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[5e IC] Deep in the Shadows of Texas

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Jayde Moon

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« Reply #15 on: <05-11-15/1735:13> »
Gabriella slotted the chip into her metalink and looked over the details.  The cheap commlink displayed the information on a small view screen and she memorized the simple details before shutting the commlink off entirely.  She looked at the other woman and smiled.

"Looks like there's some time between now and then.  If you'll excuse me, I'll need to gather some things.  I suppose I'll see you there?"
That's just like... your opinion, man.

SgtBoomCloud

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« Reply #16 on: <05-11-15/2128:09> »
Marissa was doing the same with her chip, sliding it against her Ikon and reading the information as it slid across her vision.  She almost missed the ork lady speak up, the human turning her head and tilting up a bit to match her gaze.  By the books and direct...we got our firm stiff then.  Awesome  Her mouth tilted into a little smirk as she gave a nod, plucking the cigarette from her mouth.  "Without a doubt.  Catch ya on the flip side~"  She almost sang out the last bit, lifting the hand holding the cigarette up, pointing out two fingers and her thumb like some pistol in a mock stance.  Non-aggressive, and kind of dated, to be frank.  Nodding to the lady, Marissa turned on her heels, her coat catching the breeze a bit as she walked off, throwing the used up butt on the side and stomping it out before leaving the alley and out of sight.

[05 May 2075, 14:30-19:00, outside Phoenix's Roost, Arlington, DFW]

The rest of the afternoon was a rather quiet affair, Marissa barely paying attention to the almost riotous celebrating going on around her.  The chaos, truly resembling the threatening storm...so turbulent, so violent...so alive!  Lifting her hands, palms to the air, she gave a smile as she walked the few miles to where she currently called home.  Grabbing a light snack, she whisked her coat off, letting it fall on some rotting couch, revealing her carried weapons.  In turn, she drew each gun,  twirling and snap-aiming at unseen targets a few times before placing them on a table, doing the same with her staff, taking a few aggressive stances before retracting it and placing it as well.  Kneeling on the ground, she held her hands in front of her, eyes closed as she focused, feeling the warm presence that has breathed this life she now calls her own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evening has come, and the Phoenix found herself standing in front of the trunk of her black, sleek Shin-Hyung, mostly in the same getup she was in all day.  The colors of her outfit darkened a bit to match the lighting, reds shifting to crimsons around her torso and legs.  Her coat billowed in the chill howling winds as she popped the trunk, setting down the duffel bag in her hand before lifting up the floor compartment, revealing her arsenal.  Replacing the guns she had removed for her outing, she looked them all over, pondering which ones to carry into this meet.  I'll have to be light, so nothing that won't be concealed easy...restaurant means close quarters, so precision is best.  Chance of Lone Star, so keep it legal...there  Grabbing her holsters, she fitted the two Predators back to the small of her back, tucking them out of sight, a spare clip each on either side.  The Warhawk...that icon of cowboy strength...went brazenly at her right hip, resting on her upper thigh, a speed loader nestled in an adjoining pocket.  The stun baton took the space at her left hip, clipped loosely to the belt, a combat knife slipped below it into her boot.

Satisfied, Marissa closed the concealing panel, dropping the duffel bag containing her various job clothes (skirt-suit, armored jacket, chameleon suit, mask), and other gear, and then proceeded to hop in her car, revving up the engine and departing with a slight skid on the pavement, the deep thrums of her music playing drowning it out to her ears as she made her way to the meetup destination, curious to see if the serious ork lady would be there...and if there were going to be other roles in this job opportunity... And the players take the field...
« Last Edit: <05-11-15/2134:03> by SgtBoomCloud »

Jayde Moon

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« Reply #17 on: <05-12-15/0039:47> »
With as much time to spare as she had, Gabriella took the bus back to her aunt's house in Cedar Crest.  Arriving, she found her aunt and cousins in the kitchen, cooking dinner.

"Gabriella!" her aunt exclaimed as she came in the door.  She spoke rapidly in Spanish, "I thought you were going to be away.  Did you not find work?"

