Into the Shadows IC

[Ghost49X]

New York City (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?641934-Into-the-Shadows-OOC&p=25346940#post25346940)
Chapter 1: Cold and desperate

Neon lights barely broke through the freezing cold rain blanketing the city, steadily melting the snow before icing over a few moments later. The cold cutting right to the bone, it was going to be a hard night to be out in the streets. The downtrodden, chewed up and spat out by a society who couldn't care less, gathered in the alleys clinging to what crude shelter they could find. And those who walked the streets, did so with a purpose, occasionally slipping on ice as they made for whatever shelter they had. No one wanted to be outside tonight.

[lizardbyte]

It's a nice apartment, Foxglove thinks again. Most of the furniture has plastic tarps over it, but what's uncovered is comfortable, and still so new it squeaks when she sits on it.

She turns on the lights one by one, setting her bag on the couch, her jacket on a chair, and her feet on the coffee table.

Foxglove leans back on the sofa, waiting, but nothing happens. Yeah...nice. The weather outside is utterly dismal, but here, with LEDs shining down on her and all that thunder on the other side of an expensive window, it looks almost charming. After another moment of nothing but watching her silent comlink, she takes out the electronics she had carefully tucked under her jacket against the rain—a set of tools and a plastic trinket with LED lights and a pair of googly eyes. Picking the smallest screwdriver from the tools, she starts prying the emotitoy open.

For a while there's no sound but the rain against the glass and the scratch of metal against plastic as she removes tiny screw after tiny screw.

As she shakes the last screw onto the table, her comlink finally beeps. She grins. In her image link display, the message appears in a floating blue line of text over the comlink.

Glitch
y r u in my apt

Foxglove waves the husk of the emotitoy above her head, where it'll be in clear view of Glitch's cameras, wherever they are.

"Just a little surgery." She shrugs and delicately pulls out the circuit board, careful not to disconnect any wires. "I needed a quiet place to work where no one will take my tools." She enjoys the way her voice echoes off the empty walls and bare floor, so she clicks her tongue and adds "Ten minutes to notice I was here. I expected better."

[Denomar]

'This place is a pile of sh....' The thought had crossed the mind of the old elf before. It applied to both the rundown apartment and the grungy streets that he could see through the broken pane of the window before him. He took a long drag on the nearly spent cigarette; the flare of light revealing lean deep set features and dark eyes. He blew the smoke out the shattered glass with a long breath before he crushed the cig out on the pane, tossed it out and stuffed the hole closed with the ratty old towel.

The towel wasn't his.

Neither was the apartment.

He'd talked his way into the apartment a couple weeks ago, promising the junkie enough money that he could buy himself an extra few percs for the month. That wouldn't last long, he'd have to pay rent soon.

The elf known professionally as Candle pulled his jacket tighter around his thin shoulders and shivered against the cold that encroached through what little insulation was left. He tapped a button on the old fashioned commlink on his ear and keyed up the group chat for the crew.

"-Heads up. There'll be work soon."

[Feathersnow]

Naga don't shiver. Nevertheless, Kravyard was shivering. He hates this place. So cold, so dark, no trees.

But the UCAS was the Land of Opportunity, where, as the old philosopher said, "no one cares enough to make your death a matter of public policy." And NYC was the best place in the UCAS, where even a Naga might go unremarked.

And what opportunities he had! None, as far as he could tell, but he could still keep looking. As he was doing this night. He could go begging to Horizon, be a token metasapient for their faux-diversity program. But that was a huge step, one he would put off as long as possible.

So he desperately searched the matrix for any job postings that could be done without hands or feet...

[gac3]

The storm is inconvenient. Normally this time of night she would we walking the streets, looking for leads on her father. If not that then advertising her ability to get people drunk to make a little extra money. Neither of those seem like good ideas on a night like tonight. So as she makes her way down the street, she went into some crappy little restaurant down the street. She manages to get herself a table by the window and when the waitress comes around she orders, "Just a coffee, thank you."

As she sits, trying to wait out the storm, she activates her astral perception and gives the restaurant a quick look over before turning her attention to the street outside. She isn't looking for anything in particular, just anything worth noticing.

The coffee comes and Mari offers up a few words of thanks and appreciation to the Baron and the ancestors for it.

[Togo]

The place was almost deserted. Canary yellow strip lights flickered overhead, making the tiny tables bolted to the floor alternate between a swirled and sparkling iridium when they were on, and a sort of cracked chrome when they were not.

Over against one scarred orange wall, a solitary figure sat finishing off a soy-burger, his metallic-purple and silver jacket catching the light as he shifted slightly. Two earbuds and a glowing pair of glasses showed him to be watching something, the glow of the leaking light from the inside of the glasses casting it's own little bubble of calm blue light about him.

On the other wall, a large view screen was presently showing, with practiced hyperbole, a piece on the grand opening of a shopping mall that few patrons of this establishment were ever likely to visit. As the final corporate logo, ProtoP, trailed across the screen dragging a "your hope, your strength, your cure" behind it, the scene dissolved into an strident advert for living a happier, more joyful, and more fulfilled life, through amphetamines, available in a rainbow of flavours and colours.

Between the tables a looming figure shuffled along, cheap plastic boots over utilitarian coveralls, and topped off with a batted wide brimmed hat, set at the kind of awkward angle caused by a head that is both too large and somehow the wrong shape. Two holes had been punched into the hat, through which rose two heavy but delicately curled onyx-black horns. His practiced slouch kept them angled forward, where they wouldn't catch on the lights.

He picked up a cheap wicker basket from a table, as he passed and another and another, methodically collecting them as he moved around the room, stacking them carefully together with the detritus of the meals they had contained on top. When he arrived at the grinder he carefully tipped in most of his load, and then stacked the empty baskets on top.

Apart from the mostly eaten remains of a soyburger, which he discreetly kept, and an origami flower half-full of seaweed flakes, which was rather more obvious. Noticing the loitering Irasshaimase girl looking at him, wide eyes under LED-laced eyebrows that made her look 12 going on 30, he gave an awkward bow, and moved back to his seat. It wasn't clear if he was embarrassed or merely acknowledging her. His soft, red, velvet-like skin, washed dark under the yellow light, did not permit him to blush.

The seaweed flakes, foam like half-inch deep fried disks that were more oil than seaweed, and more air than either, might have been a mistake, Damon considered, as he moved back to his table. They knew he was taking food, and he knew that they knew, but it was only less hassle to let him do it than to throw him out, if he made it easy for them to ignore. But while the flakes were almost insubstantial, carefully metered they would give him plausible cover for lingering for another half-hour or so. Sitting there listening to the rain drum off the windows, and watching it steam from the neon signage, rather than being out in it.

As he gets near his table, he's surprised to see someone come in. The somewhat distracted air and decorative bones for accessories suggest she is some kind of shaman, or maybe talismonger. His initial wariness loosens a bit when she orders soykaf. His own cup is over an hour old, so hers will be good cover.

Brow creasing, he carefully flips the bleached woven mat his meal came on, smooths it flat and extracts a one of his precious half-pencils from an inner pocket. Looking at her carefully, he begins to draw.

[Xetheral]

As Tiny walks home from the Stuffer Shack in the cold rain, the water starts seeping through yet another tear in his ragged coat. Shivering as the water runs down his back, something inside Tiny snaps. This was one rainstorm too many; one freezing walk home too many; one interminable shift at the stuffin' Stuffer Shack too many. It's time for a change, he thinks. Long past time.

He hasn't touched his hacking skills in years--he'd sworn them off when he went straight and got himself cleaned up, for whatever good it had done him. But he still knows how, and still remembers the thrill it brought. Tempting as the extra money those skills could bring had been, he'd resisted the urge so far. But no longer. Tonight's the night, he thinks. Tonight's the night I fall off the wagon for good.

At long last he reaches the miserable little hovel where he sleeps, and steps inside. He leaves his tattered, wet long coat by the door, and fires up his commlink, ready to break every promise he's ever made to himself.

[Feathersnow]

There was one call left to make... Mr. Patel. As a priest, he knew things others didn't, heard things. People went to him.

"Mr. Patel, this is Kravyard. I need work. The money is nearly gone, and I can't bring myself to go begging to Horizon. And I would be dead if I lost what I have. Please, Pujari, if you hear anything, anything, I can do for some nuyen, let me know"

There. The penultimate venture. It was done. Now just to avoid freezing until one of the seeds he planted bore fruit.

[Ghost49X]

Foxglove

Glitch

"6usy, Y my pl4ce?"

The comlink goes silent for awhile, as Foxglove works on her toy.

Glitch

"Y u n0t us3 some of 7h4t ch33k 4 a gig?"

"Get'ya some k1bbl3."


Candle

After a few minutes later the comlink buzzes and a feminine machine voice reads the texts

"Sorry boss, no hard feelings but I'm calling it quits. You're gona've to find yourself a new wizkid."

"Yeah same here. J and me r getting out of this dump"

It figures. His team quit on him, to add insult to injury he'll probably find them working for another fixer by the end of the week. Or maybe they're telling the truth and going to skip town? Quit the life? This weather ain't doing anyone any favours...


Mari
It was hard to compare soykaf to actual coffee, this cheap junk was barely drinkable, but at least it was hot. The look the waitress gives mari when she brings her the drink shows surprise that anyone expected anything of quality from this neighbourhood.


Tiny
Rage! Time to stick it to the man! But first he'd need a target or a gig, something more focused than just flailing wildly at the ominous hand playing the shadows like some sort of strange game for selfish amusement.


