor potency 5 (~8 hours 20 mins remaining)
Armor potency 5 (~8 hours 25 mins remaining)
Physical Damage: 0
Stun Damage: 0
Initiative: 6+1d6

[Space Lawyer]

CK

As the orc couple in front of her almost sprints in through the door, CK steps up. The troll with the tablet pauses a moment, probably checking CK's SIN, then checks on the tablet in his hand. "Felicity Williams. . . ok, you're in." The other troll opens the door for her with an arm about as big as she is.

Harmony

The girls in front of Harmony are done discarding their disguises by the time they get to the door. It is quite certain that Daddy would not have let Blue out of the house in the outfit she is wearing, which in fact appears to not be an outfit at all, but rather thick body paint.

Harmony's commlink alerts her that a file has just been activated. A burst of communication flies from the device into Taromka's host. In moments though, the commlink registers an error as the file that caused the concern can no longer be found. Before Harmony has time to investigate this curiosity though, she is next in line. The bouncer takes a quick look at her SIN. "Ok, Lindsay Wagner, you're good to go." The door opens for her.

Saito

Most of the people in line are in a good mood. One or two seem upset, but not the radical kind of fury one would need to be worried about. Expectedly, most of the crowd is Awakened. Looking toward the club itself, Saito can see that the place is guarded by substantial wards. None of them look particularly aggressive, but enough that any mischief-makers would find it difficult to get through. The same thing goes with the bound spirits floating around, of various types. Given that this is a club for the mojo-crowd, none of this is particularly surprising. The only people with notable cyberware are the last girl in the group in street clothes, and the bouncers.

It is finally Saito's turn. The troll repeats the same process, opening the door. As he steps through the door though, a guardian spirit hovering near the door takes a much closer look at him, then speeds off.

Inside the club

The place is packed. On stage, the warm-up act is just getting into what seems to be their final number.

The floor plan seems to be based around an octagon, with three floors. On the first floor, one side is bounded by the raised stage. Looking up, people are milling about the second floor, which protrudes over the dance floor. A few seem to be sitting, indicating tables. Multicolored lights flash down from above, but the place is as dim as the usual nightclub. Neon graffiti traces magical symbols from half a dozen or more traditions over almost every surface. Just about as many traditions are represented from the looks of it, based on the costumes. The third floor extends a bit beyond the second, but is sealed behind glass. The stairs are on the far side of the club.

The warm-up act finishes and clears the stage. A hush falls over the crowd. The first notes of music start drifting out, and the hush ends in a roar. Saito notices quite a few of them pop into the astral. A blinding flash of light, and the main act herself appears on stage.

[SlyJohnny]

Saito peers about him with no small measure of awe. The Awakened community exposing themselves like this fills him with a strange mix of emotions, even jealousy. He's spent much of his life revering the one million kami in private, and honouring his mentor spirit in words rather than public deeds, and yet here people wear their devotion openly, in the form of tattoos or jewellery.

Still. Perhaps there will be time to indulge curiosity later. Right now, the ork shoulders his way through the crowd, heading towards the upper floors and the private room his meeting is due to take place in.

[babel_matrix]

Clean Knuckles

As active as she tried to be in the local club scenes... this was entirely a different animal. The sheer scale alone rivaled the largest venues she managed to get into, but the overwhelming force and open presence of the Awakened was entirely different: all around her, mystics from under every path or totem cheered with magically-enhanced voices, danced with wisps of light, and flirted with each other through the sheen of magically heightened beauty. Magic held a conservative presence back home, pooling here and there like mere puddles of the Sixth World's truths... but here... an ocean swallowed her whole.

And when the stage exploded with light, that ocean upon which she desperately tried to stay afloat came upon a hurricane.

The crowd suddenly yelled their fanatical love, and almost half of it went suddenly quiet, their bodies limp and standing in place, sitting cross-legged or leaning on whatever surface or lover they could find, all as they ascended to that plane she had known only in her father's tales. She had always envied the magician's access to the higher planes... but now, it burned in her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt thoughts creep onto her, to enjoy the party regardless, to dance and shiver among the mages, to taste their Traditions and their lives in boisterous celebration...

She shook it away, suddenly alert. Was someone influencing her? Trying to find a mage looking to bend her mind was suddenly impossible; nearly everywhere she looked, there were culprits, presuming the place wasn't warded against such evils. She swore aloud, a noise lost in the roar of sound and metahumanity, and marched towards the nearest staircase, hoping to complete her business and still have time for pleasure afterwards. Carefully avoiding those in trance, and any of the more wolfish attendees, she made her way towards the higher levels.

The fourth chamber of the third circle of this place called to her...

[Jade_Tarem]

Harmony

NetFire - she was definitely in that frame of mind now - actually felt it the moment that the music hit... physically, that is. The bass hit her in rolling waves that sent odd, not-quite-human sensations through her mechanical bits, and more familiar vibes through the rest. She noted with some alarm, followed by amusement, that her Audio Dampers were kicking in as a brief note about power and processing usage splashed at the bottom of her AR vision produced numbers that proved that she'd been in shootouts quieter than this concert.

But beyond that, it was just noise.

They said cybernetics ate your soul, and it was proven that they reduced one's attunement to the mystical side of life. She didn't know about the soul bit, but none of the supernatural effects of the show touched her. Not strong in the gift before, Harmony no longer felt the burst of pride when her old college teams won something. She didn't feel that surge of nervous energy before a thunderstorm. She couldn't sense whatever made even the 'normals' in the room dance to a beat she couldn't hear. The old saying went that they who dance appear mad to those who can't hear the music, but here, in this place, Harmony was the mad one.

