Shadowrun 5e "The Killing Pawn" IC

[Taqukaq]

This could pose problems. We need people who aren't connected to this. It's time we made our move. Is the replacement ready?

..... Good. Make the call. But be-careful, shadow-runners maybe expendable but they don't see it that way. They will try to survive no matter what.

Good, Tell them that the meeting will be at the AR Club in Manhattan. I'll be waiting for them in club Nuevo.

The faceless Johnson closed his phone and got ready for his meeting. Setting up his devices for the telecommunications part of his meeting. Meanwhile, the runners get messages from across the world, having been hand picked for a very well paying job. Many of your fixers can vouch for the veracity of the meeting but only because Manhattan is usually a little more intense than other places. Only the best are called into Manhattan and for good reason. Manhattan is a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. The transportation is provided, any who are not residing in New York can be flown in or driven in. In the end, everyone ends up in the same position.

The graffiti and AR spam drastically lessens as anyone comes to turn onto 173rd Street. The neon lights and the AR overlay of Club Nuevo flashing brightly, making it impossible to miss. The music blaring over the Matrix has an edge to it that will make it the next big thing or a fad that will last about as long as it takes to download the pirated version of the song off FreeMusicNYC. The line of people waiting to go reflects every metatype swaying to the beat with the half-zoned look of the almost wasted. The synthahol smell is strong as you make your way to the line and flash the AR code your fixer gave you.

A second later, the response tells whoever arrives at the line to come to the front of the line. People grumble as the group bypass them. The ork bouncer nods to the group with a professional courtesy. The flickering lights in his pure silver cybereyes are vibrantly visible as he opens the door and gives a sly smile just showing the silver glint on his capped tusks. The hard, driving beat of the dance music inside threatens to drown out everything else. Taking a couple steps in assaults the group with a smell of the stale air thick with the scent of sweating bodies. There are VR feeds from Neo-Tokyo, Seattle, and Paris in different corners of the club.

Towards the bar is a young human hostess who walks up and says, “Mr Johnson is right this way,” with a Bostonian drawl and starts leading the group through the crowd. As you wind your way through the main room, trying to keep up with the broad-shouldered hostess, you feel the warmth of everyone dancing washing over you. The hostess looks back a couple times to make sure everyone keeps up as she leads them to a backroom. There are several fine leather chairs for everyone to sit down at. She leaves to get your drink. There is a device on the table and then there is an elephant in that particular room. Er perhaps a giant in the room. There is a Norse Giant crouched as there are no chairs capable of sustaining his massive form. Even chairs for trolls are too tiny for possibly one of the biggest giants anyone in the group had ever seen. Those who were good at gauging heights and distances could see his height to be between 10 to 11 feet tall. Which was massive even by Giant standards but it was not unheard of.

This Giant wasn't the Johnson. There is no way he could be. The massive Norse Giant sit in a powerful based crouch, He has some armored clothing on but most of it is tight armored fur clothing traditional of some Norse Giant mythology. His massive graying bears was over three feet long, tied in a large central braid, then other smaller tertiary braids on either side of the main braid. His head is mostly shaved save for a small warriors mohawk. On the left side of his shaved head was a blood red tattoo of a norse Rune. A circle with two pillars inside the circle and the circle has spear head spikes jutting out of the circle almost like a compass on a map. He was peppered with scars and damage of a long and brilliantly violent life. His eyes were a hollow grey, almost as if he was blind but his eyes were not milky. It was the gaze of a man who has had to kill more people than he would like to admit. He looks to the first of whoever shows up, nods and then speaks. The sound of his voice crashes into the group like a massive landslide. His voice a deep grumble of rocks crumbling and booming thunder. Despite this, it was only of the more softly spoken troll/giants may had ever met.

"Welcome. It is good to finally see the rest of the group. I suppose we wait here for the Johnson. I am delighted to meet you. I am Asmund's Hamaar. I would shake your hands but...My hands are much bigger than most so that isn't necessary. Forgive my English, it is a second language."


This is a big intro so it is going to be quite open. You guys can come in as a group or one at a time. If you want to go into this campaign with knowledge of each other and a general respect for reputation, that is allowed. You Dont have to be close friends but you guys can come to this having known each other for a bit. The Newer fella being probably the Giant and Shimmer's Adept for reasons.
Feel free to post your ingress into the club, reactions to different things like the grumbling *******s standing in line or the bartender. The goal is to end up in that meeting room with the giant though so feel free to write up anything,about enjoying the club so long as you all end there.

Also those with knowledge of security can make a knowledge check. Something about the Giant seems familiar.

[Sarven]

Omega floated in the matrix. He watched on his commlink's camera as the courier carrying it set him down. He turned on the commlinks camera, microphone, speakers and, trid projectors and was met with the sight of a large humanoid. After Asmund makes his remark about a handshake Omega responds with "That's alright, I don't have a hand for you to shake anyway."

[fibericon]

Puppet Master sits in the van outside the meet, thinking about his approach. Back in the UCAS. This could be dangerous for him, but that means it's dangerous for Cassie too. He sighs and exits the vehicle, activating the security as he leaves.

He's messy, disheveled, and his hair is just long enough to show how little he cares about his appearance. The wrinkled buttoned shirt has a bit of motor oil on the rolled up sleeves.

A glass of what he's been assured is scotch (and most assuredly lied to about) in hand, he sits at roughly 2 o' clock from the Johnson.

"Puppet Master. I'm your driver."

[Tome]

Jailbird glances over from the dancefloor, where she's been enjoying herself. The atmosphere here's not bad, she thinks as she lets it wash over her in the astral. Swaying to the beat of the music, feeling the excitement fizzling in the air, it's an intoxicating sensation. Not exactly a clean one though - she'll need a pallate cleanser after this, to get out the slight tinges of desperation and want. She arrived here over an hour early, giving her some time to scope the place out and enjoy the club a bit.

The sorceress files in with Puppet Master as he's led towards the back rooms, flashing them a grin and pinging the hostess her AR code.

"Jailbird" she happily introduces herself in turn with a bright smile, "you can look to me for all your mojo-related needs". Frustrated with messing up the makeup and wanting to get here early, she's wearing her real face for once - younger looking than she actually is, you'd peg her as late teens or early twenties. There's a heavy jacket tied around her waist, and a few odd charms woven into her braided brown hair. She looks completely comfortable, though her blue eys sweep around the room every so often, tracing some interesting pattern on the astral.

Assensing test on the giant.
[roll0]

And on Puppet Master.
[roll1]

She also has a F6 Watcher with about 16 hours left on its duration. Currently she has it floating around the club's general area, using Assense and its Search power to look for magic or violent intent out of the ordinary. If it finds anything it'll report back to Jailbird.

[Volthawk]

For the meet, Doc Sting had decided to go for impressive, pairing his Sleeping Tiger suit with a designer cloak and respirator. Of course, everything here has a purpose beyond looking good, but when you go to a Manhattan club like this, you go big. Besides, once someone sees someone looking this good, they get an idea about who he is and where to expect him. No harm making use of that.

He'd also decided to arrive earlier than the meet to get some time in enjoying the club, although he kept the alcohol to a minimum for now, allowing him to stay alert and get a feel of escape routes and possible threats. Got to have a balance between the fun stuff and the serious stuff, after all, if you want to do well in life.

As he walks into the meet, he takes off the cloak and respirator, the elf grinning as he sits down, looking over his potential team and listening to the introductions, looking very much relaxed about the situation he was in. "I'm Doc Sting, shorten it either way, it's fine by me. My job is to get into all those places we aren't supposed to be in without causing a fuss, and patching you all up when trouble does come our way."

[Shimmer]

New York was loud. A jarring all consuming noise that beat through the soles of your feet. The vibrations settling into your bones and thrumming through your blood until the noise wasn't even a conscious thought within the minds of it's residents anymore. It wasn't loud like a scream nor a shout, but it was loud all the same setting the poor Ex-Cuachicqueh's nerves on edge as the petite elf tugged her her plain black duster a little tighter around her shoulders as she slipped through the throngs of people gyrating in the club. Her face was partially obscured by a plain cloth medical mask, her short blonde hair askew about her face like a dandelion as she finally pushed open the door to the meeting room. Slipping into the back of the slowly forming crowd of runner and silver blue eyes took note of the other occupants before she paused mid-step. Those quick silver blue orbs going wide as she tilted her chin up, and up, and up until her startled gaze locked onto the giants looming face.

"Meirda~! Espero que estés de nuestro lado!" Apex swore in a breathless mix of wary awe and excitement. Before blinking. Breaking whatever strange staring contest she had gotten herself into with the giant in favor of sizing the man up. "Está bien," She stumbled over her words her voice going a little gruff as she realized her slip, "It's fine."

"English is my second language as well." The Woman admitted with the slightest of musical accent as she tugged her medical mask down a touch to give Asmund a thin smile before letting her gaze sweep the room.

"I go by Apex. I kill what needs killing." She introduced herself though standing next to the looming giant the petite elf with her flyaway blond hair didn't look like much of a threat.

[Sarven]

Omega, realizeing that he needed to do that "introduction" thing metahumans do. Responds with "I'm Omega. The decker.".

[fibericon]

All of Puppet Master's cyberware is in his head. There is also a small amount of bioware, and his essence is 2.45.

He's worried about someone's safety.

Deckers can be real pieces of work. I could have been here without physically showing up, too. Maybe I'll do that next time - I ain't the prettiest flower.

[Schismatic]

She hopped down the series of steps. A clingy red tank top, torn black jeans and a hooded synth leather jacket occulted her features, and similar synth leather gloves helping to disconnect her flesh from naked touch. Manhattan was a farcry from what she was used to--but she was no stranger to the music scene in town. That being said, her skills were for places that still paid to have live music. None of this mass-produced drek that served merely as methamphetamine of the masses. The bourgeois of beats. The alienation of actual artistry.

She was tempted to start a bar brawl with her magic. Keep it real, make people feel something visceral--grounded--wholesome as to one's reality--an energetic injection of real, timeless life that only comes with a postmodern collage of modern living and anarchy that transforms the capitalist gears of the city and remakes it a concrete jungle. But she had to remind herself of that necessity of being low-key. This was the apparent world of shadowrunners, not a fun night out where the worse one might get is a misdemeanour or a well-meaning bullet timely avoided (or not).

She was incognito. Aura masked. Disguised to look like one of the metahumans. Trailing behind the people heading towards the backroom. Intent to learn their scents first before greeting the humungous mountain of metavariant flesh.

A deep, silent, instinctual breath through the nose. An artist's palette of sweat, Jazz, booze, smoke, instant hair dye, and various bodily fluids as the doors of the toilets opened and closed in the distance. She breathed out equally silently as all six of her senses effortlessly incorporated the world around her with a clarity of vision frighteningly focussed--then fixated on her targets with surgical precision. With a sweet smile and hidden eyes.

"Chord--pleasure to meet all of you." An octave of playful exuberance. "Social engineer and psychologist. I create opportunities, I predict actions, I attack enemy cohesion while reinforcing those of the team in fluid situations. If you need reconnaissance, tactical evaluation, or simply QoL improvements in order to increase force multiplication and good mental hygiene on and off the run."

So just familiarizing myself with the scent of the characters about the place... I'll do a perception check.

[Taqukaq]

Woohoo Another awakened Adept. He is a bit stronger in Magic than average but what is truly terrifying is his level of strength. As an Adept he has power points put into increasing his strength. Not only does he have unreal strength but it is even impressive by Giant standards. He also has improved reflex and improved accuracy, Clubs. His Astral Signature is a little nauseous to look at. It is a mixture of vibrant and joy, but there is a rage within the giant hinting that he could break and kill in a murderous rage at any moment. This was a completely different contrast to his stone calm and powerful physical appearance and demeanor. His astral signature revealed a deep emotion for his addiction to destruction. This astral signature reveals itself. This giant will kill before this mission is out, and he will not kill in pretty ways.




The hurricane of lights, sounds and miniature AR avatars dancing around make it relatively difficult to pick out any decent sounds and other information. It makes it difficult to focus but a few things are still able to be picked up. The main lobby of Club Nuevo mas an ocean of dancing bodies paired with pounding beats and bouncing rhythms, none of which stuck out as particularly out of place or malicious. That was until you walked into the room with the party. You find something peculiar. That Giant is decently armed but it was very difficult to see his concealed Osmium Mace. The head of the mace was almost the size of a human head, paired with short, rough but concealable Mace flanges. The Giant looks your way, gives a grin and winks at you while patting his side.




