24/7 Life of a Shadowrunner

[Lacco]

Draven
20th January 2071, 18:27, Seattle

The words "dark and stormy night" occured to Draven as soon as he left the building. He looked up and down the street. It seemed unusually empty, devoid of life. Even the ladies of the night, seemed to be hidden somewhere, and only two members of orcish gang, whose spray tags covered walls of the 12-story apartment building Draven currently lived in, were strolling leisurely down the street. He could also see some hobos in the nearby alley, trying to heat themselves around fire in a barrel.

The neon of the bar across the street bathed him in green light.

For a moment, the sound of rain was almost deafening. His cyberears adjusted the volume accordingly and he could make out silent muttering of the orc gangers, a heated argument in the apartment above him and sound of crashing glass and wood from the bar.

Draven breathed in deep. However, even the rain couldn't fully mask the industrial smells of the area. Still, better than the urine and vomit inside the apartment building hall.

It was quite unlike his previous home.

A gust of especially cold wind hit his face. His stomach rumbled. The fridge in his apartment was empty, save for jar of mayonaise and one half-empty bottle of wine. Luckily, with the money in his pocket, he could go on a good dinner, even to the Eye of the Needle...

... suddenly he heard a soft sound of received message in his head.

[Lacco]

Gargoyle
20th January 2071, 18:27, Seattle

The world was a vortex of colours and music. Everything around seemed to move, to flow... everything seemed so relaxed. Even the blue light of his commlink blinked playfully. It was playing his currently favourite song, which was just ending. The short announcement at the end of the song made him only smile and chuckle a bit.

This time, the song was different. The drums seemed louder.

He looked out of the window. The city lights, thousand flickers outside, matted down by the window, which seemed to be made of smoky glass, danced around him. The lights were inviting, pleasant. Suddenly he felt need to express his love for this city of lights...

The drums changed rhytm and started to sound hollow.

His eyes found the commlink. It seemed like its light was dimmed by a cloud in his head. He moved, slowly, towards the table.

Someone was singing. Harsh. Off key. It seemed to destroy the music. The words pierced the clouds.

The crash came too soon. They were not drums. Someone was banging on his door. The singing...landlord's voice?

The world still seemed blurry, but the words were clear.

...you owe me money! And since you're already late, I'm charging you double! I'm giving you 24 hours and if I don't get your rent payment for next month, I'm gonna take what's mine...

He knew what that threat meant. Tamanous.

The world slid into focus.

Gargoyle's eyes fell to the table. There it was. He knew he had the money for something...

...and there it was. Table covered by empty doses of Bliss. His rent money was gone.

24 hours. 4000 nuYen. $#!T!

[Surgate]

Gargoyle

For so long, and yet so briefly, the world was perfect. Gargoyle's idle, lingering haze left him unprepared for when reality, and its responsibilities came banging on the cheap apartment door. The singing had slipped into the harsh yelling he was accustomed to and after briefly inspecting the table, riddled with useless containers, he slowly stumbled to answer the rude interruption.

The door opened, and Gargoyle grumbled while the world around him became sharp again…crisp and concrete. "You'll have your payment drek. Piss off" He waved a chrome claw dismissively at the landlord, and shut the door again without giving him the proper chance to reply with something undoubtedly nasty. The ork had no time to waste. He had two problems, interrelated, rent and bliss. He knew he had to make ends meet, but it wasn't entirely clear which took priority. 4000+ nuYen.

Gargoyle grinned, popping his neck and sighing as he did so. Of course he could manage that much. After all, it was just another day in Seattle….And the city of lights beckoned him to come and play.

----

Gargoyle left his apartment, adjusting the collar of his leather duster as he crossed into Cutter territory. He had half a mind to look elsewhere, but knew it was about time he visited his old gang mates and the local Boss. They were on good enough terms and he suspected the Cutters might have some work, or at the very least, a direction to point him in. It was only then, while on his way, out and about the streets that he checked his commlink.

[Tyeal]

Draven

Draven smiled a little at the chime playing in his ears. A pleasant little six-note chime that reminded him of happier times, momentarily forgetting the borderline slum he called home. Sighing some, he headed into his apartment building and into his place, locking the door behind him and seeing what was in the message. He had recently gotten in touch with his regular Johnson, whom he just called Mr. Smith, about work. Up until today, he had largely got a lot of unreturned calls and ignored messages. Taking a seat in his thinkin' chair, he started reading the message, muttering to himself, "At this point, bad news is better than no news..."

[Lacco]

Anvil
20th January 2071, 18:27, Seattle

Dawson’s Bar and Grill was a small family establishment in South Tacoma. It was a little run down place that smelled of good steaks and beer and had a good view of opposite parking lot. The neon sign didn't work, but they were offering real beer instead of synthbeer, real meat instead of soy and live music every Sunday.

Pity it’s Tuesday. Anvil quickly checked the ARO with band list for next Sunday on his ‘link. Ok, not really.

The beer was fine though – and it tasted like the real deal. Certainly worth the 10 nY.