Diamondback
"Oh Kravyard. Yes, work. Hmm... You want work? I've got an extermination gig, low pay but it's still work. Interested? You'd be hunting devil rats down in the tunnels, nasty vermin. Bounty is 100¥ per tail if you're interested. I'll let you know if anything better comes up?"

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25349747&postcount=15)

Not nearly enough is happening outside the window to calm Mari's nerves. She wants to be out there doing something. Every day that passes, leads get colder. Unsure of what else to do, she pulls out her tarot deck to consult the Baron, her patron. She mumbles her prayers under her breath as she shuffles.

"Baron, please offer your guidance to your lowly serviteur. What should I do next?"

The soycaf comes out as Mari is dealing out three cards. When she looks up to thank the server, she notices a troll paying her special attention. Is he just drawn to a small dwarf with long curly hair and bone jewelry? Or does he know who she is? Maybe he knew her father?

Activating her sight, she looks at him again, trying to read his aura and get an idea for what he might be up to.

[Feathersnow]

Hunting rats. Like an animal. Except, ironically, he wouldn't even get to eat them, because he would need to kill them to prove the bounty. And he would be starving before he ate something that was already dead. But ¥100 was ¥100.

He slipped into a warm body sock and a harness, ordered Bust-a-Move to hang on to it, made sure he had scissors and a bag. and activated the door actuator. Into the shadows...

[lizardbyte]

'Y my pl@ce?' Foxglove turns the question over in her mind, testing its weight and edges like a rock she's going to throw in a pond. She could have gone to Waltz's shop instead, with its spare counterspace and gentle teasing and the faint smell of burned soycaf. She could have gone to a bar, maybe one of Charming Betsy's favorite haunts, and moved into an empty booth. But an hour ago, with one roommate having a belligerent, one-sided conversation on her com about some kind of custody dispute, another roommate roommate shaking on her bunk and muttering about where to find 'it', had to find 'it', and the third eyeing Foxglove like she wanted to know if she'd be a good accomplice for murdering the first roommate, it had seemed like an easy choice to walk out. And with the beginnings of dark clouds swarming overhead, it had seemed like an easy choice to go down into a subway station. And when the train to Glitch's neighborhood has been the first to arrive in the station with a beckoning screech, it had seemed like an easy choice to walk onboard.

Maybe I just want to see how you get with your feathers ruffled, old bird. The week before, Glitch had sat across that plastic-covered coffee table from her and tried, in a prickly, stilted kind of way, to apologize. It was a nice gesture, but. Well. Nice gestures only went so far. Foxglove needs to know if she can trust Glitch not to turn around and bite her the moment she stops being an abstract regret and starts having real problems.

Besides, breaking in had soothed some part of her that had been angry for five years and wasn't quite ready to cool down yet.

"Bold of you I don't got enough cheek for the job and you, abuela. I'm gonna hit up a couple people when the rain stops." Foxglove holds up the emotitoy to the light, inspecting her work. It occurs to her that she does have a good reason to be here, kind of, beyond just testing the waters with Glitch. "Just gotta figure out how to handle a passport issue first. If I do a job with my black card and it draws attention while I'm in the radius, pigs'll have questions for me. Unless you got a suggestion for that?" There's probably a way to fake a name besides getting a whole new identity from Waltz, right? Her ID is on the comlink, after all. How hard would it be to change a few numbers?

If it was possible, Glitch would know. And if Glitch knew, she wouldn't be able to resist giving an answer, busy or not. It had been obvious in the way her eyes had lit up explaining how she got into Citigroup's account, in the badly hidden pride woven throughout her whole crappy apology, in the way she had offered her own teaching and expertise up as a bandaid. 'You should learn how to hack, kid. There's no shaking the rep, and it's a useful skill to have.' Like it was for Foxglove's own good, and not some kind of narcissistic need to recreate her own genius. And maybe it was both and maybe it was neither, an offer could be more than one thing at once, but it wasn't the kind of offer Foxglove was willing to take without holding it under a light and studying it close, first.

As she waits for a response, she slides the final wire into place and closes the casing with a click. Holding the emotitoy firmly against her wrist, it's silent, but a series of indicators light up her AR display. Satisfaction/happy/anticipatory/curious—she slips it into a pocket and lets go, and the indicators vanish.

[Denomar]

Well that figures. If those fraggers wanted to tank their reputation that was on them.

Time to start from the bottom again.

Crossing the grungy apartment to the cramped closet of a bathroom Candle opened the mirrored medicine cabinet. Lifting the false bottom he reached in and pulled out the granite grey block of a Raekor Defender. checking the slide he set it to rest in the holster at the small of his back. Straightening the leather jacket he peered at the dog eyed figure staring back at him in the mirror. After all this time, it seemed strange even to him that he still didn't seem to age. A dark T-shirt with its faded lines of 1's and 0's, merch for a matrix that no one else remembers any more. Jesus, did he need some gloves. And the twenty year old Naots on his feet were getting so thin they wouldn't keep the cold out for long.

Starting fresh meant he needed the shadowlands bbc, but there was no way to access that in this little junk hole. He'd have to find some place where he could. But after this long in the shadows Candle knew something of the places where his kind would congregate. He didn't know the name exactly. But he'd know it when he saw it.

The door didn't even have a lock. Candle took to the stairs with a loping stride. His desire for a cigarette warring with his desire to keep his hands warm in his jacket pockets. As the cold blasted into him, pockets won. A wan smile curved his lip. speaking in low tones he welcomed the streets. "Now chill the kite, brings home the night..." he stepped over the slouched form of a chiphead leaned back against the wall, lost in their own dreams and nightmares. A shaman sat by the door like a rodent in a parka offered his profane tcotchkes for a low price that even Candle couldn't afford. "...That Mang the bat set free."

Outside the snows were a mire of muck and slush. Cars creeping past in a monotonous drone as the grid kept the otherwise untenable traffic moving. Candle felt his eyes drawn towards the enormous hab blocks with a hint of jealousy, at least the prisons would cut out the draft of the wind tonight. He shook himself from the desire for that comfort with another wry grin. "The herd is shut in byre and hut. For loose till dawn are we."

As if by invoking this imagery conjures it into reality Candle sets off into the snow covered streets following a a crowd of obvious gangers. They're hollering and posturing loud enough to drown out his quiet recitation. "This is the hour of pride and power. Talon and tush and claw."

They were yelling now, and the bright lights of city security were getting brighter. As the coppers and the gangers set to trying to drown each other out Candle slipped through the growing chaos. Too small next to the cacophony to be noticed.

The poem finishes in voice over as the camera draws outwards in a kaleidoscope of color, of neon and steel and slush. "So hear the call. Good hunting all. To those who keep the jungle law." There's only noise and the city now as the view crawls up the side of the familiar silhouette of the Empire State Building as gunshots and traffic horns and blaring music scream together into sudden silence and with a final bang the title screen INTO THE SHADOWS paints itself over the view.

Smash cut to whoever posts next.

[Ghost49X]

Mari
She looks at each card as she turns them over.

For the past — the Two of Swords, representing difficult choices; for the present — the Ace of Coins, representing a new venture; and for the future — the High Priestess, in her reversed position, representing hidden agendas.

Foxglove
Her comlink goes silent for a bit before buzzing again and displaying a longer message.

"y0u c0uld 4lw4y5 cl0n3 50m30n3'5 1D 4nd fl1ck 7h47 0n. 17'll buy y0u 4 c0upl3 m1nu735 unl355 y0u h4v3 70 60 7hr0u6h 4 ch3ck p01n7. u5u4lly 7h3y f16ur3 17 0u7 b3f0r3 17 6375 700 f4r. 1f y0u fl1ck 4ny 1d 0n 4nd 0ff 17'll buy y0u 4 l177l3 b17 0f 71m3 b3f0r3 y0u 637 qu3r13d 4641n. bu7 7h47'5 47 b357 4 h4ndful 0f m1nu735, y0u'r3 n07 601n6 70 637 v3ry f4r 1n70 70wn d01n6 7h47. bu7 17'5 3n0u6h 70 h17 50m3 pl4c3 n34r 7h3 3d63."

After a short pause it buzzes again and adds to the chat.

"5ur3 1f y0u p0p n34r wh3r3 y0u'r3 h1771n6 7h47 m4y b3 3n0u6h bu7 y0u c4n 0nly 7ru57 y0ur luck 50 much."

Candle
As he walks down the street, peering into alleys and shops for people worth looking into. So far nothing but posers and people who would be more trouble to work with than what they'd get paid. After close to an hour he comes across the Burgatory, a small restaurant with a sparse clientele. Inside he notes two individuals that could be worth the time to check out.

Diamondback
As he rides the trolly Diamondback searches for what he can and finds an old national geographic mini-documentary on Devil Rats. He plays it during the commute.

"This week on National Geographic: The Devil rat, one of North America's most tenatious pests! Brought to you by MBN, the World is Yours!
These medium sized awakened hairless critters like to avoid direct sunlight and are highly resistant to most pest control poisons. They also seem to cunning enough to avoid most traps set out for them.

And now a quick word from one of our sponsors:
Need to get somewhere out of reach? Or maybe you just want a bit of automation in your life? Ngwenya Exploration Technologies is here to fill your need! Our newer line of drones are more autonomous, self-sufficient and are harder to damage. Remember! Where ever you go — go NExt!"

