[Shadowrun 5e] The Bleeding Edge

[Thanatos 51-50]

Chapter One:
Vagrancy

You get to know a person for a while -- even if the relationship is strictly business -- and you learn a few quirks about the way they communicate. That's just Metahuman nature, Chummer.
So, when your fixer sent you an uncharacteristically brusque message, it raises an eyebrow.

The Vagrant Master. 1330 tomorrow. Solid work.

And that's it. They either don't reply to your follow up messages or explain patiently that's all they can give you.

The Vagrant Master isn't difficult to find in the Matrix.

In meat, it's significantly harder, you learn quickly how to pick out the subtle AR advertisements from the spammy clutter in the Barrens that point you to it.

A little bit of legwork told you the lease on the building was recent, and the readily-available floor plans are less than a year old, although through the haze of acid rain, the building is a special kind of dilapidated, faux-wooden walls pock-marked and pitted more than the year's worth of acid rain would normally suggest. The front door hangs half-off its hinges and the AR sign's code produces the occasional, spiky, out-of-place artifact -- the 2075 equivalent of a neon sign's letter buzzing in and out. It's a squat building, no more than a story tall, with no readily visible roof access from the public streets. But that's just good business.
The parking lot contains a sleek limousine, polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the mid-day glare of the barrens a little too perfectly. It is flanked by squat Harley-Davidsons, saddlebags bulging with half-heartedly concealed weapons and an aura of absolute menace.
They're tigers in the Matrix, glaring with equal parts ferocity and cunning at every passing persona.
The only other thing in the parking lot is a throwback -- and old Ford Americar, somehow not up on concrete blocks. Its paintwork may have once been bright green, but time and tide of turned it into a patchwork of rust and graffiti.

The half-open door swings in easily at your touch, and the dim, narrow foyer is lit only by the light from outside and a red-orange glow from the bar proper. A hand-carved sign -- again of faux-wood politely asks guests to check their weapons in "the cabinet". The cabinet in question here is a half-rotted wooden construct -- real wood, strangely enough -- with its lock ham-fistedly removed and thrown out untold ages ago.
Immediately visible in the bar is a human bartender, his right arm popping and seizing as it polishes the same six or so centimeters of bartop to a mirror shine, while anything outside the rag's reach is heavy scarring, filled with a thick layer of dust and neglect. He does not have a left arm. It ends at his shoulder. The bartender has the far-off look of somebody actively involved in whatever is playing on his image link, and appears oblivious to the world.

Inside the bar proper, two other metahumans sit. One is a sleek, regal-looking elf, filing his long nails into points. In AR, those same nails are decorated with blue-white flames. A quick peek into the Matrix reveals he's the only one here without a default persona. There, he's human, and a Chinese guru, meditating cross-legged, fixed to the ground only by his long, true-red beard. He sits underneath a sign advertising private Matrix booths for ten nuyen per hour.

The other is a massive troll in a ratty, faux-victorian suit, complete with ragged bowler hat impaled on a horn. He checks a pocketwatch compulsively. It appears to be shimmering with gold, but it's sheen is too brilliant to be real. In between he takes long, slow pulls of a dark stout. He look up as you enter, and then back to his watch.
He's the only one to acknowledge you in any way.

[Chivy]

Dressed in her now almost customary faded blue jeans, grey t-shirt, black armored jacket and old army boots, Digit paused outside of the Vagrant Master. Ignoring the rain dripping down her face, she mentally ran through the check-list Crunch, the orc gang leader who had gotten her into running, had started hammering into her since day one.

Identity? She turned her attention to her Renraku Sensei commlink with a thought. Both her abilities as a technomancer and her implanted datajack allowed her to mentally access her electronics without the need for archaic screens or physical controls. She had loaded her Abigail Winters sin as well as some cred to the commlink. Her persona for her ‘link was an off the shelf bit of code which looked like an elf dressed in a black power suit.

Network? Her Renraku Sensei controlled the electronics in her PAN. A small screen in augmented reality told her that her network was secure, but she knew that it was nowhere near safe. People like her could waltz in there and grab whatever they wanted, so she scrubbed it clean regularly. All she left on there was the single sin she was running and some random data she nicked from passersby. Her most important data was stored safely in her synthetic lower cyberarm which she accessed through her technomancer abilities. The chrome had been a quick and dirty solution to having her arm blown off and it had taken time for her to get used to the cold metal in the morning, but she couldn’t imagine her life without it anymore. Technomancers, like herself, weren’t universally loved, so she used the arm as a ‘place she hid her cyberdeck’. It was an alomst perfect beard. Her Living Persona she kept in silent mode, using the Sensei’s active persona as cover, while peaking out from under it's dress.

Firearm ready? Her Predator replied to her mental questioning that it was loaded with a clip of stick and shock rounds and that she had three other fully loaded clips on her person. One of which held more stick and shock rounds, the others regular. Digit checked that the draw was clear and wouldn’t snag if she needed to get it out fast. It was.

You ready? She had omitted the rest of the list, mostly because she didn’t carry a bat covered in razor wire or wanted to show off what little muscle she had. People wanted her for her mind and skills, not her meat. Well johnsons did in any case. The thought of her showing of her limp noodle biceps and people being impressed brought a twitch to her lips. With a small sigh she decided she was as ready as she was going to be and finally pushed inside the building.

She took a few seconds to scan interior and the occupants and quickly noticed a discrepancy. Whoever was in the limousine wouldn’t of driven himself. The bikes outside didn’t drive themselves either, nor did the ford. Even if the limousine driver hadn’t come in, or was just it’s autonav program, there was still at least one person not immediately visible. Probably more as none looked like the muscle which’d ride the bikes.

Pushing down her irritation at not even knowing who she was meeting, or even if she was meeting somebody in the meat or in a private matrix booth, she quickly checked the time. She was early, not as early as she would have liked, but early enough. She had time. She walked towards the barman and said
Soycaf. Scalding hot, thanks.