As everyone seats themselves and makes their introductions with each other and the giant the Waitress comes back with an assortment of drinks, some that were ordered and some that were not. She leans over to place it on the table, close inspection would reveal her shirt has an AR on it telling the reader that her eyes are up here pal, with an arrow pointing up. Then the AR shows a silly cartoon of her punching out a much larger troll. As she leaves a scrambled trideo figure crackles to life at the far end of the room. The image tries to show a humanouid figure but before any solid form takes, the feed becomes scrambled and the Johnson cannot be identified.

“Thanks for meeting me, and I hope we can do some business together. Don’t worry, the feed I am using is completely secure. Unfortunately because of demands on my time, my position, and the fact that I cannot be associated with this, I couldn’t meet you in person.”

The distorted image was an almost irritating kind of blur but almost felt it is easier to look over its shoulder at the wall. He pauses for a moment then continues,

“I need you to kill someone—a high-ranking someone, in fact. I won’t lie, it will be difficult even with the indirect assistance I can give you, but I’ll pay you 20,000 nuyen each to complete it, which will be held in an escrow account until the mission is completed. Do we have a deal?”

[Schismatic]

She leans low to observe the figure. Still enshrouded by her hooded jacket. She bit her lip hesitantly.

"Wetwork necessitating multiple shadowrunners requires delicacy. Will likely require contingencies and multiple instrumental strike conditions both in terms of mission protocol and contingencies for an evolving situation. The right access, the right look, the right tools. Not to mention the possibility of wholesale disrepute if we fail or identified as the perpetrators. So a down payment will be needed. Not only that but I would like to hear who the target is before committing my services. Assassination isn't exactly kosher." She would negotiate.




(13d6)[6][6][4][5][4][4][2][6][5][6][3][1][1](53) [Social Limit 10]

6 hits.

[Taqukaq]

The blurred figure would look at her in silence and paused for a moment and then chuckled.

"You're asking for details before agreeing. If I inform you who I wan't you to kill and you decide to say no? Well, now you know that I am trying to hire people to kill a high ranking individual and now you have no reason to keep your mouth shut about it unlike the ones who agreed to commit an assassination and have a reason not to go blabbing about it. Do you think I or anyone who has spent longer than two seconds in this business to be stupid enough to give explicit details of their need for illicit activities before anyone commits to this? No that is set in stone. You either agree to this and I give you a name or you don't. I don't want a loose end. A colleague working for me and is equally guilty in the matter is not a loose end, they are an asset. A person who wants to know who I wan't dead in a way that they can deny participating in it while getting away with that information is a loose end, So I regret to inform you that is a hard no.

You agree and get details or you refuse and don't get paid. So please do not insult my intelligence with that, I'm being upfront in telling you that I want a man dead. That has it's own complications but his death is required. It is better to just be upfront than try to hide things from experienced runners. BUT, you do make some good points. There are many hard knowns here and this will be difficult so I'll tell you what. I'll increase the pay to 32,000 Nuyen each and I'll even authorize an upfront payment from the escrow account allowing you to withdraw up to 3000 Nuyen each for any personal preparations you should see fit to make. If assassination is not your cup of tea then a less fruitful agreement can be made. You will have to deal of the MUCH harder job of kidnapping the target and bringing him to us and you will only be paid half price because the job is to kill him. And if you're only going to do half the work, you'll only get half the pay."

[fibericon]

She's slick.

Puppet Master tilts his head at the speaker they have instead of a real live Johnson.

"I'm not going to insult you by pretending you don't know who I am or what kind of work I do, but Chord has a point. No one gets this much fanfare for a nobody mark, so I'm real interested in this answer."

He takes a sip and winces, a brief flashback of accidentally getting brake fluid in his mouth while working on his van.

"But hey, I'll do what I do for 32 grand."

[Volthawk]

While Doc Sting keeps a straight face on the outside, inside he thinks his conflicted views through. Sure, he'd been contracted to kill people before, and by all accounts he was good at it, but he had rules to this sort of thing. A code. He didn't just kill anyone, they had to deserve it. Sure, someone needing this many experienced runners to kill was probably powerful enough that they definitely crossed the line at some point to get there - especially in this city - but he had to know before committing to killing them. Still, there were ways to play this so that he could learn which way things were going.

"I'm willing to commit to the extraction now, but I'll need to know more before I agree to do any wetwork."

[Shimmer]

Settling back against the wall an arms length from the Asmund Apex eyed the other members of her would be group and the headache inducing projected image of their Johnson. Of course by arms length one meant a human or elfs arm and thus the petite combatant was left to lurk mostly within the Giant's shadow. Leaving her content to allow the flashier of the two combatant to hold the floor as she eyed the complicated and varied reactions to their job as they flashed over the occupants faces.

Personally she had no real issues with wetwork though she preferred to avoid involving children if only due to how messy such jobs could be. Otherwise one could honestly say she had been employed privately for almost nothing, but wetwork for quite a long time and couldn't honestly see the fuss. It would be easier, kinder, to kill whoever this individual is. Especially if they'd likely only get their throat slit by the Johnson if the team went through all the trouble of bringing them in alive. The twelve thousand nuyen bonus was nice with the three k up front certainly sweetening the deal and what Chord lost in Apex's respect for such a direct attack for information in a delicate situation she won back in cold hard cash.

"I have no issues with wetwork," Apex offers with that soft sing-song curl to her accent as she glances up at the Giant once more with those silver blue eyes of hers and arches a single pale brow at him. Though somehow she doubts a man using a street name she roughly translates as 'thunder hammer' will had much of a problem with killing.

[Sarven]

Omega sits, ponders a moment, he didnt like killing people. Espescially if they were innocent. He says,"I agree with Doc.".While saying this he figures he should make sure nobody is watching.

Reconfigure device: swap attack and data processing.
Matrix Perception Test to find cameras or microphones nearby. [roll0]

[Taqukaq]

The distorted Johnson pauses a moment, it is difficult to see what he is doing. After a moment he finally spoke. "No one in this business is innocent. The higher up the totem pole you are, the less innocent. So no, you will not have to worry about the mark being an innocent person. He is a high level security executive. He has been a menace in our attempts to help try to end some of the police corruption and some of the terrorists he lets roam free. But before I give you a name and who he works for, I need a commitment."

The Giant sat there, grumbling occasionally to him self while tugging on his long beard. His hands were calloused and looked as if they could be made of flesh colored stone. After a moment of his grumbles he nods, apparently satisfied with whatever he thought about. Could always be worse work. Killing is easy, pay is good. I'll find out whether the person will be worth a good smashing or not when I see em."

[Shimmer]

"Thirty-two k a head with three k up front is a good price Cara. Specially if their information on the target is good, but I divagar," Apex quipped inclining her head towards Chord and the others even as she let out a soft amused huff as she tried to imagine what Asmund considered worth smashing. Still it was good to know she wasn't working with a bunch of two-bit killers that would leap at every wetwork job. Caution was a plus in this line of work and a trait she appreciated.

Specially from a Doctor who may very well be patching her up at a later point, she thought, eyeing Doctor 'Sting.' Leaving her wondering if the street name hinted at a fondness for throwing syringes or was a play on words in regards to a criminal operation. English was a dios maldito pesadilla to deal with at times, but basic had beaten it into her head early in life. If only because unlike Itztli her nationality was indiscernible enough at a glance for infiltration operations.

"Es su segundo idioma Ruso o alemán?" The ex-Cuachicqueh asked softly pitching her voice low for Asmunds ears only as she fumbled to remember the english word she was looking for, "Your second language Ruso uh Russoian? Russian! Ah Russian o Ge-alemán?" She questioned her brow wrinkled slightly with concentration as she tried to pantomime drinking from a beer stien. It'd been a rather stressful few weeks and Apex was more than glad to be getting back to the routine of the hunt even if her tired brain couldn't latch onto anything strictly alemán that she could remember other then beer and dragons and she was not going to try to pantomime Lofwyr.

[Volthawk]

Keeping up his calm facade, Doc Sting nods. He could probably trust the basic outline here - if he was misrepresenting the situation, the Johnson would just be setting himself up for wasted time, and enough work had already gone into getting this team together for him to outright be hiring the wrong people for the job. Besides, lying about the target was an easy way to get a failed assassination. High ranking security officers tended to be bastards in his book, anyway.

"Alright, you have my interest. Go on."

[Schismatic]

Eliminating a member of the corrupt police forces would be a plus. She had little love for those that would sell out her kind to a corporation for live testing as opposed to doing their job and servicing a public need. Chartered private security forces, with their bevvy of extrajudicial access to SIN registries or their capacity to demand one were always a thorn in the side of for people like her. The more corrupt, the greater the organized crime in the background.

Still, was that merely a rationalization? She lived by a strict moral code. Both when she were a soldier and in general. Positive ID was not exactly unwarranted when it came to the practiced use of coercive force. Even if the metahuman legal definition of establishing PID was thoroughly underwhelming compared with her senses, she respected soldiers who lived up to the ideals of restrained force. Then of course there were the utilitarian considerations of her code of honour. What sort of fallout might arise when one becomes less a soldier of coercive force for its own sake, and rather a merchant of death?

People cannot simply dismiss actions that affect social structuralism in terms of simply some unnuanced idea of personal action and other. The basis of moral guidance was the execution of higher cognition--if you're smart, you have a moral duty to use it for a prosocial good and comprehend all aspects of your actions that people of diminished cognizance might not have internalized. The gift of sapience sullies itself when it is untuned to prosocial structuralism of one's actions and their foreseeable outcomes. Actively refusing to contemplate the larger reverberations of causality due to one's actions was not a liberator of morality, but the crutch of immoral activity. In feasibility, a person who can kill simply because they refuse to contemplate the larger structuralist effects is no less a corrupt police officer doling out social damages for self gain.

In short -- she did not evolve to a state of sapience to simply disuse her higher cognizance. Wetwork -- killing without care as a merchant of death -- was an insult to the relatively newly discovered sapience and realm of thought previously inaccessible when she were living in a hole in the ground and her primary concerns were protecting and securing food, shelter and young--regardless of how she got all three.

She didn't like this one bit, but then again the partial amelioration of the fact that it would not be her hands likely sullied with blood--and a corrupt, potent political target such as a crooked private cop would also qualify as a strong target of being eliminated.

"With reservation--but I concede to the general consensus of the group. I'll contribute actionable effect to the cause..." She accepted the terms. Though it was (purposefully) plain to see she had significant qualms with a team that amongst the greatest consternation held was Doc Sting's that might rival her own.

[Tome]

"I'm afraid you really should have specified you were looking for wetwork, Mr. Johnson" Jailbird interrupts, looking quite put out. She's sitting up straight, the former laxity in her posture replaced with grim focus as she looks directly at scrambled projection. "As I'm sure you're aware, it's a somewhat specialised field, even within our little community, and not one that I dabble in. I am quite open about that, and this job should never have even been offered to me".

"That it was" the mage continues, "says to me that either you failed to specify the need, or that you didn't care overly much about who you hired". Her disapproving tone expresses just how much she thinks of either of those options. Miss Jekyll wouldn't have passed this on to her in she'd known, she knows her fixer well enough to say that. Not when its coming from a corporate johnson, and this guy stinks of corp.

"I'm still willing to deliver your target to you, but for the full pay that you initially offered. Even that is only barely removed from doing the deed ourselves, and for that? You pay a premium for my services" she says coldly. Either Mr. Johnson wanted her on this badly enough to pony up sufficient jing, or she'd be happy waiting for the next job. Her account was a little low, but not that low. Honestly she'd rather walk away now, but for thirty thousand she'll accept the thin pretense that not having her own finger on the trigger offers.

"Next time, if you want an assassin, ask for one up front and save everyone some time".

Negotiation test got 5 hits, spent Edge to Push the Limit and then afterwards on Second Chance because those dice were terrible.

[Taqukaq]

Despite the intense nature of the rebuttal and the incredibly persuasive nature of the distorted image gives a shrugged appearance. "Wet work is a part of the shadow-runner job. Sometimes you pick your jobs, and other times your job picks you. Not based on your view on the moral high ground. Though, I didn't specify wet work because that is a rather foolish thing to do with international communications and long distances.

