Rub Some Dirt In It [Boston Adventure]

Date: January 3rd, 2075 (Thursday)
Weather: Windy, Moderate Snowfall
Current Temperature: 23F
Time: 19:21


It was a new year chummer, and a new year meant another day down the road further from the past that was and closer to the future that would be. Of course that was the philosophical drek that others had the patience and enough money in their pockets to think over between their twelve hour shifts chained to their desks. But the real work was on the streets, a place many called home and thrived in more than they could ever hope to in the corporate work force. The street was a level play ground for everyone, be they SINless, a wageslave, even corporate goons seemed less intimidating when they were walking down the snow covered sidewalks of South Boston with a frosty wind and a steady downfall of the white stuff. Nights like this could leave the poorer parts of a city crippled when it came to transportation but it was not like the poor mattered to anyone outside of the poor. The corporate apartments, government homes, residents in the more stable financial districts and mafioso’s would have no problem moving their cars come morning, and you could be pretty sure that the public transportation would be up and running by midnight. But Esmerelda, your average next door neighbor? Well that tough old biddy could wait for the snow to melt and drink herself into a stupor in the mean time.

Walking down the street showed that even the poorest of districts in Beantown had a very clear technological presence. All it took was the flip of a switch on your glasses or commlink and the air in front of bars was full of advertisements in AR. Cheap drink specials, enticing offers, promiscuous pictures promising better looks inside. This strip of Boston was well known among those who preferred the dives of the streets compared to the lush scenery of corporate and high class bars. After all, while a twelve nuyen martini might be one of the best you have ever had in the city it still does not quite compare to the nuyen beer in that shithole that smells like grease and devil rat piss. McGinty’s, The Rickety Split, Four Lanes, Spades, and the legendary O’Malley all were located along this street where bars and clubs went up and down like clockwork. Only the best hung around long enough to become a local hotspot and Boston natives loved their neighborhood joints.

The weather had driven most people indoors for the evening, wanting to avoid the cold and snow but there were plenty of people waiting to get into this club or that bar. One could pass a group of smokers all huddled together for warmth, slowly burning away what little timber they have in order to achieve their own sense of satisfaction. Or at least numb themselves enough to resist the cold and bring some stability to their lives.

Here you were, staring down the street with the whole night ahead of you. How you were going to spend it would be up to you, after all… nobody was paying you to stand in the snow like some rookie waiting for a handout.

Mai was out walking the streets, wearing only fairly basic clothing, she was fairly new to the city, considering she was born into the native Americans. As a result, city life was something that took some adjusting to. More than that, she had been raised by a rather small group out in the wilderness away from other people, it is from them she had learned about magic and medicine, and the fact that she had been awakened. Few knew she was a magic user, it was a carefully guarded secret, and for good reasons. People had this odd fear of magic, one she didn't understand. So when a tornado had taken all her friends and relatives, all those who had taught her how to use her magic, and about medicine and healing, she had been left alone. Despite being a healer or what some might call a shaman, she was far from a pacifist. The reverse was true in many ways. She was a naturalist. She believed in following the laws of nature. She had spent all her money getting weaponry that was so necessary to function, and the fake SIN card that was required. But that left her poor.

What does a predator do when it is hungry? It kills and eats. And if it can't or there is a more convenient source, it steals the kill of another animal. That was the law of nature. You did what needed done, and had no regrets about it later. So despite being a user of healing magic, despite having surgical knowledge and such, she had no qualms about stealing. Killing wasn't something she preferred, but she had little guilt if it came to that. So, with the snow came new opportunities. Those in the less prosperous neighborhoods were either stuck inside, or walked to the nearest neighborhood bar or restaurant for a warm environment to dispel any loneliness and chills. In either situation, she was in a simple apartment and only had a month before rent was due, and she had no where near the money she needed. Rent and her expenses added up to roughly 2,000 nuyen, and she only had 475ish. That meant it was time for this predator to steal a meal, or more literally, some nuyen.

And that was what she was doing. She spent some time walking amongst the cold and snow, bundled up in what basic clothes she had, looking like any other commoner walking the streets for some reason. Perhaps her bills were problems, and she had no heat so she was heading to a relatives house. No matter what, people usually payed no attention to the poor person bundled up walking in the wind and snow. She had a target in mind already. But any good thief cased the place many times before they tried to break in. This was perhaps doubly true in the city, where buildings were so close to one another. You needed to be double sure of your target's vulnerability when the house had little privacy in terms of ways to sneak in unseen from the streets. If she was right, Mr. SadCubicleMan would be walking out that door any minute to head off to drink his company-grunt-pencil--pushing sorrows away with some buddies. He had a thing for doing this every monday and thursday. But now was a good time to learn how committed he was. Would he call it off due to the snow? Some people are set in their ways, she needed to know how stubborn he was, and how devoted he was to his beloved schedule. He usually headed out at 19:30. In the mean time, she walked the street looking cold and poor, every bit the peasant anyone who matters ignores.

Date: January 3rd, 2075
Weather: Windy, Moderate Snowfall
Current Temperature: 23F
Time: 19:32


Predators could go hungry stalking prey too long, especially prey who changed their routines all because a little white powder hit the streets without much warning. Such was the danger of the days people lived in, freak storms pushed in every direction due to this or that. Mai’s prey never did come out of his apartment door but there were plenty of other prey on the streets. Sooner or later the junkies would come out and trudge through the slush and the ice to the alleys where their favorite BTLs or Narcotics were served. If they were lucky they’d make it home alive, wherever they called home. As the night was slowly going on, the bars and clubs were getting more attention and drawing a steady stream of customers in as quickly as they shoved them out. The turn over would be mostly influx at this time of night but in a few hours the exodus to their homes would occur.

A city bus crunched through the icy streets, which would be considered strange since every message on the trideo spoke about the closure of all public transportation outside of the monorail. There was plenty of laughter that made its way through the plexiglass windows and steel frame of the bus. Whoever was inside was sure enjoying themselves on this frosty evening. As quickly as it stopped to drop off a few people, it pulled away and left those passengers behind. Wageslaves from the look of them, left stranded in their boxers in the freezing cold on the wrong side of town. A gang might think the situation funny.

Attention would be hard pressed to stay on those poor slots longer than a few seconds when the sound of a trash can crumpling ripped down the street. An angry looking dwarf was currently using it to pin an elf against a tavern wall spewing hate that would make a sailor blush. His thick Irish accent would carry over the wind and the snow, apparently uncaring who might overhear the argument.

”Listen, ya bleedin’ dandelion eater… this’ere is a Bahston bar. Not some leaf licker pub where ye can grab a pint. Now git before I put mah foot up your shiter. Ye want a drop o’whisky? Go back to Tir na Nog ya knife ear!”

The elf looked more than capable of handling himself, but perhaps he chose not to draw knife in his boot due to the pair of orks on either side of the now growling dwarf. He seemed in a foul mood and of a short temper, his hair braided back into dreadlocks and hanging rather loosely behind a blue bandana. One could see him toss the ruined trash bin aside before straightening his shirt and kicking the collapsed elf a kick in the ribs with the toes of his boots before heading back into the warmth of the pub. Both orks watched the elf walk away down some alley in search of friendlier accomodations.

Mai sighed in dissapointment as the time stretched on long enough to make it clear her target wasn't leaving to head out with his friends. While she never had plants to burgle his place this night anyway, it was still a blow. It meant he wasn't a slave to his schedule, and that made him less predictable. Nearly as bad was that she was out in this freezing cold for no reason at all, because her only goal had failed, and had been in vain. But, there were worse things than time spent in the cold. She watched the alleys and the streets warily, as time went on things might get worst ont he streets. Druggies were constant in the poorer parts of the city. You got hooked on BTL or Zen, and then ended up a slave to it, stuck spending everything on it untill you lost it all and lived on the street. That wasn't at all nice. They would be ideal targets for a mugging or some theft, if they were not so poor, the trashiest of the scum of this city in the views of anyone who's opinion mattered officially.