She then moved to the side of the bar and settled down to wait for her drink and to study the place and people a bit more.

I’m going to search for silent running Icons in the area (100m): FYI: pages 235 & 241. I’m also running silent so I get -2 to the dice pool.
[roll0]
If this has a net hit my question will be; are there icons running silently in the area.

If so I go in search of the Icon(s), no idea how many there are so I’ll start with the two I expect;
[roll1]
[roll2]
These are rolls opposed by Logic & sleaze

[Space Lawyer]

Anya
0850 - High Cloud Apartments, Sumner Neighborhood, Auburn District

Anya had been semi-awake for a good half-hour already, but she was just now getting up the willpower to make it out of bed. Her head was pounding, and her muscles still sore from last night's after-party. She'd managed to charm her way past the guards into the show, and her altered guest pass had managed to withstand the scrutiny of a buggy scanner. After that, it was mostly a blur of lights and colors, intermingled with blaring sounds and odd smells provided by her olfactory booster. Still, she had ended up in her own bed, uninjured and with most of her clothes, so it couldn't have been too raucous. The alarm on the display-mirror blares again, insisting she get up. The series of chirps from the commlink is what provides the real incentive though - that particular pattern belonged to Johnny, and he knew damn well to call her this early only in the case of work or emergencies. Anya's sort of business simply didn't happen in the morning, so she wasn't usually one to get up for it.

0930
After a quick hygiene routine and some crammed down soykaf and soy-noodles, Anya takes in the message from Johnny. Couldn't have given me a little more to go on, Johnny? After a bit of time on the Matrix, Anya was the floorplans to the Vagrant Master loaded on her commlink, and route through the Barrens that wouldn't get her killed. Not quite comfortable with the unusually normal appearance of the place, she calls Pete. If anyone would have a bit more on the place, it would be him. "Morning, Pete, it's Wolf.
"Wolf, huh? What, you working or something? 'Fraid the big bads are listening in on you?"
"Yeah, this about work."
"Yeah, yeah. Whaddya want?"
"First off, thanks for that old ticket. I managed to fix it up so it got me right in. I'll even tell you how if you could give me a bit of information. Nothing big, just need to know something about a bar. A place called the Vagrant Master."
"The Vagrant Master? Yeah, I might know something about it. Lemme actually wake up first, and I'll give you a call back.

15d6

1235

A bit past noon, Wolf hops on Molniya, a pet name for her Blitzen, and zips down into the Barrens. Her commlink advertises her identity as Lisa Sutherland; it wouldn't take long for any roving Lonestar goons to recognize it as a fake, but there wasn't much chance of a run-in here. Wolf had left most of the really fun toys at home; an assault rifle and a bag of grenades and B&E tools would clash with the power suit a little too much. The passkey in her pocket would probably work to get her most places though, and between the pistol, taser, and knife, she could make people hurt. The ARO green line denoting her route shows a turn coming up ahead.

1300

The damn limo and its flanking guards stood out way too much. Somebody either has a lot of money to spend, or wants to look like it. Probably the former. It would explain the recent lease and shoddy appearance; somebody with serious disposable income could have just got the place on a short-term lease in order to set up the meet. The security contingent was a bit much though.

Completely ignoring the request to check in her weapons, Wolf takes a seat at the cleanest looking table she can find. The bar looked too nasty to place her arms on. She takes a long swig from a water bottle, then pops in some betel-caffeine gum. Like hell she was drinking at this place; the drinks would either be watered-down to nothing or laced, and she wasn't willing to deal with either situation. Settled in, she lets her senses take in the place while waiting for the appointed meeting time.

11d6
^Thanks to the olfactory booster, Wolf can notice scents about as well as dog.
12d6
11d6

[Thanatos 51-50]

0935
Wolf Only:
Pete calls you back a few minutes later. The Vagrant Master isn't the most posh of joints, he warns you, all ramshackle and run-down, but he knows a guy who claims to have been hired help there. They keep it looking that bad on purpose, and there's a few rooms in the basement that aren't in the floor plan, Kid claimed he didn't know what was in the room, just that the armed guards posted there persuaded him away.
One of the bartenders -- Rudy -- is the guy who cuts the metaphorical checks. Payments were always in script, and came on a weekly basis. The kid also warns that Rudy is a hell of a fighter. He says he saw the man kick a pair of drunken trolls out into the rain on one occasion. Pay wasn't good enough for the kid, so he left to pursue greener pastures. Greener pastures here apparently meaning washing dishes at the Big Hammer.

Pete is unsure as to exactly how much of this is made up.

PRESENT TIME:
Wolf Only

The only odd sensory detail that really stands out is the smell of meat -- the real stuff -- sizzling on a flat-top. Way beyond the budget of a place like this.
There was something just underneath it, though. It was faint, but it was not unlike burning plastic. Something in the back of her mind whispered that it might be drugs.

Digit Only
Peering around the room through a matrix-window in her vision, the first thing Digit noticed were the walls -- or rather, the "decorations". Chinese swords studded the walls, poins down, for all the world unassuming and irrelevant. Just behind two of them, however, wrapped up in a bit of clever code and illegal wrap programmes was a small, burning point in the pommel.
Those points, a little digging -- nothing dangerous -- led her to discover that those were part of the buildings security system. Gun turrets.

A small, dark eye floated in the middle of the room as well, quietly observing the goings on, feeding data -- out. Away, somewhere. Tracking that transmission would be outside the scope of just looking around. If she had to guess, it was an audio/visual feed going to whatever spider was being paid to watch the bar.

Three more personae, dull, muted and default , flitted around underneath the floor boards, moving in short, set patterns.