The truly distressing thing was that she could absolutely still have, and feel, emotions. In fact, she felt more free and open now than before she'd taken up Shadowrunning, but some part of her didn't want to forget what she'd lost... didn't want to disappear into the Matrix or a stack of BTLs like some runners she knew. It was a refusal of anesthetic for the soul, otherwise she would have insisted on a more neutral - and digital - meeting ground.

Disturbed, NetFire found her way through the revelers to the stairs. It wouldn't do to be late, after all, but on the way, she wondered what Haochen would have made of all this...

[Space Lawyer]

GRMM (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RBWQEBffvY)

The stairs are obviously meant to evoke an old world aesthetic, a large spiral staircase made of what could pass for wrought iron. The rails are formed into the shapes of dancing abstract humanoid forms, who writhe and cavort their way up to heaven. The thrumming bass makes them shake in ecstasy.

The second floor proves to be a collection of tables, holding up revelers who are exhausted from the party below. It also contains the main bar, with scantily clad individuals, uniformly attractive, slinging synthol to the patrons.

The third floor is bathed in red, a strip of crimson lighting running the length of the circling hallway. On the far side is room number 4, an ornate brass numeral on the door.

Saito

Saito can see a properly marked fire exit just to the side as he passes to the stairs. There is nothing posted about commlinks. As he reaches the door, he spots an elf female with blazing red hair following him.

CK

CK escapes to the third floor without incident, though some of the deepweed dealers had looked at her expectantly. She rounds the corner of the hallway, only to find a middle-aged orc male right next to door number 4.

Netfire

Harmony tears her way through the emotional net this crowd seems to be sprouting, and up the stairs. The same red-headed elf that was just in front of Blue in line is headed up too, seemingly with a purpose. Netfire follows Red on to the third floor.

[Jade_Tarem]

Harmony

NetFire hesitates, briefly. The lack of details from Nartaki was coming back to bite her again. The redhead in front of her could be Mr. Johnson, another runner, or something more sinister. Ultimately, though, it didn't matter. Just by being on this floor, she'd walked into a bad position for defending herself, and running away wouldn't fix that.

But she'd be careful, regardless.

[babel_matrix]

The pulsing music was not buffered by the walls, but almost seem carried by it, vibrating up through every channel it found... and even here, mere inches from her objective, it continued to shake her bones and constantly bring up reminders from the comm-link that automatically recognized and registered the song being sung, (with the usual amount of noise about where to buy the song, album, etcetera.)

That detail, and the annoying leering of the occasional, shady wretch, all fell away when she had found the door... and, depending on what that wildly out-of-place suit meant, someone with interest in the meeting. That someone, an Orc that had beaten her to the door, had already noticed her... just as she noticed another coming from behind her. She turned halfway, keeping both in her peripherals as she leaned against the nearest wall. She wasn't going to be only runner on this, right? This sort of remote meeting place, a private room... it made sense on the way here, but she had expected to walk into the room with a whole team and some smiling suit waiting on her, with a nice spot picked out for her.

Now she had to figure these two out... without blatantly yelling her own purpose, if doing courier runs for the Family had taught her anything growing up. I just need to be subtle... use a codeword or something that the right persons would be familiar with... something from the message? "Are you going to use the private room, sir? I was hoping to use it too..." She shifted her glance from the orc to the other, stowed away in her hoodie as she was. "... I feel ridiculously out of place out here." The emphasis was strong. Rather, ridiculously strong. And out of place. Hell yeah, that was perfect. It was not.

While contemplating, smugly, at her amateurish play at subtlety, she finally noticed the lines drawn on the other woman's face, too deep to be make-up and too sharp to be natural. A wiz-rock club hardly attracted that sort of clientele, much less buried under a hoodie... but she said nothing as she continued alternating between looking at the two strangers.

[SlyJohnny]

The older ork in the suit turns to examine the two new arrivals, greeting them both with an impassive poker face. He nods to them both, differentially.

He sizes them up. The young woman lurking at the background could certainly be a runner, with all the chrome she was sporting. And that was just the stuff he could see. Only one of her limbs remained intact. The fact that most of it is concealed under her doubtlessly deliberate choice of clothing causes him to imagine the worst, a person with most of the flesh stripped away. Saito finds himself conciously suppressing a shudder of revulsion even as he analyses what this means. Noone in touch with the magical side of the Sixth World would treat their body that way unless they'd been wounded in some tragic calamity, and this woman didn't look someone who'd picked up a cheap prosthetic from a public hospital after an industrial accident of some type. No, she made her living like this. That made her an oddity in this club, but Saito knew better than to underestimate a person bolstered by cybernetics of that caliber.

The redheaded elven girl was... strange, though. She looked more at home here, but surely too young to be a Ms Johnson, or a runner. Unless she had some kind of talent that made her youth irrelevant... obviously something non-combat... an Otaku, perhaps? What those in UCAS called a technomancer? Still. He's not thrilled at the idea of working with (or for) a child. If the kid is also here for the job, he hopes she'll stay out of the heavier fighting and not require too muh protection.

Saito takes a moment to choose his words, and then speaks. His words are careful, precise, but without a trace of an accent.

"I'm sorry. This room is already spoken for." His voice is smooth and quiet, barely audible under the ascending pulses of the club's music. He notes her deliberate words about feeling ridiculously out of place, as the message said. "But perhaps you are also here for the business meeting?"