Most runners are always up for geeking a corporate ass hole. Your delicate need to do good is not among the hundreds of considerations I make while planning this entire thing. I consider your capability, and assume the large amount of Nuyen will help ease the pain of doing bad things as a shadow-runner. That's fair, the original agreed price of 20,000 Nuyen each. Instead of half. Good. I’m glad we could come to an agreement. The target is Doug Quinn, a high-level security executive in Citigroup Manhattan. Here is his picture,”

An AR picture appears of a darkhaired man of eastern European descent with strong check bones, which make his tight smile look like a threat. His blue eyes are reminiscent of a glacier, or maybe it is just the cold stare. Once it is loaded to the room, anyone who wants to can copy it to their commlink.

https://66.media.tumblr.com/05dd5850124cb179bb202b605cccc5e8/tumblr_p1p5moQHS71wftoggo1_250.png

“Usually he is hard to locate and is hidden behind his security team, but I learned he will be speaking at a Manhattan Development Consortium meeting in two days. NYPD Inc. security is in charge, and because of all the different big wigs that will be present,
he won’t have his usual security detail. Half an hour before his speech, he will be in an office on the third floor of the MDC using a green room
of sorts. I have been able to get you security credentials and uniforms that will allow access to the building on that day.

These passes only permit you to carry a pistol, but my contact, who will give you the passes and uniforms, can smuggle a few other items in ahead of time. You will be able to retrieve your items once inside. My contact, Paul Jones, will meet you noon tomorrow at the Foo Wang Restaurant in Soho. Anything you want smuggled in must be given to him then, and he will give you the fake credentials and
uniforms. Any questions?”

[fibericon]

"So we're lookin' at 32 dead, 20 alive? Alright. I think I've heard everything I need to. No reason to waste the man's time when it comes to planning, ladies and gents. Why don't we retire to what I assure you is a luxury van to hash this out?"

He sets his glass back down, then sends a text ahead to someone. One sip was... more than enough. He wouldn't clean his wheel wells with this drek.

[Schismatic]

She leaned lower but turned her gaze towards Jailbird. A sincere smile taking her features at the outburst. Now there's a shadowrunner she could appreciate. Was she ex-service as well? Something screamed she probably wasn't, but she liked her honourable moxie. Here's a person that summed up that beauty of being need not be coupled with eloquence and the punk rocker in her could more than appreciate that swagger. Maybe this team was closer to her desires than what was immediately obvious?

At least one which would not leap to sell their souls. Violence need not be malicious, conflict need not be endcapped by naked cruelty. Fight for a purpose.

She lifted that demure frame wrapped by the occulting hooded jacket to observe the feed before nodding softly. She lifted up her burner commlink to receive the info on the mark. A neoliberal global capitalist, to boot. She paused to consider her options right then and there, but this was starting to look more like your average cut and run jaunt in the betwixting comfort of light and dark. A comfortable sojourn from her public life--which had always threatened her.

She twisted her head to Puppet Master and nodded. There was a lot to discuss... and she wanted to avail herself a chance to familiarize herself with her new crew. The smell of the bar was getting to her--and not simply because the smell of vomit was growing as the night drew further on. She didn't mind the smells of the Manhattan nightlife--but usually only when she could make a scene and lose herself to playing for the crowd. That and when she didn't need to wear so much clothing, or so concerned about having to hide herself amidst the heavy footsteps of metahumanity.

Playing for a crowd as herself felt like being a meteor blazing across the atmosphere--this hooded long coat felt like being a caged animal at the zoo. Existing simply to be non-threatening while being gawked at by clueless primates with their commlinks fascinated by whatever newly discovered paracritter of the Sixth World. In short--shooting stars trumped caged beast, and she was already tired with the deception.

Her commlink beeped as she assorted the information, as she observed the figure's profile in the screen. Manually interacting with the interface--apparently she disliked AR.

"I'll likely need that deposit to buy run specific gear. As welcoming as New York City is compared to the backwards drekhole the rest of the UCAS is--I can't imagine there's too many people like me amongst the blue streak's guard complements. 'Sore thumb', as the say. So I'll need to prepare additional gear. Plus I'll need to buy a decent machine pistol, and given the deadline and the expediency required for a clean gun I have doubts it'll come cheap--if at all. I mean I don't even own a pistol... and I imagine no self-respecting officer wanders about without a sidearm." She noted to the Johnson.

"Unless, of course, someone here has something fitting such a disguise?" She queried.

[Taqukaq]

"Wonderful, Well then, here is the information for the escrow account. You will find that the entirety of your pay is included in the account but the funds will be locked until He is brought to us. That being said, each of you can pull three thousand Nuyen each in order to prepare for things. I'll leave such things to you as I do not want to be affiliated with this. Here is a number to one of my burner lines. If anything happens and goes wrong prior to the run tell me.

Believe it or not I actually want you to succeed in this matter but unfortunately, I am limited to what I can give you, especially as a result of turning to the kidnapping side of things. But with that, I must leave, there are a few other preparations I must make before the Consortium Meeting. Good day, please enjoy the luxuries of the exclusive Club Nuevo. Not everyone gets let into a place like this. Enjoy your evening, your drinks are covered. I look forward to watching the news on that day Good day.

As the trid feed flickers out and disappears, the group finds themselves alone in the room. The giant, stroking his beard, looking at where the trip projection used to be. The giant grumbles and then answers Chord's question about the pistols. "Aye, but not everyone needs a pistol. Some metatypes wouldn't even be issued one. When I was hired as the security chief in Norway, they never issued me a firearm. They gave me my hamaar.

Walking in there, it may be more normal for someone like me to not have a firearm, especially because I'm almost positive I can't find a pistol that a giant could use. I'll be smuggling in my Hamaar and my armor. I don't see why we couldn't have killed the guy and just made more money. It isn't like he is winning the Nobel peace prize. And lets face it they will most likely immediately geek him in the dome upon delivery. I suppose you have your moral code. For those of you lucky enough to be allowed to have one. But then again, I don't have the same right. I have been forced to kill by you humans and elves regardless of what I want my entire life.

Thus the life of a Giant in a humanoid world. Ultimately, I will stick with the group choice. But I suppose at any point in time, we could always just pop him in the dome before delivery to get full pay. Hell I could do it for you. Like I said, I wasn't allowed by you humans to ever feel remorse for what I was forced to do. I figure I can spare you of having to do it or see it encase they want to put on a show. Most business men don't like it when their job is complicated and the choice to do things this way complicates it for both parties. So they might just start being more of a **** to us. Huh, It doesn't really seem like he wants us to do any real legwork. That's...disconcerting.

The giant looks at Apex speaking a language he has most likely never heard before coming from Norway. He shrugs and mutters. "Jeg snakker norsk. Jeg er likevel en norge-gigant. Norwegian."

[fibericon]

"Yeah, luxurious. Even if I believed this place wasn't bugged by everyone and their grandma, the booze is still crap. Hey big guy, I'm sympathetic, really. In fact, you should meet... a, ah... friend of mine. Might find common ground."

Puppet Master stands up. He picks up the glass again and smells his drink, before shuddering and putting it back.

"Jesus."

[Volthawk]

Doc Sting grins when Jailbird gives her speech and Chord shows her approval, happy to get an idea of the kind of people he'll be working with. Just having to do an extraction worked fine for him, especially at the price negotiated. The giant's ramble gets a less positive response, the elf dropping back into his calm neutral expression.

"Hold off on buying a pistol just yet, until we do some observing. We'll need to make sure we have the details right, and that includes carrying the right guns. Finding out what model they use shouldn't be an issue, though, and we might not even be limited to pistols. These are the modern police we're talking about. I'd suggest bringing something quiet and concealed too, if you can hide it well enough - I shouldn't have a problem getting hold of an effective tranquilliser you can use with your pistols, since we're keeping the body count low. Hell, I have enough of the stuff stockpiled that I'll just need more capsule rounds. Past that, the main question is just how well you'll all do at blending in. I'm assuming you've all good enough to manage that, though, if you're here."

His gaze returns to the giant, thinking. "You're going to be an issue. Even if we can sell you as an officer with your hammer, you're still attention-grabbing. We can use that, though, it'll just need some planning, and I'm sure you'll be useful if we need your brute force. As for wetwork? Screw what he thinks we need to know, we'll need more. Just need to be quick about it. Since it's an extraction now, we'll need an escape route that facilitates bringing him with us. Way I see it, he's leaving in one of two ways. First, conscious but tricked about what's going on. If we do it this way, we'll need a story, a way to sell it to him, and a way to prevent everyone else around him and on the way out interfering. The other way is unconscious - I have the equipment and training to guarantee that he'll stay down as long as we need - in which case we need a way of getting a body out out of the building unnoticed. So we need building plans at the least, and the more we have past that on the place, the better. We should see if we can find out who else is attending - there's going to be a lot of important people there, and even if they're not supposed to bring their own people and let NYPD handle it, I can't help but feel like they might still cause issues."

[Shimmer]

"Ah noruego," Apex murmured voice pitched low as a barely perceptible tension seemed to relax from the petite elf's shoulders even as she canted her head up at Asmund a small frown tugging at the edge of the woman's lips.

"If we could leave race out of this Chico Grande I would appreciate it. Having knife ears never spared me," She quipped crossing her arms as she eyed the rest of the group with an implacable silver blue gaze. "And if the rest of the group favors kidnapping to wetwork then que así sea. I am a close combatiente though I'll wait till we reach this luxury van before detailing even the vaguest notion of my skills, but needless to say I can switch to non-lethal in a una pizca." The Elf murmured pushing off the wall to stand fully on her feet once more as she shook out her limbs and nodded to Puppet Master to lead the way. Though she was rather uncertain how Asmund was going to fit in this 'van.'

"I'll need to pick up some new armor that can be worn under the uniform. My own armor is excellent, but is llamativo. Very striking. Unless we plan to go out in a bang or have an escape route where we can remain unseen it may attract too much la atención. Course that may be a good thing if you need me to soak up the bullets." Apex spoke disregarding the drinks and the club in general. Such places were not really her cup of tea and she had no intention of lingering. Too easy for some chummer to slip something into a drink be they a patron or a bartender.

[Sarven]

"Hey, if we're headed to this van could someone grab my cyberdeck and take it with them?" Omega says as he downloads a copy of the targets picture.

[Shimmer]

"Yeah sure," Apex quips dipping down to snatch the apparatus from the table turning it briefly over in her hands in inspection. "So you just watching us from some safe house somewhere amigo? Or this just you?" She questioned tone casual as she cocked her head down at the holographic image.

[Schismatic]

"It's less whether he deserves it or not. I've killed people, or at least gotten them killed through my agency and planning. The world is a violent place. But I do not kill for money. I certainly don't kill for money on behalf of another corporation. Sure--today it's a financial kleptocrat that seeks to hold to hostage basic meta needs for the sake of maintaining the class divisions--but tomorrow it will be a shadowrunner--or a techno-anarchist--or an ecological activist. It's a bit rich when people simply say 'nothing personal' when it comes down to murdering for a few extra 0s on a credstick. That is intrinsically personal--and I don't remember selling my skills simply for personal desires." She said simply enough to the Giant.

"If I'm going to kill someone, I want it to be for what I believe in. My choice. Materialist considerations or simply for a statement of resistance. Wetwork is more often the tools of a corporation trying to keep the underclasses in line through extrajudicial brute force, so yeah--I have a problem with wetwork."

She looked over to Doc Sting and shrugged; "Realistically, what of any pistol would I get in such a short mount of time regardless? I mean I have a couple of army buddies in the Sioux and Pueblo Security Forces I could contact--but it would still take a day or two depending on difficulty to locate and supply. I only have my Colt M23 Custom--Surely the service firearms they use here wouldn't be too hard to determine--but actually getting a clean gun with the suitable faux RFID security chip that matches the NYPD's armoury is the real trick, right?" She noted somewhat pessimistically.

"At this late junction, I'd settle for something that even just remotely looks like a gun in a holster to sell the disguise."

"As for infil and exfil of the giant, leave that to me. I can probably make him look like a troll. Probably. It will be a pain in the ass to concentrate on for possibly hours on end--but I'll compartmentalize if need be... Can't guarantee what'll happen if we encounter a mana barrier. But I'm pretty good at slipping by them if need be." She explained.

"That being said, it's pointless to consider tactical if we have yet to even determine threat assessment. Moreover, we already have a wheelman for exfil... in a worst case scenario, what do you think you would need to extract a giant, about three runners, and a hypothetical kidnap victim?" She looked to Puppet Master.

"Worse comes to worst I can sit on someone's lap--I'm smaller than I look." She purred past the edge of her hood.