"I found work, Aunty.  I just have to get a few things and I'm leaving again.  Call me a cab?"

She went back to her room and looked over her belongings.  There wasn't much, but she wasn't sure what to take.  Would the job give her time to come back and grab what else she needed or did she need to bring her entire kit with her now?  Looking up Rio D's, she didn't think it was a good idea to walk in armed for bear, but she didn't quite have a place to stow things if it wasn't on her harness.  The unit had been easy, just bring it all and fuck how it looks, because that's how it's supposed to look.  This was new territory.

Finally, she shrugged and donned the chameleon suit.  It was fitting enough that a pair of baggy cargo pants went over it without adding too much bulk and a zip up hoodie finished the ensemble.  It was fashionable enough, and ladies often got a pass on strict adherence.  She'd have to make it work.  She holstered both weapons and grabbed a backpack, stuffing it with whatever she thought she'd need.  She finished by sticking her shock gloves into the pockets of her hoodie.  By the time she was done, the cab was there.  She figured she had enough time to arrive and take stock of the situation.

"Adios, Aunty," she called as she whirled past, grabbing a tamale on the way out.

----------

Arriving at Rio D's she took a moment to gauge the situation.  Then, with a smile, she walked in to the establishment, looking for the Holiday Room.
That's just like... your opinion, man.

JackVII

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« Reply #18 on: <05-12-15/1329:58> »
[05 MAY 2075 | 19:45 | DFW | En Route to Rio D's via Cab]

Wraith sat in the back seat of the cab as it sped toward the area between Lower Greenville and Downtown Dallas proper. Initially, her cab driver, Ernesto, had attempted conversation but given up when Wraith gave brusque answers. She did throw him a bone and told him to turn on whatever music he wanted, it wouldn't bother her. Leaning back in the seat, she checked her gear for a final time. Her suit, while normally business-like, was dressed down with the colors of the old Mexican flag fading in and out, alternating the red and green between her jacket and skirt. A stylized image of an eagle carrying a snake stayed static at the center of her white blouse. Her pistol was secured to her upper thigh by the concealable holster built in to her skirt. Her cowboy hat and boots helped to complete the dressed down ensemble. Even though it was growing dark, she wore her trademark mirrored aviator glasses, a technique to keep her from being recognized she had carried over from her past. As the driver continued toward her destination, Wraith took a shortcut, hopping into the matrix to seek out the Rio D host.

>> Wraith faded into existence on the BigStar Net, the local DFW grid. The gray and white cloak concealed anything of the figure beneath; the only thing visible under the cloak was a bottomless black nothingness. Two disembodied red eyes stared out from beneath the cowl of the cloak, examining the matrix sky. Staring off in the distance, the figure crossed the vast expanse of the matrix in the blink of an eye, arriving at the host for the Rio D's restaurant. The host resembled the building, albeit with a few added touches. She noted discrete metal shutters on the windows and a metal detector installed in the virtual door, reconfigured firewall upgrades likely resulting from the recent hacking activity of TerraFirst! The figure sighed at the amateur antics that had caused her job to be more difficult.

Wraith made sure the low-quality camera and microphone on her Meta Link were turned on so she could keep track of what was going on in the real world. She took a good look at the cabbie before slipping into VR.

>> Examining the exterior of the host, Wraith ignored the firewall upgrades and phased through the walls, leaving behind a stylized hooded skull on the wall, her personal MARK. The inside of the host likely mirrored the restaurant itself. Hostess stand, bar, tables... standard restaurant fare. Now that she was inside, the hacker switched from virtual reality to augmented reality. Her persona felt like it was moving in slow motion, but it was fast enough to get past the host's security. Moving over to the hostess stand, Wraith located the reservation file and searched for information related to the meeting she was attending in a few short hours. Finding the entry, she created a tablet in the air and recorded the commlink number associated with the reservation and took note of how many people were expected. Once complete, the tablet floated into her form and disappeared. Satisfied, she had one more thing to check.