One silent-running persona was outside, back near the parking lot. An elf in a black karate gi with long, strawberry blonde hair down to her ankles. The gi is positively brimming with kunai tucked into its red belt.

A coupe of bright, unhidden, cheap personae also popped up. Both of which back where the kitchen should be.

The bartender breaks out of his monotonous reverie to look at the red-haired Elf ordering soykaf, his gaze lingering uncomfortably long on the shock of white hair, before reaching over and sliding back a panel hidden on the bar top. A faded piece of masking tape informs anybody who cared to read it that this was the tip jar. Moments later, with grace and alacrity you'd be forgiven thinking couldn't exist when you only had one arm, a steaming mug of soykaf appeared in his hand, poured from an unassuming little pot directly behind the man.
He closed the distance to the other woman -- the pretty one in a blink after this all was done, and tapped the edge of the water bottle lightly, not enough to spill.
"Odd place to come to drink your own stash, huh, Omae?" he growls in a low, lazy voice that somehow manages to rattle your teeth. "Hows 'bout I serve you up something decent?"
He pauses, seeming to consider his customer.
"You strike me as a... vodka? Straight?" he finally says, turning around to reach behind him and slide back a wall panel holding the liquor. He withdraws a clean bottle and sets it on the bartop, next to an immaculately clean shot glass. "First one's free."

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1305, The Vagrant Master

Wolf ***** an eyebrow at the display and gives a wry smile. "Nice bit of showmanship there, Rudy.", she says, hoping the shot in the dark would pay off. It was always a neat trick to know somebody's name before they gave it. "You've got me on it being an odd place to drink my own, but I wasn't feeling too keen about drinking whatever rust liquid comes out of the pipes around here. This, on the other hand," as she picks up the bottle of vodka and pours a healthy slug, "I can work with." It was doubtful that presumably-Rudy was lacing the real stuff, but it never hurt to be sure. Wolf gives it a sniff at the same time she slings it back. If he had laced it, then it would hopefully take more than one shot to put her out.

[roll0]
The extra die is from the betel-caffeine gum; I forgot to include it in my last rolls.

The vodka gives a nice tingle as hits Wolf's gut. "Heh, a nice chaser you gave me there. Might go nice with whatever you've got cooking out-of-sight."

She glances at the other three patrons. Logic dictated that at least one of them, maybe more, were here soon-to-be teammates. The long-nailed elf looked too comfortable where he was. He had some sort of semi-legitimate business running and everything. Plus, he looked like he specialized in talking about as much as Wolf did, and Johnsons rarely doubled-up on that role; it just wasn't cost efficient. He was out. The faux-Victorian troll was just too ridiculous looking. He was either too good at his job for anyone to point out how much unnecessary attention he drew to himself (even for a troll), or he was new as could be and was trying to make a statement. Either way, he couldn't be discounted. The red-haired elf seemed likely. There wasn't a whole lot going on there besides the cyberarm and shock of white hair as far as Wolf could tell, but it was always the understated ones that were the most dangerous. The stock persona could be only someone trying to hide themselves or a wageslave, and this didn't seem like the kind of place for the latter. Wolf notes with a bit of displeasure that the persona's suit is only about two seasons out-of-style; Wolf would have to update her wardrobe soon or the high-end models would start catching up.

[Cupcake]

Jinx

Jinx pulled into the parking lot in his Toyota Gopher several minutes early for the meeting, but he had intended to be much earlier. He'd let GridGuide bring him most of the way here, although he'd hoped it would take him the entire way. Jinx was still not used to the big city. He was slowly acclimating to the frenetic pace of Seattle, but old habits die hard, and new ones form slowly. He made a mental note to spend some downtime practicing using the Matrix a bit more. To call him a luddite would be harsh, since he had no problem with technology. He just didn't have a lot of experience with it. Anyway, he was working on that. Once he'd entered the barrens, and was summarily dumped by GridGuide, he'd had some difficulty finding the location for the meet. He knew the general vicinity, but that wasn't saying much in this part of town, you could be one block away from your destination and still be completely lost. Jinx followed the AR cues as best he could, but there were just so damn many of them. At one point, he began to wonder if he would even make it to the meet on time, or if he would spend the next several hour blindly driving around the barrens until some gangers descended on him, like hyenas on a lone animal strayed from the herd.

He was relieved when he finally found the Vagrant Master. Driving in Seattle, and especially the barrens, just reminded him how much he had yet to adjust to city life. He made a mental note of the vehicles parked outside, and stepped into the doorway of the bar. The sign asking him to deposit any weapons into the cabinet actually made him snicker. He didn't have to look at the cabinet to know it would be empty. While he was sure that his Predator would be relatively well-hidden under his jacket, he fully expected everyone here to be armed, and that they would expect him to be armed as well. Just as he entered the bar proper, a nagging feeling came over him that he had dressed inappropriately. He was wearing a leather jacket over a t-shirt and cargo pants, and he was quite sure he was out of style. Hell, he was out of style 15 years ago. Jinx never had a good grasp of fashion, but now that he was trying to drum up business for himself, he began to worry that maybe he needed a bit of an update.

He shook his head to himself as he approached the bar and took a seat two stools down from some young-looking elf girl in jeans and a jacket. As he took his seat, his eyes scanned around the room. Another young female elf sat at one of the tables, where it looked like the bartender had just poured her a drink. Why do I always think elves are young? These girls could be in their 40's and I'd still think they looked 20. He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had come to him, and pegged them both as 19 or 20. Just kids. But you couldn't underestimate kids these days. Most had seen enough hardship for several lifetimes before they even left their teens. The elf with the flaming fingernails looked a bit older, not that that meant much. The troll at least was easier to judge, although he looked more out of place here than anyone else.

When the bartender returned to the bar, Jinx gave him a small wave and gestured towards the troll. "I'll have what he's having." He figured the troll was the guy he was supposed to be meeting, or at least worked for the guy he'd be meeting. Or maybe not. Jinx still had quite a bit to learn about his new career, he just hoped he could learn the ropes well enough before he got into serious trouble.