He removes his red-tinted glasses and turns them into his pocket so he can look her in the eyes, and extends a hand to shake hers.

"I am Saito. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms...?"

[babel_matrix]

"I am," she answered simply. The Orc removed his glasses, revealing a face markedly older than she expected: though hardly elderly, he was obviously older than most runners got to be... but was certainly of the right age to be a Mr. Johnson.

But then the potential had a name, and the dynamics shifted uncomfortably... a runner, then. Or part of an entourage? Did Mr. Johnsons have entourages? Knuckles allowed herself a smile, but remained on guard. She firmly shook the Orc's hand, no hesitation or corporate, polite softness present in her grip. "Clean Knuckles," she replied, her voice high and matching her youthful appearance, "is my given name. The pleasure is mine, Saito." She turned to regard the third, who remained unaddressed. Finding no other stragglers behind her, Knuckles gave a satisfied nod. Knuckles lacked the Orc's eye for cybernetics, but the laser-drawn crags in the woman's face were enough to at least put her out of place in this club... and fitting in perfectly for this sort of "business meeting" as they were now calling it.

"Are you also here for business?"

[Jade_Tarem]

"I am." NetFire nodded. "And I feel a little out of place just about everywhere."

She appeared to reach the conclusion at the same time as the other two. "So, not to sound dismissive, Knuckles, but you look a little young for this..."

[SlyJohnny]

"We have not worked together before," Saito interjects, noticing that the two women also appear not to recognize each other, "so we do not know one others capabilities yet, and it is important that we do. But perhaps we should not discuss our skillsets yet, in so public a setting." He eyes the door to the private room."For now, our host will know we are strangers. This makes us... divided, and means they will have a superior negotiating position. I choose to believe you are both competent professionals in your respective trades. It is important that we present a unified front and do not quarrel or second-guess each other in front of our host. Wakarimasu-ka?"

[babel_matrix]

C.K. keeps her composure... almost entirely thanks to Saito. The urge to pull under her eye and stick her tongue out at the dismissive one, still unnamed, had to be smothered along with the urge to boast about her "runs" in the past, (as if being a glorified courier counted for much of anything, here.) "I understand, and agree, Saito-senpai." Doing her best to look unmoved, she kept a side glance on the older woman. "Are we ready, then?"

[Jade_Tarem]

NetFire liked the way Saito thought. In fact, given how her negotiations usually turned out, she was almost ready to let him do all the talking. The cyborg nodded and raised her organic arm to knock on the door. "Agreed."

[SlyJohnny]

"Excellent. Let us not keep our host waiting, then." Saito reaches out with his mind, extending his area of magic influence around the two fellow runners like a cloak, so that they too benefit from Amaterasu's watchful eyes. He steps back to allow Netfire knock on the door; if there's no immediate answer, he enters the code they were given into the lock and then tries the door again. Extending Counterspelling over Netfire and CK, free action.

[Space Lawyer]

Private Room 4

The door slides open with a mechanical hiss. The inside of the wedge-shaped room is well-appointed. There is a stocked bar on the side nearest to you. The focal point of the room is a red leather couch that curves around an circular oak table, and two stools. On one of the stools sits a middle-aged human male.

Bland would be almost too strong a word to describe the man. His appearance is almost stultifying in in its averageness, from the ill-fitting gray suit, to the brown hair with gray at the temples (cut to a corporate HR manager's dream style), to the expression that can't tell you if he was expecting to meet runners or his mother. Only the voice gives the last bit away. "Um, uhh, thank you for coming, errrm, runners. I'm Mr. Johnson. I think."

The empty glass on the table gives it away that he has been fortifying himself for this meeting with liquid courage.

[babel_matrix]

C.K. inhaled the room's aromas... and exhaled sharply, letting the noise roll over the shapes and bodies in the room, letting her ultrasound senses taste, feel and hear the physical textures of the bottle of alcohol, of the swooning body of the one who called himself Mr. Johnson, of the polished surface of the bar...

All seemed well. She bowed her head slightly, but waited for Saito to address the man, as they all seemed in agreement to do.

[SlyJohnny]

Saito moves forward, his body language immediately shifting to 'Corporate', becoming pronounced and deliberate, but unobtrusive and non-aggressive. He smiles with his mouth more then with his eyes, bows his head ever so slightly, and leans forward to shake the man's hand. "It is a pleasure, Mr Johnson. I am called Saito. My companions and I look forward to discussing business with you."

He reaches out, snagging a bottle from the bar. "What are you drinking?" he asks, as he pours himself a whisky on the rocks. He doesn't especially want one, and it's a cheap trick, but he has found that mirroring a guest's choice in refreshment is an easy way of establishing trust, commonality, and putting them at ease. And he does think the man should be put at ease; at least for now. Perhaps later I can take advantage of his obvious uncertainty to put pressure on him, during negotiations. Done correctly, he will comply, if only to restore the previous good humour. he muses. Saito refills the Johnson's glass if the man shows even the slightest interest in another drink.

He sits down on the remaining stool, immediately peering at the Johnson's aura, trying to get a sense of the man's mood and general health. He takes his time doing all this; he wants the man to talk, to volunteer information, if he feels like it. If he gets the vibe that the suit would rather get down to business and be quickly on his way, he asks pleasantly, "How is it that we can help you, Mr Johnson?"