Mai was addicted to nothing, and didn't want to be. She had had drug dealers offer, and had ran those conversations into the ground with a flat no. Firstly, only an idiot tried something they knew would kill them, or take over their lives. Secondly, she was a shaman and a medic, she kenw what that stuff did to the body. It would take a special kind of stupid to know how horrible drugs can be, and still try them anyway. So while the druggy on the street mgiht be a soft target, they were never likely to carry more Nuyen than it took to get their next hit, and perhaps a little food. But worse than that, some druggies had some common sense, and had managed to keep enough wit to have a hidden weapon or two. She had no expirience there, to be sure, but it seemed logical. I mean, if you are going to live on the streets, and live long, you have to be armed. And it was for that risk that she didn't mug or steal with druggies. And that was ignoring the terrible stuff it did to the brain. She didn't doubt a druggy in withdrawals would kill you for your pocket change in hopes of getting their so desperately needed hit. That came from basic medical knowledge, and common sense.

But then a commotion occurred that caught Mai's attention. A dwarf yelling and using all manner of racial slang and insults against an elf. ”Listen, ya bleedin’ dandelion eater… this’ere is a Bahston bar. Not some leaf licker pub where ye can grab a pint. Now git before I put mah foot up your shiter. Ye want a drop o’whisky? Go back to Tir na Nog ya knife ear!” It was annoying to hear someone insult a fellow elf, but not too much so. It was like a lion watching a member of it's pride get bitten by a snake. Nothing Mai was really able to do about it, considering the pair of orcs nearby. She knew enough that she could tells he wouldn't likely survive a go with 3/1 odds with her relatively poor combat skills. And you never knew what weaponry could be hidden by clothes, or mechanical parts. The dwarf finished his rant and threw the trashcan asside before giving the elf a good kick and storming off, relenting to the cold. But the ork's stayed to watch the elf walk down the alley, probably not eager to stay in the area near that dwarfs favored drinking location. Mai kept a close eye on things, thinking about how she could intercept the elf. Either to administer some medical treatment, or mug him, she wasn't entirely sure which. Nature had a way of kicking those that fell, and a sick or injured deer was easy prey for the lion. But some degree of sympathy was there as well, making for an odd disjointed string of thoughts flowing through her mind. Regardless, she would need to find a way to follow the elf preferably not involving walking directly past the orcs. It might be racist, but their thug like presence with the dwarf didn't exactly make them seem like intelligent gentlemen, if anything it only made them seem every bit as thuggish as orcs were stereotyped to be. Mai would wait for them to leave, then follow the elf when the coast was free of such potentially dangerous tides.

There was nothing like the taste of Natasha in the morning. Sure, the guilt of fucking your dead best friend's wife stung somewhere in the middle of the chest area, but at the same time, there was a sense of danger and wrongness about it that made the experience ever so more... sweet. Sure his old chummer was dead, but the pre-death notion of Private Matthews walking in on the two was still ever-present in Willem's mind and it made him thrust more. And god, how she screamed. There was something so sexy about a Russian-accented scream; it carried that perfect mixture of female independence, a touch of anger, drowned out by the ecstasy and desire she emitted. The neighbours must have been very confused when they heard Matthews had passed away. Russians sure have a very unorthodox way of mourning, they must have thought. The banging on the walls was perhaps an unnecessary addition to the 'mourning ritual', but that's how she was - wild and purely evil. She would have dumped him for any other schmuck who had a wallet marginally larger than his. That's why he kept her inside, in bed. There, she made him feel as if he was repeatedly being dumpshocked. Minus the pain. Plus all the ecstasy.

If Willem had entered the house at 11 am, he seemed at all unsurprised when the clock struck 19:00 in the corner of his vision. Similarly, the snow made no apparent impression on the tall, bulk-ish man. The weather forecast had been available to his eyes prior to leaving the shitty apartment, so it was hardly 'surprising' to see the snow that had been predicted, sitting right there, in front of him, restricting all transport much to his delight and annoyance. The only thing that truly bothered him was the lack of warm clothes. Sure, the coat tried its best (and made him look alike an old-times cowboy, so that was chill), but then it wasn't quite enough to fight off the snow. Eh, fuck it. His military days saw worse conditions. As his lieutenant had always said "You can strip when it's hot, but there ain't shit you can do to deal with the cold. So just deal with it" and he was just dealing with it.

But that didn't help the fact that he was quite a ways away from home. Well, if he could call it that. The little stunt his chummers had made him pull ("Leave the army, it will be chill!" "We'll become runners and roll in money") hadn't exactly worked out, and it wasn't like he had stacked everything on it working out. Oh wait. He had. Not only had he give up on a comfortable life but he discarded his whole identity, past and home. Now he was just a faceless almost-lowlife, all in the name of booty, fame and gold.  

And of course, there was the issue of Matthews being dead. Simons on the other hand had found his way into the Black Market so that was well and good for him. But Willem had no luck yet... or not Willem, rather no, he was Azure now. Or at least, that was what Matthews told him to call himself - Simons had found it amusing. The bastards! Well he was Azure now, still without a first job, a runner that had never ran, an ex-soldier that fucked his dead best friend's girl - a girl that was fishing in the sea already. There was so much an organic six pack could do to sway her mind otherwise. Semper Fi much. It's not like the German 'Fixer', Nietzsche or whatever he called himself, had been of much assistance either. For all Willem knew, that man was responsible for Matthews' death. Now, as long as Matthews was around so was Natasha. So in a way, that bloody German had ridden Willem of the fuck of the lifetime and had not provided alternatives. Willem's nuyen were running out and faster than he could count. He needed a job and... well, right now, please, thank you very much. He didn't want to slave away at a corp. Not that his now-fake SIN would allow for it.

So there he was, the dark haired, brooding man, walking down a snowy, lowlife-filled street, looking as menacing as a human could. He had a rugged handsomeness to him. Though he did not consider himself a brute nor his appearance brutish, the opinions were divided on the matter and certainly, given a few years and an unshaven, grizzly face, Willem could manage to achieve such a look with ease. However for the time being, he was just fine. He wasn't exactly your typical, nameless gangbanger, but then he wasn't exactly a 'face' either. You would bang him without taking his money, but wouldn't necessarily introduce him to your friends.

Dani wasn't much one for the cold snowy winters of Boston. Being raised in the tropics she never was able to stand the cold. When she would go out, for any reason, she would usually be bundled up so much you couldn't even see her face. Only a walking short stack of a human covered in a thick winter coat, her red scarf, and fuzzy snow boots to keep her nice and toasty out in the snow. Luckily for her she didn't have to go out today. Instead she decided to take a nice steaming hot bath to try and unwind until her room mate came home. Her ironically snow white hair was held up out of her lightly tanned face by her goggles, which she never took off, and started the bath. The soft relaxing sound of waves crashing was playing loudly through her headphones to help remind her of home as she disrobed and settled herself in the water. Her mind relaxed to the point that she might almost fall asleep in the tub, which was something she would do often as a child and continue to this day.

Date: January 3rd, 2075
Weather: Windy, Moderate Snowfall
Current Temperature: 23F
Time: 19:36

Whether it was the blinking light of an incoming call, or the interruption of music in a pair of headphones signaling a text message arriving,  it usually meant the same thing. A payday was on the way. It was a pleasant interruption from the cold or perhaps the comfort of a paycheck potentially finding its way into your bank account or credstick. It was up the individual whether or not to answer the call, but who knew when the opportunity to make a little scratch would come by again.

”Hey there, hope you’re not busy but I think I have some work for you.”

The voice in Azure’s ear was dry and one could almost smell the stale cigarette between the lips of the voice as he spoke calmly and with a tone that had both confidence and a sense of malice. Nietzche was not the type to offer jobs to people who did not want to work and telling him no was as good as severing links with him, unless you gave him a damn fine reason to accept your inability to get a job done. If Azure’s AR was up and his goggles on he could see the fixer was indeed smoking his favorite brand [Quartz] and lacking his signature goatee. He must have shaved it for some reason or another.

”If you’re not interested I can always call someone else, otherwise I think you should mosey on over to McGinty’s. Someone named Hartley is looking for a little help tonight and doesn’t have any time to waste really. You're expected by 2100.”

Dani’s headphones would beep with a similar message without much fanfare or explanation. The number was indeed Nietzche’s but the man preferred flashier means of communication. When one considered himself the pinnacle of academic and deviant behaviors, one carried themselves with a touch of arrogance that came out in everything they did. A simple text message seemed almost beneath them.