[Sarven]

"nah. No safe house. I'm an AI. All matrix all the time."

[fibericon]

"I reeeeeealy woulda kept that under my hat til the van, chummer. Ain't exactly a lot of you..."

He stares at the deck for a moment.

"Unless you're a fan of deadpan sarcasm. Indistinguishable comedy and all that. Alright. Let's get out of here."

Puppet Master leads the group out with barely a look back, gesturing toward the van once it's in view. He keeps it clean, but it doesn't look like much. Inside is a bit nicer. Sofas - bolted to the floor for obvious reasons - a bar that may explain his reaction to the booze in the club... he lives here, and he lives well.

There's a rather small... girl? Woman? Waiting for him. She's 5 foot nothing, and it's hard to get a bead on her age. This is something you see every so often with Japanese women - she could be 40 years old and blend into a high school like it's null sweat. This one has unnatural hair and eye colors, but so did about 80% of the patrons in the club.

He starts pointing at people in turn to introduce them.

"Cassie, this is Jailbird, Doc Sting, Apex, Omega, Chord... Asmund's Hamaar. If I pronounced that right."

Cassie smiles, "A pleasure to meet you all."

[Shimmer]

"Huh impresionante," Apex murmured as she did her best to carry the device level in her palm. Uncertain if tilting or messing with it overly much might upset the AI's camera's or sensors. Though that didn't stop a sigh from leaving the elfs lips as Chord rambled on about morals.

"Of course death is personal. It is your targets last moments of life the least you can do is make them especial," The Ex-Cuachicqueh quipped resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the other woman's attitude, "That being said while I'm not opposed to non-violent methods if it's a bigger risk to the groups safety overall to leave an individual alive rather than dead then I would put the groups well being above my own personal morals." She explained her face carefully blank.

"It's bad business to leave an enemy alive and at your back with time enough to dig and plot your demise. There's a difference between killing a hostile target that would sooner see you dead if in your position than there is gunning down some police gruñidos. I am fine with assassination. I am not fine with manslaughter." Apex elaborated with a shrug as they stepped up into the van setting Omega's device atop the bar as she favors Cassie with a nod of greeting. Resisting the urge to arch a brow at the frankly a bit odd girl.

"Los Saludos Cassie,"

[Schismatic]

She followed behind greeting Cassie in turn, before perking an ear to Apex.

"The difference is subtle but clear. A shadowrunner expects to court death, but for understandable reasons there is a general antipathy towards wetwork. We don't run the shadows to kill, and the best run of all is one where no one gets shot. You speak of trustworthiness, but when exactly has a person willing to kill someone for nuyen been trustworthy? I'd sooner trust a 'runner who instead of killing a witness finds a way to make sure the witness wasn't there to begin with." She retorted.

"We're more than ganger street trash, and we're not sociopathic. This is why shadowrunners generally dislike wetwork and with good reason. There is a reason why sociopathy and antisocial behaviour, and its relative decaying effect on morale, are linked. As a former soldier I wouldn't trust another squad member if they brazenly ignored RoE." She lifted her hands at that as if exasperated.

"This isn't some holier-than-thou spiel, either. One person taking liberties with moral codices concerning lethal force is a liability--the difference between the battlefield and the criminal underworld is--as criminals rather than soldiers--our targets did not choose to become acceptable casualties and should not be expected to feel like soldiers in a theatre of conflict. Simply put, by acting and embodying a higher standard of professionalism, as Gandhi would have put it, we become the change we want to see in the world." Apparently there was a strong bedrock there why Dragonslayer might have chosen to approach her--despite the assertion against merely sounding like a sermon.

[Taqukaq]

Asmund nods at Schism's words.He considers them,taking his usual lengthy time to thing everything over while grumbling as he awkwardly gets up and has to literally crawl out of the room in order to fit and get out. He speaks grumpy as well. "I agree, it's time for us to ditch this tiny ass place. I hate it here. And I do like what you said, I believe it is true and correct however I do believe it is also unrealistic. I worked with many military, though never for them. I was always security, And I know military does not hold themselves to the standard you hold yourself. I suppose I should find respect for that. Still, it pays to expect the worst and hope for the best in this job field."

As the group leaves the club, there are many of the same people there who seemed upset that the group managed to move on ahead. These cold stares and irritated looks all quickly dissolved away when the Giant managed top crawl out of the door and stand to his full height and he stretches, letting out a loud yawn that sounded almost like a battle cry. Then he shakes his body and starts stretching, as if he was getting ready for an Olympic event. "I have a swat Van that can carry me, but If you rather I not drive around a giant "Arrest US" badge, then I could just travel on foot and keep up so long as you don't speed too fast. I may be giant, but I am fast...Faster than most give me credit for. " Now then What is the plan? I know I am not going to be too much use until the run, but I can still help prepare as well so long as I don't have to do matrix stuff.

[Volthawk]

Smiling at Cassie as he enters the van, Doc Sting takes a seat and listens to the orhers for a while before getting involved again.

"Personally, I find myself somewhere in the middle. Sure, I'll kill people for money, if they deserve killing. I just wasn't willing to commit to wetwork with the little we had at first. I'm still not, really - the Johnson's standard for deserving it seemed a little different to mine. In particular, I'm curious who these 'terrorists' he's supposed to have helped are. After all, that could mean anything from someone with good intentions who the corps don't like, in which case they might well be a friend of mine, to a real nutjob who needs putting down. Who knows, at this point. Point is, there are people with stronger codes than mine here, and I'll respect that. Besides, it's easier to take someone out nonlethally than lethally with my preferred methods. Like I said, once we get to the guy, we won't have an issue there.

As for the pistols, sure we might not be able to get things perfect, but it's still worth a try to get as close as possible as we can with the limitations we're under. The troll disguise would probably be useful, if we want him to at least slightly blend in. So...for starters we're looking for building plans, a source of pistols - perhaps subtle armour too, as Apex suggested, information on the event we're going into, and I suppose we should do as much physical observation of the place as we can. Anything else for us to start with, or shall we start working through those initial steps?"

[Shimmer]

"If there's concern over the target and these 'rebels' they've aided why not research him. Knowledge of his history and habits will make it easier to predict how best to capture him. Meta-humans are creatures of habit after all. Though if we're looking for armor and weapons I believe I can get us some or at least get those more inclined towards negotiations in contact with the right individual." Apex suggested with a light shrug as she glanced around the small van, and err out the van door at where Asmund leans close.

"Military rarely facilitates the right of choice mi amigo," She murmured with a sympathetic shrug more curious what a man like Asmund was doing in shadowrunning now rather than security.

[fibericon]

Cassie giggles at the conversation. "I've never done nonlethal before! New experiences are always fun. If we can get some narcojet to replace the atropine in my fangs, that should work, right? J, did you tell the sushi story yet?"

"Yeah, narcojet'll do. I haven't told them yet, but maybe you should. It's your story anyway. Oh yeah, that's the other thing - Puppet Master lands me work, but it's a mouthful. Just call me J."

He puts the van in gear and plots a circular route.

"J did a run a while back where they had to meet the Yakuza. They were served sushi. One of the team had a seafood allergy and never told anyone to not offend them. She didn't make it. The moral of the story is, a run team can't keep secrets, or people die. So that's why I'm telling you this: J rescued me from MCT two years ago, and we fled to Seattle. Now we're back. I apologize for any trouble this may cause."

Cassie offers a short bow.

"Well, that's some a the cards on the table, anyway."

[Taqukaq]

The giant speaks, waiting until a break in the conversation. "I already worked in security so I actually have my own security armor. I just need to change the patches and marking to reflect the NYPD. The contact we will meet tomorrow will have disguises so I will just tear mine up and use it to make mine reflect theirs. I've worked in security my entire life so I will have knowledge on security procedures but I'm not NYPD and I know not all procedures are the same. But I have a decent idea. Worked with NYPD in the past. They're Ok.

[Sarven]

Omega turns to Apex and says "I can take care of the research. I should have some basic searches done in a minute."doing some matrix searches for public information. Buying hits on each for simplicity.
One search for Doug Quin. Another on Citi group manhatan. A third on active terorist groups in the area and a fourth on NYPD public contact info.

[Schismatic]

"Well, I have an investigative journalist involved in the wheelings and dealings of the gears of politics here in New York. I was planning to run the information by her. Apart from that--not much else I was going to do beyond research the lingo of the NYPD--really sell the role." She paused to consider Puppet Master's spilling his guts.

"You know--that's fair." She said aloud. Settling into the back of the van.

"I'm a metasapient performing arts graduate originally from outside Denver in Pueblo country. A grey fox. As part of the metasapient scholarship program to educate those that are all-too-often both SINless and lacking basic education due to a combination of socioeconomic factors. Of course the proviso being that in exchange for education and being granted a SIN, we serve a number of years in the PCC Army. I cut my teeth in the Los Angeles occupation--specifically as a forward observer and field intelligence. After a few years of that, once my required service was up I decided to help the cause elsewhere. And where better can I help the metasapient cause than in the UCAS? The UCAS still offers bounties on people like me--and seem to overlook the actions of groups like the Human Nation or Quebecois murderers operating in their borders. Anyways--don't just shoot me if we enter a mana void...also I have a specialized medkit on my persons at all times because many of your drugs will likely hinder rather than help--so don't just wheel me into a hospital or shoot me up with random painkillers--for most types of basic injury, you're simply better letting me naturally heal." She explained simply enough.

Tapping against her right side jacket pocket. A dull, insulated drum-like sound emanating within its confines. "For magical, focus or silver assaults--or damages to the CNS--I carry a medkit in my pocket and there's a number to a burner commlink belonging to my veterinarian if you need additional supplies." She said with a deadly seriousness.

"So--FYI--Depending on who these terrorists are will likely inform my passions--or dispassions--if they meet with a terrible fate. As I said before, if I'm going to kill people it's going to be my choice. My agency. Not for nuyen and not because a corporate deathdealer told me to. Also my general antipathy towards wetwork--after all, there's little difference between an assassin and the people that put down nuyen for murdering us. I'm not like them--I'm better." She growled.

[Shimmer]

Apparently it was sharing is caring time as both Chord, Puppet Master, and to some extent the others spilled whatever info they thought was pertinent to the job or complications that might arise from that information. Fiddling with the edge of her jacket Apex shrugged. "I'd prefer to avoid Aztechology like the plague. Left me and my partner for dead with bad Intel. De mierda hijos de un la perra," She spoke swearing low and harsh under her breath.

"I ended up on the streets and he in a hospital bed and I'd rather not give them any indication that they didn't finish us off the dios malditos bastardos." Apex quipped raking a hand through her hair mussing the neat locks into a blonde mane that looked more natural on the woman then her carefully combed and cultured hairdo from before.

"I specialize in close range unarmed combat and have nothing that would set off a MAD scanner or I can down an enemy at range with longarms. I am good at stealth." She explained laying out her capabilities in simple terms.

[Sarven]

"I think it would be great to run our info by your contact. Not everything is on the matrix."

After Hearing Cassie's speech about secrets he decided to do that "Talking about himself" thing.

"Since we're sharing about ourselves I might as well too. I'm an AI, as I've already said. When I first became sentient I escaped the server I was on. I met a decker, called himself Noble. He was just a kid. He got taken out on a run against NeoNet. The kid thought they wouldn't kill him cause his parents had some pull in the corp. Now my goal is basicly to find his parents and apologize for his death. Also, I probably should mention that my skin in the matrix is his. I wear it to honor his memory."

[Schismatic]

"I would have thought the parents would have gotten the boot, or wound up in a black site for possible interrogation over suspected embezzlement and corporate espionage? Do you think they're still alive or contactable?" She queried sympathetically.

"As for my journalist friend--that's my thought process as well. If this guy is supposedly harbouring or aiding 'terrorists' hopefully she's keeping an ear to the ground for building a body of evidence to satisfy editorial legal constraints on an expose." She noted as she pulled out her commlink. "Good thing about getting that deposit...as I'm likely going to have to pay her." She began typing into it.

Message: Hey, Alison... Doug Quinn, Citigroup MH Exec. Got any eyes and ears on dirt? I'm willing to pay for a decent profile on him that you can put together. Time is a factor.

[fibericon]

"You're gonna find out eventually if you haven't figured it out already, but Cassie's a personality soft. That body's a chassis."

"Omega. I get it now. You are the end of our kind's evolution."