[Marius]

Preston got off his bike and looked around the parking lot. He had already surveyed the area around the Vagrant Master, taking note of possible escape routes and ambush choke points. The strage message from his fixer was enough to make him wary but the inconsistencies of the bar were baffling. Lots of things were out of place but he needed the work so he moved on and went inside the bar.
Several people were already inside, some look like runners and the strage pair of an elf and a troll really stood out. He went straight to the bar, he wasn't told who to meet so he'll let them make the first move. He nodded to the bartender and made an order: "I'll have some sake.

[Princess K]

One last job.

He'd said that three jobs ago. Three bloody jobs ago, he'd promised himself that he'd quit the shadows and pick up a normal life again. A corp life couldn't be that bad. His parents had always seemed happy enough. But he never could manage it; there was always another debt to pay. Whether it was the landlord, a gangbanger or the Wolf come to collect made little difference. Blood and nuyen, it was all the same. In the shadows, they traded at a rate of one to one.

One last hit. One last drink. One last girl. One last job. A litany of lasts, and not one followed through upon. It seemed upon quiet introspection that Elias Stern was not very good at quitting. So, when the call came in - The Vagrant Master. 1330 tomorrow. Solid work - Elias became the Bloodhound once more.

One last job.

The Next Day

Elias was walking. He didn't own a vehicle - damn well couldn't afford one or the false licensing - so he ended up walking the streets of Seattle a lot of the time. He preferred it this way; tasting the scum in the air reminded him to stay alert. He wasn't a beat cop, driving circuits anymore. Ain't no air conditioning for the wicked. He wasn't too concerned for his livelihood. The handguns hidden away in either side of his coat were the least of any would-be mugger's problems. The Wolf had seen to that. Besides, he still had friends in Lone Star who would vouch for him if any of them got a little too eager to make quota.

The Vagrant Master was a dump, so the limousine and Harleys parked out front were painfully conspicuous. Elias sighed. This seemed to have the potential to be a very long day. If the fixer had ever given him any reason to doubt...

Entering the building, Elias studiously ignored the weapons cabinet. Throwing a gun into the box was bad form, the equivalent of a tourist holding open a wallet full of credsticks. Everyone probably was armed, but there was no good reason to advertise the fact and relinquish one's weapons all at once, especially when the sign was backed with a please rather than a shotgun.

The man took in the eclectic array of metahumans inside the building and sighed once more, internally this time. Eccentricity never boded well for a job, and a troll with a pocketwatch and an elf doing his nails in a rundown bar made the list. On the other hand, it could have been much worse. Books and covers, as they said; both burn the same. Elias sat at the bar, the spitting image - it did not take much acting - of a world-weary drunk."I don't suppose I could get a tab on the first date? No? Hit me with something cheap, chummer. If it comes out of a bottle, it's probably too rich for my blood."

[Thanatos 51-50]

Wolf Only:
The vodka is clean, if clearly synthenol
The one-armed bartender grins down at the pretty, nondescript elf shooting Vodka.
"That, Anya, was just muscle memory. IF everything goes well, you won't be seeing any fancy tricks."

With that, he pushed off the bar and served his new patrons, tapping the "tip jar" set into the bar with his index finger before pouring each individual drink, and dishing out the orders the way they came in.
The large Texan in the cargo pants got a pint of thick, brown stout with a full head, which smelled just a little bit like soil after the rain, if simsense was to be believed. Gods knew there was never any clean rain in Seattle to test that distinction.
Sake was served to the second man -- the one with the wary glances and the light steps -- in a small clay cup, embellished with the kanji for sword in a strong, heavy hand.

When the bartender got to the last arrival, though, the man who had simply asked for something "Sheap", he stood and pondered, tapping his finger on the tip jar idly whilst he studied his newest patron.
"On the one hand, chummer, you should take notice that you still walk like Brass." he growled, "And I don't like it when brass packs iron in my bar
"On the other, I'm feelin' generous t'day, so, as a gesture of goodwill..."

He leaves the sentence hanging there as he opens the false wall again and slides a bottle of something translucent and brown off the top shelf, and pours a couple of fingers.
"Keep this in mind when you're trying to ply me for every spare nuyen, eh, Bloodhound?"

He set the glass down and secrets the hooch away again before leaning against the wall and studying the five arrayed closely.
"Well, then. We're all very nearly punctual, are we? That's good, because we're on a clock, and our window is limited. Anybody want to play any guessing games, or should I get right down to the heart of the matter?"

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1330, The Vagrant Master

Every mental alarm in Wolf's head screamed. He knows your real name. Ok, calm it down. Pete said this guy was good; probably acts as much as an gatekeeper with the info as he does with actually tossing people out. Just let it go, and you can figure out how the hell he found out after the job is done. Then possibly plug the leak with a bullet.

The few that came in soon seemed likely to be the rest of the team. No obvious eccentricities; that was always a good sign. It was always easier for Wolf to charm her way past the front desk when she wasn't being followed by a chromed-out troll dressed in a purple tux toting a Panther XXL. That job had been hellish.

When Rudy announces the start of business, "Not much use being coy about it. Let's get to it.

[Princess K]

Elias sighed again. The man knew who he was. Worse than that, he knew who he was. Either some things never changed, or he had information from somewhere else. Both were unfortunate, and almost certainly meant it was going to be a long day. On the bright side, the man had poured him a drink, so the scales of karma balanced themselves once more. Elias slid a small credstick out of his pocket, tapping 5¥ into the bartender's tip "jar" before slipping it away again. Free drinks were all good and well, but there was no sense being in any sort of debt. Small favors were never that simple. Though with his luck, he'd find his credstick emptied next time he checked.