>>>>McGinty’s, 2100 on the dot. Contact’s name is Hartley. Job needs to be done tonight.<<<<

The message was simple enough and explained just enough to perhaps catch the bathing girl’s interest. She had plenty of time to catch a cab across to South Boston, and she could always say no at the meet. No real reason not to go out for a drink, other than that damned snow.

Mai’s commlink buzzed in her pocket, also receiving a text message but with a bit more elaboration and a touch more finesse. It looks like her stalking of the elf would be delayed according to the message itself. Oh well, small game always took a back seat to scoring something more substantial, any predator knew that a bird in the hand beat one still in the bush.

>>>>Sidewinder, I hope the cold has not stilled your blood too much. You have been requested at McGint’y Tavern at nine’o’clock. From what I understand you’re unique talents are required for the job, whatever it is. Your contact’s name is Hartley, I’ll forward you his image.<<<<

The number was unknown, but that was normal for Alice. As was that obtrusive nick name that Mai had never asked for but had been given when her fix found that she was a follower of the snake. It was a stupid ploy meant to agitate her, something Alice sought to do to most of her clients at one time or another. Friend or not. Shortly after the message was an image of a Dwarf in sunglasses and a tactical vest. He looked at least mercenary in build with an obvious datajack on his left temple, the metal ring around the hole showing etched Japanese that was too small in the picture to read. Whoever this Hartley was he looked rather serious and without any sense of humor.

Now McGinty’s was an old ‘Runner bar. Shadow types of all walks of life sat down at the oak counter to share a drink or talk a little biz. And the owner did not mind that his clientele was often paying in money earned with some illicit activity or another, Butch was an old school runner who had gone and retired. But knowing his clientele also meant knowing the risks and weapons found on a person at the door would be grounds for immediate dismissal from the pub. The Good’ol Boys were welcome so long as their toys stayed outside.

Nietzche:

>>>>Sidewinder, I hope the cold has not stilled your blood too much. You have been requested at McGint’y Tavern at nine’o’clock. From what I understand you’re unique talents are required for the job, whatever it is. Your contact’s name is Hartley, I’ll forward you his image.<<<<

Mai watched the orcs, waiting for them to leave as she debated what she was going to do. But just then, from her pocket, the commlink buzzed, telling her someone was trying to contact her. Wether this was good news or bad news, in the end, she supposed it didn’t matter. She pulled out her commlink and examined the text. There was no number, which gave her an inkling that this was from Alice. But it only took reading the first word to confirm it. Inevitably the conversations about personal beliefs and such had come up, and Mai had let slip that her mentor spirit was the snake. And that lead to Alice instantly nicknaming her sidewinder. It had a teasing feel, as if she just liked making people mad, or irking them a bit on purpose. And while it did sometimes irk Mai, she didn’t let it bother her too much, and most of the time it simply flat out didn’t bother her at all. But regardless, to Mai’s knowledge, no one else called her “Sidewinder” but Alice. The next bit was telling her that she needed to be at McGinty’s Tavern at 9. But the part following that made her think a bit. Mai was a shaman of sorts. She was good for healing, summoning and binding spirits, or other various tactical magics. That meant she was not at all a combat mage. That said, this helped her deduce what kind of job this was for, by narrowing the possibilities down by virtually nothing. When WASN’T healing, or tactical magic helpful? That meant she still had no inkling of what this was going to be about. Mai looked over the image, and put the commlink back in her pocket.

It was a shame too for the elf, as Mai had just resolved to stick to healing him if he needed it, and perhaps calling in a favor if she ever needed it. Besides, favors were more useful than just a bit of money. Mai started a jog back to her own apartment, thinking about what this upcoming job to be, purely to keep her mind off the cold. She arrived home and stowed her weapons in various places. She had little information, but from what little she did know of that Tavern, was that it was popular among the runners, and that even trying to take in weapons would get you sent packing. So Mai stowed her survival knife under her floorboards, moved her forearm snap blade from her forearm to another loose floorboard, and stored her Ares Predator V between a tightly clustered group of cleaning things under the sink. With that, she headed to warm up in a nice shower. After her shower was done, she dried off and got out. After a couple minutes of combing her hair, which she had trimmed so that it wasn’t in the way, she threw on the nessisary undergarments, bluejeans, and a rather plain white T-shirt. With that done, she got some simple boots on, grabbed the clearly required simple jacket, and headed out.

Mai was rather broke when it came to funds. That meant she didn’t have top of the line clothes. She had what pretty much anyone could afford, the basic clothing. With that done, she checked her stowed away weapons, and headed out the door, locking it behind her. There was no need to check on the windows, those were always locked, little good it would do against a determined thief though. Mai walked to the street, and began a determined jog. Partially this was to help keep her warm, but more than that, it was a good warm up for whatever nonsense was in store for her upcoming future. Lastly, she had no vehicle, so she got virtually everywhere on foot. And when it wasn’t close enough, she used public transportation. In this case, She was jogging to a bus stop of sorts, and she spent the next while using said public transportation to get to the tavern. She arrived at the Tavern slightly early, and attempted to enter. With no weapons on her, she was allowed in. Mai pulled out her commlink, which was stowed in her pocket, and re examined the picture, just to be certain. She confirmed that she had remembered right, and walked amongst the tavern, minding her own business, and keeping her eye on the people at the same time. She quickly found him. She checked the time, and finding it just a few minutes early, decided to approach this “Hartly.” She would wait near him, standing, giving him some space, and if not acknowledged within a minute or so, she would introduce herself, and explain that she was sent to talk to him.

The sudden appearance of Nietzsche, his fixer (the presumed ownership was wholly naive on Willem's part) in his vision was unexpected. The man's face and parts of his body as well as of the room he had been inhabiting had suddenly appeared to the ex-soldier, blocking out some of his view of the street. Seeing the face incurred no particular reaction from Willem; he smiled to himself vaguely and left it at that. As Nietzsche was in his eyes, rather, in the cybernetic parts of said eyes, he could not see that very smile. So he spoke on, uninterrupted by the gesture.

The gist of the message was that the fixer had a job for him. Finally! It was a breakthrough and, being short on cash, Willem couldn't be more happy at the news. "Of course I will do it, man" he replied as if to himself - it appeared to everyone that he was alone - though the sound was seemingly transmitted nonetheless as Nietzsche's facial expressions changed to accommodate... satisfaction? "I will be right on the clock, sir" the ex soldier added, nearly saluting. How fortunate that the man could not see him.

As soon as the man disappeared from his sight, and the street was visible once more, Willem brought out a map, replacing the spot where the feed of Nietszche had been seconds ago. He looked thoughtfully at his location, his apartment's and the bar's and figured he could run to his house, get ready there comfortably and then take the cycle to the bar, all within the time constraint. He would be early too, he estimated.

Without much ado or further thought, that was the plan he had decided to put into motion, and to the tee, as much as the conditions allowed that is. After all, the jog's momentum was hampered by the thick snow in his path, and yet the overall picture did not change. Willem ran into his apartment, his clothes flying off him as he dressed up in his best action-suited clothing - armour clothing that is. If he had learned anything from Matthews, it was to never draw attention to himself when meeting clients. That usually meant that possessing a weapon was the worst idea possible, not only potentially leading to his own incrimination but the incrimination of the client, thus ending his running career prematurely. So he took no weapons. But he did adorn himself with the linen coat and armoured vest and placed on the shock gloves. They were rather rare, from what Simons had told him, and were perfectly inconspicuous, looking very innocent, or so he figured. No one checked for gloves. They checked for knives and things that shot pesky bullets. Gloves didn't kill. But just in case, he wore a second pair of actual, winter gloves. They concealed the other ones well enough.