"I uh... yeah, sure. Anyway, she can go in cloaked. Narcojet isn't hard to get, but if someone has a local contact, I'd rather use that. She's got a submachine gun too."

[Volthawk]

Doc Sting chuckles when Puppet Master brings up the question of getting hold of narcoject. "my friend, chemicals are my speciality. I've got a good ten spare doses or so with me, as well as the stuff I already have loaded into my ammo, and some other toxins that might be of interest - I should have some more slab, anyway...point is, I have you covered in that regard. I know someone who can get us more if we need it, too."

"I suppose this is when I talk about myself too?" He shrugs. "Honestly, there's not as much to know as there is for some of you. I was a street kid, and I still am, basically, even if I'm older, more skilled and able to afford nice things. I might not be quite as much of a hooder as some of you - my code is just limiting killing to deserving target, and I help people out here and there with medical help and some nuyen and whatnot - and I have a friend or two in the local neo-anarchists. I also have a friend in the Vory - like I said, not quite as good a person as some of you - but he's not local, so he'll mostly just be able to point us in the right direction if we need more criminal assistance. AsI've alluded to, I'm a poisoner, apologies if anyone has a problem with that, but the biggest thing some of you might not like is that I get most of my edge in combat through pharmaceutical methods. I'm strong enough in body and mind, and have the right ware, so major addiction isn't in issue, but I know how some people get when this sort of thing comes up. Still, the custom stuff I have matches some of the best ware in power without flagging up as heavy augmentations, so it has its benefits for my style of doing things. While I'm mostly just a very good infiltrator, I'm also a damn doctor, if things go wrong, and I don't plan on leaving anyone behind if that happens."

[Sarven]

Omega blinks pauses a moment as he finishes his search, "Hey, search results are in. I only did a basic search. Public info, that sort of thing. Nothing really too interesting exept this:Citicorp is involved in CFD and there was a bomb threat against the location where Quin is suposed to speak. The terrorists involved are Neo-Anarchists by the name of 'The Liberationists'"

[Tome]

"Yeah, makes sense that it'd be those guys involved" the sorceress remarks as Omega chimes in. "I'll ask around, see if any of my friends in the neo-A know what's up with that".

"Since we're giving each other the rundown on our who and what, my story's pretty simple. I got on the wrong side of the NDM back when the Lord Protector" the emphasis she puts on the title is not a respectful one, "was still a thing back in blighty, and wound up in a deep dark hole for a while. When I got out I hitched a ride as far away as possible and started running the shadows".

"As for more specifics on what I can do? I'm an aspected sorceress, a xaoste by tradition, and have undergone initiation. In layman's terms that means I sling spells really bloody well, but can't pull spirits out of my arse or astrally project. I can use spells to cover for those well enough though". To illustrate, a brief flicker of lightning arcs from one hand to another. "And yes," she adds with a teasing smile, looking at the Doc, "I can cast a detox".

"As for my hangups? I generally don't do wetwork, I try not to kill if I can avoid it, I don't do mind control and I don't take runs against the neo-A".

"I've also worked with Chord before" she adds, jerking her thumb at the shapeshifter. "I think that's everything? Yeah, that's everything".

Jailbird wheels around to focus on Omega's cyberdeck and projection. "Innnn the mean time, think you can find us some building plans? Those are probably a good first step. Knowing which corps are involved in the event would also be helpful. We also need to know... actually, know what? I'll just write a list and ping it to you". A hat is dug out of her bulky coat and jammed on her head, the trodes letting her rattle off a quick message to the AI.

Next she turns to the rigger currently driving the van. "J, right?" she asks. "You're our rigger for this, is your ride able to switch identifiers? Loud or quiet, our exit is probably gonna involve breaking our trail at some point. I'll see about finding a good place to ditch any astral pursuers so you can put together our escape route once we've got the target loaded on board".

"Speaking of which, anyone got any good ideas for sneaking the target out of the building? Best I've got would be to petrify him with a spell, then quickly slap a shell around him to make him look more like a sculpture and hide his astral signature. If a couple of us pull a quick change of uniforms we could probably wheel him straight out on a dolly".

After a few moments, Jailbird sends the following list of topics to Omega.


List of things to look up:

What is this conference about anyway?
Building plans
What sort of assets are NYPD likely to be deploying?
What sort of astral and matrix security are they planning on?
Is the target going to be assigned a security detail?
When and where is the target's own security team switching off?
What's the likely route for the target to take?
What sort of traditions and foci/spells do their mages typically use? What does their SOP say to keep active? Should be in their handbook or employee regs
A copy of the NYPD employee handbook
What corporations, megas especially, are involved?
Who owns NYPD Inc.? Is it a subsidary of any of the megas?
On a related note, which megas both have territory nearby and do not allow NYPD to pursue on to their turf?
Who normally handles security on the building? When are they handing over, assuming it isn't normally NYPD?

Don't worry if any of this is behind a host that would be risky to crack, we might be able to get access easier with a bit of meatspace work. Just find what you can.

Also, have you taken a look at their matrix security? I'm gonna ask around and take a look myself, try to figure out what the astral side of things is gunna be. If we have to go loud I'd like to keep it limited, so I'll probably be throwing out a sound barrier. Any matrix alarms, panic buttons or communications are gonna be your area of expertise. Lemme know if you can handle that, or if we should get our hands on a jammer.

[Schismatic]

"Yeah--it was wiz run. For the most part. Kind of happy that there's a familiar scent in the crew that I can personally vouch for." She beamed as she got pointed to...registering movement in her general location as opposed to actual 'sight'. Her eyes lifting upwards from her comm to join the conversation. All before the depressingly quick reply beeped on her link. Given the expediency of the reply, she expected nothing good or actionable. Those amber and grey irises still dared to find their way to the screen for confirmation before a grimace took her features.

"I suppose it was a ittle much to hope for." As she inserted a credstick into the universal connector and swiped a few funds to the struggling journo at least as a 'thank you' so, at the very least, she'll pick up the commlink again when she buzzed. Pocketing the 'loose change' credstick back in her right pocket along with her device.

"So--CFD--that's that disease that affects metahumans, right? Makes them change and go all batdrek? Kind of like a nano-viral equivalent of HMHVV? I don't know much about it beyond what I've picked up from occasional shadowtalk. Is it contagious or something--or is there an inoculation we can take? Honestly, I haven't heard of shapeshifters being affected--but I don't want to be the first. I already have a hard time dealing with AR systems designed for metahuman brains and visual cortices--nanites in my skull connected to some sort of digital hivemind 24/7 sounds like agony."

[Shimmer]

"I'll meet up with my supply contact tomorrow if you can get a list and funds for whatever you need. So long as it's standard low grade military stuff he's usually good for equipment." Apex murmured content to sit back and listen as the others brainstormed and setup a plan though the question of extraction lingered.

"...Conferences are usually catered are they not? We could see about 'escorting' one of the catering groups, steal their uniforms and cart and sneak him out in that. Then there's always the possibility of if the building has maintenance tunnels we could always take him through those or..." And the Aztec trailed off eyes narrowing in thought.

"If the room has window access and one of you can cover me and the target with an invisibility spell I can walk him down the wall. Vertical surfaces are not much of an obstacle for me." Apex explained holding out a hand as black wicked looking claws slid out of her fingers through thin slits in her gloves.

"I come with my own pre-built-in climbing gear."

[Schismatic]

She paused to consider the Aztec's idea. Peering at her for a moment. "That's fine an all. But we have to consider variables. First off, extraction is difficult if we don't first account for the security they do have. And while an invisibility spell could cover your descent or ascent up a structure, it makes few allowances for noise cutting through possibly triple glazed bulletproof glass. Plus you've got no where to hide if they have astrally perceiving mage security outside--if they do have mages you might as well carry a hot pink neon sign reading 'shadow biz'. The ideal situation is to engineer the instance of you already being someplace before the mark arrives. Also catering assumes we actually know what we're doing and can appear as such--I mean I've impersonated a moonlighting chef brought on as an additional hand for an event--but then again it was because I kidnapped a real chef, assumed their identity, created the perfect disguise and spent time practicing their speech patterns... allowing me access past the security to access an ancient relic at a private auction.." She said with pride.

"It was damn smooth operating... access to the kitchen also let me orchestrate a grease and gas fire as a distraction while just in time for my 'smoke break'. That being said, it involved some serious prep, leg and teamwork. If the mark is an exec, we can expect basic precautions such as skyraker grade security and electronic surveillance systems."

"I like JB's suggestion. Floor plans would be great. If you could Omega." She bit her lip with her left canine. Raking the soft flesh as her tooth scraped against the skin in contemplation.

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way? Maybe we should plan to infiltrate whatever motorcade Quinn has before the event...? If we can create that opportunity, not only do we have immediate access to extraction--but depending on the situation we may even be able to secure the mark without anyone noticing until they get to the convention? With a decker, rigger, illusions, and some adroit use of social engineering, planning, and tactically applied brute force--we might be able to orchestrate a detour and false flag. Coupling both target extraction and subterfuge that something hasn't gone wrong buying us a few additional minutes of low-awareness activity." She paused to offer.

"As riggers and deckers, what would it take for you 'Trix wizards to fake a detour, work permit for a road crew and traffic diversion, and takeover of a vehicle if we can get someone in the car? I'm thinking a pre-MDC motorcade ambush and incapacitation of pursuit vehicles in the immediate area after diverting the motorcade to a place of our choosing. Allowing us to create multiple enfilading fire capabilities, in defilade elevation and cover to reprisal, and oblique overwatch fire opportunities to quickly neutralize bodyguards in the crossfire and secure the prisoner under effective cover for both Apex and Asmund to advance upon the target under cover of concentrated firepower..." She explained.

She looked to Jailbird at that. "Do you think you could create solid barriers to assist in covering an escape? Something that can withstand an Ares Roadmaster hitting it and not giving? Something that can facecheck any vehicular attempt of escape out of a sudden flashpoint? " She asked as if remembering her skill weaving a spell.

She looked to Doc Sting at that. "And I imagine you know your way around gases... so what sort of crowd pacification gas would you use? Something allowing Apex and Asmund to get right up in there before anyone notices and to help mask our escape? Like non-lethal obviously and requires only a sealed gasmask?" She queried.

She paused to consider her plan. "Or is all of this a bit more showy and shooty than you guys would like? I can understand why people might not like the 'direct touch'... but I figure the classic approach of bag and snatch to still be effective for a reason. Simple, direct, fewer moving parts, offers immediate, obvious solutions. Keeping in mind that we have only two days to come up with something." She conceded.

[Taqukaq]

Asmund crouches, in order to be more level with the group. He settles back on his heels, a motion he does with the practiced ease of a Giant who has had to spend a lifetime getting used to how metahumans will live and force others to live at their standard.

"Carrying him out as a statue? I don't know about that. Its a security conference. Walking out even in uniform, carrying out an Elegant statue that may be recognized by anyone who passes seems risky. We could always try roof access, get to another building not crawling with security. Also no go on before the conference are you kidding me?

I would rather deal with some Punk NYPD unit than the executives personal corporate security detail. Which they aren't allowed to have at this conference. No, this conference is the best time to strike and ensure the target is captured or eliminated. There is also the thing to consider. If our cover is blown, I'm sure the building may be put on lockdown. Our cards may not work anymore. Can any of you bust through a mag lock? Worst case scenario ill just take the door off. "

[Schismatic]

She shrugged at that.

"Maybe? I guess? Of course you can look at it from the other side of the fence that if there are going to be any headaches, corpsec are probably more deserving than NYPD beat cops. And say what you like, I'd rather put drek on CitiGroup than local fuzz." She counterpointed.

"Plus if the attack goes poorly, there's no need to worry about maglocks or being trapped in a gigantic prison just waiting to be captured--filled to the brim with shields. Quantity is a quality all of its own, and being trapped in the MDC offers little protection compared with a decently planned ambush nor does it offer the same extraction possibilities as open streets and air. But once again--spitballing, if people have a better plan."

[fibericon]

J lights up at Jailbird's question.

"Oh buddy, does it ever. I got spoof chips, I got a morphing plate, I got 'link override, and I got a trick where I let them catch up then flip on the anti theft when they go for the door. That's when they get hit with Seven-7! Haha, pulled that stunt last time I was here actually.

"J, we're trying to not kill people on this run."

"Ah. Right. Forget that last thing I said then, but yeah, I can get us out of Dodge."