In the meat world, Wraith's cab had finally arrived at its destination. Thanking the driver, the woman got out of the car and started walking toward the restaurant. Meanwhile, her persona continued its search of the Rio D host.

>>Moving her way into the restaurant, Wraith searched for the Holliday room and, to be more precise, any devices associated with the room that were slaved to the host.
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rednblack

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« Reply #19 on: <05-12-15/1443:49> »
<<5 May, 2075 19:40-19:55 // Rio D's>>

@Wraith

Having scouted the Rio D's host from the matrix in the cab ride over, Rachel Davenport pays her fare, and notes the cars in the parking lot as she walks up the flagstone steps.  She notes a few NIghtskys and tricked out Aguilars, and the occasional Americar, probably belonging to families celebrating a graduation or something equally momentous.  The door swishes open at her approach, and an ARO flashes brightly that anyone with peanut allergies should not enter due to the risk of anaphylactic shock.  A young girl of about twenty with loose pigtails hanging over a severe step-fade shave job greets her brightly.  "Hey hon.  How we doin' tonight?" she asks while manipulating a few icons in AR.  When Rachel gives her the party name, the girl's green patterned plaid shirt changes to yellow, and she says, "Ah, the Holliday room.  Best one in the house.  Follow me, sug." before tapping an icon in front of her which sets a pail of peanuts attached to a small drone in flight that hovers just to the right of Rebecca as they cross the restaurant, and head up the stairs.

The Holliday room is the last one on the right, and as Rachel enters she sees only one other person, a human of mixed Aztlaner descent with shoulder-length hair and a blue Vashon Island dress that Rachel recognizes are being from the new collection.  She's sipping a glass of Pheron mineral water, and she rises as Rebecca enters to shake her hand.  Once the hostess has left, she introduces herself.

"Good evening.  I'm Ms. Johnson.  And you are?"

@La Sombre

As she enters Rio D's, Gabriella can see the pair of gentlemen off to the sides of the foyer prick up.  It could be the sweats in this weather, or the bag she's carrying, but before the hostess even has a chance to greet her, they're conducting a "random inspection."  They come up empty on the pat down, but their eyes  get a little wide going through her bag.  Still, Gabriella is able to palm the grenades as she holds it open, and they wave her past.  The hostess, a little unnerved, still smiles wide, and when Gabriella tells her who she's there for, she turns sharply at her heels and leads her up the stairs, peanut-drone following close behind.

@Hopeless

Seeing the size of his tip, the cabbie looks up appreciatively.  "Hoi, thanks a lot, chummer.  G'luck out there, wiz."

He walks into Rio D's to see a young Aztlaner woman getting the third degree from the hired sec-dudes, who look like they'd have a hard time finding a katana on a street sam.  He holds back a smirk as they ask to look in the woman's purse, and a hostess appears from the wings to take him to the Holliday Room.  On the way, Hopeless notes all the families shucking peanuts and stuffing their faces with steaks and potatoes.  When he enters the Holliday Room, Dadlez rises and crosses the room to shake his hand.  "Mr. Hopeless, so good to see you again.  Glad you could make it," Ian takes a seat next to her, and a few moments later, three new bottles of water are brought in as the rest of the runners file in dutifully.

@Phoenix

"Howdy there, Annie Oakley," the hostess says as she enters.  "How can I help a cowgirl out tonight?"  A cursory search of her person turns up one of the Predators, which the security guards seem to just stumble upon, but they only nod appreciatively at the piece, and she's up the stairs and with the rest of the team in moments.

@All

Once the team is assembled, seated, and some orders of calf fries are on their way, Ms. Johnson begins to make introductions.  "Greetings, everyone.  Thank you all so much for taking the time out of your busy schedules to meet with me tonight.  As I'm sure you've already been told, I have assembled you here so that we may discuss a business proposition, the kind that people such as yourself are uniquely qualified to execute.  I am Ms. Johnson, and for all intents and purposes I will be your employer for this endeavor.