"To generosity," Elias toasted, bringing the glass to his lips. He entertained the thought of poison, but pushed it aside. He'd been called for a job, and he was pretty sure he wasn't important enough to go to the trouble of assassinating. He didn't know anything important and he'd never done anything of note.

Never had, he thought with a touch of bitterness.

An elven woman spoke up; she must have been another of the Runners. Crew work, and he didn't recognize any of the faces. Well, it was understandable. He was no mainstay in the Shadowrunner community, and there were plenty who avoided communities on matter of principle. "Is it bigger than a breadbox?" he asked cheerily. "Mic is all yours."

[Marius]

Preston eyebrowns shot up at the sight of the small cup but he quickly regained his composure. "Kanpai!" He said to no one in particular and took a sip from his cup before carefully placing it down again. He passed his creadstick to the tip jar and waited quitely until everyone was there sipping his sake now and then.

The new revelation wasn't entirely unexpected but it still sended a shiver down his spine. "I agree with the lady, chummer. If you are in a hurry let's not waste any time. Not that I didn't enjoy the showmanship."

[Cupcake]

Jinx

Jinx takes a drink from his mug, admiring the bartender's handiwork. He then waves his commlink over the tip jar to deposit the standard rate tip. After a brief look at the new arrivals, he faces the bartender and simply says, "Well I guess if everyone is here, I suppose we should get started."

[Chivy]

Digit made a mental note of the different icons running in the bar, but refrained from marking them. Not only would it be embarrassing if she was caught by the spider who was keeping an eye on the bar, but she still hadn’t found one of the motorbike riders, assuming that the gi-girl outside was one. She did mentally prioritize the list of icons she would need to hack if things went sideways. Mark the gun turrets, command them to lay down suppressive fire. Fry the spider before he or she takes back control. Use the confusion to run.

She was forced to pull back her attention when she noticed the bartender had locked his eyes on her white lock of hair and the scar barely hidden beneath it, something she had noticed many people doing since that night. Initially she had felt self-conscious about it, but eventually it just became a part of her. It was amazing how much you could get used to when you had little choice, but there were always ways of making things easier for yourself. Accepting things like a badge of honor or a reminder of things lost or as a warning to yourself or others worked for some. Digit on the other hand had different ways of coping. She ran her hand through the white hair and shrugged.

Leg shaving accident.
She said, while keeping her face perfectly neutral and mentally crossing off another reason from her list of reasons why she had the scar.
[roll0]

After the bartender made a show of pouring her soycaf and tapping the “tip jar”, Digit smiled and tossed a couple of nuyen into the digital basket. It wasn’t much, but she had learned that every nuyen she spent today might mean that she would go hungry tomorrow. This was probably the only reason she was still sitting in a place with automatic gun turrets which would allow anyone with a few skills to take out anybody in the bar. Just thinking about it made her nervous, so she watched the bartender move towards an elven woman who had just entered and sat down at a table. Pretty was all Digit could think to describe her, but she seemed friendly with the bartender.

Others entered. A human man, 30-ish looking like he was probably from Aztlan or near there. He ordered something that looked like the sewer sludge that ran around the barrens. Shortly after another human man entered, this one a Caucasian who ordered a sake. A little after the humans an elven man walked, or more stumbled in. He looked like he’d been through hell, but he too asked for something to drink and got it.

The bartender then addressed all four of the newcomers as well as Digit. So the work was teamwork. A team of which most had decided that midday, just before meeting a Johnson for a job, was a perfect time to drink synthenol. She took in the others as they agreed to get on with it before opening her mouth.

Are you sure you want to talk shop in front of prying ears?
She asked between sipping her soykof, allowing the Johnson to decide if she was talking about the fingernail elf, suited troll, the guy he had called brass or the spider.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"The walls are made of ears, Chummer." The one-armed man smiled. "And they belong to my boss."

He waved with that one arm and a separate panel slid away from behind the bar, revealing a tri-d projector which showed the picture of an old-model Cyberarm. Couldn't be more than one or two generations after cybernetics became commercialized.
"And, as you can see, it's much bigger than a breadbox."
"This is a Model Seven, an old Ares-manufactured Cyberarm. My boss wants to get his grubby mitts on it, so that means I want it, and I work through intermediaries, like yourselves, so, you get paid. It's just that simple. You don't get to know precisely which bits we're looking at, but suffice to say, we'll know if you just nab any old museum piece and try to pull one over on us.
The Arm we're looking for is being transported from the Little Yokosuka arcology to SEATAC at 0200 tomorrow morning -- that's why time is of the essence. We're pretty sure they're moving it via armoured car, but, knowing the current owners of the arm -- a small securicorp calling themselves 'Hrunting' -- they'll probably have at some other vehciles riding in convoy with their car, if not a Shadowteam of their very own working to ensure delivery.

I want it here. In my hand, by 1800 tomorrow. Same Bat-channel."
Any more questions, or can we start talking about everyone's favourite part?"

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1335, The Vagrant Master

Wolf give a predatory grin. "I have quite a few questions, but none that you'll be willing to answer. For me, we might as well get down to the nuyen so I can get around to asking questions to people who'll be more open."

[Princess K]

Bloodhound

"Short notice, a possible enemy shadowteam and a team of new faces. Seems like easy work." The man sighed, playing with his glass idly. "I'll save my questions until you're done."

[Chivy]

Digit nodded slowly as the Johnson explained the mission, her digital persona already screaming down the grid to find any information she could find on the securicorp handling the transport. There wouldn’t be much she’d be able to find on this time table, but anything she found was more than she knew right now.

Fifteen seconds later her quick search was completed and she compiled a quick file of the results. She wasn’t used to dealing with a team, but she had spoken to Crunch about working with others. He has some pretty pointed things to say about most of the teams he’d worked with but there was one universal truth; for most jobs you’ll need each other’s skills, but don’t rely on others to get you out of trouble. With that in mind she sent the data over to the four others listening to the barman. Better to make nice quickly and hopefully it would help in the negotiations.