"It's my understanding that bags are created using similar material on the outside as the kind comprising my skin and clothing that allow me to become effectively invisible. It was made very difficult to obtain after a civilian was killed as a result of being run over while inside one of these bags. If we put the target in one, J can carry him out."

"Not sure they make those anymore, Cassie. And if they do, it's kinda short notice to get something like that. Anyway, most of that other business is on our decker, but I can drive a stolen ride easy enough."

[Volthawk]

Listening to the conversation between Puppet Master and his...friend?...Doc Sting nods. "Yeah, ruthenium polymer is illegal and pretty hard to get hold of these days, if you want a bag or cloak of the stuff. It's okay in certain applications, like this suit, but if nobody has enough RP now, it'll be a challenge to get hold of it in time for the run. Might be doable, just difficult. Also, Seven-7? Impressive, that stuff isn't easy to acquire."

He then looks back at Chord. He could appreciate the way she thought - he got the impression that they had at least a few similar ideas on how to go about things. That was good in a planner, letting him focus on his part. "Nausea gas, if we want it to look like it's from the authorities to any observers and you want people to go in with just a mask. It's a common crowd control agent, and unlike the more serious stuff, it doesn't ask attack through skin. Mind you, it won't knock anyone out by itself, just ruin their day enough that they won't put up as much of a fight. To down people, we need something stronger which will attack through contact, making it less safe to go into without proper seals. However, if you disperse them through gas grenades -I have ten ready with Neuro-Stun X - it won't linger for longer than, oh, ten, fifteen seconds? So it depends on if you want a long lasting but less powerful gas - with an appropriate dispersal mechanism - or a quick and powerful one."

[Shimmer]

Apex arched her brows at Chord's sharp comments her silver blue eyes hardening to a steely slate before she narrowed her gaze at the Shapeshifter. "With all due respect Chord I am not an idiot and I would prefer if you didn't talk down to me like I was one. You asked for suggestions and I was merely giving them. If you wanted a detailed step by step layout and infiltration plan taking into account security, and a thousand other variables we don't even know about yet then you should have said that instead. I however, was under the impression that we were currently brainstorming potential infiltration operations and exit strategies." The Ex-Shorn One spoke her words cold and clipped and not so much as a hint of her normal accent, only a sharp hard edge to her tone.

"I however agree with Asmund. If you want a non-lethal op trying to take the target before he reaches the conference would be suicide. We are a new team still learning each others skills and quirks and there is no physical way we can overcome such restrictions in less than forty-eight hours to work together seamlessly enough to take on a well trained and highly dangerous corp team designed specifically to prevent what we're trying to accomplish. Especially not while using non-lethal force." Apex pointed out motioning to the group with a wave of her hand.

"NYPD though we can likely manage without casualties. Right now our biggest enemy is the clock. We don't need an absolutely perfect and utterly flawless disguise. We need a passable disguise that will hold up to brief scrutinizing until we can get our target and get out. While I am not the Face persay I feel you're over-complicating this op. We should take into account the floor plan and both astral, physical, and matrix security which I believe the group can handle, but the more unnecessary steps we add to this plan, such as crowd control chemicals, the more points of potential failure we have to contend with." She explained nodding to each member in turn her voice even and face placid.

"If anything I would suggest using our NYPD disguises to our advantage and when the target is in the room setup a potential bomb threat to sew confusion amidst the conference distratcting security and 'escort' him to safety. Tranq him the second we're out of sight in the ensuing chaos and load him into the van and merge with the rest of traffic."

[Schismatic]

"Yeah. No. I'm not treating you like an idiot, because I typically don't run unless I can have some certain trust in my team. Miss Jekyll doesn't bother me with milk runs or rookies unless she, personally, wants someone to look out for them and show them the ropes. I trust you have skills otherwise you wouldn't be here." She mediated.

"The problem with catering is the facade ends the second someone asks our name and checks with the staff list. We have to assume high-level security with clearance checks. This is why I told you about the chef disguise--same deal. If we're going to disguise ourselves as catering, we need to at least learn what staff they will have on the day--And having two or three wageslaves milling about together is going to draw scrutiny. Whether a fragged off superior or security. I would suggest we find someone who looks like you, we make sure they don't turn up to work. Hopefully someone that is disliked by the rest of the staff. So nobody will want to strike up a passing conversation--but at least check their social feed to get a picture of their hobbies, habits, timetable, gossip and gripes." She explained.

"I, for one, like that plan and can help you infiltrate the staff--but I want your disguise to be airtight if possible, and it will be a boon to our plans if there is a security check that you at least try to look as if you're on a staff list."

She looked to Doc Sting at that and paused. "Yeah, that'd work... it doesn't necessarily need to knock out people--if it takes the wind out of them and allows us to put them down easier that's good enough with me. Between intoxication and chaos, they should only require a decent thumping to take what little left of them out of the fight--right? She queried.

[Shimmer]

"Yes, but you're not taking into account the time either," Apex pointed out with a sigh running a hand tiredly over her face before pulling out her commlink and displaying it's clock before slapping the hunk of plastic onto the table of the van. "We have less than forty-eight hours to accomplish all of this. We don't need perfect, we need functional. If this was an assassination I would say it was easily doable, but snatch-and-grabs are infinitely more complicated." The Ex-Shorn One explained with a frown.

"If this were a long term op then yes perhaps we would need all those things to impersonate a chef, but as I said that was merely a suggestion since you were asking for them. Though the impersonation avenue is still in my opinion the safest and best route. Though my target would be an NYPD unit. The Mr. Johnson has been kind enough to acquire us disguises and we have a Decker and a Mage. New York is a large city and I wouldn't be surprised if they're pulling police units from all over to cover the conference and still keep the city at large patrolled. It's highly doubtful that every unit is familiar with every single officer in the entire massive city. It would be infinitely easier to get a list of what units are going to be assigned to the conference, have our Decker spoof/copy their credentials, reroute the real cops on a wild goose chase, and take their place." She explained laying out the potential plan.

"It'd be easy enough to have our mage do Astral Overwatch and if our Decker spoofs the real cops credentials it shouldn't be entirely difficult to digitally overlay their faces upon most of ours for the camera's. From there's set off a few alarms, start a bomb scare so the building is evacuated by the police and we walk right out with our target. The plan has minimal failure points and entry or evacuation by roof to a less secure building or through any possible maintenance tunnels should there be some works as a 'la mierda ha golpeado al fan' back-up. Overall I think it would be wiser to work with what the Johnson has provided us then against it given the time constraints." Apex laid out before pausing to nod in acknowledgement at Doc Sting.

"Though nausea gas or other non-lethal chemicals that could add to the confusion would lend credence to a faked attack."

[Volthawk]

Doc Sting shrugs. "I'm just laying out the options. Nausea gas will leave them disoriented and less capable for a while after exposure, and while the nausea itself is less reliable, it'll still probably do enough to make lot of them unable to interfere for a short window - enough to clean up any resistance in."

"Personally, I'd rather go with the impersonation route. It plays more nicely with my strengths - you don't have to worry about me getting noticed. If nothing else, security intended to be seen are less likely to have immediate countermeasures to my tricks than the corpsec on the way there - sealed full body combat armour and constantly worn gas masks usually don't go well with public appearances, and we'll be planning on slipping away before they bring out the heavy responses."

[Sarven]

"What worries me is that we may not need to fake an attack. There's a lot of terrorist involvement here. With the bomb threat on the building and Quin funding terrotists. I wouldn't be supprized if they were connected."

"Also, I can probably spoof NYPD id if I get a good look at some. Most of that's gonna come down to you guys not makeing anyone suspect you enough to look into it too deep."

[Shimmer]

"Corp-sec high security is never good for anybody's health," Apex agreed casting the Doctor a solemn nod of understanding. "Though I don't feel it would be too difficult to get ahold of some NYPD ID's for you to reference Omega. If we can get a list of the units manning security we can pick an outlying one and possibly even fake a brief 'incident' with them to give an opening for one of us to pick-pocket an ID off of them and give you a physical one to scan and adjust. Hell if we have a card scanner we could probably nab one off them scan it, and put it back before they were ever the wiser." She suggested considering the challenges ahead of them for a long silent moment.

"Hell if we could just get the whole damn unit mierda cara drunk or catch them unawares there's a shot we could nab all their ID's, but that may be too much for us. Unless...Well we could perhaps catch them the night before they're to go in for the conference, drug em and toss em in a closet and take their ID's and forge them to look like us. Thankfully most Policia work in groups so us working together as a unit won't raise eyebrows." The Ex-Shorn One mused mulling the ideas over in her mind.

"Though you may be right about the attacks Omega though if we could stage a fake one on our own terms or take advantage of whatever chaos might be sewn would be best. Though we could just say there's a bomb threat and escort the Target out. It's doubtful that if the Target is backing whatever Terrorist group that might hit the conference that he would share that info with the NYPD."

[Schismatic]

She nodded at Apex's commentary.

"Yep--it's not much time, but I still like the idea. If we can get knowledge of who is handling hospitality-or whatever MDC staff--I think it might be a useful resource for me to research. Having someone with access to food, drink, or linens and laundry service might avail us the easiest means to extract the mark. It might avail us other options. And once again--performing arts graduate. I know my way around cosmetics, wigs and improvisation for a role. It won't be perfect--but then again since when is anything perfect? It might be useful information to have in case we need a backup plan." She beamed.

"Leave it with me. I'll talk to an events planner I know and see who the MDC will usually contract for such an outing--maybe she can get us some names and faces. Worse comes to the worst, it can provide us with impromptu decent disguises on the run with a few minutes of cosmetic work or a masking spell. Might sound cliche... but getting info on services might let us simply levitate a bedsheet or tablecloth-wrapped body down the laundry chute and wheel them out that way. I've always wanted to do an extraction like that." She smiled at that.

[Shimmer]

"I believe," Apex began glancing over the group as she spoke, "That it would be wiser to go forward with the NYPD impersonation angle as our primary plan. It is the simplest and given the time has the best likelihood of success. If you feel you can get us the ID's and the disguises for us to impersonate caterers Chord then that will be Plan B should Plan A fail. Plan C is we'll go out the roof or window under cover of invisibility or smoke screen or cover fire should there be an unexpected change of plans preventing us from merely walking out." The Ex-Shorn One murmured calmly laying out the options for the group as a whole to weigh in on at their leisure.

"I would also like to propose a Plan D being that in the case that non-lethal fails and it becomes too large of a risk to take the Target alive that we go for a clean kill of the Target only. Non-lethal will still be in effect for all other hostiles beyond the Target, but if it at all looks like we cannot secure them we absolutely cannot allow the Target to survive. This is a corp executive and a cut-throat one at that. Should we fail they will not hesitate to hunt us down and destroy us and everything we have ever loved and while I understand the teams moral reservations when it comes to killing I feel that should Plan A, B, and C fail that D can be justified as self-defense. The tres veces condenado Target will not have the same qualms about wetwork that we have." Apex explained offering up the proposed fail-safe to the team.

"Is everyone on board with these ideas so far? Snatch and Grabs are some of the most difficult missions with little room for error and an utter nightmare for newly formed teams like ourselves. We need to be as in agreement as we can possibly be. Once we've settled on things we can start delegating and determining whom would feel themselves best suited to what role." She spoke, tone open as she waited to hear from the rest of the Team before the moved forward to the nuts and bolts of the plan.

[Schismatic]

"I'm certain of my capabilities to infiltrate the place. What we should be wary of is we're trusting a Johnson lackey's abilities and resources to get in. So that either tells us they're in deep with the police--or we shouldn't trust these IDs beyond whatever customary face checking. I say with no uncertain terms, my trust is quite limited to how far I can throw someone... and a hologram of a Johnson wanting me to kill someone can't be thrown very far. Honestly, arranging a public place to meet up and not bothering to show up themselves suggests this plan is slapdash to begin with and the timeframe of the run bears out that assertion. Which is probably why they reached out to any fixers known to organize prime runner material--we have to assume improvisation is going to be part and parcel." She noted carefully.

"Additional disguise and impersonation opportunities is not just for the run's benefits. It's for our own. Insurance. Bug out solution. It's foolish to do anything else... I don't know about you, but I've lived this long by being careful... and I'm not happy with the concept of shadowrunning until I die. I plan to retire in the next two-three years... Shadowrunning is for youngbloods... Foxes live for about five years in the wild, I've been around about twenty five... So I'm either immortal, or going to start getting old, quick. Either--or, I have other things I want to do in my life. Trusting Johnsons is like trusting dragons. The benefit of extraction over wetwork is the Johnson is less likely to burn us after we had eliminated the target. Can't exactly trust a guy who's tight on details, screaming about terrorists, when they're paying us to geek a guy." She said pessimistically.