[Space Lawyer]

"Whiskey, neat." Johnson accepts the drink quickly. His aura reveals no clues, but his body language tells quite a bit. It doesn't seem he is nervous of the runners, or even of this sort of meeting. In fact, he seems perfectly comfortable with these sort of meetings. He keeps checking over his back, towards the window, though, scanning the floor nervously. His posture towards the three semi to complete criminals in front of him is open, but his back is guarded.

He turns his full attention towards Saito. "Down to business, good, yes, very good." Johnson fiddles with his commlink, and CK's ultrasound is suddenly filled with static. "Now we can talk in assured privacy. This is a matter that requires both speed and discretion, though admittedly more of the former. There is an individual that you must retrieve. He is currently being held by a, what do they call them, wiz-gang. I believe they call themselves the Blood Lightning or Blood Thunder, something like that."

NetFire can hear a bit of an accent in the man's speech; it is the accent of the of the upper levels of corporate society, a precise and clipped diction. She isn't sure whether he is covering it up though, or if it has slowly infiltrated what may be his normal speaking voice.

Johnson continues. " I need you to retrieve this man, and return him to an address I will provide, within five days. The pay is 8000 nuyen apiece. If you accept, I can furnish you with more detailed information. Will you accept my offer?"

[Jade_Tarem]

NetFire did her best to keep her poker face in place. 8000 nuyen would fix the rent, alright, with enough left over for repairs, replacement ammo, and buying a couple of disposable SINs. It didn't help much toward her goal of obtaining a shiny new deck, though. Resisting the urge to comment, she instead called up Augmented Reality without moving and began her matrix search for the Blood Thunder or Blood Lightning wiz-gang. Anything found is sorted and sifted for relevant data, and then forwarded to the other two's commlinks. She didn't know if Saito could check it while talking, and hoped he wouldn't accept a fixed rate with the job specifics still unspecified, but she was willing to wait and see if he knew what he was doing rather than assuming that he didn't.

More searching!

Blood Thunder? [roll0]
Blood Lightning? [roll1]

Focus on interactions between the gang and the corp interests in the area...

[babel_matrix]

C.K. showed no sign of reaction to the job offer, remaining still and letting her eyes drift between Mr. Johnson, the whiskey, and Saito. Clean Knuckles had never taken on a wiz-gang before; though she thought herself fairly well-informed as to what that would entail, between the most infamous depictions by the media, awesome trid-vids and her father's own tales, she found herself entirely out of her depth in identifying the very gang they were about to piss off...

... but that hardly mattered. Because she just got offered 8,000 nuyen for a single job. Is this guy serious?! I mean, I thought I'd be lucky to see a thousand.... Hell, that'd be double what I've ever gotten for a run, but... but eight thousand?! That's almost three months rent! Or I could pay the rent for the next month... buy the latest New Frontiers top I saw on the way here... I could even buy a new set of soy droppers for the kitchen- Clean Knuckles' eyes glazed over. She had been so focused on her old pay rates that she almost reverted right back to that scale. She had to think big, now, about this nuyen... She had to reach for the Heavens with this newfound income. I could buy a premium soy dropper kit! Of course, she had to bring someone back alive... from a wiz-gang. But what she lacked in experience was, as it is for so many young runners, immediately made up for by a hunger for funds.

[SlyJohnny]

Saito had been about to take a sip of his drink, but sets it back down in front of him when the figure was mentioned. He sets his face back from "friendly" to "impassive", as if he is mildly displeased, but far too polite to mention it or give too obvious an indication of it. Noting the Johnson's fear at being attacked, he extends his counterspelling over the man in front of him as a precaution, and tries once again to assense his aura. As he does so, he tries hard to stamp down thoughts of what he could do with the money. It would mean living like a respectable person again. I could get an apartment, a nice one. A half-decent SIN that allowed me to practice openly as a kannushi. Careful. Don't let the greed of your ego influence this deal.

He makes a show of thinking it over for a few moments, and then speaks, slowly and thoughtfully. "A wiz-gang. This presents a number of... challenges, for a successful extraction. I do understand that you do not wish to share sensitive information until we have agreed to take the job, but there are specific details we must know in advance."

Saito sips his whisky, maintaining eye contact with the suit as he does so.

"Firstly, was the target abducted, or did he go to this gang willingly? Even if abducted, does he have prior relationships with any of their members? I do not wish to pry into your business, I only care insofar as it affects the job; we need to know whether the target is likely to come with us willingly, or whether we need to be prepared to subdue him and carry him away once we find him."

Saito lets that sink in for a moment, then continues.

"Secondly, how do you think his captors are treating him? If he is likely to need medical attention or be unable to move under his own power once we find him, that is another challenge my team will need to overcome."

Saito glances at Netfire and Broken Knuckles, as if they're exchanging a private look and are both recognizing how complicated and expensive the job could be. Then he turns back to Mr Johnson.

"Lastly... this address that he must be carried to. It is more than likely that a wiz gang will have the resources to track us, both via the astral and otherwise, and will attempt to retrieve their captive even after we successfully raid them. We will of course cover our trail, but it will take time, and likely become expensive. You then require our services for a both a dangerous retrieval, and then an extended period of close protection and secure transportation of an asset. In deference to your likely wish not to reveal the exact address at this stage, can you at least reassure us that it is within New York, and that we won't need to cross state borders? That would not be a problem, but it would be an additional expense."

[Space Lawyer]

Johnson mulls over Saito's questions for a bit. "Very inquisitive, aren't you? Good, I like that. Your attention to detail is admirable." He takes a drink.

"He was abducted. He does have prior relationships with some of the gang members, though I would hardly say they were close. I cannot imagine that they are mistreating him though.