Knowing that the snow had already affected his schedule and would continue to do so, Willem rushed out of the apartment desperate to make up lost time, heading straight for his Yamaha Growler. The roar it made, alike a grizzly waking from his winter-sleep, made him feel some badly needed confidence, in regard to this whole, thus far mysterious, ordeal. Although the snow was still very much in the way, the cycle made its way toward the bar quite surprisingly well. It was one thing to stop public transport - the government was rather stingy these days - and another to risk your own vehicle. In this case, the risk had payed off. The cycle drove on, brave girl, and he was at his location minutes before the designated time. He parked in the next alley, straightened himself out and then, putting on his best, most carefree, aloof expression, the man proceeded to wander towards the bar. He wanted to seem a normal customer, so rather than head straight for it, he initially passed it, turning his head in its direction, as if to show that his curiosity had been accidentally piqued. Indeed only after a few steps, he turned, apparently deciding impulsively on a change in course, and he sauntered up to the entrance; the bar had done its job in attracting him then.

"Evening, gents" he offered the remark to the doormen, hoping to play on the casual air he had tried to conjure with his little act.

Dog was in the apartment he shared with Danielle, enjoying the warm air provided by their upper-middle class accommodations. He loved watching the snow, the silent flakes of crystallized water having a hypnotically calming effect on the troll. One of his favorite things was to sit inside on a cold day, and just whittle away the hours by staring at the flakes gathering, without words. Today he was doing just this, though he was also doing his basic weapon maintenance. The gentle tinking and clicking of a rifle and shotgun being disassembled, cleaned, and put back together, would drift through the apartment, possibly to the bathroom, where the troll-sized bathtub was dwarfing the human female, almost being large enough to function as a small pool. The bathtub had been the reason that Dog insisted on this particular apartment, even though it was certainly pricier than he cared for. The extra tall ceilings, high enough to comfortably accommodate a troll stretching his arms over his head in the morning, were a huge bonus too, but it had definitely been the bathtub that sold Dog, as he had grown tired over the years of attempting to squeeze into the human and elf sized bathing areas. He was used to hunching down in most places, though it was becoming far more common for places to have ceilings tall enough to allow him to walk upright. If only for the tax rebates and PR to say "Troll height ceilings!"

Having finished his guns, Dog was working on Dani's two pistols. He knew she was perfectly capable of working on them herself, but it was something to do with his hands. He'd just bought some ammo for her the other day, as she was somehow entirely out, and so he filled a clip for each gun as a final touch, clicking them into the heavy pistols and laying them down on a soft towel until Dani was finished, so she could take them. Having killed about two and a half hours, and now out of guns to tinker with, the troll went back to staring out into the snow, his mind casually wandering all over the place. He was still restless though, so he went and pulled out the Smart Firing Platform, and played with it, only paying half attention as he ensured a full range of motion from the electronic tripod. As he was oiling one of the hinges, his mind went to his last job, and how it had been nearly two months ago... How frustrating. He didn't have any contacts out here to help him pick up a job, so he was usually left with wandering the 'Runner bars, asking if anyone was looking for someone to join on a run. Dani's contact hadn't done them any good yet, though she insisted that this bastard who called himself Nietzsche was a good contact, Dog had his doubts, and was not gentle in voicing them.

Giving a world-weary sigh, he heard the tub begin to drain, and closed up the platform, carrying it casually to one of the three spare rooms, this particular one being used as his 'office' for now, an odd collection of any number of things all across the room. It was somewhat messy, but certainly not disorganized, the mess mostly coming from projects which had been left half finished for the time being, in their own corners. Don with that, Dog stepped back into the main living area, and resumed, yet again, his snow-watching, enjoying the view through the windows, aware in the back of his mind that Dani was moving around the large apartment as well, but unconcerned. If she needed something, she would speak to him.

Dani heard her headphones beep indicating that the had a new message.
 >>>>McGinty’s, 2100 on the dot. Contact’s name is Hartley. Job needs to be done tonight.<<<<
The number was defiantly Nietzche’s, though she thought why would he send such a simple text message, but she didn't worry about it much. They got a job that's all she needed to hear or read. She got of of the tub and drained it as she grabbed a towel wrapping it around herself as she walked down the hall to her room. Walking down the hall she glanced into the living room and noticed Dog had come home. She stopped for a moment about to tell him the good news about their job, but quickly realized she was still dripping water with only a towel on. So she ran to her room which was a 2 doors down from the bathroom and threw on her undergarments and layered up some with thermals, her light armored clothes, and thick black jacket she used when she rode her bike because it keeps her warm. After getting dressed she laced up her boots she grabbed her deck and headphones then made her way back to the living room to tell Dog about the good news.
"Hey Carlos you wouldn't guess who I just got a text from."
She sat down next to the towering troll on the couch and showed him the text on her comlink hoping that he would take the job with her. They about an hour and 10 minuets to get to the bar, the drive wouldn't take more than 20 minuet drive on a normal day, but taking into account of the snow and possible ice on the roads they would probably be walking which might take them a while.

Pulling his gaze, and his mind, away from the snow, Dog looked over to the woman.  "Hey Carlos, you wouldn't guess who I just got a text from."  Her words here innocuous, but her tone was excited.  Any fool could figure out the answer.  "As long as they're offering me some jing, omae, I don't think I'd care if it was Villier."  This comment was somewhat sarcastic, as Villier was the man that Dog hated most in the world, and had vowed to do everything he could to kill.  But that was neither here nor there.  Reading the commlink over carefully, he saw the message.  "I still don't see why you don't get an implanted comm, you silly little squishy." Had he used that term with most anyone else, it'd have been offensive, but with the human sitting by him, he said it as a joking term.  "It won't make your a razorgirl.  Promise."

Finishing his reading, he closed his eyes for a moment and thought.  McGinty's...  What did he know about that place?  Obviously a bar of some sort.  A quick and silent search on his own commlink, the information being piped into his fake eyes, reminded him of the location and had a few pictures, mostly of the outside.  Not a whole lot going on there, but he knew from memory that it was a 'Runner bar, the kind of place that people like him went.  In fact, it had been one of the places he had tried to find work, unsuccessfully, during the dry spell that had hopefully just broken.  But he felt like he should know more about it, however right now nothing was coming to him.  His eye told him the time, and a quick translation told him how much time they had.  "Well, let me grab some things and we can be off I suppose.  Better to be there early and check the place out.  Don't bring your guns, unless you want to leave them at the door.  Last time I was there they didn't allow weapons, and I doubt it changed."  Standing up and stretching, a small smile forming on his scarred face as he hands did not touch the ceiling, he walked to his office.

Throwing his armored jacket on, he glanced around.  He hadn't bothered turning the light on for the room, but the cybereyes in the wired troll made it unnecessary, everything being plenty visible, the shadows a pointless challenge for his vision.  It's amazing what technology would allow.  Pondering what he wanted to grab, he gave a pause, slowly letting his eyes each table, a mental checklist being literally written up on his commlink, the words scrolling down to the right side of his vision.  Oh, the wonders of technology.  His gaze paused on his Cavalier Arms Crockett EBR.  It was his favorite weapon.  A high end sniper rifle, though certainly not the best on the market.  He would love to bring the gun, its utility always a boon, the burst fire option allowing it to work in close range combat, while the range gave it the ability to decimate his enemies if they tried to get distance.  He popped open the Smartlink application in his cybereye and scanned the information on the gun with it, though he knew it was in perfect shape, having just cleaned it.

Knowing such a weapon would only be taken at the door, and ran the risk of being stolen, he closed the application, and resumed his list.  Stepping to one table, he picked up a small earbud and a patch that looked almost like a band-aid.  His micro-transceiver.  He had picked it up on a whim, though thanks to his implanted equipment he had no use for it.  But it was small, and wouldn't hurt to carry along.  Popping it into the pocket of his troll-sized duster, he picked up another item.  A mask piece that was large enough to cover the troll's nose and mouth.  His respirator.  Again, unlikely to be needed, but he was a troll, and his jacket had pockets to fit, so he could dropped it into a pocket as well.  He reached for his crowbar, but decided against it.  They'd likely assume it was a weapon, and even if he was trying to prepare for every possibility, he doubted he would need it.  Instead he picked up his lockpick set and put that in one of his inner pockets.  Finally he snatched up one of his credsticks, knowing the balance on it was 500¥.  Never go to a bar broke, especially if you might want information.