"At my right here, we have Mr. Hopeless who will provide magical support.  To his right, we have Phoenix, who I understand is the potential muscle.  Across from me, La Sombre is the second-story woman.  And, Wraith, is it?  Yes, Wraith will be joining us for matrix overwatch.

"I will be up front with you all.  This is not tasteful work.  There are four specific Yakuza wakagashira and kyodai whom my employers and I would like to see eliminated.  If possible, we would like at least one of the deaths to appear to come from the Feathered.  It is also imperative that these four individuals are 'geeked,' to put it in laymen's terms, within hour of one another, so that they will not have the opportunity to go underground.  We are prepared to offer 36,000¥ for the successful completion of the run, plus a bonus of 7,000¥ should the necessary people believe that the hits were carried out by the Feathered.

"Before I am able to go into any more detail, I need to know if I am in the presence of interested parties."


As she talks, Ian notices a comm coming in from the Johnson.

<<@Hopeless [Dadlez] Should this affect your decision, we believe these individuals are directly responsible for the leaks in your party during the last run.  I am also in the possession of information relating to a certain Niles Gray's whereabouts that I will happily pass along to you should you accept the job.>>
« Last Edit: <05-13-15/1155:26> by rednblack »
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JackVII

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« Reply #20 on: <05-12-15/1540:14> »
[05 MAY 2075 | 20:15 | DFW | Rio D's]

"Wraith, Ms. Johnson. Pleasure to meet you," the woman replied in an accent reminiscent of an old East Texas drawl. Prior to taking a seat at the table, she doffed her cowboy hat and hung it from one of the sets of longhorns mounted around the room. Mentally adjusting her suit, she froze the colors so as not to be distracting, leaving her jacket green and her skirt red. Taking a seat at the table, she pushed her mirrored aviators onto the crown of her head, her curly brunette pixie cut keeping everything in place.

Crossing her arms, she waited as the rest of the invitees arrived, mentally checking off a list as they entered the room. Fierce-looking woman, check... Out of place Aztlaner Ork, check... Who the Hell is that guy?  Wraith adopted an odd look when she caught sight of Hopeless, not quite understanding who or what his role was supposed to be in all of this.

As Ms. Johnson settled in to explain what she could, Wraith took the time to look for commlinks in her future teammates possessions. Once the woman finished, the decker waited, not wanting to be the first to speak. She was okay with wetwork, but didn't really want others to know if they weren't, especially if they had heard about her already.

[Spoiler=GEAR]
Fichetti Security 600 [REG] w/2x Spare Clips [REG] (W)*
Actioneer Business Suit w/Electrochromic (W)*
Mirrored Aviator Glasses (4) w/FC, LL, VE (1), & VM (W)*
Ear Buds (3) w/AE (3) (W)*
Meta Link (1) (W)
Platinum Credstick

Cyberware (419,510)
Datajack [Alpha] (W)*
Cerebral Booster (2)
Implanted Sony CIY-720 (4) (W) w/All Common & Hacking Programs
*Slaved to Cyberdeck[/Spoiler]
« Last Edit: <05-12-15/1547:00> by JackVII »
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Jayde Moon

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« Reply #21 on: <05-12-15/1644:48> »
The ork looked around the table, taking each runner's measure in turn.  When it seemed like none of them were going to speak up immediately, she turned to Ms. Johnson and smiled.

"Sometimes, rabid dogs must be put down," Gabriela says, nodding.  "My interest is piqued.  But you say you will be 'up front'?  As our principle, it is our job to ensure your safety?"
That's just like... your opinion, man.

rednblack

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« Reply #22 on: <05-12-15/1925:02> »
"I'm afraid you may misunderstand," the Johnson answers. "After we finish our business tonight, assuming you take the job, we will not see one another again until the contract is fulfilled. At that point my payment will be prompt, a great weight will be lifted from mine and my employers shoulders, and you will all be a great deal more economically advantaged."
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JackVII

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« Reply #23 on: <05-12-15/1941:16> »
[05 MAY 2075 | 20:20 | DFW | Rio D's]