Now back to our regular programming.
Devil rats can be found anywhere you can find regular rats and are mostly seen within the sewers or subways systems of big cities. Their presense often leads to infestations that are difficult to get rid of.

Communities dealing with an infestation usually end up contracting local mercenaries or posting bounties in attempts to fix the problem. Specialized professional options are possible but difficult to find."

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

Within thirty seconds of stepping out into the freezing drizzle, Mark wished he’d stayed back at the apartment and put up a ward; he and Mari could replace it the next time they were both there.

He cursed to himself as he nearly took a spill on the slick sidewalk. Passing headlights created halos and after images on his vision. The last time he was in New York, it was on business. Everywhere he’s gone had been via taxi, expensed to the company. Once again, he cursed his bad luck and naïveté that had gotten him into this predicament.

He found the entrance to the subway, with its unique fragrance of mechanical grease mixed with urine wafting up from the stairwell. A few loud screeching stops later, and he was back in the cold night drizzle, huffing his way up the grimy steps and trying his best to avoid touching the handrail.

“Maybe all this hiking will finally help me get in shape,,” he thought. It took him another ten minutes to find ‘the wet spot’, the bar BB Hobbes supposedly liked to do business out of, mostly because he desperately tried to avoid looking like he was lost as he kept his head down and plowed down the street, past a group of dwarf hookers and various junkies of all metahumans.

He finally found the place, down a half flight of steps. The warmth of the bar hit him as he entered, as did the smell of years of accumulated beer spills, long dried. A large bar dominated the center of the tap room, and booths and tables populated the outside. Barred windows near the ceiling looked out at the street above. A troll bartender looked up at him, then went back to wiping the counter.

The thought of turning around and going home crossed his mind.

“Do you want to work or not?” he thought.
Steeling his resolve, he looked around and spotted an ork at a rear booth, his face lit up by no less than two screens, one showing a sitcom and the other some scrolling text. Recognizing his contact from the video call they’d had previously, Chillax walked up to the booth.

[Feathersnow]

Well... that was slightly informative. Mechanical traps wouldn't work. That wasn't a problem. They required overhead he couldn't afford, anyway. But there was the kernel of an idea there. Bait he would get some slop from a diner, set it out, hide, and bite any of the beasties that came nibble...

It required a slight expenditure, but nothing outside Diamondback's dwindling supply of cash. And it required going to the cheapest diner he could find.

[lizardbyte]

"Huh. I'll look out for SINs to clone, I guess." She waits a minute, but there's no response. Foxglove takes the emotitoy out, twirls it around her fingers, and puts it back. "If you're too busy to respond that means I can raid your liquor cabinet, right?"

Still nothing but the rain.

Foxglove eyes the sound chip she had removed from the emotitoy. Just a tiny circuitboard attached to a cheap speaker. If it were attached to a new power supply, maybe inside an electrical outlet, it could keep making intermittent noises for days, maybe weeks, before it was found. It would drive someone nuts.

No, bad idea, stop it. Or rather, fantastic idea, bad target. She's testing Glitch's patience, not trying to burn it to the ground, and hiding a random noisemaker in Glitch's living space is firmly on the wrong side of that line.

Tempting a prank as it is... but no. Besides, Glitch just helped her out.

Foxglove pockets the sound chip and starts gathering up her tools. Rain or no rain, it's better to remove herself from temptation before boredom outpaces her good sense. She doesn't want to go back to Serene Heart, but it's a big city out there. Maybe she can track down some food and a job.

With a grimace towards the window, she lets herself out, resets the security system, and goes out into the night.

[Denomar]

There was something familiar about walking into a pub that not only smelled like urine, but looked like it too. Whomever designed those lightbulbs ought to be shot.

The temperature wasn't much better, whoever owned the place was clearly trying to save money on the electrical bill because it was maybe five degrees warmer than outside. Still, the windows had a fairly good seal, and once the door was shut the wind stopped biting. Shaking out his long hair Candle took a good long look at the patrons in the bar.

First and most obvious was...Well, Candle *thinks* its a troll, though he hasn't seen one that looked quite like a Diablo poster before, but how many other meta's got that tall? Who looked to be watching his own glasses as much as he was watching the bar, and a dwarf buried deep in a deck of collectible cards on the other side of the bar.

The Orc slouching between the tables collecting glassware definitely didn't stand out. The greying man parked at the bar itself looked more like a permanent fixture of regret and woe than a human. Hmm. If he wasn't careful he'd end up like that himself before too long. The two metas could be runners but there was only one way to tell. It wasn't necessarily a good idea to advertise, but sometimes you had to make exceptions. Besides, someone comes around looking for an elf well, that doesn't really narrow it down very much.

Candle's lean stride took him from the door to the bar. Pacing his steps in just the right fashion to be just a bit too slow, you notice something like that even if its subconscious, its just....not quite right.

He leans at the bar and flashes a grin at the bartender and says.

"Hey man. I'm here to see Mr. Johnson." his voice is low and graveled after long years of too many cigarettes, but its loud enough that the tables close to the bar probably wouldn't have difficulty hearing him either.

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25352202&postcount=26)

Mari looks at the cards she has delt. A new venture and hidden agendas. As she works to absorbe the guidance of the Baron, an elf walks in and makes his way to the counter, asking for a Mr. Johnson. Most likely he is looking for some shadow work. Maybe this is the new venture she was warned about. Or maybe it relates to the troll and his attention.

After a few moments of contemplation, she decides she should try to pursue both leads for the moment. She made her way to the bathroom for a moment of privacy.

Once alone, she begins praying to the Baron again.

"Baron, I have gotten your message and intend to act on your wisdom. Please allow me the service of one of the many spirits of the nearby waters to aid me in your service."

Once the summoning is complete, Mari bows to the new spirit. It appears as a skeletal alligator in a top hat and a black tailcoat, with a carved cane in it's hand.

Noble spirit of Manhattans waters, thank you for coming to my aid. I require your service to spy on a an elf who may be a lead I need. I suggest perhaps you try to possess his jacket, should it be ammeniable to you, and ask that you tell me of his meeting that he is about to engage in.

Once the spirit is clear on what is he is asking, she makes her way back into the main room, picks up her drink and approaches the Troll. "Is this seat taken?" she asks, gesturing to the seat next to him.

[Togo]

The troll is scowling at his table as Candle comes in. As the newcomer stands near the entrance, shaking out his hair, the troll deigns to lift his head for a moment, agate-black horns reflecting in the neon glare, red eyes burning from a face of red textured skin, before returning to glare at the table.

A minute or two later, at the mention of 'Mr Johnson', the troll's head jerks up again. His eyes carefully sweep the room, before settling on the dwarf, who is also glancing towards the bar. As if by silent agreement she rises and heads for the restroom, while the troll's head drops again, frustration written clearly across his deep, red, velveteen visage.

After a minute or two, she returns from the restroom. Rather than return to her own table, however, she approaches his. He settles back in his seat, and speaks a few words. She is looking to take not the chair opposite, which would put her back to the room, but to the one on his left, putting her back to a wall, and giving her a clear view of the room as well as him.

***

Damon sneaks a look as the elf came in. Pretty, even for an elf, and that long hair was definitely a statement. Bet he had running water. Damon watches as he made his brief but effective dramatic entrance, and then talked off to the bar. Important. Or thought he was important. Either way, anyone like that wouldn't be Damon's concern.

Instead he turns back to his drawing. He somewhat regretted using the back of the place mat, now that he's gotten into it, but then it's only a quick sketch. A plan. He glances up at his subject again, who was focusing on her cards as if they would speak to her. Maybe they did.

He carefully crumbles a small portion of graphite onto his finger, and brushes onto the rough surface, leaving a grey plume. He wasn't so sure about that, something about it made him nervous, but it felt right. He added a few minor details, and then glanced over at her again, slightly frustrated he couldn't see the face of the card.

He'd had cards once. He remembers, an odd detail, losing a rabbit baker down a crack in the steel grill floor. He could have lifted the grill, the bolts were only small and would have snapped easily, but the guards wouldn't let him.

The elf's loud question startled him. Johnson? Who was Johnson? He carefully peers around, looking for this mysterious Johnson. The elf was grinning, at the bar, his self-confidence provoking a faint stab of envy. But he was ignoring the other people at the bar, so not there. Damon himself wasn't a Johnson, so Mr Johnson must be...

His roving eyes settles on the dwarf. Damn. If she was styling herself as 'Mr' Johnson, then... He eyes drop down to his image of her, complete with an slightly exaggerated female form that he'd had to guess at since she was sitting down. Should he redo the hips there? Or should be true to his original impression? He preferred his impression, of course, but this was the kind of situation that could end in people shouting at him.

Glancing up again, he sees her coming out of the restroom. No, the body shape was accurate. And it's not like the dwarf would ever see the picture anyway. He adds a few more touches here and there until he gradually became aware of her presence, standing opposite him. Very very carefully he presses himself back into his seat, until he can hear the plastic start to creak under the strain.

Sure, that's seat is free.

Damon forces himself not to panic. While, technically speaking, strangers wanting to talk to him is a good thing, his experience didn't hold many examples of it working out well. And if she was 'Mr Johnson', or if that was just a code phrase, that meant the elf was probably working with her.

He blinks. No need to be paranoid, she's probably bored and wants to talk. It's not like they're secretly working together to trap innocent trolls in seedy diners. It's not like the elf is suddenly going to join them.