Nodding as he considered himself 'set' for the meeting, he walked towards the door, picking up his extendable baton and telescoping staff on the way, the baton going into a pocket, and the staff staying in his hand, a silent command causing it to extend so he could use it for walking.  Both of the club type weapons were aligned wirelessly to his commlink, so he had some control over them.  Slapping his hand on the ten foot tall doorframe, he left his office, about three minutes having passed.  Walking down the tall halls, he waited at the door for Dani to get her own gear and played around with his commlink until she did show up.  Once she did, they would walk out into the snow, Dog's face turning to a scowl of sorts now.  He loved watching the snow, but he hated dealing with it...  His jacket was enough to fend off the worst of the cold for now, though his buzzed hair did little to warm his head.  But if this job paid, he didn't mind freezing his hoop off for a little while.

When the question of taking the vehicles came up, Dog was against it, choosing to walk, whether Dani came with him or not, the cold obnoxious, but the idea of trying to deal with idiot Boston drivers in the new snow was far more annoying.  Besides, he could enjoy watching the snow, even if he was unhappy with the cold that was causing it.  The walk took nearly an hour, so he ended up outside the bar at about 2053 hours, seven minutes before the meeting.  On the walk, he had been trying to recall anything he could about the bar. [Knowledge Skill check: Shadowrunner Friendly Spots: 2 successes]  Regardless of whether he could remember anything, and whether Dani had chosen to walk with him or drive herself, he would approach the door and allow them to make whatever check they wanted for weapons.  If they tried to take away his extendable baton, he wouldn't argue, though if he tried to take the staff, he would attempt to persuade[Con Skill check?: 5 successes] them that he used it for walking, his scarred face and broken horn certainly able to suggest that he could need it, knee injuries not being the least common type of cost for a job.  It didn't matter too much in the end, his own magical abilities being plenty to make his fists as deadly as any bullet.

Anything else they may find on his person was certainly not a weapon, and so regardless of his success on keeping a hold of either of his clubs, he walked into the bar, taking a moment to open his inner eye [Astral Perception Adept Ability] and looked around, assessing the people there on both planes.  He could easily spot the elven woman, Mai, though he had no reason to give more than a passing glance, along with the rest of the patrons.  Had Dani chosen to walk with him, he would taken them both over to the bar.  If she had driven, and would therefore be here before him, he'd go find her.  Regardless though, they had no picture of this Hartley person.  It could be anyone really.  Growling, he would go to the bar and ask the bartender.  Fingering his credstick in his pocket, he was willing to pay a little money if the bartender was going to be difficult, but he hoped that given how this place was designed for 'Runners, they'd help.

Spoiler:

"I still don't see why you don't get an implanted comm, you silly little squishy." Dani glared at him, she knew he was joking when he called her squishy, but it still bugged her. "I'm not squishy! Your just thick skinned." She retaliated with attempting to stand up for her pride. When she he finished reading the message she slid her comlink into her pocket and watched as the troll got up off the couch and stretch, the ceiling so high he couldn't touch it, neither could she even if she stood on a table.

"Well, let me grab some things and we can be off I suppose. Better to be there early and check the place out. Don't bring your guns, unless you want to leave them at the door. Last time I was there they didn't allow weapons, and I doubt it changed." She realized that the troll knew something she didn't about this "McGinty's" that she didn't know and decided to follow his lead in packing a small bag for her gear. "Alrighty good to know, thanks." With that she too got up from the couch and made her way to her room to build a travel bag. She turned on the light to her room, showing a cluttered mess of clothes, stuffed animals, old school year 2000 CD's and their junky players, and her random clutter of wires and connector cables. She looked around through the cluttered but organized mess and quickly found her runner backpack, a big but thin bag capable of holding a few things, but she only packed her cyberdeck with a few connecting cables and her mothers red scarf that that she always took with her. It took her a few minuets to find her winter coat that was hiding in plain sight on her closet door and threw it on as she turned the lights off and met Carlos at the front door assuming they would be walking, in which they did. Dani kept close to the troll as they made their way to McGinty's in the frigid cold of Boston in winter, noticing Carlos was looking cold she took her scarf out from her pack and made an attempt to wrap it around his neck, but her height made it difficult. It was only until they had made it to McGinty's till he took notice of her act of kindness towards him.

McGinty’s was a place that smelled of old smoke, rough cut synthahol, and enough history to just make it uncomfortable for those that were not in the shadow trade. The crowd was always gruff, the bartender always impatient and the service just a step above terrible. In short it was a wonderful bar, with lots of tables and even a few private rooms if you could afford to meet the rest of your “friends” in one. The ork behind the counter might have once been an athlete but these days the pudge on Butch was showing pretty clearly compared to his youth, but that touch of fat that comes with retirement did nothing to still the dexterity he showed in manipulating glasses behind the bar. It was a dexterity that could only come from a background in dealing with very precise movements or artisanry, perhaps a jewelry maker or pickpocket.  The establishment was watched over by a pair of bouncers, a human with very clear muscle augmentation and an ork checking SINs while his partner watched for weapons. Both had stun batons on their hip, very visibly.

Tonight the pub was rather slow, but there were still a few handfuls of people munching on their balls of grease that Butch called a burger and overly salted fries  next to their beers  that were overpriced but strong enough to put a troll on his ass after more than a few of them. With this many patrons spotting a Johnson might be considered an easy task, but for those without his picture (Azure, Dog, Dani) it would prove an arduous task as the man faded quite well into the culture around him. Mai however, with a picture downloaded onto her commlink would find him quite easily and sitting alone with a glass of brown liquid that upon approaching the Dwarf’s table would quickly identify itself as real bourbon. Top shelf at worst, a select small batch at best; definitely the type of drink someone with money is used to having.

Hartley was a dwarf with black hair and sunglasses, though behind those sunglasses there was a stern brow. He kept a medium length beard on his cheeks leading to his goatee and all of his grooming showed just a touch of silver in those locks. His jacket was of military cut and his fingerless gloves looked like those preferred by security or sharp shooters in the winter, lacking fingertip and edged with hardened plates along the ridges of the hand and knuckles in case things got up close and personal. His boots were still dripping with water from previously frozen snow stuck to the hard black soles.

Mai:
Mai’s presence hanging around within shouting table had not gone unnoticed by the dwarf and in fact he quietly waved her over.  There were several chairs around his table, as if he was waiting for someone, and motioned towards one before holding a finger up for silence. His lips were not moving but one had to wonder if his apparent absentminded stare into space was for something private that others could not see. The silence seemed a little uncomfortable considering how naturally loud the rest of the bar was on the average night, but here in his corner he had his own space and that allowed for some sense of privacy. But one would be foolish to think that those only ten feet away might be eavesdropping, luckily they were likely eavesdropping out of curiosity rather than with any malicious intent. It might calm Mai’s nerves when she realized that this dwarf looked nothing like the one hitting the elf outside of another bar.

Dog/Dani:

Weapon Check:

Dog knew that McGinty’s was owned by Butch, a Seattle runner that had worked the scene for a long time. The man was practically royalty at this point though he had never made it deep in the pockets. Still retirement had the kind of perks that most shadowrunners lived for, like people no longer shooting at them on a regular basis. Butch’s specific trade in the shadow community was as a street doc, ready and willing to take on patients that could not see hospitals in exchange for nuyen that paid for his future retirement AKA this bar.

The bouncers both straightened quite a bit as the troll entered the pub. The ork, surprisingly, seemed the nervous one as his hand absentmindedly dropped to his stun baton in case the massive wall of flesh decided violence was on the agenda this evening. The human handled things a little more calmly, going through his job and checking the pair over for weapons as Dani and Dog stepped up next in line. The extendable staff was immediately requested to be turned over to security or else the pair could leave the bar peacefully and return unarmed at a later time. The human was not quite rude about it, but was quite firm in that even a troll (especially a troll) would not be allowed into McGinty’s with a weapon of any sort.  Even a massive dose of sweet talking simply would not allow them to budge on the subject, though it did much to assuage their fears that the troll meant harm.

”Look  man, it’s our jobs on the line. I understand you’re probably a good guy and I’ve got no problems with you. But I can’t let you take that in here. We’ll set it aside for you, promise.”