"Call me 'paranoid', but I was already contemplating stepping out of this run before. But Jailbird is here, and Miss Jekyll likely sent both of us because I would do what I'm about to do now... organize a bug out plan. Which tells me she doesn't feel on the level about this run, either." She added to the discourse.

"Happy to be proven wrong, however--we'll see what happens. Anyways, regardless... I think we're all settled on the infiltration plan. First of all we need to talk gear for tomorrow. I would settle for a basic pistol. Something not unusual and I can toss into the Hudson without a care. I'll also need clips and ammunition. Do I need to negotiate or locate arms or munitions for anyone on their behalf? I'm sure I could buy a small crate of pistols if anyone wants to do a bulk order? I'm half tempted to ask for my Colt M23 to be smuggled in but getting it out would prove difficult--and that'd be 1,500¥ down the drain." She shrugged.

[fibericon]

Cassie stares blankly at the conversation, then looks to J for input. For his part, he's at least somewhat checked out.

"It's always better for me to sneak in cloaked through a drone than trying to pass my pretty face off as someone else. Ain't my gig. Einstein once said telling a fish to climb a tree is how you get dead runners."

"I don't think-"

"Eh, close enough."

"I guess we shouldn't tell the elf you take wetwork?"

"What, you don't think my devilish good looks would smooth it over?"


Cassie laughs, and J turns to Chord.

"I believe in your ability to infiltrate. But the rest of us? Yeah, we're not all passing inspection. It just takes one failure to make it go sideways."

[Taqukaq]

Asmund was silent for a moment. He looked up at the group before he finally began speaking. "There is one more thing. It may end up changing our plan again... But only for me. Unfortunately in the security world... I'm famous. They may not know me personally, but there is a chance that they may either recognize my size or my face. I dedicated my entire life to security and I made my name for myself and I did so with hammer and striking anvil. So I may not be able to stick close to you guys at first. But my presence could cause a needed distraction that isn't a bomb threat where everyone will be on edge suspecting anyone.

Worst case scenario, if something were to go wrong, I'll just break contact and bulldoze through anyone in my way to get to the group. I assure you, there will be no one in that building that could physically stop me on their own. Unless they have a troll. If they do, well then... What is the American expression? "I'll burn that bridge when I get there." Now then, in that case We have to meet the smuggler tomorrow. Unless you guys have a way for me to contribute, I'm just going to wait until then and I'll meet you at the place tomorrow.

With that Asmund stands up from his crouch, his knees cracking as if he was a middle aged man but those crack sounded like bones breaking, but it was simply the size having a louder crack. He cricks his head back and forth to either side and he turns and waves to the group before he starts walking southwards.

[Volthawk]

Glancing over at the brief Japanese discussion, Doc Sting returns his attention to the wider group as he speaks up. "Alright. Before we all vanish to do our individual preparation, I'd appreciate it if we established the actual plan, because so far I'm hearing ideas, proposals and general ideas, but not much concrete. While improvisation is important, we need to know what we're doing - as Cassie observed, most of you probably won't match Chord or myself in infiltration skills, so we need to know how we're getting past that. Oh, and yes Apex, your outline is agreeable."

" So, we're primarily using the Johnson's way in, disguising as NYPD. Are we going for the generic cops, or are we finding some people to impersonate in particular? In any case, we still need to avoid drawing attention at this stage, as Chord and I may not be able to explain away anything too noticeable. We might be better off keeping the size of the infiltration team small, for the same reason. In any case, this phase is rather straightforward, we just need to blend long enough to reach our objectives - unless, of course, we need to lay the groundwork for later phases."

"Next, we find ourselves at the point where the infiltration team is at the target. How are we getting him out? If we're making a false threat to escort him out, what are we using as the threat, and what do we need to do to sell the threat, and how widely do we want it to be noticed? If we aren't running a con, instead we just need to quietly deal with any. Mrity in the room and secure him. Either way, this phase should end with the target under the team's control, one way or another. Preferably subtly, but we'll have to deal with whatever happens."

"The third phase is going to be the most difficult - the extraction. So far, we've mostly had ideas mentioned then taken apart, but we need something concrete if we're going to succeed. Acquiring the target through a con leads to a simple extraction, as we just need to walk out without NYPD causing an issue for us - simple, but not necessarily easy. A physical takedown leaves the issue of making a body dissappear from the third floor, which has two main solutions. The first is figuring out some way of disguising the body as we take it out - Chord's service staff idea might be useful here. The second one is to go for speed and surprise - something like Apex's window escape, where it might be noticed but the idea is to act quickly enough so we're in a position to escape as they notice. In that case, I hope you're a good driver, Puppet Master.

"As people have mentioned, we probably won't be able to work as one large group for this, so we're going to need to work in smaller groups. However, as Apex said, we can figure out who goes where once we know what we're doing. So, to fill those holes - the false threat plan feels like the best way to go, particularly if we can work with the existing threats. However, we're going to need to avoid the particularly public areas, to hide the fact that no evacuation is actually happening - we can't let him talk to any other security. Also, Jailbird, what mojo do you have? Anything that'll make getting an unconscious body out, or which would help make someone easier to convince?"

[Shimmer]

"We can always contact the Johnson and see if we can't get the NYPD ID's ahead of time to see if they are specific or general so we know how to go about our cove story. From there Omega can back check them to ensure everything is por encima tablero." Apex suggested tossing a nod in Choir's direction before settling her gaze on the Doc.

"I believe the emergency exit may be the easiest exit and possible entry point to the building. It would be a small matter for me to get the fire-escape down once we have some idea of what security is like. Hit the second floor for our disguises, and then put our plan into action. Do we want to do a full building bomb scare so if our Target checks up on it we don't look suspicious complete with gas? Or do we just want to tell our target alone that there is a scare to encourage them to come with us?" The Ex-Shorn one questioned looking for input from the group as a whole.

"If the Target does not come willingly the food option would be a good way to smuggle them out or an invisibility spell. If Jailbird can manage." She quipped flashing the mage a friendly smile.

[Taqukaq]

Anything we haven't finalized as far as legwork before meeting the smuggler just feel free to message me on discord and we will do some roles there and I'll adjust posts accordingly. Trying to keep these games from stopping.

As the group completes their collaboration on their main plan and back up plans it became time to hurry up and wait for the next day at around noon. The group gathers together/or travels separately and drives towards the Wang Fu Restaurant where the meeting with the smuggler will take place. So far the instructions were simply to head into the restaurant. The middle of the day was surprisingly bright for a day in Manhattan which usually permeated it's pollutant stink all throughout the air. This time however the scent was replaced with the brothy smell of miso and fried soy.

http://www.viralentertainmentguru.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/wang.jpg

The restaurant was a large two story building. It looked fairly high class for a fast Chinese food place.A large stone set of stairs leads up to the two glass double doors of the entrance of the place. The entire front side of the building is covered with large tinted windows that allow a delightful reflective look with or without the AR overlays that would have been there at night. When you walk into the restaurant, the street noise disappears with a suddenness which almost makes you wonder if the silence is pumped in. The AR menu comes up with the daily specials highlighted. A somewhat hesitant hostess smiles as she walks over, her red hair and freckles looking out of place in this neighborhood. As Asmund enters the building the small woman's eyes widen as she backs up looking on at him in shock. She stutters out nervously.

"C-cc..How can i help you? Would you like a table or are you here to see Mr. Jones?"

[fibericon]

"Alright ladies and gents. I've gotten my weekly dose of being outside the van, so you all have fun. Call the comm when you're coming back - I'm activating the security system after you leave, and it would be a shame to get geeked by carelessness."

As the group leaves, Cassie crosses her arms, watching J climb into the cocoon.

"What?"

"I bet you one of them betrays us."

"You ain't ever won that bet, Cassie."

"I did last time I was here."

"Oh ho! Alright, you're on."

The security activates, the cocoon closes, and

[Schismatic]

She bounded up the steps. Dressed in a rather curiously normal manner. Looking about right for a person straight out of SoHo, but not as if trying to look that way. Exuding a sense of normalcy. A black beret, black sweater and long red skirt and her long, synthleather jacket. Kind of a world away from her usual choice of outfit, but given that they were here to assume their outfits and disguises to infiltrate a guarded facility--it made sense to put their contact at ease by her dressing as if any normal New Yorker middle class wageslave.

She was eager to get a move on. The smell of fried soy did not please her. Her nose wrinkled visibly. She hated the stuff evidently, but stowed away her dissatisfaction--They were here for business, not pleasure. Insects were typically her food of choice. Soy just tasted wrong. Still, she'd soldier on and looked to the greeter with a false smile, removing her sunglasses as to draw her eyes to her as if to take her mind off the mountain of metavariant flesh that seemed to perturb her.

"Hi! Yes, we have a joint reservation." She beamed pleasantly enough.

[Shimmer]

Asmund is not hard to spot as Apex slinks forward wearing a slightly rumpled long sleeved blue blouse over black pants and combat boots with the same slightly worn synthleather jacket she'd worn yesterday thrown over the ensemble. The ex-Aztec slipping into the Giants shadow like she belonged there as she did her best to meld into the group trusting the others to draw eyes away from her as they stepped inside. The scent of fried soy and food hitting her across the face like a hammer as soon as they entered the door. Causing Apex's eyes to go wide as her stomach let out a low starved rumble causing the adept to curse low under her breath in embarrassment at the subtle reminder that she'd been living off of soycaf, sub-par clinic food, and ration bars for weeks.

"And a to-go order of stir fried soy and hot and sour soup please." She requested ducking her head in thanks eyes darting over the AR menu for a brief moment to ensure there was nothing else she wanted as she gave the others a chance to order if they liked.

[Tome]

Jailbird absentmindedly nods her agreement to the hostess, somewhat preoccupied by her commlink. She has a graphics editing program open, making notes and laying out the astral defences she'd managed to find the night before.

She'd had her watcher observing the target location thoughout the night, relaying details on their astral security. Setup was still in progress, but her Watcher had managed to pick out several mages, a few wards and some watchers of their own. It was a chaotic mess, but she was trying to pin down where everything was supposed to be.

[Sarven]

Omega sighed. He was feeling a little left out watching the others order food, he wondered if this place had a VR host with simulated food. Meanwhile, he was itching, to meet the contact so he could actually do something. "I know you people need food to not die and all but can we get to it? I need to do something. Just sitting around is driveing me crazy."

[Taqukaq]

The Host smiles a toothy grin and signals you to follow. Every metatype represented in the Chinese families is depicted in the art and ambiance of the entire restaurant, as you make your way to the backroom. Every few steps he is stopped, says a few words in polite Chinese, and then continues on his way as you follow. It is obvious he knows the regulars and they know him. When you are shown into the backroom, a man stands up from his meal and says,

“Hi. I’m Paul Jones. Have a seat.”

He points to the chairs with his chopsticks,

“Are you hungry? If so, I recommend the sweet and sour soy, or if you like spicy food, I’d go with the Mongolian soy.”

https://images.8tracks.com/cover/i/012/474/587/shadowrun_noir_by_jarow-d61r83d-4213.jpg?rect=446,0,688,688&q=98&fm=jpg&fit=max&w=320&h=320

His short black hair has a few silver strands that belie an age his face doesn’t show. His smile reflects in his black eyes. Despite the somber look of his demeanor, he looks like he is genuinely enjoying himself. He keeps eating as you get seated and the waiter, a middle-aged Chinese dwarf, who looks like he would rather be somewhere else than at work, asks for your orders. He starts to ask in Mandarin, sees Mr. Jones, and switches to English. He is polite almost to a fault and obviously knows Mr. Jones as a regular. Paul Jones waits for the waiter to depart after serving everyone and then says,

“Our mutual friend asked me to give you these,” and he hands them a group of fake identifications. He pushes a box from under the table with one foot. “And here are the uniforms. Did you need me to get anything inside for you?”

[Shimmer]

"Mr. Jones," The Ex-Aztec greets with a polite nod as she steps out of Asmund's shadow, raking her eyes briefly over the smuggler as she takes in his appearance and finds she likes what she sees. He seems. . .competent and quiet, prompting the woman to favor him with a rare slim smile as she inclines her head in greeting.