With long sculpted finger, he pushes the basket of seaweed crisps an inch or so in her direction, in invitation.

[Feathersnow]

Kravyard goes to the diner he saw on his mapsoft. And... it has no automatic doors. He logs onto the local node and sees if he can contact a server to come out and let him in. While he waits, he sees a spirit of an unknown religion summoned up.


Maybe that mage knows something helpful. Devil Rats are awakened, after all. They might even tell me if I agree to buy them lunch.

[Xetheral]

Tiny (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25354279&postcount=31)

Tiny cautiously checks to make sure that the piece of discarded foam he'd stuck on the exposed bedspring of his bedraggled mattress is still in place--he might be about to start back down a dangerous path, but he still doesn't need a case of tetanus--before he lies down on the pathetic cushion. He lets his body go limp as he switches over into VR and loads his Oracle 7.2 program. It had been years--more than a decade, actually--since he'd followed the siren song of the darker corners of the matrix. All of the places he used to know were long since gone, but he still knows the culture well enough to have an idea where to start looking. If he is going to be of any use to anyone in the Shadows, the legal programs on his 'link aren't going to be enough--he needs actual cracking software. Heavens know he can't afford to actually buy legit security software, so he needs to find his way back into the Cracker Underground. It isn't going to be a quick job, but he's still got the skill, and the thrill of finally venturing back into forbidden territory keeps him going.

Fatigue finally catches up to him after he'd been at it for hours, still not having found his way onto a pirate VPN. Objectively he's made good progress, but having crossed his self-drawn line in the sand he's impatient to dive-in headlong, and isn't pleased with his efforts so far. As he logs off and starts to fall asleep, he makes a mental note to himself to juice his link in the morning before he resumes the search.

[Ghost49X]

Chillax (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?641934-Into-the-Shadows-OOC&p=25356785#post25356785)
BB held a finger up towards Chillax asking him to wait as he maintained eye contact with a guy in a suit and dark sunglasses. A fiber optic cable linking them together gave them unparallel privacy in their conversation, though by the look in the fixer's eyes it seemed like serious business.

The ork standing at the entrance of the booth holds his hand out, blocking Chillax's path into the booth. Giving Chillax a tusky grin, he nods towards the bar "Get yourself a drink, Mr Hobbes is busy right now."

Foxglove (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?641934-Into-the-Shadows-OOC&p=25356785#post25356785)
The weather was worse than before, or perhaps she had gotten used to the comforts of the tiny apartment before stepping out on to the fire escape, now completely iced over. Getting down would be tricky, and falling from the fourth storey wasn't an enticing prospect...

Candle (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?641934-Into-the-Shadows-OOC&p=25356785#post25356785)
The waitress behind the counter, a pretty little elf with black hair and neon pink highlights who had otherwise seen better times, shrugs at Candle's mention of a Mr Johnson. As she opens her mouth to speak an older Ork yells out from the Kitchen "Har! This ain't a classy bar where you'll likely catch some shadow-work." He walks out of the kitchen up to the counter, where he reaches over to shake Candle's hand "The name's Breaker, I've been where you are though I'm glad I've since left the life."

Kravyard (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?641934-Into-the-Shadows-OOC&p=25356785#post25356785)
After a few minutes, a man leaves the diner. As the door opens, he stares at the giant snake and shuffles over silently, leaving him free to enter the diner. Naga aren't exactly common, and although Kravyard didn't feel any hostility from the man, the man probably wasn't expecting his kind or perhaps doesn't even know what Naga are. Nonetheless the door into the small diner is open for a few moments.

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

Chillax nodded to the ork and walked to the bar, finding himself a spot where he could sit and see BB, and the entrance at the same time. He thought about ordering a real drink, but settled on a coke instead.

"The sugar and caffeine will keep me awake," he thought.
His sleeve stuck to the bar when he lifted his arm to take a drink, but one look at the troll bartender and he decided against saying anything. He thought about making small talk, but figured he'd just keep to himself this time.

After about ten minutes of waiting though, he started getting bored. He shifted his vision over to Astral sight, to see what was around. The dingy bar faded away into the multicolored eddies of the Astral plane, with the living metahumans standing out as bright swirls, except for their cyber, which came across as empty nothingness. The video screens and other technology also showed as dead space, no astral signatures whatsoever. Chillax glanced around, looking for any other Awakened who might be in the bar.

[Feathersnow]

Kravyard slithers into a booth next to the troll. Hello, friend. You don't know me, and don't need to, but I'm interested in hunting devil rats, and if you or anyone watching could give me a few pointers, I would be happy to buy their dinner.

Once a member of the waitstaff comes, he offers a tip for staying for a little while, and requests "smelly metahuman food" in a to go bag.and to cover his neighbor's order.

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25358114&postcount=35)

Mari takes the seat next to the troll as a Naga slitheres in through the door and approaches them. She looks over to it and smiles. "Devil rats are well named. Nasty little critters. They can conceal themselves well and are immune to toxins. Even trapping them probably won't work because they control other rats. Nasty creatures not worth the effort." She geatures towards the elf. "This man might have a lead on some better work though. I've been keeping an eye on him."

Giving the naga a wink, she turns back to the troll. "Any special reason you were keeping such a close eye on me?"

[Denomar]

Candle smiles returning the bruising shake. "I bet chummer. Some of us don't got that luxury, but its nice to dream." he could feel his own smile becoming a touch more genuine, there was a forthrightness to the ork that he could definitely appreciate. "Sorry 'bout my rough exterior, its snowing like crazy out there and I think the lining on this jacket is starting to go." He hooks a thumb back towards the door, jesus his coat was soaked...And he couldn't hang it up for fear of freaking the crowd out with the holster at his back. That's ok, keep cool, Candle had worked while being pelted with water before and this wasn't some sort of high intensity choreographed fight scene. He could keep his manner in check.

"Call me Candle. Anything I can do to pitch in with your problems, or if you know someone who has them, I'm your guy. You know what they say about opportunity." He combs the hair out of his eyes. "Only comes to the lucky or the stupid, and I've been at this longer than most."

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove regrets her choice to go outside the moment she slides the window shut. Icy water drips down her collar, cold air climbs up her sleeves, and the metal gridwork creaks under her boots.

She sticks her left hand in her pocket for warmth. When I get back to SHT, I gotta check the community closet again for gloves. Or even just 'glove'. One would be enough. Her left hand is cold, sure, but her right—cybernetic, even if it doesn't look it, some of Mercy's best work if the doctor herself is to be believed—is thankfully not equipped with nerve endings. She uses the cybernetic hand to hold onto the railing as she climbs down, only using her left when it's absolutely necessary for balance.

She takes her time, checking each step for traction before placing her weight. The cold is bad, but falling from four stories would be worse. So she climbs carefully, slowly.

The cold is awful, but falling from three stories would probably be worse. She only climbs a little bit faster.

The cold is excruciating and she hates everything, but falling from two stories would suck. She grumbles and only skips the last step on the ladder.

At the first story, the ladder is frozen stuck and won't go all the way down. Foxglove kicks it until it falls all the way down with a screech, then scampers down.

On the ground, sheltered by buildings and warmed by car exhaust, it's. Tolerable. Almost tolerable, anyway. Tolerable enough to huddle by a wall and look up the list of bars Charming Betsy said she liked to frequent. She checks the map on her comlink, biting her lip. She doesn't like it, needing to look up every other new location. It makes her feel like a tourist in her own city.

Whatever. There'd be time to memorize the streets later, when it was dry. First bar on the list, the Wet Spot, isn't too far away. She sticks her left hand back in her pocket and uses the right to pop up her collar against the wind. Time to play hide and seek with a fixer.

[Togo]

The two of them look like they know each other. Mari smiling at Damon, sitting close to him. The red velvet-skinned troll giving her his full attention.

However, Damon is so entirely wrapped up in carefully watching the dwarf sitting next to him, that he manages to miss the huge snake-creature coming in through the door. That is, until it curls up in the booth next to him, with the sound of leather against plastic. Just like someone at Choppers sliding a leather cover over one of the hot-rods they're working on, the sound is immediately understandable, but somehow smoother and carries on for longer than his ears expected.

Keeping very still, his eyes slide away from Mari, and over towards Kravyard. Hearing him speak, he relaxes a little. A 'friend' who doesn't want him to worry about who he really is. That was fine. He'd dealt with gang agents before. The trouble was, most gangs around here were divided on ethnic lines, and he couldn't tell whether the naga was Chinese or Japanese or Italian, or whatever. But wait! Nagas were mostly from that country with the tea, and the turbans, and the buddhism... what was it... France! Yeah that was it.

He listens carefully, the movement of his delicately curled agate horns betraying gentle nods, as he takes in the information and tries to work what the heck the snake is talking about, and what kind of job a 'devil rat' is a metaphor for. Probably something illegal, and very heavy. It always was - why else would anyone be talking to him?

As Mari fills in a few more details, Damon worries about how to respond. The advice of his friend Timmy came back to him. "You're a troll, Damon. No one is going to ask you a question thinking you'll know the answer and they won't. So if they ask, give them an answer that tells them..."

At that point Mari asks him why he's been watching her, and his plans melt away like a slushy under a blowtorch.

I... ah... well... I thought you looked... um... good? I mean... uh... interesting... She must be convinced he was a pervert. Or a bruiser from a rival gang! Any moment now she was going to spot the sketch work lying on the table between them.