He was scrolling down the dinner menu, while playing Pursuit IV. While dodging the virtual police, he quickly compared prices and came out with 24.53% of savings, when compared to other 3 restaurants that offered "real meat". Still too pricy compared to the food he had in the truck... but his small fridge in the truck was mostly packed with krill energy bars and self-heating soy pasta that tastes like well-spiced rubber. And he hasn't eaten real meat or a good meal for 12 days, 5 hours and 32 minutes.

He noticed that the waitress – they had a live one here – coming to him. She seemed a bit tired. And maybe a bit grumpy – he was blocking a table for six so he could see his truck and didn’t order anything except the beer yet. Not that the place was full - a quick glance around told him that there were still 17 places left, which could be increased to 25 if they moved some of the tables... now weave and dodge the two trucks...

...he looked out of the window, to his truck. He liked spending time there, but he desperately needed a shower and a place where he could finally give his truck a proper maintenance. He was on the road for quite some time and the probabilities of breakdown were getting higher without proper maintenance.

The waitress repeated her previous question – if he wants to move to another table or order a meal…

…he didn’t really pay attention - his VR overlay came up with a message. Even the game was forgotten.

Hey man, it’s Jet. Found you the place you wanted. Real beauty. You’ll love it. The rent is a bit on the pricy side, but you set the conditions. The landlord wanted you to pay for first month and some – as a security – today. Said he has some other party interested. I talked him to give you 24 hours. I’m sending you the info in attached file. You owe me - I'm not your %@#$in' real estate agent.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Design the safehouse (I can do it if you don’t have the time) and calculate the rent. Add 50% as security.
That’s the target sum.

[Lacco]

Gargoyle
20th January 2071, 19:10, Seattle

Gargoyle left his apartment, adjusting the collar of his leather duster as he crossed into Cutter territory. He had half a mind to look elsewhere, but knew it was about time he visited his old gang mates and the local Boss. They were on good enough terms and he suspected the Cutters might have some work, or at the very least, a direction to point him in. It was only then, while on his way, out and about the streets that he checked his commlink.[/QUOTE]

The torrents of rain quickly washed away last brief clouds and lights. The reality of the street hit him quickly. The whole world seemed unfriendly, the people he passed, the lamplights that shone their angry light, the weather - everything added its bit to his bad mood.

Even when he checked his commlink, it didn't help.

His bank account held 550 nY. No messages, except the one from the landlord. And the news...

...Neonet announced they will not refund the faulty new line of commlinks...
...Gang shootout, 5 dead, 3 wounded - gang colours suggest conflict between...
...found in shower. Foul play suspected. Attorney Dana Oaks stated the case may be connected to murder of senator...

He quickly found the correct alley and ventured deep into the Cutter territory. Cutter spray tags multiplied with each step he took. It didn't take more than fifteen minutes to find one of Razor's boys, who recognized him and brought him to Razor himself.

He was surprised, when they brought him inside a building - Razor liked outdoor meetings - but then, he saw Razor and understood.

He lied on a table and well-known street doc was tending to a gunshot wound in his belly. The whole room reeked with booze. Razor's second-in-command, Efreet, and his personal bodyguard, Twine, stood in the corner, silently discussing something. When Gargoyle entered, they stopped and looked at him - Efreet with his usual steel-gray cold eyes, Twine with badly concealed hate.

Look what the cat brought home, doc. Razor sounded dead-tired. It's the pro. Hoi Gargoyle. What brings you here...?

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I assume you went on foot (it's not far away) and you took most of your equipment with you.

[Lacco]

Draven
20th January 2071, 18:28, Seattle

It was a simple automated message.
<<<Your rent payment is now 24 hours late. Please, consider this your warning. If the rent, including penalty of additional 50% of the sum is not paid in next 24 hours, you will be evicted, your possessions confiscated and you will be held legally responsible. If you already paid the rent, consider this message void. This message has been generated automatically by Neonet Automatic Messaging Services. >>>

He looked around the decrepit apartment, the flickering lights, the dripping faucet, the stained carpet and creaky bed. The chair was only piece of furniture he found comfortable here.

[Tyeal]

He sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wonder if I can take that back..." he muttered to himself as he closed the message and brought up his bank account. The princely sum of 700 Nuyen. "Well, I can afford energy drinks and some food in these next 24 hours at least." Standing up, Draven collected a pair of trusted firearms from a lockbox hidden inside of his favorite chair, as well as a pair of gloves that crackled and popped when he turned them on. Holstering the handguns on his person and bringing a loaded spare clip for each, he headed out into Seattle once more. This time, with the intent of visiting Mr. Smith directly, since the bastard wasn't returning any kind of call from him. And Dragonuv was not at option while he was desperate.

Making sure both guns were loaded, one with non-lethal gel rounds and the other with lethal, he adjusted his glasses as he walked the rain-soaked streets of the city. Figuring he'd be dropping the nice guy act he had been keeping up in his time with Mr. Smith, and would go for the jugular in his negotiations. "I'm not someone to be trifled with. Even if the rest of the world doesn't know it yet..."