There will be no need to cross state borders, as far as I am aware. As to this "extended period" that you speak of, I expect delivery promptly once this individual is retrieved. Once the retrieval is complete, he will be adequately protected. Covering your trail is your problem; I have little care if you do so or not."

[SlyJohnny]

Saito nods, wearing his serene poker face. Something about the way this guy glances nervously at the floor, of all places, is making him a little on edge. He casts his thoughts through the Astral, addressing his air spirit, ::Inijin-san. Discreetly guard this room and the corridor outside it on both the Astral and the material, alerting me to any that observe us or approach the door. :: He maintains eye contact with Mr Johnson, speaking aloud even as he silently requests the service of the kami. He picks up his glass again, slowly, trying to come across as relaxed and confident. He pretends to think carefully.

"Satisfactory. As I say, tracking and then dealing with a wiz gang will be challenging, but I am confident that it is nothing that this team couldn't handle, within the timeframe that you've given us. Were I and my companions to enter into this contract, Mr Johnson, it would require us to purchase some additional material in advance of mounting the rescue, plus other expenses. I must therefore ask that we be paid half in advance, half on completion. I am sure you were expecting this, but I think it best to agree it formally now, before we hear further details."

He finishes his drink and sets the glass down on the table, as if he's ready to leave. "If this is too far outside the scope of what has been budgeted for this venture, then I think it best that we not take up any more of your valuable time. You will doubtless want to set up a meeting with another group as quickly as possible, given that you are working to a deadline." Saito phrases this last part as genuine sycophantic politeness and professional courtesy, while tacitly reminding the nervous man that refusing to come to an arrangement now will mean that he has to stay exposed for longer and visit another insecure location. I do not know what terrors nip at your heels and disturb your sleep, sarariman, but I hope they move you into hurrying to close this deal quickly, and for the price I'm asking. he thinks to himself.

Current SIN: Hachi Tsao
Broadcast Status: Public
Effects: Increase Charisma (+4), sustained.
Inijin, Force 6 Spirit of Air (Elemental Attack, Noxious Breath), 2 services owed, currently guarding room and corridor
Preparations:
Increase Reflexes, potency 4 (~4 hrs 50 mins remaining)
Increase Reflexes, potency 5 (~8 hrs 15 mins remaining)
Armor potency 4 (~3 hours remaining)
Armor potency 5 (~5 hours 5 mins remaining)
Armor potency 5 (~8 hours 20 mins remaining)
Armor potency 5 (~8 hours 25 mins remaining)
Physical Damage: 0
Stun Damage: 0
Initiative: 6+1d6

[Space Lawyer]

Johnson gives Saito a stern appraisal, his mouth in a small frown. After an uncomfortable silence though, he nods. "Very well. I will accept these terms. Be warned though," he leans forward, "should you simply abscond with this payment, I am willing to loose a substantially greater sum to make my feelings on theft very clear. The initial balance will be forwarded to you from our mutual acquaintance, who will also hold the remainder in escrow. Do we have a deal?"

[SlyJohnny]

"My honour is worth more than 4000 nuyen, Mr Johnson. You have made the right decision." Saito says, deadly serious despite how corny the line sounds in this day and age. He turns back to look at the other two runners, making eye contact with both in turn, seeking objections or further questions.

Assuming neither of his team-mates pulls a firearm or throws a drink across the room in reaction to the deal proposed, Saito turns back, giving a curt nod. "We have a deal."

[babel_matrix]

The deal was sound... but Clean wanted more on these "prior relationships" the Johnson had mentioned. What was it going to mean for getting the hostage out? How were they going to get themselves clear of any backlash once the wiz-gang realized their charge had been re-kidnapped? None of this, however, likely fell outside the purview of the details the Johnson was willing to give only after they agreed... something that bothered C.K., but did not change the curt nod she gave her senior.

[Jade_Tarem]

NetFire nodded absently, splitting her attention between the meeting and her ongoing Matrix search. It wasn't going well. Showing a disappointing lack of creativity for a set of groups claiming to exhibit individualism and freedom from the sterile machinations of the corporate-run world, at least 7 local wiz-gangs had the name "Blood Something," with the number of hits becoming prohibitively high if she removed the governors forcing the results to start with the word "blood" from her search. What does come up, though, is a news blip about a shootout in an unidentified z-zone in Queens, notable if for no other reason than that one of the involved groups had started splashing blood around into magic sigils. A quote from a minor Aztech flunky denied involvement from the megacorp... though that was SOP, really, whether truth or fiction.

[Space Lawyer]

"Very good. Now, for the details of the job. You will be retrieving a young man by the name of Kevin Orren." Johnson slides over a cheap commlink, with a picture on the screen. It is presumably Kevin, a caucasian male in his early twenties, with brown hair in a fashionable short style and hazel eyes. He is dressed in a suit, standing against a white background. It is clearly some sort of headshot, but not a mugshot.

"Once you retrieve him, you will need to deliver him to the private terminal at JFK. Make sure to have this commlink with you; it will let you in through the appropriate gates, and give you the exact delivery location." Johnson's personal commlink give a ding. Checking it, he say "It appears that the funds have been transferred into escrow."

[SlyJohnny]

Saito takes the commlink- using both hands to pick it up, as is only polite- and studies the image carefully, committing it to memory.

"Where was Kevin kidnapped from? Do you have any information on those that took him... security footage of the abduction, information about how many men were involved? Anything?"