The picture is drawn on the back of one of the restaurant's place mats, processed and textured paper made to look and feel like bleached reeds, which is presumably traditional somewhere in the world, or at least thought to look traditional by whoever runs this place. The reed paper is off-white, and not very flat, but serviceable.

The focus of the sketch is a definitely Mari. She's a little cartoonified, and certain curves on her are exaggerated as part of the style, as are the very tight cargo shorts and explorer's pith helmet. She's climbing into the eye socket of a far larger and more detailed study of Mari's face, set in three quarters profile and in a more naturalistic style, save for the eye sockets having no eyeballs. The cartoon her is stepping up into the socket, the distance she has to climb exaggerating the curve of her hip and the briefness of the shorts. In her right hand she holds a torch, one of the sturdy models that doubles as a club in dangerous places, which she is shining before her. In her left hand she holds two cards, one of which is a heart. Behind her winds a stylised trail, dotted with doodles of hazards. A deep chasm forms a gap in the trail, which has been bridged by a playing card bearing a club. A small toothy maw on stick legs lies dead on the trail, bleeding from spade card buried between its eyes.

The rest of the picture is vague and unfinished. A haze of light coming out of the other giant eye-socket. Some kind of shadows cast from the off the picture to the right. Something about the hair of the giant face, suggesting flowing water.

And then she and her snake partner... would make a really cool pair for a hoverboard design, now that he thought about it. Black background, pick out that scale pattern in bold colours, and then twine them - no! Focus Damon, focus!

He looked carefully left and right. Large caliber revolvers had not appeared. No one was preparing to work him over with razor blades or tasers. They were waiting for him to say something. What had he been thinking.? Timmy's advice...

"...an answer that tells them what they want to hear, which is what you can do for them."

Have you tried spear fishing?

Damon inclines his head carefully. All his movements are careful, controlled, like the world was a glass box, that would shatter with rough handling. His voice is slow and deep, the kind that reaches down to tingle the base of the spine.

Down at the construction site, near the sim-sense store on 4th, there's a whole mess of reinforcement rods coming out of that old building they're tearing down. One of those and some duct tape would make a spear, if you're not too fussy. It would be blunt, of course.

He pauses, concentrating

Roof of that Shiwase building. Climb up the back, between 11th and 12th. It's a sheer climb at first, but after a few stories it's got advertising, big signs, makes it easier. The top's got a few cameras, but it's an anti-flier formation, covering the big spaces, and the doors. Not the ledges. Not the big old heat exchangers. They rotate, all day, grind a bit, no one cares. If you press your spear against the hub, past the fan blades, you'd get a tapered point after an hour or two. Boring. Bring a sandwich or something. Enjoy the view.

Damon's stops talking as one of the staff comes over. His eyes flicker at the sound of Kravyard ordering food he clearly doesn't intend to eat, but he says nothing.

Then you just set yourself up... where ever the rats are, and wait. I don't know what your hearing's like, but when you hear one, just stab. You don't need to see them if you know where they are. Like spear fishing.

He pauses.

I'm Damon by the way. How long have you three known each other?

[Feathersnow]

"Call me... Diamondback. I admit I'm a little new to this, but that sounds like something worth trying. I was going to set out some food, but that isn't going to work if they can make actual rats do the schlepping.

Would you like a contact number, in case you find real work?"

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove (OOC (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25364555&postcount=39))

From the outside, the Wet Spot looks as charming as the name implies. Old-fashioned neon behind dirty windows, dingy white paint over bricks, suspect puddles near the door. Foxglove steps around the puddles and walks in, her expectations low. The inside at least is cozier than the outside. Subdued green and yellow lights, low-volume Brooklyn drill fuzzing through the wall speakers, the faint smell of wet leather.

Not bad, she decides. I could stay here for for a few hours.

It's not too crowded, either. She sizes up the other patrons as she approaches the bar.

Twitchy dwarf monopolizing a front table, watching the door and messing with his comlink? He's careful not to make too much eye contact with her, in a "I'm not a look-out" kinda way. She smiles and avoids looking at him too long. Any place Charming Betsy liked would have a well-placed back booth for business. If Foxglove has to guess, this guy is making sure that whoever's conducting business right now doesn't get any unpleasant surprises.

Tired human with a jumpsuit, some kind of logo on the arm, adding another empty shotglass to an impressive collection? Just off some kind of semi-respectable work shift and trying to forget it. That could be you, says a miserable little corner of Foxglove's mind, if you'd just suck it up and apply to a Stuffer Shack or something. She watches the guy rub his temples and look miserably at his comlink, then looks away.

Paunchy human at the bar drinking soda? Too cheap for booze, too middle-class proud for water, not enough sense to order soykaf, which would at least warm up his fingers. Even the oversized leather jacket couldn't hide those mannerisms. Down-on-his-luck suit, probably looking for work or drugs.

Big orc standing outside a booth in the back, loose enough jacket to hide what he's packing? Probably friends with Twitchy by the front. Foxglove can't see what else is happening back there, and she's not stupid enough to interrupt a meeting, but she picks a spot on the bar where she can see when the meeting ends and keep the lookout in her peripheral vision. That puts her near the probably-a-suit, so she takes another look. Competition? Could be, corp types knew how to talk folks in circles. Then she sees the way his eyes flicker along the ceiling, following things that, even when she checks AR, aren't there. Nah, not competition, just a druggie.

She turns back to the bar, the approaching bartender, and realizes that she actually has no idea what to order. Prison had plenty of questionable stills, but had left her with absolutely no knowledge of cocktails. Probably better not to get drunk right now anyway, not if she's going to try and make new friends.

"Soycaf?" She smiles, aiming for somewhere between 'I'm not gonna cause you any trouble' and 'I know what I'm doing'. She wants to ask this guy about Charming Betsy, but it can wait. After all, Foxglove is in no hurry to go back outside.

[Ghost49X]

Candle
"Heh, like I've haven't heard that before." The old Ork's reminiscent smile alluded to some old memories of his previous life. His eyes snap back to candle as the past disappears from his face "Have you checked out the 'Afterlife'? It's a bar on the edge of the pit and SOHO. Practically breeding ground for shadow work, although you have to dress the part as they don't just let anyone in. On the other hand if you go schmoozing in a bunch of the other bars you'll chances are you'll eventually attract the kind of attention you're looking for. My place isn't really where you'd expect to find those who work in the shadows either, although..." Breaker nods towards the Togo and the others "I'll be damned if that crew doesn't run at least a little side work. Hell, That troll could be the poster child for a runner flick."

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25365475&postcount=41)

Mari takes a moment to glance down at the drawing of her. It is fascinating but this guy doesn't seem to be the most sure of himself. She isn't going to bother going down that road. So she just smiles and takes a sip of her soycaf before answering him. "I've never met any of these people before. They just happened to show up at just the right time. I'm new in town. You can call me Mari."

Then she turns to the naga. "Not sure if I'm included in that but I don' have a contact number. Though if the elf over there doesn't have any real work that we can get in on, maybe we could go find something a bit more interesting than hunting rats for scraps. What do you say?"

Speaking of which, as Mari, or rather her spirit eaves dropped on that conversation she makes a mental note about the Afterlife to be investigated later. As the ork nods to them, she raises her glass and winks at the elf.

[Denomar]

"Thanks chummer. You keep the lights on."

Candle drops the old ork a fist pound, looking over his shoulder at the nearby table where the diablo fan, a dwarf and did she just wink at me?....an anthropomorphic snake? Boy this table looked like something out of a Cheval painting. Without missing a beat Candle swings around, drops the waterlogged coat over the back of the chair and swings a leg over the chair back to drop into the chair Riker style. The movement is casual and practiced, and showed the concealed holster at his back to those behind the bar for only a moment. Not that Breaker was likely to care. Still there's a self confidence to the motion that is endearing.

"So. You chummers out chasing your dreams?"

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

Chillax shifts slightly as he sees the new patron enter the bar. He switches back to mundane vision to get a good look at the newcomer, and he turns to the bar as she moves next to him and orders soykaf. He wishes he had his shades, but he left them behind, along with everything else, the last time he skipped town. Still, she looked interesting, maybe someone worth talking to to pass the time.

“Come here often?” he asked, looking straight ahead at the bar. It’s not immediately apparent if he’s being intentionally cringe, or that is legitimately his opening line.

[Feathersnow]

Answering in reverse order, Diamondback responds.

The dream of keeping a lower-middle class lifestyle without being a wageslave? I guess so, it's pretty unrealistic, I admit.

I'm game to find better work if you know anyone, yeah?

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove OOC (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25367115&postcount=44)

Foxgloves reevaluates the maybe-a-suit. His eyes have stopped chasing ghosts and there's no slur to his voice. He sounds lucid, and more cautious than she'd expect. She scratches out her first assessment. Like her, he's got a good view of the back booth and the door. Could be a second lookout. Could still be competition—if that far-off gaze had been fake, it had been a very convincing fake. Could also be a chemical gland—a counteragent to whatever was getting him high, delivered directly to the bloodstream. Not an adrenaline pump, though, he's not jittery enough for that.

"No, first time. Just got off half a dime, and a friend said this was a good place to meet people." It's a little risky, announcing she'd been to prison. For one thing, she can't actually claim the skills she'd been accused of. For another, no one's gonna be impressed by the implication that she got caught. On the other hand, if he's asking for business, it could give her credibility, and if he's just a sad suit trying to flirt, it could scare him off. In the hopes that it's business, she decides to lay another card on the table. "Charming Betsy, if you've met her."