[Surgate]

Gargoyle


The small measure of funds in his account did little to stifle the irritating splendor that started his evening stroll through Seattle's underbelly. As much as the world and its populace rejected him, he returned the gesture with equal disdain.

The news covering gang violence was mostly nothing new to him. This business concerning the murder of a senator thrown in was surprising to say the least, but it did little to actually change his priorities. Bliss and rent. Bliss to calm him once again…Rent to ensure those organ dealers don't get a chance at his precious internal possessions.

He felt somewhat comfortable returning to Cutter territory. He recalled when he was younger, and left similar spray tags all over their turf. It felt like simpler times. And an indoor meeting? Gargoyle knew something was wrong.

He approached slow, nostrils flaring at the stench of booze. He offered an acknowledging nod to both Efreet and Twine as he stepped closer to the doc and Boss Razor.

Gargoyle chuckled at the pro line. He raised a chrome claw in greetings.

"Hoi Razor. Good to see you alive and well." Gargoyle delivered in dead-pan. "Looking for work, or a lead to a payday. Out of Bliss again and rent is due." He went with the honest approach, shrugging chrome shoulders. He didn't seem proud of the predicament, but alas, here they were, one belly shot and the other out of work.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Thanks! Yeah on foot and with his equipment.

[Lacco]

Gargoyle
20th January 2071, 19:15, Seattle

Before Razor could muster strength to respond, Twine spat on the floor. Get lost, clawboy. Can't you see it's not a good time?

Razor chuckled.
He still doesn't like you. Twine...? Go out, take a walk for few minutes. We take care of our brothers, even if they turn pro.

Twine left, red in the face, scorching Gargoyle with his eyes on his way out. Efreet stood still, watching Gargoyle like he himself were a stone figure.

Ok, pro-boy. No work from us - we are out of funds - but you can do me a favor. Find the guy who did this - Razor pointed to his gut - and get him to me. Alive if possible, but if you can't... - he smiled, showing his blackened teeth. Not a pleasant smile. ...and as for the leads, you can try this guy... hell, doc, gently!... where were we? Oh yeah, Efreet's got the card - he wants somebody taken care of and we need every hand.

Efreet hands you a card. It's a little bit greasy, but there's a number on it.

And...one question. What did you do to make Twine hate you so much?

[Lacco]

Draven
20th January , 19:20, Fire & Ice Club, Auburn

Smith’s usual joint was the Fire & Ice club, not very far from Draven’s apartment building. The club itself wasn’t remarkable – just another dance club with elemental theme. Most of the people came her for cheap drinks, the "underground" vibe, bearable music and possibility of not leaving alone.

Some of the people came here for work. Fire & Ice was something of a neutral zone for the fixers and Johnsons – this was practically „no man’s land“ – and neutrality was strictly enforced.

Draven’s stomach growled as he turned round the corner and saw the club.

Even in the rain, outside stood about 20 people – all prepared to go clubbing. The club had to be full – Tuesdays were „Student nights“, one shot on the house for the ladies studying at the U. Or at least that advertised the ARO overlaying the club wall - the one with animation of young girl in "Girls Gone Wild" style.

The bouncers – an ork and troll, both in synthleather, towered over the crowd. With their obvious chrome, as per aesthetic standard of "shadowrun style", they felt out of place outside. But people came here for the „shadowrunner“ feel. And they got what they wanted – however, what most of them didn't know - the club really was a shadowrunner scene.

One of the bouncers, the ork, had a small AR cashbox next to his head and large sign. „No firearms allowed.“

As he walked towards the club, one of the hobos in the alley asked him for spare change.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Since it's one of your contacts - what do you know about Smith?

[Surgate]

Gargoyle

The statuesque ork ignored Twine's belligerence, but still locked eyes with the bodyguard, burning as they were, until he went outside on orders to cool off. Gargoyle turned back to Razor with some measure of gratitude.

"Apparently not. I'll find the guy. I heard on the news something about gangers killing each other. 5 dead, 3 wounded. I'm assuming you're one of those three. Which gang does this drek belong to and what does he look like?"

He accepted the greasy card with an appreciative nod. "Thanks for the lead. Every hand huh? You know this is my favorite kind of work." Gargoyle was intrigued. His smile was more of a sinister grin, the kind you'd expect a hungry monster to possess, lingering in the shadows for a bloody raw meal.

"Regarding Twine and I…we used to be friends. Best of friends really. Saved each other's asses more than a few times growing up. He had this thing for a shady bombshell broad, we called her Medusa on account of her out of control hair. Guess she had a thing for orks instead." Gargoyle snorted.

"Drek hasn't called me brother since. We even fought it out in front of the brothers once or twice. My claws put the salt on his wounded pride." He studied the chrome blades and sighed.

"All in the past. Part of the reason I turned pro."

When he concluded his conversation with Razor, he turned away and dialed the number from the card on his commlink.

[Lacco]

Spider
20th January 2071, 18:27, Seattle

Coffee tasted good. The fact it was for free made it even better. The fact he drank it in VR, in hot sim, made the real stuff seem inadequate.