Saito turns to hand the commlink to Netfire for safekeeping. The cyborg has been fiddling with her own commlink since the meeting started, which suggests to Saito either that she's the most technically-minded of their trio and should therefore be trusted with the commlink, or that she's bored and is bunking off by playing some damn sim-game or other, and therefore needs to be put to work.

"We need to know more about Kevin's relationship with this group. How they are likely to be treating him, whether he will come with us willingly. Is Kevin himself Awakened?"

Saito falls silent, thinking. "Having more pictures of him would greatly help our search. So would audio of him speaking, or motion capture. If you cannot provide these now, could you arrange this?"

[babel_matrix]

Clean's fears and questions had come almost reflexively from the veteran, something she appreciated. She did her best to keep her head high and look the Johnson in the eye, but in her gut she was all butterflies; while her training might help conquer fear, it could nothing for sheer, teenage excitement. She watched the Johnson's face as he replied, searching for any sign of deceit or half-truths in explaining exactly why a former relationship was even worth mentioning...

[Space Lawyer]

"I'm sorry, but I do not have any footage of the abduction. As for footage of Kevin, there are some files on the commlink that will provide you with the information you desire. Kevin is Awakened. As for whether he will come willingly or not, I can't say for certain. After all, the group he is with has access to magic, and there are enough of them to enact a fairly powerful ritual. Who knows what they could have done to his mind in this time? Or, maybe they have left him alone. I do not know."

Johnson looks over his shoulder again. "Now, time is of the essence. I would very much appreciate it if you get to work."

[SlyJohnny]

Saito nods. "So ka. Unless my colleagues have further questions, we will begin planning immediately. Do you require this private room further, Mr Johnson, or might my team use it for as long as it is paid for?"

[Space Lawyer]

With full confidence that business has been concluded, and his presence rendered unnecessary, Johnson throws back the last of his drink and stands. He straightens his suit, but it is only out of habit, as the cloth reveals its obviously expensive properties by falling neatly into place, wrinkle-free. The suit silhouette reveals a powerfully built body that has gone to seed.

"The room is yours until closing time, which is another way of saying until the owner decides until it is time for you to leave. As it is, it is time that I leave. Thank you for your time; I do hope I will see you in a few days time." He hustles out the door, powerful legs carrying him quickly.

The group is alone, the powerful beat from the concert downstairs thrumming through the floor. Now that Johnson is gone, it is quickly apparent that the smell of his sweat was overpowering the fresheners in the venting systems, which are now reasserting themselves. The flashing lights from the floor increase in frequency and intensity, obviously building to a crescendo.

[SlyJohnny]

Saito moves his glass around, the ice cubes clinking softly together. He stares at the door for a few moments after Mr Johnson leaves. "I wanted to ask him what he was so afraid of. But he would not have told me anyway." he muses aloud, to noone in particular

The ork turns to the other two. "Well. If we are to work together, we must divulge our skills and capabilities. As a gesture of trust, I will do so first. I am called Saito. I am a kannushi mage. Amaterasu- she who is sometimes called the Fire-Bringer, here in the west- blesses me with the power to make protective charms, mend wounds, and influence the minds of others. My voice has weight amongst the Thousand Kami. One of them watches over us in the Astral now, so I believe you can speak freely without being overheard through magic. What is it that each of you bring to this team?"

He sets the glass down, linking his fingers together and holding his hands clasped in front of him. "As to the job, I have a contact who may know of this gang. Perhaps he could at least give us a neighbourhood to start looking. Wiz-gangs can be dangerous. A lot depends on how many summoners they have. While it would be difficult to rescue this person in stealth, and make them believe that they still hold him for a time, that strikes me to be a better option than a daylight raid."

He eyes the commlink suspiciously. "Our employer's insistence that we keep that commlink with us when we make delivery makes me a little nervous. I wish I had the technical skills to know what is inside it."

[Jade_Tarem]

Harmony raises an appreciative eyebrow at Saito's description of his capabilities. Having magical support was rare, and always appreciated. "Nice to meet you, Saito. You can call me NetFire, and I might have the expertise to see what's going on in that commlink." She smiles easily, warping the seal-line on her face slightly as her eyes refocus and flash, just a bit artificially. "I'm a proficient decker, and I have quite a bit of expertise with computer hardware and software, as well as cybernetics - for obvious reasons. I'm passably skilled in pretty much every branch of engineering, and I have a little bit of legal training, though if you get busted I'd still recommend calling a *real* lawyer. I've juuust started looking into tinkering with weapons and armor, as well as taking some basic navigational courses, but I'm not confident in those skills yet." She gestures to herself with her obvious prosthetic arm. "As you can see, I've been extensively modified. It wasn't really by choice, but I'm more than willing to take advantage of the benefits it offers. I'm tougher and stronger than I look, my mechanical limbs have pretty good coordination, and my reflexes have been boosted to boot. In short, I'm a lot more durable than the average decker you might be used to working with, but I'm not a pocket street sam - I'm only a decent-ish shot, and I don't pack the kinds of upgrades that can really put the hurt on people in a fight." She holds up a dark blue finger. "Also, I'm a lot heavier than I look, so don't try to heroically catch me from a fall or casually toss me over your shoulder if I go down. Others have tried, and it's ended quickly and stupidly for every non-troll."

She fiddles with the commlink. "I'm not sure I have a contact who can help us. I'm not a good people-person, really, but I did some research while you and Mr. Johnson were negotiating. There's about three dozen blood-themed wiz gangs in the city, but one thing did catch my eye - there was a nasty showdown at a z-zone in Queens that involved a wiz gang, though the news outlets didn't think it worthwhile to put any more detail into their reports than that. It might be a helpful reference for your contact, and I can keep looking into less public data sources."