She smiles in thanks as bartender sets a mug of soykaf in front of her. She hovers her left hand over the ceramic, letting it soak in the radiant heat. Still too hot to drink. Perfect.

[Togo]

Damon blinks at the offer of a contact code.

His hands reach under his coat and pull out a battered wad of paper, a rat-pack collection of fliers, bill posters, hard copy print outs, the little paper fans you sometimes get on fancy drinks, and what looks like stained origami paper. All have had two holes drilled in the top, which has knotted string threaded through to link them together. He flips through until he finds the first sheet that has no writing on it, a handbill featuring the picture of a crested lizard and the offer of a small reward. He very carefully writes down the contact, together with a cartoon of what looks like a very stout snake, or possibly a scaly walrus.

I don't have a com-link. Not any more. he rumbles, a little self-consciously. Used to have one. But someone traced it, tried to use it to track me. Had to ditch it in a hurry. So I threw it onto the roof of a cram lab. They must have figured it was my squat or something, and raided the place. Turns out people who produce high volume methyldioxyhyrokinasebenzodiasimethamphetamine have a lot of automatic weapons, and itchy trigger fingers. he sighs. And don't stick to fire codes. Solvent tank blew, covered everyone on site in burning cram goop. Made them fearless, pain-free. And paranoid. Most burned to death while still shooting, although one guy got nearly cut in half when the ammo in his bandolier cooked off, and all the rounds went at once.

Damon pauses in thought.

I liked that com-link.

He shakes his head, a restrained gesture, so that his horns don't threaten the airspace above the others at the table. He seems a little more relaxed around the enormous snake.

So, no com-link. But if you leave a message at the Starlight Horizon, Timmy is pretty good at keeping them for me.

When he turns to Mari it's obvious he still sees her as the more dangerous of the two.

You too, of course. I get jobs here and there, but they're mostly when people put a crew together and then realise the stuff they're supposed to acquire is actually big and heavy. Not many people want a lone troll for a job. Troll no good without someone to shout at him, make him do the right thing.

He doesn't sound bitter, merely matter of fact.

I'm not sure what we could find around here. He says, to Mari's suggestion. Lots of gangs have territory, don't want to tread on toes of White Tigers. We're probably beneath notice, but they'd want a cut...

His eyes widen as Candle comes to join them.

No, not chasing dreams. He gives a tiny shake of his heavy head. Maybe a bit of hope. More within my budget.


He turns back to Diamondback, but his eyes linger on the elf, as if he might suddenly lunge, teeth bared.

These rats, they are sort of a gang, right? I mean, they act like a gang? So don't put out food, put out drugs. That way the boss rat, he definitely gets it himself.

Heard about this guy, down at club Starlight. Got a stash he can't shift, because it got smuggled in inside the engine shielding, and it's still hot. Not many people want to smoke stuff that is radioactive, particularly not people who might pay cash. So he's stuck, can't give it away. But rats, they probably don't know about that, so if you get some of that stash for cheap, and leave it around, most of it ends up in the boss, one way or another. That's how gangs work. Get a geiger counter, track the boss rat through the walls.

But yeah, you need better work than rats. Get into a team with compli-mentary talents. He thinks for a moment. Although I don't know what you're good at. But maybe you and Mari are good at different things? He thinks a bit more. I mean, it's hard to picture you being good at the same things.

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

Chillax blinks at the mention of dime; he is not really sure what that means, but he understands coming to the Wet Spot to meet people.

“Can’t say that I have, but I’m new in town myself, just arrived last week. BB might know, it’s his job to know people. He’s busy right now though, I’m currently in the queue to talk to him,” Chillax replied with a nod towards the ork fixer in the booth.

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25372582&postcount=57)

Mari smiles broadly. "I'm always in for making money. Just tell me what needs to be done. Unless you need us to prove ourselves first. In which case, just let me know."

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25368427&postcount=48)

She rips open a sweetener packet and stirs it into the soykaf, considering her approach. The guy isn't subtle, so she's pretty sure that whatever he is, he's not another face. But he's clearly here for business of some kind, and he's friendly enough. She's still not sure what his business is, though. Not lying, clearly, and she's pretty sure he's not packing any guns under that coat. She picks up a second sweetener packet.

"In 'queue', huh. Whatever you want to talk to him about must be pretty serious."

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

“Well, this lady seems like an interesting person, and I guess the more people I know, the better,” Chillax thinks.

“Life or death,” Chillax replies blandly, ”gotta work to live, right? Name’s Chillax, awakened of the hermetic tradition. Whatcha looking for?”

He holds out a hand to shake.

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove (OOC (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25369568&postcount=50))

Foxglove takes a sip of her soykaf to give herself a moment to think.

Okay, first off, what kind of name is 'Chillax'? Maybe it's a Hermetic thing? Hermetics are the fussy tight-ass magicians, though, right? Aren't they into Latin roots and drek like that? 'Chillax' doesn't sound fussy or Latin, more like...'30s...disco...slang? Foxglove decides to put that aside.

Two, 'awakened'. That could fit. He's obs not a face or a sammy. Maybe the 'high' from earlier was like. A trance state, or talking to spirits or something? If I tell him to prove it he might set me on fire, though. Let's assume he's for real, at least for now.

Three, he's looking for work. Let's say he's got real magic. He needs cash, I need cash. We have very different skill sets. This could be something.

She sets her soykaf down and pretends not to notice the offered handshake. Yep. Whatever else he is, he's definitely a suit.

"Awakened, huh. What kind of work does that get you?" She gestures towards the back booth with her left hand and palms a sweetener packet with her right. "I'm looking for a job myself, actually. Thought Betsy could hook me up."

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

Chillax wipes his rejected hand on his trousers.
“Magicy stuff, you know, setting up wards or dealing with annoying spirits, that sort of thing. I’m sure you’ve played Runners United or seen at least a few episodes of Starstruck,” Chillax replied, “so, it’s supposed to be like that, but practically speaking, it hasn’t got me anything interesting yet. Gotta build up the street cred first, you know what I mean?”

He grins and regardless of any reaction, pauses for a second, almost as if not sure what to say next.

“Erm, what kind of job are you looking for?” he asked.

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove (OOC (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25370776&postcount=52))

Foxglove pauses her next sip and sets the mug down. She stares at him for moment. And then she breathes in, picks up the 'kaf stirstick with her left hand, and spins on her barstool to face him directly.

She sighs.

"Okay. A bit of advice?" She waves the stick in a tight circle around her own face, drawing attention to the faint scars across her lip and nose, the dip in her eyebrow, the thin line over her left cheek. Most of them are from fights, a couple are from monofilament whip mishaps. She knows she got lucky—lucky that she didn't lose the eye, lucky to know a good prison doc, lucky that the scars are all hard to see unless you look for them. Usually she wouldn't call attention to them, but right now she wants to drives home the difference between trid violence and the real thing, and these are the perfect demonstration. And the perfect distraction. She gives him a moment to stare. As his attention follows the stirstick and the scars, she takes that moment to slip the sweetener packet into his coat pocket. "If you're gonna build up that street cred, chummer, try not dropping trid games as your point of reference."

Having made her point and deposited the packet in his jacket, she turns back to the bar and picks up her soykaf again.

"As for me? I do what work comes my way. Whatever fits my skills."

[Denomar]

"Sure isn't. But what can I say, I've got a taste for antiquities. The things I could tell you about New Coke..."

As if to prove his point Candle pulls out what must be the world's most faded wallet. A leather bi-fold that looks more like a sodden lump. The faded gucci lettering on it looks like it has been so abraded it's practically a rug burn stamp on it. He fishes out a genuine, equally faded two dollar bill with a glowering monstrosity where there once was the face of Thomas Jefferson. He waves the bill towards Breaker and says, "Hey mate, could I get a round of Soyweizer for the table on me?"

The burly Ork looks at the bill with something between trepidation and disgust. "Sure thing Chummer. Do you got actual nuyen, or are you just making fun of me?"

Candle tries to suppress the sigh and tucks the mistreated archaeological wonder back into his pocket. Keying his comlink over to the paltry debit bank app and holds it up to Breaker instead. Hopefully the tap function works the first time.

With with the weirdly creamy yet bitter drink properly circulated Candle addresses the table again.

"That sort of freedom is exactly what I've got in mind. I'm building up a crew to get **** done around here. I've got a good feeling about you, got a good eye for talent."

He's bull****ting you. He has to be. No one could possibly be that straightforward about shadow business and the Elf clearly has no idea who you are and what you can do. Is he just going for quantity of street contacts over quality? Maybe he's just desperate and is trying to bank on his magnetic personality and hopes that his nuclear hot self confidence will convince you that he's on the level.

Maybe he's just so fragging old that keeping to the old song and dance and drek about secrecy in a world long overtaken by the corps has long since lost its appeal.

"I know a couple people who are well placed. I can always use more, to say nothing of people on the ground. What do you say. Wanna make some money?"

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

“Whoooaaaa,” Chillax says, then leans forward and lowers his voice.
Here was someone who had actually been around and done some of the jobs he’d heard about. Chillax almost saw the response options appear in front of him and he wanted to find out more.

“How did you get those?” he whispers.

[Feathersnow]

I'm definitely looking for work, I just don't know how to find it

Wow! A real shadowrunner! And he was scouting for talent! This was Kravyard's lucky day.