Spider’s icon swallowed another virtual sip. His brain was immediately assaulted by the sensation of hot coffee, the best brew of java beans, transferred directly to his brain, multiplied by the hot sim. The rush, the sensation, nearly forced him to close his eyes and enjoy it – it was nearly overwhelming, however – by quickly checking levels of his biofeedback filter output in a semi-transparent window, one of many, which circled his persona according to slightest movement of his fingers – it was still under preset threshold.

Still, he modified the filter a bit – he didn’t come here to enjoy coffee. He summoned the leftmost window and quickly checked his meat body in one of the CCTV outputs. He chose this spot for his experiment because this coffeeshop was VR-friendly. He sent a command to his custom EddyT 6.13 video editing program suite, and checked the CCTV output – suddenly the image changed and his meat body changed to one of overweight blonde female.
He smiled. Administrative access with default password – can there be something better?
Yes, there can be.

And he drew a deep breath – a reflex, acquired in meatspace. Made no sense here, but still he did it and pushed “Execute”. His commlink started to nuke the coffeeshop node, slowing it down, giving him few short moments to transfer few cents out of each payment received to a numbered account somewhere in Cyprus. All made possible due to series of spoof commands , commands made due to administrative access and lax security – one patrol IC, non-upgraded OF_SniffingDog? Laughable.

He was patient. Took another sip of his virtual coffee – he had to look like a satisfied customer.

First ping on his account. Maybe this time, he will leave a tip...

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Please, roll Spoof, Command and Stealth – a failure on one of them means trouble. Each hit on Spoof and Command will give you 10nY if you keep it up for a round.

[Saulk]

The Coffee Shop looked a great deal better in VR than it did in real life. For that matter, everything looked better in crisp, hot-sim, VR than it did in real life. Spider smiled. He totally knew what those BTL junkies were on about. This was his home and he loved it. Meat space was so...slow. So boring. He looked ruefully at the cup. The contents did everything for his brain, but nothing for the rest of his body, which still told him that he'd have to eat sometime today. When was the last time he had actually eaten? He flipped open a calendar app. Had to keep track of these things when you were under as often as he was. He'd once heard of a technomancer who kept herself on an IV drip while she was inside. Seemed like a good idea to him.

He was safe though. A soyburger the night before would keep him going for a while, coupled with energy and complete electronic stimulation. Not that his current job was stimulating. This was survival. This was what his ancestors saw when they went out and scavenged for food. He watched as his bank account in Cyprus increased incrementally. A few cents here, a few cents there, and the little pieces of data that no one would miss told his bank account that he had more than he did. 80 nY in a matter of moments - this foraging trip would be a good one, it seemed.

He glanced over to the corner of his peripheral vision at the cartoonish spider that hung beside him, out of sight of anyone but him, though she could see them all. She had a feminine quality that emerged through the cartoonishness. Spider glanced at her window in VR. Armor was always useful, and Analyze was simply what she did. She was his most frequent companion, an Agent that he called "Grandmother". He knew about the technomancers and their sprites, and though she wasn't one, he felt as much of a personality from her as they did. With only the effort of a thought, he spoke to his Agent.

>> Looks like we're going to be able to check into the nicer lot tonight, Grandmother. When we leave here, we will see what we can do about finding a real job.

[Lacco]

Gargoyle
20th January 2071, 19:20, Seattle

"Apparently not. I'll find the guy. I heard on the news something about gangers killing each other. 5 dead, 3 wounded. I'm assuming you're one of those three. Which gang does this drek belong to and what does he look like?"

This time, Efreet spoke with his soft voice. No idea. Black leather, gray stripe, red symbol of dagger and snake. Never seen such gang colours. It was rather strange - I would say we lost all the way, don't think we dusted one of them.

Razor just nodded, clenching his teeth. Doc was finishing the stitching.

He accepted the greasy card with an appreciative nod. "Thanks for the lead. Every hand huh? You know this is my favorite kind of work." Gargoyle was intrigued. His smile was more of a sinister grin, the kind you'd expect a hungry monster to possess, lingering in the shadows for a bloody raw meal.

Yeah. That's my boy. Razor sounded amused. Efreet just turned his face away.

"All in the past. Part of the reason I turned pro." [/COLOR][/B]

You see, E? This is why we don't let chicks into our little part of gang. Never bring anything good, just trouble. Well, my boy, if you got nothing more you want from me, doc wants me to take a nap. So - good luck with the job. And come by sometimes, if you survive.

On the way out, he noticed Twine in one of the rooms, having a phone call. When he noticed Gargoyle, he turned away from him and continued, more silent.

The air outside didn't change. Still the same rain, same wind, same stench of city. He checked time - his commlink showed 19:23. He dialed the number and waited.

The voice belonged to a man. It was the type of voice, which could make invitation to Playboy mansion sound boring. He sounded like an accountant - and he was afraid.
...yes? Who is this?

[Lacco]

Spider
20th January 2071, 18:28, Seattle

Spider felt a flash of unease. It was going well, but the amounts he received were too high. He ran predictions and tried to calibrate it so it would be few nuyen per hour - an amount so low no one would notice if he kept at it for several months in multiple venues. Not that he minded - according to the calendar he had only 24 hours to pay - but this wasn't according to the plan, not according to his model.