It was apologetic but still the rules were made well known. Nobody brought weapons into McGinty’s. Whether or not they thought so, it was that big of a deal. The pair would be let into the bar after turning over the staff, left to explore at their own initiative. The bar was mildly full but far from the rowdy roadhouse it often became on the weekends. Butch was behind the bar as always, cleaning glasses and moving with a subtle grace many did not pick up on their first visit here. There seemed to be something like a meeting going on in a back corner between a dwarf and some Amerindian but who knows what that was about. Nietzche had not transferred any sort of picture as to who this Hartley was. Maybe he would make himself known or perhaps wait for the runners to make their own approach. Who  knew?

Azure:

Weapon Check:

The bouncers at the door were quick to check Azure as he walked in but found nothing of interest on his person. They quietly welcomed him in from the cold and waved him over towards the bar like they did every other customer. After all, this was their job and without something interesting to pounce on they had no reason to give a real shit about anything that the patrons said or did. The remark made to them was completely ignored as they moved on to the next person in line behind Azure and left the guy to wander the bar on his own. It would not be hard for him to spot a table with a dwarf and a girl sitting at it with chairs for more, an obvious business meeting in progress. A quick check of the time would show him far from being late but perhaps the meeting had begun a little early? Or perhaps that was not to be his contact at all and was in fact some dwarf with a hooker haggling over prices. Stranger things had happened at McGinty’s.

GM Notes:

Hartley:

Butch:

Mai stood for a moment, watching the scene. But the dwarf wasn't absentminded, he seemed to notice her reasonably fast. He waved her over, before motioning to a chair and raising his finger for silence. Mai could respect that. With no weaponry on her, she hadn't had much of a problem thus far. That said, this wasn't even the job, this was just meeting the client. But she disliked not having a weapon. That said, she had no where to store a weapon if they had found one of hers, and would have had to possibly go all the way back to her apartment to store it. Regardless, she was here now, and it was time to wait. The amount of chairs he had near him indicated he was waiting for more. Her fixer, Alice, had mentioned her skills would be useful for this. Did that indicate he knew her in some way? It seemed to indicate that the fixer(s) had informed him of who to expect. Else-wise he probably would not have known she was looking for him. Then again, he didn't look like the kind of person who went uninformed on anything, let alone something of importance. So she was quite sure he knew who to expect.

Mai took the indicated chhair, and kept her thoughts to herself. She wasn't one to be sure talkative at this point anyway. And there were more than obvious reasons. Firstly, it wasn't a private place, anyone could be listening if they were near enough and had a good enough ear to filter out the noise and talk around them. But more than that, it wasn't a great time to be talking anyway. He was waiting for others it seemed, and that meant discussing it would be a waste as he would have to re explain later. Still more, a shadowrunner with a loose tongue and an open mouth rarely lasted long. Either they got killed, or their talkativeness resulted in them never getting jobs anymore. Either way, she liked to wait for the client to talk first. Perhaps that might be good manners, but it also helped to ensure the clients privacy and comfort. No one liked to hire a shadowrunner who came to the client meeting and talked on and on until everyone bled from the ear.

(sorry for the short post.)

Test Results

(3 perception, 3 intuition. Still 2 hits.)

Dog glanced around [Perception roll: 4 success] as he reached the bar.  Pulling both hands out of his pockets, be put them casually on the bar.  The bar wasn't quite as accommodating as his house, for trolls, the ceiling only about eight or so inches above his head and the door frames requiring the meta to duck under them to allow himself admittance.  But he'd been in worse places.  Looking at the bartender, he recognized Butch.  Though how anyone couldn't was a wonder.  The man was a quiet legend.  Not many 'Runners got the chance to retire from their world, and so those who had managed to reach that point were seen, by Dog at least, with a certain level of reverence.  They were the legends, the fairy tales, the stories that led children into this life.  To have the chance to just casually walk up to one and talk was a little bit surreal as far as the troll was concerned.  Part of him wanted to just sit and discuss for hours all of the man's stories, his adventures, and to just pick his brain.  But the clock in his cybereye told him that he had another four minutes to find the person he was there to meet.

"Pardon me, Butch.  I'm looking for a man called Hartley."  It was impossible to know if Butch would just point the contact out to Dog, but given the reputation of this bar, it was likely enough that the owner would be helpful.  But at the same time, giving names and pointing fingers was a bad habit, so Dog added on another detail.  "I was told to meet him here for a job.  However my contact didn't give me a description, and I'm about, to be late for the meet."  He spoke the truth, obviously, and could only hope that the ork would take him at face value.  [Etiquette Check: 2 successes]  Should the man tell point out the dwarf, Dog would thank him politely and order a beer for the table as a courtesy.  If he didn't...  Well, Dog would take that as it came.  He had no reason to lie, his job was, as far as he knew, on the up-and-up.  By 'runner standards at least.

Spoiler:

Willem had been quite delighted by the ease with which the guards had let him through, all without noticing his extra pair of gloves, sneakily hidden away. He couldn't quite attribute it to anything in particular - maybe his act had convinced them of his innocence and the gloves were thus merely for protection - or maybe in comparison to a troll, he was really just a yapping puppy and had little say in any physical fight, should one break out. That or they basically didn't think of checking his hands, and that was their mistake, as he slipped both the real deal and the genuine warm-gloves into his pockets, separating them out of sight of others.

Once in the bar, Willem couldn't help but remember his old golden days, when he and Matthews had caused a lot of trouble in places like these. A lot. As an ex-soldier there was a certain tradition of relieving all the stress that had built-up, once you were finally off-duty for those one or two weeks. The bar had always been a perfect place for that; there were ladies that enjoyed the company of a man who was at an athletic prime and who had been in a fight or two, thus giving him that air of chivalrous roughness. The culture of sleeping with soldiers or ex-cons hadn't really changed that much from how it used to be. It as still considered the dream of those some odd girls who were looking for a bit of... adventure? ; in particular, two at the bar tonight seemed a little too privy to the idea. Willem would have joined those ladies had he been not working, but of course, the job was on his mind even if his cybernetic eyes allowed him to look somewhat under their garb. What he saw he liked, and he despaired at the thought of leaving the birds alone.

It reminded him of the time he and Matthews had hooked up with two steaming girls who they had soon found out, had two overly attached boyfriends. That was amusing. The bar brawl that ensued had the whole lot kicked out. Bruised and bleeding, the boyfriends left angrily, whereas the brave two heroes had been joined by the damsels in the dark alley near-by, where they were awarded with a show of gratitude. How ironic that Matthews was dead and Willem continued his adulterous ways regardless.

In the bar, Willem noticed four things in particular, that demanded his attention. For one, the bar was rather empty today, or he figured it was more empty than most days. It made things both easier and harder, as there couldn't have been that many potential runners in here and certainly, even fewer clients. Secondly, he noticed a barkeep that had probably known a thing or two about running himself. Maybe he would know where he could find his man. Thirdly, he saw a couple enter through the door that drew curiosity not only from him, but a few others. After all, a Troll and a Human were an unlikely pair, though the word on the street was that Trolls and Orks had become the new black i.e. bigger loins and more stamina. Willem scoffed at the notion. But surely, that was the only benefit and perk of having the big guy around, unless he was a bodyguard. And even so, Willem was convinced that the two banged.

The fourth thing that attracted his eyes was the conversation, perhaps just begun, before a fancy-looking dwarf and an elf girl. Again, many impressions could have been drawn there, but since the dwarf had yet to touch her thigh or caress her upper body, Willem had figured the meeting wasn't that kind of meeting. Because he sure as hell knew about that other kind.

So he tried to do three things.

Firstly, he tried to analyse the Troll-Human couple. [Perception - 4 Successes]
Secondly, he tried to analyse the Dwarf-Elf pair. [Perception - 1 Success]
And thirdly, he tried to listen in on either of their conversations. [Perception - 3 Successes]  

----
Per 1 - link
Per 2 - link
Per 3 - link

Mai

The dwarf seemed busy in Augmented Reality, that was until he looked up and towards the bar. A troll male and human female had walked up and were speaking to Butch in semi-hushed tones. Whatever they said, or how they said it, seemed to please the ork and he was happy to indicate Mai’s table to the pair just a moment before the dwarf signaled them over as well. Sure the table was a decent size, but the troll looked enormous. Probably because he was.