It’s not much, but anything you know beforehand, right? she said to the others before turning to the Johnson and saying
Have at it.

I rolled in the OOC thread for a data search; 4 successes.

[Thanatos 51-50]

After reading through a few references to an old epic called "Beowulf", you quickly re-write your search to filter out all references to the ancient poem and look for connections to securicorps.

There's more than one corp that goes by the came, but only one of them is active in the Seattle area, with the tagline on their company's front-facing page inviting prospective employers to "Let us be your sword". The company claims to have been founded as recently as 2062, by three childhood friends who had split up to go their separate ways before finally re-uniting after a short stint in other, larger securicorps. Lonestar, Knight Errant, and the Red Samurai are all given mentions. They proclaim that they're "Physical security experts", and that their corporate structure is compartmentalized, creating small, tightly-knit teams that "work together effectively within the corporate structure. Every 'fireteam' is a franchise branch of Hrunting, and Hrunting is nothing without its fireteams."
Quick digging around the founders names reveals that story is a load of bulldrek. Only one of the founders is on record as ever working as part of a security corp -- and that's Lone Star -- one of the others pushed papers in a dull, dead-end office job, and the third was once arrested by Knight Errant while on a bender.

Prices listed on the Hrunting page are listed on a per-fireteam basis. If you were on a budget, you could hire one fireteam, whereas multiple teams drove the cost up considerably. Five fireteams is listed as the "Deluxe package".

[Marius]

He wasn't hired for asking questions, so he asked none but the one he knew would be answered. "Allright Johnson, what's the reward for a job well done?"

[Cupcake]

Jinx

"Sounds simple enough, which is a good bet that it's anything but. I'm guessing the pay will tell us which way we're leaning. So let's get that out of the way and then I'll start asking my questions." Jinx had plenty of questions, of course. Naturally, the likelihood of him getting answers to any of them that were actually useful was pretty low, but he'd give it a shot anyway...he always did.

[Thanatos 51-50]

(One Opposed Negotiation Roll Against Wolf Later)

"We're paying thirty-two point five for the 'run. That's total, not per head. I don't care how you split it, but that's the hard and faster number for gettin' the job done that I've been given." the bartender opened, leaning against his counter. "If Word doesn't reach my ears that this even happened before I have the cyberarm in my hand, I'll throw in another ten grand, 'cus that's some impressive drek. If you keep everyone breathing, you get the twenty we have squirreled away to pay the cleaner who makes sure we don't create to many undue enemies."

Rudy stopped to offer his most disarming grin.

"I'm sure you've figured out that's more than you'll get for even top-shelf used 'wares, so it's not in your best interest to never see me again. However, my boss tells me I'm obligated to inform you that if you make off with our merchandise, our organization will not be a happy one, and fifty-five grand pays for a top-notch cleaning crew to focus their efforts on you. Personally, I think the message is melodramatic. I say you're professionals, not wantin' to burn bridges. He says to tell you anyway, so I'm tellin' you.
If there's nothing else..." he makes a grand gesture to the door.
"Those drinks are on the house, but the next one ain't, and you're on the clock.

"TAXMAN!"

The suited troll in the middle of the bar stood and nodded at the assembled shadowteam and the bartender, giving a single, lazy nod.

"My friend will escort you to your vehicles when you're ready."

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1340, The Vagrant Master

Wolf knew even her best performance wouldn't be snagging the team a better deal than what Rudy had offered. The big payout would come from doing this fast and with minimal fuss; just the kind of way Wolf liked to operate. Of course, there was no telling how the others usually did things, but that much money tended to alter one's way of thinking.

"Sounds like a good job. We'll need a bit of intro and prep time beforehand though. Mind giving us a minute to handle that?"

[Chivy]

Digit

Digit listened to the back and forth between the bartender and the other Elf girl, before the final numbers rolled out. A fifth of which was still a staggering amount, especially for somebody who was only just beginning. But you had to earn your money before you could spend it.

Digit sipped her soycaf and nodded when the Elf girl mentioned introductions.
She’s right, might as well know what to call each other. Name’s Digit, guess I’m the tech support. she said with the friendliest smile she could muster.

[Marius]

Preston just shrugs. "If that's how you want it, that's how it'll be. Client's allways right and all that." He realizes that he didn't even introduced himself to anyone. He turns to the others. "I'm Preston by the way. I shoot people, not much more to it. Nice to meet you chummers."

[Princess K]

Bloodhound

6,500 nuyen for the job, 2000 extra if it was silent, and another 4,000 if there were no fatalities. Not bad for a day's work, even without bonuses. "Quick and quiet, huh? Sounds good to me."

The elven man looked at the Shadowrunners that had introduced themselves. The first woman to speak was a dark-haired elven woman; she'd been professional and efficient throughout the meeting, and she seemed the most obviously reliable of the people gathered there. Friendly faces were all well, but effectiveness was more important when it came to work. It was too easy to start liking friendly people, and that just got messy when they ended up splattered against a wall. The other girl... Elias averted his eyes from the red-haired elf, the corners of his mouth tightening slightly. Next. The man who called himself Preston apparently 'shot people.' Well, there was a shock.

"Call me Bloodhound. My jobs are lighting people on fire and keeping the other guy from lighting you lot on fire. Nice to meet ya."

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1340, The Vagrant Master

Some flavor of Matrix support, fire support, and a mojo slinger. The other one looks like a gunslinger too. This'll work.

Wolf gives a bland smile, the kind that a wageslave would reflexively give to an unknown executive. Friendly, but not too familiar. There was no need to give these people the wrong impression. "You can call me Wolf. I get into places I'm not supposed to be, whether through words, gear, or just old-fashioned sneaking around."