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove

This guy is hopeless. Foxglove isn't sure how she feels about that. Irritation, at getting blithely asked about drek that would have caused a fight at MCD? Pity, for the lack of awareness? If he had money, he'd be a perfect mark, but if he had money worth stealing he probably wouldn't be here. Was I ever this clueless? She tries to remember if she would have asked questions like this five years ago and can't remember. Whoever that person was, whatever bad decisions she might have made, it's too far in the distance to tell.

I guess this is my good deed for the day.

"You shouldn't ask people questions like that either, not unless you want a practical demonstration." She decides after a moment that that's too subtle, and mimes stabbing someone with the stirstick.

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

Chillax cocked his head to one side quizzically.
"Well I mean... why'd you bring it up if you don't want to talk about it? It's pretty slamming. I mean, I guess it wasn't slamming at the time, but now...yeah." he said.

He doesn't seem to be concerned about a threat of violence at all, except to apparently look over your clothing, probably to try and figure out if you’re carrying any weapons.

[Togo]

Damon gives a mini shrug, careful not to let his movement jostle the others around the narrow table.

Yes, I want money. he rumbles. But what can we do that people want to pay for?

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25372582&postcount=57)

Mari smiles broadly. "I'm always in for making money. Just tell me what needs to be done. Unless you need us to prove ourselves first. In which case, just let me know."

[Denomar]

"Many things. The trick is to have the willpower to do anything they ask without hesitation." Candle leans back and folds his arms across his chest. "Course its also good to have the balls to tell 'em to frag off if they're just looking for a dead body to pin things on. But that's not my game and never will be."

Candle scratches his beard with one hand and takes a long pull of the soybeer with the other. "I don't need you to prove yourself, because I know where you've been. Where I am right now, come to think of it. So long as you want that money more than you get scared of how you gotta get it....Well, I can work with that."

Certain now that he has their attention Candle leans in to seal the deal.

"So lets start with basics. We need more people with skills, and we need to know people who want things. No offense, but the four of us probably aren't going to cut it by ourselves. Like I said, I know some well placed people who fall in the latter category, but I'm not calling them up until I think we've got a crew that's situated. So if you two know anyone looking for action, lets start pooling."

[Togo]

Damon shifts slightly, although between Mari to his left and Diamondback to his right, he doesn't really have anywhere to shift to. The movement open his coat slightly revealing a thin t-shirt, featuring a cartoon samurai riding a vaulting horse, bearing a katana in one hand and an enormous barbell in the other. Above and below the cartoon is surrounded curving text that reads 'Myagi Gym'.

There's a lot going on with the big gangs, at the moment. he says a little unhappily. They're trying to go upmarket, get into working with Mr Johnson. So there's a lot of shoving going one around the 'hospitality' market. Private operators, brothels, gambling where the right people win, seedy but safe events, that kind of thing.

He looks a little bashful. Maybe even embarrassed, although his skin does not allow him to blush.

There's a truce on. They're having meetings, down at Tiktok's place, friendly as you please, split the market between them. A lot of shoving behind the scenes, but no gunfire. So they're pretty happy, and have a lot of people, they're not going to hire outsiders like us. But not everyone is going to be happy, with the decisions they're making. Someone, somewhere, they lose out. And maybe they lose out on something personal, like their business or a friend or their main squeeze. They want that taken care of, they can't ask the gangs because it won't be policy, they'll get told not to rock the boat. They can't ask anyone in a gang , can't ask their friends for fear that it leaks out. So what they need is total strangers, local, discreet. And ah... cheap. Someone who can get in, and then out with their friend, or their squeeze, or the account log or the security log, or the evidence of what they've been doing, or just the quarter's earnings and their contacts list, now they know they won't be running the place any more.

He shrugs, a slow, gentle gesture.

There's gonna be some people like that out there. There always are. And they can't afford much, but maybe we can pick up some small jobs that way. I don't know who they are, because when you're looking for discreet, people don't generally tell all to the troll. But maybe they'd talk to you, or, if it's a dangerous job, Marie here.

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove

"It's not that I mind, but you gotta be careful with questions like that." She runs a finger along the scar in her eyebrow. It's a souvenir from her first cellmate, who had a short temper and a habit of hiding sharp objects within arms' reach. "I got this by asking someone something similar once—" Foxglove grins "—she took it poorly."

She takes a sip of her soykaf, frowns, and stirs in another packet of sweetener. "So your friend—" she tilts her head at the back booth "—he's what, got an annoying spirit problem?"

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

"Yeah, thanks for the advice, I guess that makes sense," Chillax replies, "BB? I don't know really, I'm hoping he has some kind of work. I'm just here to let him know I'm in town so he can keep his eyes open."

He glances around again and then drums his fingers on the bar, apparently not sure what to say next.

[Feathersnow]

That's more than I knew before. I'm good at getting in and out and watching while I'm there, if that helps

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25372582&postcount=57)

Mari looks over the others while fiddling with her jewelry on her wrist. "Well you've got yourself a mambo brand band-aide right here. Most of my friends reside on the other side but we have a number of tricks. I do I have anyone buddy I could bring along if needed."

[Ghost49X]

Chillax
As his eyes come to stop on the Ork outside BB's booth, a passive glare returns his look. After a few moments the Ork bends his head over towards the booth and staightens up before shooting Chillax a nod followed by a nod towards the booth. The intent was clear, Mr. Hobbes will see you now.

[Denomar]

"Slick." Candle stands, takes his jacket and attempts to liberally squeeze it out before tossing it back on again. "Here's the play. Any of you got comms?" He'll quickly sketch his number on a napkin using a ground out cigarette from the tables ash tray. "Punch that number in and wait for my call. If you don't have one, well, I'll drop back here in three days time and we'll see what we can do about that. We're going to need to all be able to talk to each other, communication's key eh? Ideally we find a circuitboy that can help us encrypt our chats or something but when you start at the bottom here that can be a luxury. Once we have the basics sorted out then we can present ourselves as viable employment for Johnsons." He flips his long hair free of the jacket's collar.

"But like I said. First step is finding the will, and that's more than two thirds of the job right there. Be seeing you chummers."

Then with the same cocky confidence he showed on the way in, Candle walks back out the door and hurries back to the draftiest apartment in Manhattan. Hopefully his roommate hadn't od'd on the couch. He wasn't ready to deal with sort of smell yet.

[Feathersnow]

Diamondback simply says "Sounds good."

The rat thing was going to be a bust, but this was a better shot. He waited until about the time the bus was coming, then slithered away.

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

“Whoops, looks like that’s my queue number,” Chillax says as he nods to the booth and bodyguard, “uhh, I don’t have a comlink yet, are you going to be here when I’m done? Maybe he has something for a two person team.”

Chillax stands up and glances over to the booth again. He obviously wants to get to his meeting but appears to have taken some kind of a liking to you. He then heads over to his meeting with the fixer.

Chillax slides into the seat opposite BB Hobbes. He’d had a while speech thought up in his head but his conversation with the lady at the bar had thrown him off. He decides to wing it.

“Hi there, uhh, it’s me again. Just wanted to let you know I’m back in town, and looking for work. You know, I’m case you come across anything that needs a magicky touch,” he said.

[gac3]

Mari (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25386996&postcount=64)

Mari makes note of the number then gets up from the booth. "I don't have a commlink but I'll see if I can fix that. If not see you here in three days."

She makes her way out of the restaurant. Perhaps she could find a quiet little hotel with some comm links.

As she exits, she sends one last request to her spirit. Stay with him please and send me the address when he gets home. Thank you for your service.

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25387314&postcount=65)

Foxglove taps her stirstick against the rim of the mug in thought for a moment. "Sure, why not. It's not like I'm in a rush to get back out there, anyway." She jerks her thumb at the door as a reminder of the freezing rain. She grins. "The name's Foxglove, by the way."

Foxglove wouldn't say she's optimistic about Chillax coming back with a job that suits her skill set, especially since she hasn't actually told him what that skill set is yet. But the weather is bad and the soykaf is good, and she has still somewhere to sleep when this place closes. Even if Charming Betsy won't be in tonight, there are worse ways to spend an evening than drinking soykaf and listening to the radio. She finishes the dregs of her soykaf and smiles at the bartender, trying to look friendly.

[Togo]

A flurry of agreements and hasty departures, everyone seemingly happy. Damon is left at an empty table. He picks up a seaweed chip, and pops it in his mouth.

He considers the last five minutes, with rather the air of someone counting the bullet-holes around them after a drive-by shooting.

What the heck was that?

The lifeless flicker of the neon lights held no answers. The vid-screen went back to a swirling display glowing with a narrow, carefully edited future life he could neither pay for, nor bring himself to envy.

With the rain lessening, he was the only customer left. His single paid-for synkaf was over two hours old. He ought to move.

Another chip.

He was slow. Slow in thought, slow in making up his mind. He knew that. The truth was, he was suspicious of decisions made in haste. But even he could see that this was an opportunity. He couldn't afford to pass up the chance that this was real, that it could work, that it was light in the darkness. Financially, he could probably manage a few more months, but...

There were more ways of ceasing to live than just dying.

Another chip. And another.

So, a light could mean the end of the tunnel. Or it could be a train. A fresh start, or fresh bruises, fresh disappointment.

His fingers could easily handle four chips at once, as could his mouth. Chomp.

Looked at that way, the choice was obvious. He could afford to get knocked down, afford disappointment. But he wasn't sure he could stand to pass on hope.

A single handful took in the last of the chips. Carefully measured out, they could have lasted him another half hour. But he had things to do.