With the silence broken, Wraith offered, "So, we need to eliminate four yaks in the course of an hour and make it look like the Azzies did it? What's our timeline? Knocking off four targets isn't too tough. Making it look like someone else was responsible also isn't impossible. But timing it so it all happens within an hour? That could be difficult... and expensive."
« Last Edit: <05-12-15/1945:03> by JackVII »
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« Reply #24 on: <05-12-15/2109:56> »
[May 05, 2075, 20:00, Rio D's, DFW]

Upon entry into the quaint little steak house, Marissa could almost taste the security guys approaching her.  Her hand twitched as she paused after nonchalantly pushing her way through the double doors, her boots clunking on the wood as she came to a stop, glancing briefly to the right as the muscle approached to frisk her just as the hostess spoke to her.  "I have a reservation.  Party for the Holliday room"  the human rolled out on her tongue, head turning slowly to face the pig-tailed hostess, staring blankly through her shades as one of the bouncers paused at the weapons they found, even more notably that her Warhawk revolver or stun baton were even remotely stowed into hiding.  Giving a look bearing confidence and assurance she had no intent to shoot the place up, she followed the girl up the stairs, grabbing a peanut and breaking it open, popping the contents and chewing thoughtfully as she joined in...apparently the last to the party.

"Am I late?"  Smirking, she lifted her hat off her head, letting the auburn locks fall straight from her head and around her back and shoulders, tossing the hat to join the other one resting off to the side.  Pulling the chair back, she gave a nod to the others as she flicked her coat back and had a seat, adopting a relaxed stance, keeping her shades on as she studied the crew and their Ms. Johnson started to speak.

Hmm, Hopeless...mojo, huh?  Looks kinda goofy, guess that's the idea...only boy here too, so he might be a bit awkward.  I'd wager plucky, but powerful.   The tuskerette still looks all business as before, but dressing seriously casual.  Practical operative maybe?  Ohh, like the sound of that.  And then Wraith...stylish, and a decker...seems like those tend to go hand in hand.  Seems to be a bit of the mousey type too.   Man, all these tropes, this is perfect!

Finishing her musings, Marissa brought her atttention to the job at hand: kill four yaks in a short span, make at least one look like some other group.  Hopefully, one of these knows that other group.  That being said, that is a LOT of jing for four geeks.  Naturally, it was La Sombre to speak first, giving off that natural leader vibe in the Phoenix's mind, the orkette asking her questions, followed by Ms. Johnson's answer, and then the sly proddings of Wraith.  The mage, though...he was silent.  Hmm.  Finally, sitting up straight, the auburn-haired human girl leaned forward, placing an elbow on the table, her voice cool and level.

"Sounds like I rolled into at the right time.  Last I checked, yaks bleed like the rest of us.  And if it bleeds..."  She paused dramatically, tilting her head forward to expose her hazel eyes glancing at each of them briefly in turn.  "...I can kill it.  But the Wraith is right.  It ain't no milk run.  Reckon it would take all of us committed.  Ain't no time for a half-cocked rifle in the mix, if you catch my drift?"  She winked, returning to her relaxed stance whilst grabbing one of the water glasses, drinking it coolly.
« Last Edit: <05-12-15/2121:34> by SgtBoomCloud »

rednblack

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« Reply #25 on: <05-13-15/1216:34> »
"Am I late?"  Smirking, she lifted her hat off her head, letting the auburn locks fall straight from her head and around her back and shoulders, tossing the hat to join the other one resting off to the side. 

"Not at all," the Johnson answers, all smiles with a voice smooth as plexi.  "We're only just starting."

[05 MAY 2075 | 20:20 | DFW | Rio D's]

With the silence broken, Wraith offered, "So, we need to eliminate four yaks in the course of an hour and make it look like the Azzies did it? What's our timeline? Knocking off four targets isn't too tough. Making it look like someone else was responsible also isn't impossible. But timing it so it all happens within an hour? That could be difficult... and expensive."