[Princess K]

Bloodhound

"Wolf, you say?" Elias remarked, somewhat amused. "How... serendipitous. Wolves are lucky, hm?"

With that statement, Elias rose to his feet, glancing at the suited troll warily. "Well then, we'll need a plan. I personally think a stroll down gumdrop lane is in order. If we can prep the route before our dear friends arrive, all the better to greet them."

[Chivy]

Digit

Wow, that's a coincidence... Not being on fire is one of my favorite states of being. Digit said with a smirk, before turning to Wolf and saying
I guess finding out which road is gumdrop lane is first. I could sneak into Hrunting's node and get their route, who's escorting the package and maybe even their comcodes so we can listen in, but i'd need a place to drool a bit while I do it.
She then hesitated for a moment, every trace of mirth disappearing from her face. Being new to the biz Digit took the advice Crunch had given her; Let those more experienced make the decisions, make sure they know what you can do and where your limits are... And always cover your own ass.
It's a risk though. I'm good, but they are a securicorp, even if they are one full of bulldrek. Your call.

[Cupcake]

Jinx

"Good to meet you guys" says Jinx, with a slight southern drawl and an even slighter Spanish accent. "I don't have a lot of helpful skills on the front side, but when things start heading south on the backside, you'll be happy I'm around. I'm pretty good at putting bullet holes in things, and I'm even better at plugging them right back up." Funny thing about getting shot, you didn't really think about it until it happened...but once it did, well...it had a way of monopolizing your attention.

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1340, The Vagrant Master

"I agree with Bloodhound. Prepping the route beforehand should be our first priority. Lets make that road as close to home field for us as we can; I don't want to be fighting fair with people who fight for a living. Digit's plan sounds like a good first step. We want to know where they're going, who is doing the job, what kind of gear they're packing, and what their codes are. It would be wiz, Digit, if you could get into GridGuide or the municipal systems and lay a few traps for when we need to make things go to hell. If we're feeling really cheeky, I can maybe talk us into their local facility. "

[Marius]

"Seems like we're all on the same page. I'm not good with the legwork, but once you find the route they'll take I'll go take a look at it and we'll plan where to place ourselves.

[Chivy]

Digit

As long as that's the page that everybody walks away breathing and we collect a nice bonus. Anyway, I think I'm up first and the only time i like to drool in a bar is after a lot of fun and booze, so how about we get moving?
she said already getting up from her seat, eager for the challenge of taking on a securicorp, but then brought herself to a standstill as she realised there was a minor problem.

So.. I'm kinda between cars right now, anybody want to give me a lift?

[Marius]

Preston gets up from his seat as well. "As long as you like bikes I don't mind giving you a lift."

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1341, The Vagrant Master

Wolf rises from her chair with practiced ease, looking as if she had just finished with a pleasant meal rather than a meet for a run. She pings her commcode to the team members, and sets her link to accept any contact info from links in the immediate vicinity. "I'll be at the arcology at 1500, gear in hand. Might as well get started now." She nods to Taxman, indicating she is leaving. "Hope to see you all soon."

[Chivy]

Digit

While accepting Wolf’s commcode and sending her own to the other members of the team, Digit turned to Preston and gave him an appreciative smile of thanks.

I like bikes well enough, but I prefer to deck while on the move. And while decking from the back of a motorcycle sounds exciting, I think I’d like to keep my attention focussed on the node I’m decking instead of trying not to fall off. If we don’t have a car where I can leave my meat I’ll take the lift to somewhere quiet and would appreciate a guard to stand over me while I’m out getting the information we need. Hopefully I can get it all before we meet up at three. In any case, let’s get going. She said, then started walking towards the bar’s exit.

[Cupcake]

Jinx

Jinx conjured up a mental image of someone in full VR on the back of a moving motorcycle. The though gave him a slight chuckle. "Hey Digit, I've got a Gopher that should be plenty big for you and your stuff, and I promise you won't have to worry about falling out of it while your attention is...elsewhere." As Jinx starts receiving commlink numbers, he figures it would be a good idea to share his as well. This whole shadowrunning business was still new to him, and some of the norms that others took for granted didn't come quite so easily to him. "Okay, it looks like we're meeting at the Little Tokosuka place at 1500, null sweat. I'll be there with bells on." Then, looking back to Digit, "If you're with me, you'll have to give me directions, I'm still trying to figure this place out." With that, Jinx slowly starts heading toward the door.

[Princess K]

Bloodhound

"I'll walk back," Elias said. "Good for the health." Also, he didn't want any of them knowing where he lived. If trouble found him, he'd have a hell of a time finding a new place. Not that there was much he could do about being followed, but it was the thought that counted. As for his commlink code, utility outweighed any desire for privacy. He responded to the arriving pings in turn, compiling them into a small group labeled "Drinking Buddies."

The man headed for the door. "Thanks kindly for the drink," he remarked on his way out. 1500 didn't give him much time to prepare. He'd have to hurry back if he wanted to work some magic before the rendezvous.

[Chivy]

Digit

Wiz, yea I'm with ya omae. Don't have any gear that I'm not already carrying, so I'm good to go. Thanks for the offer Press, but in the pick-up I can get right to work. Lead the way Jinxy.

[Marius]

"You have no sense of adventure Dig!" He shares his comlink number to the others and heads for the door. "Just ping me as soon as you find the route, I'd like to check it out in the flesh."