What caught Mai’s eye was definitely the ganger at the end of the bar closest to her table. He was muscular, wearing gang style leathers, and had a tattoo on his forearm that looked militaristic in nature. Gangers might hang out in a place like this if it was not full of professionals who would under no circumstances allow their bullshit. Mai had a nagging sensation in her stomach that he was no ganger at all, but perhaps a plant by this Hartley.  Still, she had little to do but wait for the Troll and his partner to join herself and the dwarf.

Dog

Butch looked up from washing his glasses, seeing someone recognize who he is. Normally it was quite an annoyance, chasing away people who came in looking for tales from the old days and stories about whizzing bullets and huge paydays. If he had managed huge paydays he’d be retired instead of working at his own bar. Of course he had survived his time as a runner and many of his friends never made it off of the operating table once they were full of bullets. Memories like those were best left in the past however.

He nodded in acknowledgement to the troll speaking to him, polite enough to get to the brass tacks of business rather than prance around what he wanted like this place was not famous for ‘runners hanging their hats and boots here during their down time. Hell, this place was more raided by Lone Star than some drug dens in the rest of the Southies. Putting down the glass he was scrubbing clean, Butch pointed over to a table with an Amerindian and a dwarf. The dwarf’s look screamed ex-military or mercenary with a hint of private security. The Amerindian however looked far from a bodyguard that might accompany the dwarf.

There it was, barely caught out of the corner of Dog’s eye was apparently a ganger in leathers sitting at the end of the bar sipping a beer. But gangers did not roam around the slums with dermal plating on their skin and a tattoo from the Free Marine Corps. No, that was professional muscle hired to watch the meet assuredly. It seemed the dwarf did not travel alone. Nor did he take to being seen without noticing those who noticed him, perhaps informed discreetly by another person in the bar? Regardless of how, Hartley seemed to know and motioned Dog to the table while continuing to work in Augmented Reality in front of the girl.

Azure

rolls:

The Dwarf held himself like ex-military and looked like it. Though Azure could not see what he was working on, his movements and AR gloves were pretty obvious and showed he was doing something with Augmented Reality. The Amerindian-Elf seemed to be patiently waiting for him to finish or perhaps for others to arrive. She seemed comfortable enough, and the dwarf seemed without a worry in the world. The dwarf did pause for a moment however, signaling for the troll to come to the table with his human compatriot in tow after the pair had stopped by the bar to speak with the keep. Butch was old school and seemed to smile, perhaps the pair were the type that made old orks smile with hope for the future generation.

A tap on Azure’s shoulder occurred, an elf girl looking for his attention only long enough to whisper into his ear ”Mr. Hartley is waiting for you, you should go over and say hello…” before vanishing into the crowd. Not a chance to squeeze her ass, not a moment to flirt, simply blending into the thin crowd and probably making her way out of the building. She was not your common bird at a bar, she was a professional and more than capable at whatever she probably did.

Mai was not left without anything to observe, or anything to stimulate her. For the bar was full of activity. Either it was the bartender talking to a human and a troll, or the odd gangster at the bar, as close as possible to the table at which she was sitting. And she wasn't sure what to make of this gangster. Just looking around gave her the feeling this wasn't a hangout for gang-bangers. It seemed that this was a place for shadowrunners, and gangster activities were probably not tolerated. It wasn't hard to get that impression, considering that she was searched coming into the bar. She doubted a bar that searched people for weapons was one that would tolerate thugs and gangsters. But for some reason she kept watching him, largely out of both curiousity and some nagging sensation in her stomach. He he was muscular, and it was clear he wasn't some weak sad-cubicle-man.

For one the leather clothing just had a "gangster" style and feeling to it. Combined that with an odd tattoo on his forearm that looked militaristic, and she didn't get the impression she was just some lowbie gangster. Perhaps he was just pretending to be a gangster? Or was he working for someone? Perhaps the bar owner, as an undercover man keeping an eye out for trouble? Something in her gut said no. She watched the dwarf, Hartley, for a minute, he was clearly busy in Augmented Reality. She went from the client, to the gangster again. There was a nagging gut feeling that told her they were connected. But it was just plain unwise to trust your gut with no evidence to back said instinct up. Regardless, she would keep an eye on him. She moved her eyes back, fairly quickly, to the troll and human girl. She was half curious as to why the troll came in with the girl, but dismissed that question. It really didn't matter at the moment. But then the barman gestured to the same table she was sitting at. Were they taking the job as her? Likely enough. Either way, Mai kept her lips sealed, as was requested of her, and as she would do anyway as common sense. Her attention flicked to Hartley, who was in AR mode, and then back to the gangster. Assuming that the Troll and his companion were on the same job, were there any more?

Ordering himself a beer, as a simple form of appreciation, Dog didn't immediately walk to the table. He had one minute left before the meeting. Instead he looked over the man with the tattoo and military demeanor. It was pretty obvious that he was looking Dog over as well, perhaps more discreetly though. But the troll really didn't care about being discreet if someone was assessing him. It was usually his job to intimidating, and there was little else as intimidating as a troll staring you down when you got caught checking him out. Allowing himself a few moments of eye contact, unless the other man broke it first, he finally walked to Hartley, gesturing for Dani to tag along. Sitting down, Dog did not speak. What was the point? Obviously Hartley knew he was here. Any information that he was going to share about the job, he would. Withholding information from your crew was just asking for the job to be less likely to succeed. Dog didn't trust Mr. Johnsons on principle, but he knew their priorities were to get the job done as cheaply as possible. If the first group of runners died because he didn't share some tidbit, then the next group would undoubtedly charge more.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he readied himself. Let the job begin.

What Azure Sees:

The woman in the lab coat sighed heavily as she checked the readings via AR.  "You're lucky it was just a cold, Faud."

"I am aware, Doctor Muhammad," answered her patient, his basseto voice contrasting both the acknowledgement and humility he felt.

"Look – it's been a cold winter.  I just want you to be safe."

"I will do my best, Doctor Muhammad."

"And you don't have to call me Doctor Muhammad.  I've told you that before."

Her patient smiled and chuckled a bit. "But you are Doctor Muhammad." He sat and pull the doctor to him, kissing her gently, "And now that you are no longer examining me you are now Kiara."

Kiara kissed him back briefly, laughing before pulling away.  "Hey… umm… My parents are in town this weekend.  I was wondering…"

She fumbled into silence for a moment, then was interrupted by Azapane's commlink signaling.  Kiara sighed and told him to answer while she busied herself with charts in AR while Azapane put his trodes on.  It was Darius, and he answered the call via full AR so as to not trouble Kiara.

"Ey – Az.  How goes man?"

"I am well, Darius Jones.  What is it I can help you with?"

"Funny you should mention that.  Got a contact looking to put together work.  You interested?"

"What is the time frame?"

"Job is tonight.  Meet is at twenty-un hunnerd, south Boston bar runner called McGinty's."

Azapane thought for a moment and brought up a quick calendar.

"Very well.  I will be there."

"EXCELLENT! I'll pass ya along a image of your contact, Hartly.  Good luck, Chummer!"

"Thank you, Darius Jones.  Good bye."

When the call ended, a message both the address of McGintys – about a half hour drive from here – and an image of a Dwarf in sunglasses and a tactical vest and dour face.  Azapane processed for a moment, then removed his trodes.

Kiara noticed the movement. "Work?"

"Perhaps.  But first…"

Kiara interrupted him.  "Look – about my parents.  I know it's a hassle and all, so don't wo-"

Faud interrupted her with a gentle embrace and a soft kiss to her forehead.  "Make reservations for Saturday night for four.  I will call you tomorrow?"

Kiara smiled. "Of course.  Eight o'clock?"

Faud nodded. "Eight."

---

After a brief stop at home to retrieve his assault rifle and stash it in the trunk of his car, pocketing last of the half-empty box of shotgun shells, Azapane drove down the snowy streets and parked in a secure off-street lot.   He walked the half block and checked an AR time stamp – ten minutes ahead.  When he entered the bar, he was stopped by one of the bouncers and asked to turn over his weapons.  He regarded the bouncer long and hard, and agreed so as to not cause trouble in the establishment.   He requested a large box, and was presented with a whiskey box into which he placed the two combat knives, the two submachine guns, the Predator, and ejected the special agent on his right wrist, handing it over.  (1 hit to keep the last gun on me hidden.  Bouncer is at -5 due to jacket, size, and gun arm slide to notice the last holdout]).