[babel_matrix]

The Johnson left, his secrets safely tucked away. The other runners hadn't reacted to his dodgy talk, but then C.K. had always gotten that same vibe from other employers in this business. She said nothing as he left, and listened as Saito and NetFire introduced themselves. All the while, once NetFire showed off her prosthetic, Clean Knuckles found herself staring at its inhuman color, the sculpted, lifeless musculature that covered its surface, until a brief silence told her it was her turn for introductions. "She Who Beats Tyranny with Clean Knuckles... that's my name, but you can call me C-Kay," she added with a nervous laugh. She recited the small "résumé" she had mentally prepared for this sort of conversation, using words that a professional might wield. "I am an unarmed combat and infiltration specialist, and I know my way around the hard end of a security system... though I worry that sneaking around a wiz-gang won't mean much with Astral spies..." She started suddenly, realizing she had just sold herself short. "B-but I'm sure my contributions will still be suitable for this job, of course!" She waited a few heartbeats, eyeing the other two. ... I think they know I'm underaged. Should I assure them I'm twenty-one...? Does my disguise look right? Should I aim for nineteen, or- No no no, don't mention your age, you don't need to prove anything, just be... assertive. She held her head high, nodding smartly with a small smile. "My-... ehm. My contact may have had a run-in with them in the past. I'll pick the chummer's brain and dig up what I can on my own." She stood up and began working on her comm-link, ready to exchange information with her new partners... it was a new age of professionalism, one she thought she was ready for. No, one that she was ready for, awkward as the start may have been. Can't believe I almost listed my dad as a contact...

[SlyJohnny]

Saito nods to Netfire, already warming to the cyborg now that she's apparently produced a lead so swiftly. "Outstanding. That could narrow it down. I wonder if the incident was the abduction, or a conflict with a rival gang. Recruiting their enemies to our cause might make the job easier."

He eyes her curiously. Engineering and legal training? Why is she here, now? What was she before? Does she see this life as a choice, then? All interesting questions that it would be bad etiquette to ask. He files them away for later. "If you could investigate the commlink, then. It looks as if we might shortly be parting to each perform our own digging, and should trade commlink ID's to keep in touch. Do you need to do anything to make sure we have secure lines of communication with each other?" Saito removes his own commlink from his jacket pocket and sets it down on the table, unlocking it so NetFire can tinker with it if need be. "Please forward me whatever pictures or videos Mr Johnson gave us, too."

As CK speaks up, Saito suppresses the urge to raise an eyebrow as the younger girl proclaims she is a martial arts specialist. He knows better than to underestimate an opponent based on size, but still. This girl looks like she'd get chewed up like a biscuit in the first few seconds of any serious brawl with a real ganger. Is this some kind of joke? Did she get onto this job through fraud, somehow? And that name? She doesn't look native american, so it seems like a very immature choice of handle. Still, it's best not to offend her if she actually does have some kind of hidden skill.

"Unarmed combat? Interesting. What is your budō? I was a student of jujitsu, when I was your age. I practised for many years." Apparently it's his turn to abruptly feel awkward. He shifts his weight, suddenly concious of his advanced age. "But I subsequently spent a greater number of years in... well. In very constricted solitary confinement. So I am not as fast as I once was. Though I used to be very good. Perhaps we can spar together later." He says, carefully. That seems like the best solution, he thinks. Taking her at her word, but testing it under the guise of practice. Perhaps, in the extremely likely event that he trounces her, he can gently talk her out of this foolishness before she gets herself killed, and then he and the metal woman can recruit another runner to fill the void.

"Oh. And were you both summoned here by Nartaki? Had either of you worked with them before? I don't even know who they are." He confesses.

[babel_matrix]

Clean opens her commlink to receive NetFire's input as well, albeit with a moment's more hesitation than Saito. At Saito's question, she blinked twice... and shined a genuine grin. "My budō is budō." She worked with NetFire, but also multi-tasked a bit, sending a private communication to her father's comm-link in a simple message, written in Japanese: Coming home late, but safe. Need information when I get back. All my love, father. "My sensei told me that was the best way to describe it until I could find my true master... but I'd love to spar, some day! It's very hard to find sparring partners." After letting NetFire respond in turn, Clean shook her head at the Nartaki question they both held. "I should say I received his request indirectly, through my fixer. I suppose he could have given it to anyone... weird that he would give a name, though. Probably fake, right?"

[Jade_Tarem]

NetFire thinks over Saito's question. "Nothing's truly secure except what's off the 'net entirely, but no, I should do fine with your commlink code. I'll send you the data as soon as I'm sure it's free of cute little extras. I'll try to work out something clever for communication in the meantime."

At CK's analysis, she nods. "Definitely fake, not that that's anything new around here, unless you think my parents had a weird sense of humor," Harmony deadpans. "But yeah, Nartaki arranged for me to be here too. I think he, she, or it, likes being the middleman for the middlemen. The extra layer of indirection probably comes in handy."

[SlyJohnny]

"We are in agreement, then. I shall go and speak with my contact, and contact you when I have something to report. I trust you will do the same." Saito reaches into the folds of his jacket and removes two small sticks with ribbons twisted about them, (http://sakura.tsugaru.com/izumo/image/gohei-b.jpg) and slides them across the oak table, one to each of his team members. "These are protective charms. Armor. Touch the ribbon on the left... the left side, remember this... to activate it. Once you touch it, the effect will last 5 minutes. They'll stay fresh for eight hours. After that, the charm will weaken, and thirteen hours from now it will be gone entirely. Keep it somewhere you can reach it easily if you're attacked, but where it won't be touched accidentally."