[Thanatos 51-50]

The huge troll lumbered to the exit and slammed the door shut after the shadowrunners left. It didn't take an expert in physical security to identify the heavy, sliding, metal-on-metal sounds that came a second later as coming from the multiple bolts -- physical, not electronically operated bolts -- slamming into place and locking the team outside.
Seattle was their open to them once again, and tonight, that had a way to pull in the nuyen.
It was always good to have a job.
Runners who rounded the corner to pile into their vehicles are greeted by the sight of a slender, elven girl birght pink hair and a similarly pink bandanna across the lower half of her face dragging the body of a young ork -- accesorizing his visage with a large-caliber entry wound two centimeters below his left eye around the corner, and out of view of the street. A discarded slim-jim lay a few feet away, wedged hakfway into Jinx's Gopher's driver-side door.
"Hoi, there. Just doin' a little light clean-up. Don't mind me."

[Marius]

Preston looks from the dead orc to the girl and smiles. "Nice job, a little overkill but very nice." He walks to his bike and puts on his helmet.

[Space Lawyer]

Wolf
1345,Streets of Seattle

"I can't say I'm a fan of murder in broad daylight, but I think I can just pass it by for such an obvious public service." Too bad Wolf didn't really have time to deal with this in greater detail; she still had to get home and grab her gear. There was a job to do. She hops on her bike, but hangs back for a few seconds. Leaving the team dealing with somebody obviously carrying a large-caliber weapon and willing to use it at the start of the run didn't seem like a good idea.

[Princess K]

Bloodhound

Elias grunted. An attempted carjacking paid back with a shot to the head in broad daylight. Few runners engaged in such casual murder over someone else's property, and most gangbangers weren't quite so efficient. In all likelihood, someone was being paid. Whether the debt was in nuyen or bad blood didn't really make a difference out here.

On the other hand, it was entirely not his problem. "See you all later," he murmured, turning to head for home. His work involved a little more than putting clips into pockets, after all.

[Chivy]

Digit

The sight of the pink haired elf's handiwork instantly wiped Digit's smile from her face. She'd shot at people before, sometimes she'd even hit them, and watching them twitch and drool as the stick 'n shock's did their work had made her grin more than once. But cold-blooded killing was something completely different and she didn't mind showing her distaste for it.

With a small shudder she tore her eyes from the corpse and walked over to the passenger's side of the Gopher, then waited impatiently for Jinx to allow her entry.
Let's hit the road. It's time to get to business. she said with an almost flat tone of voice.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Wouldn't call one round overkill, Chummer, but to each their own, neh?" the woman grinned, rifling through the ork's pockets and retriving the corpse's commlink, pulling a credstick free and letting it roll away as she did so.
She jacked in a universal data cable from her own 'link.
"Thas' me. Public servant."

[Cupcake]

Jinx

Jinx walked to his Gopher purposefully once he saw the ork being dragged away and yanked the slim-jim out of the door. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and he though that maybe he'd be better off with a Jackrabbit or something else less useful-looking. Still, he loved his truck (something about Texans and their trucks sprung to his mind) and he didn't really want to lose it. "Maybe I should invest in some sort of anti-theft device" he said, looking over at Digit with a grin, who was obviously in more of a hurry to get going than he was. "Sorry about that, I'm still working on my sense of urgency." He smiled a bit wider as he unlocked the Gopher's doors and got in. "Just tell me where you need to go, and let's get this sow on the road."

[Chivy]

Digit

Digit pulled the Gopher’s door open and took a second to make sure the passenger’s seat wasn’t occupied before getting into the vehicle.

Just head towards the arcology and try to avoid anything that could hurt us. she coldly snapped at Jinx’s good natured question. A second later she took a deep breath, visibly composing herself and with a vastly more friendly tone of voice said
Sorry Jinx. I mislike killing. Especially where other methods would have been just as or even more effective. That bullet could just as easily of been planted in the Orc’s leg or hand with the same results… It just… I better get to work, the rest are waiting on me.

Digit snuggled deeper into the Gopher’s passenger seat and made herself as comfortable as possible. She then took a breath and as she exhaled the meatworld dissolved around her and the digital world came into focus. She then inhaled again and felt code entering her digital lungs. She was home.

She had met others like her over the years and many of them considered the matrix the real world and meatspace as a game world or a dreamworld. Digit loved the matrix and it felt like home every time she slipped into it completely, but she also adored the people she knew in the real world, even if it was a harsher world where people were casually killed every day.

Digit’s persona was something she hadn’t consciously decided upon over the years, but had formed and adjusted unconsciously while she was learning her abilities. It almost looked like Digit did in the meat world, with slight adjustments to make her look a little more athletic. But the differences were obvious though. Her persona sported four arms, of which the lower two were sleek chrome with displays seamlessly built into the back of the forearms. Her skin was completely covered with fine blood red edged, pearly-white scales and her straight hair, which reached almost to her knees, was comprised of red and white streaks. Small square red-rimmed, white pouches hung from what looked like a utility belt which hung loosely around her waist. Black jeans which were cut off above the knees and a black halter top was the only clothing she wore and they left her webbed hands and feet clearly visible. Unlike most other personas Digit had not accented her persona with obvious weapons.

She slowly turned and watched the dankness of public grid around her, it might be home, but it still looked worse than her apartment. But if this run went well she could buy access to some grids that were actually maintained and styled. She might even sink some cred into doing the same to her apartment.

She’d also need all her concentration and speed she could muster so she stopped running silently. Hrunting wouldn’t have their host connected to the Public Grid if they ever wanted to do any business so she’d need to access another grid.

She quickly scanned the Matrix and Hrunting’s host without to many problems. She then “extended” herself and instantly accessed every grid before making her way towards the host in the blink of an eye. With a twist of her hand a tiny red rimmed white scale flew towards the host, trying to mark it.


The tiny scale imbedded itself in the host and Digit instantly transported herself into it, the displays on the back of her cyberarms already showing information from the scans that Digit was performing on the host.


Matrix perception - 1 hit
Transcend Grid - 1 hit (gives 1 minute of all-grid access)
Resist Fading 1- hit
Hack on the fly to mark the host- 7 hits, but data processing limit is 6
Matrix perception inside host - 5 hits