The window with his prediction was up - he moved it to overlay current prediction, which he fed the data from bank account. At the moment it was 895% higher and kept rising... at this rate, he would be a millionaire...or dead man in 24 hours.

He quickly moved the camera feed forward and split it into multiple images - the whole coffeeshop was covered by CCTV... he checked the cameras - the guests didn't seem to notice. And even though the coffehouse was full, there weren't enough people for that sum.

Something was wrong. Not that he saw something - just the feeling.

For a split second, he considered an error in his program. A misplaced decimal point? No, he double-checked.

There has to be something else...

Spoiler: OOC

Show

You get another free roll for money (the same as previous, but it's 15 nY per success). Patrol IC rolls: (4d6)[2][4][3][2](11).
Grandmother is running analyze? What are her instructions?
Perception check if he wants to search on cameras, Analyze if in matrix.
If you end the program and successfully edit out the logs (2 successes) at this moment you are golden - and no-one will find out. Or you can dig deeper...

[Surgate]

Gargoyle

Unknown gang colors? Odd symbol? And they pulled a good one over the Cutters without taking one loss? This could actually be a fun challenge. The Ork nodded at the rest. Chicks were always trouble indeed. He waved goodbye to his former ganger boss.
"Have a good nap Razor. I'll come by more often if I don't end up in a ditch somewhere." He chuckled. Black Comedy was his favorite. He kept his distance from Twine as he stepped out into the grime of Seattle once again.

Time was ticking away. At least Razor pulled through for him, despite being disposed as he was, it felt good to know he still had friends…brothers even, in this forsaken place. He waited for an answer, anticipating anything but the droning reply he received.

Gargoyle grumbled into the commlink, "I'm a friend of a friend who said you have a problem. Tell me how I can help. And what's it worth to ya?"

[Lacco]

Gargoyle

"I'm a friend of a friend who said you have a problem. Tell me how I can help. And what's it worth to ya?"
Oh. You are one of those... shadowrunners? Oh. Well... I need someone to...well...get off my back. Disappear if you understand me. Ehm...are you interested? Should we meet in person?

He sounded like a freaked-out accountant. Easy money.

[Surgate]

Gargoyle

"Yes. Name's Gargoyle. And I understand you loud and clear. I'm as interested as it gets buddy." The Ork paused, took a deep breath of city air mixed with the scent of rain. He put a claw on his hip and readjusted posture to something comfortable as he leaned against the side of the building.

"Meeting in person can be problematic sometimes. If you can give me details now I can make them disappear quicker. If you'd rather meet I'm willing to discuss everything over drinks at the Fire & Ice Club. You're looking at 4000-5000 nY depending on these details. Your call kid."

Gargoyle loved easy money.

[Saulk]

Spider
20th January 2071, 18:28, Seattle

Spider felt a flash of unease. It was going well, but the amounts he received were too high. He ran predictions and tried to calibrate it so it would be few nuyen per hour - an amount so low no one would notice if he kept at it for several months in multiple venues. Not that he minded - according to the calendar he had only 24 hours to pay - but this wasn't according to the plan, not according to his model.

The window with his prediction was up - he moved it to overlay current prediction, which he fed the data from bank account. At the moment it was 895% higher and kept rising... at this rate, he would be a millionaire...or dead man in 24 hours.

He quickly moved the camera feed forward and split it into multiple images - the whole coffeeshop was covered by CCTV... he checked the cameras - the guests didn't seem to notice. And even though the coffehouse was full, there weren't enough people for that sum.

Something was wrong. Not that he saw something - just the feeling.

For a split second, he considered an error in his program. A misplaced decimal point? No, he double-checked.

There has to be something else...

Spoiler: OOC

Show

You get another free roll for money (the same as previous, but it's 15 nY per success). Patrol IC rolls: (9d6)[4][1][3][4][1][1][4][4][6](28).
Grandmother is running analyze? What are her instructions?
Perception check if he wants to search on cameras, Analyze if in matrix.
If you end the program and successfully edit out the logs (2 successes) at this moment you are golden - and no-one will find out. Or you can dig deeper...

Spider blinked, a habit from his real world meat body bleeding over. It was just a beat before his speed of thought reactions kicked in. He wasn't ready to call this a wash yet - he shouldn't have been detectable. He knew he wasn't slipping.

With a fraction of a second's worth of planning he kicked into gear. Grandmother was already set to Analyze the node and all connections to his account. He added an Attack program to her payload as well as an Encryption subroutine, just in case.

He couldn't end the program yet, though, so he scanned over to the cameras. Someone was piggybacking his connection and messing with his operation. He wanted to find out who. He pushed his 'link a tad into the red to bring up a lesser used skin of one of his other Agents. With a poisonous green, Shelob appeared. Shelob was designed for one thing, and one alone; hacking another system.

>> Grandmother, look more carefully at these nodes. We need to know what is going on. Shelob, get me another commlink.

With those commands he pulled up a panorama of feeds and scanned them.