(if they notice it:)

Spoiler:

Azapane takes a quick look around the bar (2 hits) before he noticed the table with Hartley as well as two unknowns – a lean (for his meta) troll and an elf that would be small for her race, a fact made more so evident in comparison to the troll.  As he approached, ordered a shot of sipping whiskey.

(if they didn't take my last gun:)

Spoiler:

Azapane took an empty seat at the table and smiled while nodding congenially to the elf and troll, before turning to address Hartley.

"Good evening Sir.  I was told that I should find you here.  May I purchase a drink for you?"

With the last of the requested presences through security unmolested, Hartley finally ends his AR session with a wave of both hands to clear the air in front of him of any icons that the rest of the people gathered around his table could not see. A sip from the mug at his left and a cough cleared his throat, allowing the dwarf and speak in his gruff tone exactly what he meant to say to those gathered around.

”Good evening, I’m glad to see that you all have shown up on time. This is one of my favorite places, thanks to the privacy that Butch ensures I get. Old favors and whatnot, you understand. I’ve come into a bit of a problem with my work and I find myself in need of something rather specific in order to continue. Next month a minor company called ‘Biotic Nutrition’ will be releasing a new product to their long line of health supplements and junk food.”

He stops and produces a manila envelope with a series of pictures. He slides the first of which out of the envelope and across the table to Dog with a smirk. ”I feel like you might be familiar with it, it’s called Rage’n’Cage. An energy drink marketed to those of your… kin.” the word chosen carefully and with the slightest hint of disdain for a dwarf. ”I need you to sabotage their test batch that will be distributed to the public and thusly force them to remake the batch and suffer a terrible release of their product. This will allow my employer, and my research team, to break down the chemical formula and put our successful product out first.”

It seemed simple enough, and the other pictures were removed from the envelope one by one. The first picture, a picture of the can in all of its neon red and green-colored glory next to a glass of neon blue liquid, was slowly turning black under the bar light. Obviously it was designed to destroy itself rather quickly so as to be easily disposable. The other pictures included various angles of the building and a couple of the gate that allowed transport vehicles in and out of the facility via a security checkpoint and gate.

”I’ve been authorized to offer up to 21,000¥ for everyone’s cooperation. Of course, if you feel this is far from your abilities I would not be opposed to looking elsewhere for talent. Still, my contacts felt like this was up your ally and I’m more than happy to group your individual skills together in order to achieve my goals. Payment, of course, will be given upon my required conditions being met.”

Hartley pulled off his sunglasses, placing them on the table after folding them delicately. He smiled, waiting for a reply quite patiently, as well as waiting for any questions that they might have for him.

Spoiler:

Feel free to roll negotiation tests or anything else using Invisible Castle.
[/spoiler]

Mai kept silent as he seemed to motion erratically with his hands, waving them both around.That said, she wasn't a person who had much expirincce when it came to the matrix. She wasn't a person who spent much time there in any form, other than necessities and smaller things. But perhaps that wasn't unsurprising. Her skills were not matrix related, but revolved around healing and support magic. She was about as far from a decker as an armadillo is from a dragon. But still, to each their own. Hartley took a drink from his mug and coughed, which seamed to get the job of lubing his throat enough enough to talk. He spoke in a very rough voice, which perhaps wasn't surprising given his clothing. He didn't seem like the kind of people who had a velvety smooth voice that could attract anyone. But again, she didn't really care about his voice.

”Good evening, I’m glad to see that you all have shown up on time. This is one of my favorite places, thanks to the privacy that Butch ensures I get. Old favors and whatnot, you understand. I’ve come into a bit of a problem with my work and I find myself in need of something rather specific in order to continue. Next month a minor company called ‘Biotic Nutrition’ will be releasing a new product to their long line of health supplements and junk food.”

Hartley then produced a manila envelope and passed a picture to the troll. So then, he had to admit he was pretty curious as to what was going on, but no doubt she would find out. She let her eyes flick back to the odd gangster looking person nearby. He seemed out of place to her, and her gut told her not to ignore him. Her gut also said (as you dictated in an earlier post) that he had some relation to Hartley. She would keep an eye on him, while also paying the majority of her attention to Hartley. ”I feel like you might be familiar with it, it’s called Rage’n’Cage. An energy drink marketed to those of your… kin.” The name Rage'n'Cage earned some brief attention. She wasn't familiar with it, though it sounded like a drink fitting for the steriotypical troll. She wondered what the nearby troll though about that. It was a fairly interesting question.

She thought she heard something in his voice, but wasn't really sure what it was. She wasn't a people person. And as such subtle cues were not her thing.”I need you to sabotage their test batch that will be distributed to the public and thusly force them to remake the batch and suffer a terrible release of their product. This will allow my employer, and my research team, to break down the chemical formula and put our successful product out first.” Next out of the envelope came pictures of the annoyingly designed can, full of neon colors that were irksome and not far from painful to look at, due to sheer ugliness. She didn't like bright showy things like that. But then came pictures of the building, various angles and such, and some images of the gate. No doubt all of this information would be highly usefull in this mission.

”I’ve been authorized to offer up to 21,000¥ for everyone’s cooperation. Of course, if you feel this is far from your abilities I would not be opposed to looking elsewhere for talent. Still, my contacts felt like this was up your ally and I’m more than happy to group your individual skills together in order to achieve my goals. Payment, of course, will be given upon my required conditions being met.” The dwarf then took off his glasses and seemed to wait for questions. Not really surprising. But what were her questions. But she might as well ask the obvious questions. "As this is a more minor company I don't imagine they are very high security. However I would be foolish not to ask if you had any insight into how well it is protected. For all I know this company could be partly owned by a bigger company and thus better protected. If I was a leader of a huge international company and owned parts of smaller ones, I would do my best to protect my future profits...It's just common sense."

Negotiation Test:

"I’ve been authorized to offer up to 21,000¥ for everyone’s cooperation. Of course, if you feel this is far from your abilities I would not be opposed to looking elsewhere for talent.  Still, my contacts felt like this was up your ally and I’m more than happy to group your individual skills together in order to achieve my goals. Payment, of course, will be given upon my required conditions being met."

The elf addressed the Hartley first while Azapane mulled on his answer. "As this is a more minor company I don't imagine they are very high security. However I would be foolish not to ask if you had any insight into how well it is protected. For all I know this company could be partly owned by a bigger company and thus better protected. If I was a leader of a huge international company and owned parts of smaller ones, I would do my best to protect my future profits...It's just common sense."

(etiquette + charisma + consummate professional roll (5 hits) to not piss him off with the following)

Azapane mulled on his own response. "In addition to the points she brings up, I have my own misgivings of the run itself.  We have all seen or heard of numerous runs where food supplies being distributed to the public ended up being poisonous - especially ones aimed at a group of people that is a subject of fear and loathing.  I mean this not as a slight against you - I would have the same issue regarding food blindly targeting the poor, the Awakened and other metahhumans - dwarves included.  This task runs the risk along the lines of harming too many potential innocents."

Azapane took a small breath. "Before I consider any such run, I would need independent verification of the results of these additives - which I'm aware the time frame doesn't allow very easily, though I have a few ideas around that subject. Alternatively tamper with the test batch ourselves onsite, using whatever we have on hand."

"As a third alternative, we could simply collect some portion of the new product, tamper with it, and attempt to deliver it to a reporter to see broadcast across the Matrix and TriD."

(3 hits on negotiation + charisma + consummate professional roll )

Dog was not offended by any of the comments that others were seemingly apologetic about. He was used to people being edgy around his race. Even with other meta-humans, trolls were considered to be almost a lower race. Many of his kind were less concerned with being intelligent, because their naturally provided brute strength generally accomplished the same task, with less practice required. Stick to your strengths was a phrase that fit them well. And their strengths were largely physical.

However Dog liked to view himself as being of a broader set of skills. Not that it meant he really was. But he had some magical talent, and had learned to be a bit of a smoother speaker than most others he had met. So he tried to lend his own help, tossing in a few words to sound supportive of his new teammates, and if they were lucky, to get a few extra jing out of the dwarf.

[Negotiation Roll: 3 successes]