He stood up, slipped the unfinished drawing into the loose lining of his coat, and then bussed his tray. At worst, he would be betrayed and hurt. So, time to get hurt. Sleep, shower, then go and see Timmy.

Small as the place was, a few long strides took him to the door. A brief pause while he made sure the door was shut behind him, then he set off, into the rain.

[Ghost49X]

Foxglove
After Chillax left, a lady in her twenties with the presence of a wall-flower dressed for clubbing and neon pink hair standing behind her catches Foxglove's attention. It seems as if she's been standing there, ten or so paces behind her for a while, trying to summon her courage.


Chillax
The Ork acting as security watches Chillax as he approaches BB's booth, outwardly chill but attentive to anything that might pose a threat to his boss.

BB takes a moment to look Chillax over after he sits down before talking. "Salutations Mr. Chillax." he adds a greeting nod before continuing "So you're looking for work?" he takes a pause and looks to the side nodding his head thoughtfully "Understand that I can't recommend you for any big jobs until you've got the street cred to back it up." He shrugs "I've got something you can cut your teeth on and start building that rep. The client requested some astral support for an upcoming gig, nothing major, keep any spirits away from the crew during the gig and until they've made good on their escape. You could do the whole thing in astral if you want, probably safer." BB pulls out a fat cigar and a small device as he's talking, he cuts the edge off the cigar with the device before turning it over and using the in-bedded lighter to light it. He takes a few small draughts from his cigar while rotating it slowly, and closes his eyes as he savours it for a moment. "I took a quick look into the location, most of the security is physical although there are some wanna-be wage-mages on their payroll but no notables to speak of. In short, a perfect job for a fresh blood." he takes another draught of his cigar and savours it, giving time for Chillax to consider the job."

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

“Astral support eh, sounds right up my alley,” Chillax replied, “on the street cred, don’t worry, I understand everyone’s gotta work their way up. Few questions, what’s the pay? Any special instructions? And are there any bonus objectives you want me to keep my eyes open for?”

Chillax paused. He can practically see the mission briefing screen pop up while he speaks. He thinks asking about bonus objectives might be a good way to make an impression on BB.

[lizardbyte]

Fox (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25389337&postcount=69)glove (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25389337&postcount=70)

Foxglove tenses for a moment—How long has she been there?—and gives the woman a quick once-over. It's no one she recognizes—the hair could be throwing her off, hair dye was a rare commodity in the MCD, but Foxglove has a good memory for faces, and she doesn't know this one.

Club outfits aren't good for hiding weapons. She also looks for cyberware.

Foxglove considers the woman's demeanor. Nervous. Foxglove softens her smile and relaxes her body language, then gestures to the seat next to her.

"Care to join me?"

[Ghost49X]

Foxglove
Foxglove turning around startles the girl as her mind races through branching possibilities almost like a device stalling, in this case apparently born of anxiety. When she invites her the girl coughs a bit and timidly walks over. On closer inspection the girls hair is fiberoptic cosmetic in nature, perhaps meant to help her stand out although it doesn't compensate for her timid nature.

The girl sits down and makes a conscious effort to force herself to talk, which even then comes out as barely a whisper. "N-Nice to meet you." she takes a deep breath "I need someone to help me, please... I can pay." she draws in a few quick breaths as if talking required strenuous effort.


Chillax
BB takes a few small draughts of his cigar followed by a moment to appreciate it. Looking back at chillax, "The job pays 300¥ after my cut. Which isn't bad as something to get your foot in the door. After two or three partial jobs of the sort you can expect to bring in a bit more. I'll need to pass 'em your deets, have you gotten yourself a commlink yet?"

[lizardbyte]

Fox (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25389827&postcount=72)glove (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25389827&postcount=74)

Fear and anxiety. For a moment, Foxglove's first instinct is to worry about an ambush, a chase, an incoming fight. She sets her mug down and looks quickly at the rest of the room, hoping to see if anyone is paying extra attention to them, but nothing stands out, her attention too divided. Then she turns her attention back to the stranger. At second glance, Foxglove decides she can relax. This isn't someone in fear for their life. This is the anxiety of someone approaching a stranger in a bar.

"Okay." Foxglove speaks slowly, calmly, hoping the other girl mirrors her and calms down a little. As she speaks, she waves at the bartender, points at her mug, and holds up two fingers with an apologetic expression. Having something to drink would give the girl something to ground herself with, even if it was just by clutching the mug. Soykaf isn't the best option for someone who's already jittery, but Foxglove has the feeling that verbally pulling someone else into the conversation would make her even more nervous. "Nice to meet you too. What do you need help with?"

[Ghost49X]

Foxglove
"I was told to ask around in bars for people looking for work." she takes a breath "I was told I'd find a certain type of person. Are you that type of person?" she takes another breath "The type that gets paid to... to do things?"

The bartender arrives with another cup and plate, he puts it in front of Foxglove. He returns with the soykaf pot and fills the cup, he then stops to silently offer a top off to Foxglove's current cup.

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25389956&postcount=76)

Foxglove accepts the offer of more soykaf with a grateful smile, then pushes the other mug over to the woman. She adds another packet of sweetener to her own soykaf, giving herself a moment to think. Someone told her to just wander into bars and hope she found someone who could help? Some friend. Once the bartender has wandered off again, she speaks.

"I'm certainly a person looking for work of, let's call it an unconventional nature. I don't accept money to do things unless I know what those things are, though." She winks. "Too many fellows get the wrong idea that way."

Mentally, Foxglove tallies the situation. Something to drink, check. Assurance that she didn't make a mistake by talking to me, check. Humor to ease the tension, check. Am I missing anything?

Ah, yes.

She taps her cyberhand against the ceramic, loud enough to make the exact kind of clear tapping noise that a real, flesh-and-blood finger wouldn't.

"And that leads to unpleasant conversations."

The implication that I can commit violence on her behalf? Check.

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

300. It wasn’t _bad_, but it wasn’t great. It also wasn’t nothing, which was about what he’d be making if he didn’t take the job. Then BB asks about a comlink.

Chillax shakes his head.
“Not yet. I was hoping you could help with that actually, if you have a line on a cheap one, you could take it out of my pay,” he says, “otherwise the other option is I’ll have to check in here regularly.”

[Feathersnow]

After getting back to his apartment, Kravyard decides to practice cold-simming the Bust-a-Move. The strange sensation of limbs is hard to get used to, but the little robot seems to know how to stand and reach as easily as Kravyard's body slithers and injects poison. He knows this skill will be very useful, especially if he seriously goes forward as a shadowrunner.

[Togo]

He breathes out slowly, building the tension as he'd been taught, from the balls of his feet through the legs, and up across the torso. He then whips around, the sharp blade slipping out of his sleeve in his hand, and then flying through the air towards a crudely painted target in a single twisting motion.

He grimaces and stalks over to the wall, to where the knife was embedded from the closely painted rings. Too hard, again. He braces one foot against the wall, and pulls the knife free, accompanied by a shower of crumbling concrete. There was a knack to throwing them, he suspected, hard enough to be at least close to accurate, but lightly enough not to embed the rather expensive knives in the wall. Footage he'd found of other knife throwers didn't mention this problem, so it was probably something he was doing wrong. But who could he ask?

He puts the knife away, and sets off towards the main road. The nightclub staff would be arriving to open up soon, so maybe he could talk to them. If he could convince them he had the skills to pull off small jobs, then maybe he'd able to convince himself.

[Ghost49X]

Foxglove
The girl takes a deep breath and swallows "Not too long ago when I broke up with my Ex, I left a bunch of stuff behind over at his squat and I want my old comlink back." She looks down at the bar, a sense of profound sadness hidden under the surface rises up. "I can pay for your trouble, just the comlink, a quick in and out and the money's yours.


Chillax
"Do I look like I run a stuffer shack to you?" BB shrugs "Na, I don't carry that sort of stuff. If you're stuck I could push you an advance on that job but but you're going to pay it back with interest. There's no need to reach back to my contacts for something that's bottom line either.


Damon
It's a relative quick walk to the Starlight Horizon, still in the Pit but close enough to SOHO to get some classier clientel. As he walks past the alley next to the bar he sees two well dressed bouncers beating the crap out of some pour SoB around the side. The line doesn't seem too busy tonight, probably because of the rain and the cold. Despite the weather, there was still a Lucky, a mean looking Troll keeping the prospective clients in line and waiting. Damon could wait in line like everyone else, or he could call Timmy and see if he could meet him right away.

[lizardbyte]

Foxglove (OOC (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25410016&postcount=80))

Foxglove takes a sip of her soycaf and gathers her thoughts. Then she nods.

"That sounds like something I could do. I've got a few questions, though. First, what can you tell me about your ex? I'll need to know his address, obviously, but it'd help to know his schedule, what kind of person he is, what's his job, that kind of thing. Has he got any roommates? Next, I'll need a description of the comlink. If you know where I should look for it, that'd help. Let me know if there's anything else you'd like me to keep an eye out for while I'm in there, too. Finally, how much are you offering for this little extraction?"

[Thundercracker]

Chillax

"Alright then, I'll have to stop back here to find out the details about the job then, same time tomorrow?" Chillax asks. He doesn't particularly want to shlep all the way back out here every day, but until he has a comlink, that is probably his only choice.

He glances around and surreptitiously checks to see if the lady he was speaking to earlier is still in the bar.

"Anything else we should cover before I go? I know you're busy," Chillax asked.