Spoiler

Show

Black Betty runs at -1 til Shelob inhabits another 'link
Grandmother's Analyze - (9d6)[4][1][3][4][1][1][4][4][6](28)
Spoof - (7d6)[6][6][5][6][3][2][2](30)
Command - (9d6)[3][3][5][1][2][2][2][5][3](26)

Shelob - Exploit, Spoof, Attack, Encrypt
Hacking on the fly for Shelob vs random commlink for admin access - (6d6)[4][5][4][1][2][2](18)

Perception - (9d6)[4][2][5][2][3][5][5][1][4](31) if it's Matrix Perception, (4d6)[4][6][3][4](17) if it is ordinary.

The plan is to get a random comm, dump my activity to it, watch from the shadows after editing logs to see what happens to it and/or its owner

[Tyeal]

Draven
20th January , 19:20, Fire & Ice Club, Auburn

Smith’s usual joint was the Fire & Ice club, not very far from Draven’s apartment building. The club itself wasn’t remarkable – just another dance club with elemental theme. Most of the people came her for cheap drinks, the "underground" vibe, bearable music and possibility of not leaving alone.

Some of the people came here for work. Fire & Ice was something of a neutral zone for the fixers and Johnsons – this was practically „no man’s land“ – and neutrality was strictly enforced.

Draven’s stomach growled as he turned round the corner and saw the club.

Even in the rain, outside stood about 20 people – all prepared to go clubbing. The club had to be full – Tuesdays were „Student nights“, one shot on the house for the ladies studying at the U. Or at least that advertised the ARO overlaying the club wall - the one with animation of young girl in "Girls Gone Wild" style.

The bouncers – an ork and troll, both in synthleather, towered over the crowd. With their obvious chrome, as per aesthetic standard of "shadowrun style", they felt out of place outside. But people came here for the „shadowrunner“ feel. And they got what they wanted – however, what most of them didn't know - the club really was a shadowrunner scene.

One of the bouncers, the ork, had a small AR cashbox next to his head and large sign. „No firearms allowed.“

As he walked towards the club, one of the hobos in the alley asked him for spare change.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Since it's one of your contacts - what do you know about Smith?

(Been working with him for about a year. Very by the books, adherent to the rules. They're HIS rules, but rules nonetheless. Just some additional flavor detail: Black guy, mid-late 30's, dresses casual, has a module in his throat that allows him to alter his voice's pitch and tone. A remnant from when he was an aspiring singer)

'I'll get something to eat when I have work.' He thought to himself as he approached the two bouncers working the door. He passed them Smith's business card, watching them scan it to authenticate he was a Runner. He tuned out most of the pounding synth once he was inside, heading for the VIP area first and foremost. Once more, he showed his card to be let in, and made his way to Smith's office.

As usual, the place was tidy, lined with deep, rich colors of red, purple, gold and black, and having no fewer than four guards of various kinds in the corners and by the door. As procedure, he turned over his guns to the guards by the door and approached Smith's desk, standing in front of it and asking point-blank, to the back of his high-backed office chair, "I need work, Smith. You've been dodging me for the last two weeks. No returned anything, and now I can't wait any longer. I NEED Nuyen. So, gimme a job, or you can kiss my list of upper-crust contacts, and all your VIP customers, goodbye."

Spoiler: Dice Rolls

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Intimidate: (8d6)[3][1][4][1][5][5][3][6](28)

[Lacco]

Gargoyle
There was a short pause on the other side of the line.

Then, the Johnson seemed to decide.

Yes. I want to meet you. 20:00 sharp, Fire & Ice club. I will send you a message with information when I'm there - I'll arrange a table or a meeting room.

With this, he hung up, leaving Gargoyle standing in the rain in Tacoma.

In a short time a message appeared on his commlink. Ask for Johnson, give the code phrase "Open Sesame" to the doorman. I will be at the table, tagged with "Mr. J.".

Spoiler: OOC

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Fire & Ice club is in Auburn. You have 38 minutes left.

Spider
20th January 2071, 18:28, Seattle

In the corner of his eye, Spider noticed a slight lag - the virtual waitress skipped a table in her rounds, the icons changed positions of hands/heads. The lag was albeit quite small - small price to pay for Shelob's help.

The spider immediately jumped to the next persona and started slowly to spin her webs around it, however, the victim was not caught yet.

The numbers in the window with his account changed - this time around 90 nY was added.

Meanwhile, Grandmother signalled a rapid increase in traffic - no time for in-depth analysis yet, but it seems there is only one source.

The commlink Shelob attacked. He also noticed one guy on the videos - male, caucasian, about 35 - looking at his commlink surprised and jacking in.

Spoiler: OOC

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For next round, initiative.

[Surgate]

Gargoyle

He waited anxiously for the reply. This could mean rent and all the Bliss he needed to blow the month away if he desired. He shot a clawed fist into the air with an excited, satisfied gusto as the Johnson seemed to agree, or at least, wasn't scared enough to **** his pants and rethink negotiating with shadowrunners.

He called a taxi with the commlink, and presumably with no problems paid the driver and tipped twenty percent for his services. Gargoyle slipped the extra nY tip without a word and approached the Fire and Ice Club.