He rises, and bows slightly. "Sayonara, NetFire, CK." he says, before heading towards the door, intent on leaving the club and heading towards the district where Masato lives, intent on finding a late night coffin hotel as nearby as he can manage.

[babel_matrix]

She handled the charm daintily, eyeing the paper ribbons as she turned it around in her hand, careful to not activate it by accident. "Ah... domo arigato, Saito. Then until we meet again, sayonara." Clean put the charm away carefully in her purse and left the zipper open just enough to reach a finger in. Clean gave the man a few minutes to make his exit, allowing their departures to be as unconnected as their arrivals. She had only her father to question before she resorted to hitting the streets on her own, and the charm was a nice insurance on that front... ... but if I ended up tipping off the gangers beforehand... best I not. What if I ruined my first big run?! I'd never get work then... V-Necker would stop giving me work... I'd be eating soy with only three colors for the rest of my days... then we'll have to move back into a pod hotel... I'm not a kid anymore, there's no way I'd fit in there with dad! It would be terrible... To any observers, being NetFire at least, Clean seemed to go from happy, to stern and business-like, to sulking teenager in the space of nine seconds.

Given nothing else from NetFire, who Clean allows to depart second to last if she chooses, Clean waits another five minutes before departing on her own, scenic route back home.

[Jade_Tarem]

Netfire continued to sift through the news for a bit, letting the beats wash up through her, and past her, and still to no effect. She almost asked CK what it felt like, but decided that it would come off as a bit too creepy. Instead, she went with, "Quite the spokesmen, our Mr. Saito. I wonder if he'd help us fence anything we pick up after the fact." Without waiting too long for a response, the cyborg made her way to the door, shooting a quick text to CK as she left. I'll be in touch as soon as I have something.

[Space Lawyer]

Saito

The first strains final song croon out as Saito pushes his way through the crowd. Most of them seem near-zombified at this point, either fully absorbed in the astral or so completely blasted out of their skulls that it wouldn't be amiss to call for medical attention.

The peace inside stands in stark opposition to what Saito finds outside. The clouds that had been threatening all day had finally burst, dumping a torrent of rain onto the city. Even the troll bouncers had taken shelter under the building's awning. The considerably emptier street consists mostly of people dashing for summoned cabs.

Before Saito even makes it into the wet zone though, his bound spirit of air floats down to him. <Master, I have been given a message from one who calls herself Nartaki. She knows of your financial predicament, and offers respite and hospitality until this storm has passed. If you would like to accept, you may find her in the office on the second floor.>

Netfire

The powerful chords of the ballad thrum for Netfire's departure. The rain is nearly a solid wall by the time she gets outside. Luckily, the bus back to her place was right on time. Handy thing, having the bus schedule in your head. The bus is mostly full of the dregs of society who couldn't afford a cab; good company for a runner. The bus driver glares at Netfire from behind the thick transparent (probably bulletproof) booth that enclosed him. The rest of her fellow bus-goers didn't look much friendlier.

Netfire makes it home with no problem. In fact, the time on the bus had given the rain to slacken a bit. Things were looking up.

CK

By the time Clean Knuckles makes her way downstairs, the last notes of the song are fading from the air. Those of the crowd that were still capable of moving under their own power were returning from the astral and shuffling either to the bar ("Last call!" goes the cry) or outside. A squad of security guards and janitors stood ready to encourage the incapable to do the same. The easiest way for CK to get to the exit is actually by moving closer to the stage, out of the flow. As she does though, she passes directly in front of Dreamweaver. The elf is even more breathtaking up close, uncomfortably so. Even more uncomfortable is the slow wink and luring smile she directs at CK.

[babel_matrix]

Clean felt her cheeks warm as the star of the show seemed to call to her with those small gestures, meant solely for her... right? W-Wait... I'm in a crowd... I mean, she couldn't possibly mean to just be directing it to- Dreamweaver nodded, as if to confirm. Oh my God... she knows! The need to leave the pit, both by the lack of show and by the urging of security, had the crowd become a confused mixture of directions: the people who finally reached the outside world were like waves crashing on a cliffside, seeing the rain, cursing loudly, and rolling back into the building to seek comforts without the sky's wretched sobbing. Some had long-since acquired seats at the bar, never having been intent on leaving so soon, choosing instead to begin the hunt, some continuing an astral journey while slumped at the bar, others coming around from their own projections, astral, chemical and cellular. All around her, Clean Knuckles was bombarded with Dreamweaver ads and fluffing that penetrated even her "professional" spam filters, giving the entire affair the concrete ugliness of the world that waited outside, the world put on pause by the show...

... but Dreamweaver's eyes pulled on Clean, and she wasn't sure how to let the performer know that the contact was successful. She was a face among millions, any movement lost in the ocean, any resistance met with shoving and cursing. She was hastily falling in line... when a shadowrunner was never supposed to, out of professional code, out of personal commitment. Stand up, then... and dare them to shove you. The voice felt foreign in her own head... but it made sense. Clean stood tall, facing Dreamweaver directly, and did not budge. She tensed her body, held her head high, and as the voice urged... dared the rolling, rude masses to so much as lay a finger upon her. Clean held Dreamweaver's gaze... and already forgot the crowd, which parted and shoved just to be a few clean inches away from the pillar in their path.