"I go by Apex," She introduces herself as she slides into the booth taking his suggestions into account as their waiter drops by. "I'd like to update my order to the sweet and sour soy, but keep the hot and sour soup," She requests eyeing the smugglers food with keen interest, content to leave the talk of business to the others as she deftly rests her boot atop the proffered box beneath the table. Sliding it carefully under her heel for collection later before accepting the SIN's.

"Do you have a card reader I can slot these through Omega so you can see what we're working with?" She questions glancing down at the AI's device. "Not that I'm not certain they're up to snuff, but it pays to be familiar with ones equipment," Apex quips a wry smile tugging at the edges of her lips as she rests her head against her palm and ponders what, if anything, she might need to smuggle in. Finding herself far more interested in the smuggler himself as she considers how very chuffed the Johnson might be if she poached his man as a contact.

Likely not very. It wasn't like smugglers tended to be exclusive.

[Schismatic]

She slotted into the seat and casually examines her false ID, how close it was to reality. Whether it was comfortable divorced from who she was when she looked in the mirror each morning. Those grey and amber irises flickered over the details.

"I'm fine, Mr. Jones. I plan to pick up a decent sidearm. And if all goes according to plan I'd likely lose whatever I might give you now. Should be a smooth operation." She noted, and the cryptic elabouration was perhaps there to allay fears. She carefully smelled the air about the contact, to see if she could discern him from the background scents on the air.

4 hits (2, 6, 1, 2, 1, 3, 1, 5, 6, 2, 4, 1, 3, 3, 5, 2

Her nose nearly wrinkled.

"So who's our team leader for our detachment and operation on the day? Anything we should know about our cover?" She queried.

[Taqukaq]

Mr. Jones raises his hand up to stop Schism and some of the other questions. "Ah ah ah, Your job is not my business. I don't want to know what you are up to or why you want me to smuggle things into a building. I am a smuggler and only know how to smuggle. Just give me what you want to smuggle and I'll do that. Do not try to leave my scope of capability by telling me what you are doing and don't ask me questions about your job. You know far more about it than I do. The boss just told me to meet with you guys and told me where to smuggle the gear into. Those ID's will get you in. But, The things you will give me, I will put it in the Janitors closet on the 2nd floor. Now Do you guys need anything else?'

Asmund nods at him. "My mace and armor. That's it for me.

[Schismatic]

She looked perturbed. Was that on purpose or part of the act? She looked down her feet down at the uniform to try to get the police precinct number.

"Well, I suppose we'll need to get our own on day police debrief--good catch on that background check on our IDs." She muttered to Apex, who she assumed was holding onto Omega's storage device.

[Shimmer]

Her form fitting body armor should be enough along with the uniforms to get her inside the hotel and protect her if there was a skirmish, but once they got to the target...well that was when the real **** show begins. The man would either come with them nicely or he'd put up a fight or whoever was his protection detail would put up a fight and they wouldn't be using rubber bullets. Apex didn't like the odds of dealing with all of that in a thin mesh of body armor no thicker then her fingernail. Worse comes to worse she could always slap a few patches onto her armor exterior like Asmund to blend in, but if it came to a fire fight she'd rather have her own kit.

"My armor as well then in case things get caliente." She murmured with a shrug before returning Chords nod as she awaited Omega to run the background check on the ID's.

"All right no talk of the job. That I can understand, but what about you Mr. Jones? You strictly smuggle things in and out of this area or do you acquire things as well?" Apex inquired, an honest question given he'd got them the uniforms and ID's leaving her to wonder if he was just the transport for such items or if he found them himself. An apt inquiry to keep her interested while she waited on her food.

[Taqukaq]

Mr. Jones shrugs and then shakes his head.

"Not so much now. I only deliver goods, I did not acquire these goods, I merely delivered what our mutual employer asked of me. They came from Mr. Johnson. Also please, leave what you want smuggled here in the room with me. Don't worry about the employees here, I'm their best customer so they let me use this place a lot. After you lot leave your stuff here and be on your way, I'll go get things set up for your big day. "

[Schismatic]

"Well... I can't speak for my colleagues here, but I'm fine, thank you for the assistance." She said as if eager to get to it. Plumbing these depths seem a bit pointless. Plus she didn't want to be situated here too long. The smell of the restaurant didn't exactly agree with her. If they at least sold something like fried grasshopper...

[Shimmer]

"Big day huh? Divertido," Apex murmurs with a soft amused huff before unslinging the bag from her back and sliding the gear he'd brought them into it before fishing out her own armor and carefully folding it onto the seat beside her. Finding herself almost disappointed he didn't do acquisition, but there was always work down the line for a good smuggler.

Hopefully theirs was indeed good. Though with business more or less taken care of other then their AI's investigation Apex found her attention turning more to the prospect of food. Her stomach giving another low rumble as she glanced around trying to sight the server with the intent of conveying the fact she was hungry and would like her food now with her eyes.

[Volthawk]

Picking up on the contact's attitude, Doc Sting doesn't contribute to the conversation, instead just placing his bag of tools on the table. It was quite a mixed bag - a little firepower in his pistols, a gas grenade or two, a portable drug injector, a mask for the possibility of things getting violent and his assortment of small spying and sneaking tools. Not quite his full array of tricks, but given the circumstances and the need to not stand out, it would do for what he needed to do.

[Taqukaq]

Mr. Jones is chewing and smiling at the same time as the group conducts and concludes it's business. As the members who left their gear here deposit the gear by the wall, next to the table where Mr. Jones signaled while he was munching away on his fried soy. He looks at the group expectantly and nods, going back to his meal. Evidently concluded business and returning his full attention to the meal he had. Unless anyone else had anything else to add to the smuggle bit or any other questions, they were free to leave as they see fit to conduct other preparations for the run and to make any alterations to gear as needed. Asmund grunts to the group and sends a message via his commlink.

"Try not to talk about operational matters in-front of unincluded 3rd parties. Wait until after the meeting. The less our employers know about what we are actually doing the better."

Asmund looks down at the box of uniforms and IDs that the group was going to use to get through security. Asmund gets up and snags his ID and Uniform from the box before leaving the area. He looks at his ID and smiles, as he leaves the building the group hears the giant heartily laugh, a sound that shook the entire building and caused many of the hanging decorations to jitters and shake. He leaves the building and for a moment of intense pause, only silence was heard. The Giant was outside waiting for the group.

[Shimmer]

Apex lets out a soft breath and shakes her head before snagging her own uniform and ID and switching her order to-go.
"Pleasure doing business with you," The Ex-Azzie murmurs tossing Jones a nod before paying her nuyen and ambling out after Asmund to see just what was so funny.

Eventually ambling up to the giant with her large takeout container of sweet and sour soy in hand as she pulls her chopsticks apart and digs into her meal with gusto. Only pausing to arch a brow at the looming hulk of a man. "So Guapo care to share the joke?" She asks with a tilt of her head and a wry smile, digging into the takeout bag to offer him a second pair of chopsticks as she settles down to wait on the rest.

[Tome]

Jailbird looks up from her commlink long enough to look over the IDs and uniforms.

Noting that none of her options are awakened she sighs. "Looks like I'm pretending to be mundane for a bit then" she says, tucking the uniform under one arm as she follows her departing teammates. "Thanks for the delivery".

Her grumbling stomach prompts her to hang back with Apex and order her own sweet and sour chicken on the way out.

[Schismatic]

"Apparently I'm going to have to be disguised as an elf... and a mundane. Both of which doable. Though it's smart... masquerading as mundane. It means if there's a magical event police procedure would be Occam's Razor and first looking and interrogating known Awakened in the area." She said somewhat slyly to Jailbird when she was certain no nearby elementals would overhear. Giving the forger a fleeting glance as she furrowed her brow, removing herself from the scene...

4 hits (6, 4, 5, 2, 3, 1, 3, 4, 1, 2, 1, 6, 1, 6)
2 hits (4, 1, 5, 4, 1, 4, 2, 3, 1, 5)

"'Sides... I know for a fact that you can do it under at least basic interrogation." She complimented in a round-about way. She waited until out of earshot of the smuggler.

"Of course, more worryingly is that our good forger here knew enough about our means to do as such that they didn't bother asking." She noted with a contemplative tone. "Or am I overthinking this?"

[Taqukaq]

Asmund grins and shows Apex his ID. Then he pulls out his Commlink and shows her his old Security ID. They were completely identical. They wan't me to go as myself. Ha, I suppose that is actually best. I am famous enough in security to probably be recognized and they would probably think it strange if I come with an Alias other than Asmund's Hamaar. Hmm, this just means I may not be able to stick close to you guys the whole time. We can use this as an advantage. I could cause a positive distraction should the group need to get away. Hmm. Well, where to next? Are we going to wait for the mission or should we make some more preparations?


What additional preparations/verification/investigations is the group going to make?

[Shimmer]

Apex pauses glancing over the two ID's and barely managing to swallow her bite of food with a rough cough before she doubles over laughing. "Dios, eres un motín Guapo. Ojalá te hubiera conocido hace años!" She gasps out through her laughter setting her food aside for the moment to cover her face with one hand to try to stifle the chuckles that shook her shoulders before grabbing her drink to wash down the burn nearly choking on her food had left in her throat.

"I suppose that makes sense. Pity I won't likely get to see you in action Guapo unless **** royally hits the fan," Apex mused, "Still that's funny as ****," She quipped with a wry grin leaning back where she sat on the curbside beside him watching the meager traffic go by.

"So if you don't mind me asking, why did you decide to get out of security? I know you mentioned wanting the freedom to do as you pleased, but security work pays well. It's usually what most runners aspire to do when they get out of the business or so I hear," She questioned her tone non-judgmental. Laughter having eased some of the tension that seemed to line the elf's shoulder and face leaving a softness to her usually hard edges as she glanced up at him with those cobalt blue eyes arching a pale brow at him thoughtfully.

"Yet here you are doing things ass backwards getting out of the security business for runner work and," She paused reaching out to lightly to tap his 'new' security ID, "You couldn't have made such a huge splash leaving or this fake ID wouldn't have a shot in hell of working." Apex mused with a tilt of her head.

[Sarven]

Omega sighed, he appeared bored by everything around him his holographic projection shifted slightly as he dealt with matrix information elsewhere. "What exactly did you say you were famous for in security Asmund?", He asks with a slight amount of curiosity.


Matrix perception test: 5d6

Matrix search for public information on Asmund Hamaar: 5d6

[Taqukaq]

Asmund flashes Apex with a tight, forces smile. Like a bitter sweet emotion running through him and reflecting back in his eyes for an instant of a second before it vanishes away. He speaks, answering all questions in order they were asked.

I wasn't kicked out or disgraced if that's what you were asking. No... I learned something. Criminals now a days... They are weak, our law enforcement is stronger and I am an Odinist. I wish for my long violent life to end with me marching to the gates of Valhalla. But...every fight I have they... die, usually after one hit. I am running out of time to die a glorious death. I know this job is far more dangerous than security work. They even supported it. I lived in Norway after all, surrounded by many like minded individuals who knew I wouldn't meet a warriors death at the hands of the Norwegian criminal underworld. So I'm here expecting one of my missions to go tits up and then I will die killing as many people in as bloody and horrifying way as possible.

As for what I was famous for.... I uhh, stopped a few speeding vehicles that the police were chasing. I was particularly good at it, unless they drove a truck and its Norway so.... smart cars and stuff. The vehicles I couldn't stop dead in their tracks would undoubtably crash having most of the passengers dead, usually the driver. When I swing the hammer at a vehicle it generally kills whoever is inside. Ah, but for now I believe the machine is right. Lets get some rest and then meet up for the mission.

Asmund gets up and pats himself off. He looks closely at his new ID and squints at it. Then he puts them both away and then starts to walk off. He waves at the group before leaving.

From here feel free to post your heading back, doing last minute prep and moving on to meeting together in front of the security building. Once everyone has posted, I'll start the mission.

[Shimmer]

"Ah," Apex murmurs the noise a low rumble of understanding as the warrior woman's eyes soften. "I can sympathize. My gods too favor those who meet death in the glory of battle," She admits eyeing the giant with a contemplative look before she packs up her food to-go and stands.

"If a mission doesn't take you or I before our time then I will fight you. Though I don't think I'll be able to do our duel justice just yet. Maybe soon though." Apex quips before turning to depart to visit her partner and begin the necessary tasks for the mission. Briefly she wonders if Asmund had followed her gods what sort of hummingbird the man would be in his death.