He went up to the doormen, the chromed out ork and troll, and waved a chrome claw of his own. "Johnson please. Open Sesame" With the grumbling bravado of a hack magician. A lack of amusement was written all over his grey, heavily scarred face.

Inside his sharp, red meta eyes sought the table tagged with Mr.J, and took a seat before inspecting his client. "Hoi there. Let's continue from where we left off." His chrome claws tapped one after other in quick succession on the table.

[Lacco]

Draven
20th January 2071, 19:22, Fire & Ice Club, Red Private Room

Smith didn't flinch. Only one of his eyebrows moved a bit up. His voice, however remained calm, collected and as deep and rich as the colours of his office. He removed a non-existant speck from the cuff of his suit and addressed the intruder.

Good evening, mr. Draven. This is no way to conduct bussiness - and I think you are here to discuss bussiness. For the first time Draven knew him, he saw that he is annoyed. Sit down and we may talk. I like eyes at a level. And remember, I have yet to see the list you mention - so you are the one who wants something.

He waited for Draven to sit down. Then he continued in the same calm voice.

I dodged your calls because the scene hasn't been advantageous to work for solo-faces. Most of my clients require fully-fledged teams, or specialists - assassins, magic support...you are neither. You need a team, mr. Draven, if you want to get jobs from me - and you should know - I already told you. Or you need to join a team. Think about it.

He seemed to think about something for a moment and then decide.

If you are able to assemble a team... well, I may have some smaller jobs for you. Until then, there is a fixer, who would fit your need for fast cash. He goes by the street name "Noah". Here is his number - he provides quite a lot jobs in short term - sometimes very short term. It may have been just a play of light, but he seemed to smile - at least, the corner of his mouth moved. And have a dinner, please - my treat. You know I dislike hungry-looking people.

Spoiler: OOC

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If you want to interrupt his speech, feel free to. If you conclude the bussiness here, he will just nod to you and send you to the club area - with escort if you seem that you want to make trouble.

[casualcryptic]

"Yeah yeah," Anvil responded "Trolls, always having to play hardass.""Still though, this place sounds right. I'll ride by later and check it out." Anvil sighes as he ends the call. 24 hours was steep. He wasn't entirely sure he could raise the money in such a short time. "7500 nuyen..." He quickly ran the figures on his total assets. "I suppose if push comes to shove I could see a drone." It wasn't a particularly inspiring thought. Still, it wouldn't hurt to put his nose to the ground and see what kind of work he could turn up.

Anvil pulled out his commlink and made another call, this time to one of his fellow navajo, a woman who went by Walks Among the Roots. "Asdzani" he said, using the Navajo word for woman, one of the few he had picked up from casual conversation with other natives. He had used the same word the first time he had met Roots, in order to charm her. He had mispronounced it then, but the ploy had seemed endearing. "I find myself with sudden material needs. Have you heard any whispers on the wind of labors I might be suited for? Actually, I am somewhat desperate. You can tell me about labors I am not suited for as well."

[Lacco]

Spaz
20th January 2071, 18:27, Seattle

It was a dream about a beautiful, ancient and massive tree, full of life and mysteries. She flew around, chasing other pixies, having fun...when the sound broke her concentration. She lost sight of them. The tree vanished.

The awakening was never pretty. The world looked a bit more grayish, dark shadows everywhere. Especially in the corner of her apartment, where she never even went. The only light point was the dracaena plant left by the previous occupant - looked healthier now, but still not quite as the wonderful tree from her dream. Spaz focused her eyes and switched to mundane view. The room, however, didn't look better than in astral. She tried to recognize the source of sound. It was her commlink, plugged into the only power source in her room.

New message or a call? She never could remember which sound was which...

She yawned, automatically turned on the trideo. This is something that she loved - in her previous home, she couldn't watch so many channels. With commlink in one hand she channel surfed while she tried to find the message - it was a message after all, but when she tried to open it, the commlink messed up - again.

She wondered, how much could a new commlink cost. Incidentally, she found a message from her bank account.

Well, it surely cost more than she had.

The trideo switched between three channels. On one, a burly news anchor tried to explain the disappearance of certain senator from the scene. The second one was a fire-and-brimstone preacher from some small cult, telling the world how the metahumans were a threat to one's soul. The third one was sports channel - women volleyball, metahuman friendly tournament.

She walked towards the fridge and picked one of the nutrisoy energy bars. Opening it, she noticed an advertisement for some lottery fell out of it.

Spaz finally found the message. <<<Hello little miss. You are again late with the payment - however, I decided not to let you skip another day. If I don't see the payment, including hefty sum for my trouble, I will see that you pay - one way or another. 24 hours, no more. Benny>>>

The loan. A black spot on her otherwise nice life. Now, she'll have to utilize her talent and get some quick cash.

She tried to find weather channel. She found five, one from Aztlan, two European, CAS News 24/7 and one from Vladivostok. Frustrated, she looked out of window. It didn't look well outside - it was raining cats and dogs out and the wind made it nearly impossible to fly in straight line. But she had to go out - and make money fast.

[Lacco]

Gargoyle

The club was a headache of lights, heat, strobes, AR imagery, sweat and music - if the machine gun rhytm, electronic music and autotuned, electronic voices could be considered music. The club just made him want a drink the instant, especially considering the age of most involved.

The Johnson was easy to spot. He didn't fit in, his suit and tie, 40$ haircut and nervous glances making him seem out of place between the clubbing teens in leather and chrome. The AR tag "Mr. J." looked ridiculous. However, Gargoyle didn't fit in too - his face and obvious chrome claws practically screamed "shadowrunner", and his rain-soaked hair and clothes didn't look quite fitting and the crowd instinctively created a small private circle around him.

"Hoi there. Let's continue from where we left off."

Johnson nearly jumped at the sound of chrome on the table. An AR waitress popped out into Gargoyle's view, inquiring about his choice of drink.

I'm ... Johnson. I'm pleased to meet you mr. Gargoyle. He was sweating, and he seemed to memorize the lines. The job is simple - there is certain woman that is threatening to make my life a living hell. Here is the address and the photo. You can make it look like a burglary - she's got quite a nice house. And she's nothing special - just a pain in the backside. I can offer you 3000 nuyen, 1000 up front. If she's dead until 6AM, I will add another 500.

He drew a deep breath.

So...are we in bussiness?

The address he provided pointed to Bellevue. Rich kids and oldtimers. The photo - a good-loking 40y/o woman, redhead, short hair, with a small teeth and cold eyes.

Anvil
The only response from the troll was an animated gesture. He was a charmer.

Walks Among the Roots was a bit more verbose.

Good to hear from you, brother. I just got some of the toys you so much like. A bit hot, but still useful for someone with your talents. But since you are looking for work... the brothers whisper about certain syndicate hiring outsiders. I can put you through if you want to tangle with them, but beware. And there is an offer for a skilled flyer - someone needs to see through your eyes a deed done, a deal closed. I have also heard about a run against local tribe - they require firepower, magic and technology and the rewards are quite high... or if you don't mind some water, a set of jobs presented itself - all about disappearing act. Tell me, what are you interested in?

[Surgate]

Gargoyle

He wasn't exactly impressed with the Johnson. This guy didn't fit in at all. But then again neither did Gargoyle. He regarded the AR waitress with a nod, "Whiskey on the rocks."

The Ork showed little to no emotion. An exact foil to the skittish nervousness of the Johnson. He inspected the photo and tapped a single claw where her cold eyes stared. While it wasn't the lucrative amount he was hoping for, he would make 1000 up front and the extra 500 for expediency is all he needed to combine with his current funds and make rent. No point in getting picky over the price.

"Dead by 6AM for a total of 3,500 nY…" Gargoyle appeared to think it over. He looked up from the table and grinned.

"We're in business Mr. J. I'll be in touch."

An address and the picture was everything he needed. He sipped his drink when it arrived, and finished it before paying and leaving the joint without another word. He had enough of kids and that damn static they called music.

He called another taxi for a ride to Bellevue, and instructed the driver to drop him off within short walking distance of the target's house. The plan was to scope it out, make sure she was home, and determine the best method of entry. If he didn't make too much noise, he wanted to take advantage of his cyber pistol's silencer, keep it nice and quiet, and loot the place before bailing.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

*On that note, I'm curious if the front door of the house is made of wood, or metal, and does it have a peep hole? Thanks!

[casualcryptic]

Anvil allowed himself a half-grin at Jet. Leave it to a troll to make a favor seem stand-offish.

"I do like toys," Anvil admited in response to Root's comment, almost without thinking. "But I'm a little strapped for funds at the moment, as I was alluding to. Hmmm... It seems like there is much going on at the moment. It appears the beggar can be the chooser on occasion. I would prefer to keep arm's length from the syndicates if I can, at least for the time being." Anvil thought about the aquatic job for a moment, but only in passing. It would require a completely separate set of skills from the ones he had developed: swimming, boats, subs. He had little experience with any of them. He'd have to let that one go, but he made a note for himself to keep an eye on these things for later. It paid to keep an eye on what people were paying for. If he kept seeing aquatic operations coming up he might have to redefine his skillset. "Tell me more about the air job and the high-paying job. Those both sound like services I am capable of providing, in the right scenario."

[Kyrinthic]

Her frustration slowly rising as her electronics unsurprisingly continued to malfunction on her, she finally reads the message.

Drek, its alreadythe 20th!? when did that happen...I need to move fast.. drek!

Grumbling about the weather channels she swings open her door to see the miserable weather before slamming it shut.

Its raining..of course its raining, its always raining here..

More grumbling as she concentrates on focusing a spell to change into a human shape while she digs out a long coat for the rain. The relaxing feeling of magic flowing through her calms her mood slightly at least until she re-opens the door and steps into the rain. As a final insult as the door swings shut, she hears her trid player come on behind her to the show she was trying to watch in the first place.

With a sign, she heads down the street towards the busy side of town, she endeavors to bring up her contacts list and make some calls and see if anything was biting...