"Sounds like I rolled into at the right time.  Last I checked, yaks bleed like the rest of us.  And if it bleeds..."  She paused dramatically, tilting her head forward to expose her hazel eyes glancing at each of them briefly in turn.  "...I can kill it.

"Ahh, an interest in the classics, I see."   

"But the Wraith is right.  It ain't no milk run.  Reckon it would take all of us committed.  Ain't no time for a half-cocked rifle in the mix, if you catch my drift?"  She winked, returning to her relaxed stance whilst grabbing one of the water glasses, drinking it coolly.

Before she can answer, the waitress opens the door with three large steaming platters of calf fries, which she expertly lays in front of the group.  All talk of the job ceases, but the Johnson continues to comment on Phoenix's interest in cinema.

"I personally find the flatvids of the late 20th century to be most interesting.  There's much that the modern tridflick directors have outright stolen, often to good effect, sometimes for ill.  But Jiminez," she says referencing an early 2040s director, "would not be Jiminez if not for the work of McTiernan.  Of course The Hunt for Red October seems a bit controversial to our modern sensibilities, but I think it's a wonderful piece of filmography, for its time of course."

To the waitress, the Johnson says, "I'll have the Wagyu sirloin, bloody as you can legally serve it, and perhaps we'd like a couple pitchers of beer.  The real stuff, please.  It is the 5th, after all."

She waits for the rest of the team to order, and the waitress to leave before continuing with the conversation.  "The job will indeed prove difficult.  Hopefully, you may find ways to get two, or even three of the targets together, which would make your work much easier.  But I agree, this is no 'milk run.'  That's precisely why we are willing to pay so much, with a hefty bonus should all aspects of the job be completed in a satisfactory manner.  We are also willing to provide an advance, as I'm sure there are palms that will need greasing, and equipment that will need purchasing to help advance our mutual cause.

"It seems to me that there may be some hesitancy from the group, as I'm sure all of you are thinking that this will only be possible if all parties are firmly on board.  Mr. Hopeless, we have not heard from you yet.  It appears as though you may be the deciding factor.  What are your thoughts?"

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« Reply #26 on: <05-13-15/1654:29> »
"I'm afraid you may misunderstand," the Johnson answers. "After we finish our business tonight, assuming you take the job, we will not see one another again until the contract is fulfilled. At that point my payment will be prompt, a great weight will be lifted from mine and my employers shoulders, and you will all be a great deal more economically advantaged."

"Ah, I understand now," Gabriela said, nodding.  Dumb, dumb, dumb!  Of course, that's what she meant.  This was her first 'meet' and she took a few even breathes, keeping her cool.  She glanced at her hands and relaxed.  It would be bad if she lost her shit here.

She looked up and smiled when the waitress came in  After Ms. Johnson placed her order, she placed her own, purposefully selecting her meal around the Johnson's preference.  Red meat, medium rare... a good cut, but not the heaviest price.

After the waitress left, she returned her attention to Ms. Johnson until she addressed the man she called Hopeless, then she turned her attention to him.
That's just like... your opinion, man.

Poindexter

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« Reply #27 on: <05-13-15/1828:32> »
The moment Ian is approached by the hostess he feels something in his gut that he doesn't like. The fuck did she know who to look for? These fuckers got fuckin pictures of me!? He keeps his hands in his pockets, nervously fishing for the grenade that he'd decided not to bring as he follows her to the rear. By the time the two of them reach the Holiday room, he's been able to calm his nerves a bit. So what if they got my picture? Aint like I got a SIN or nothin. He does his best not to stare when he and Ms Johnson meet once again, amazing looking woman though she is.

"Mr. Hopeless, so good to see you again.  Glad you could make it,"

As the hastily put together human man crosses the room toward her, he takes his hat off, then while shaking her hand firmly, he nods and responds, "Good to see you as well, Ms. Johnson." When she directs him to sit next to her, he happily obliges, but the feeling in his gut gets deeper. Is this tease the prole, Part II? Or is she trying to keep me close enough for the tailored pheromones to work? You know Johnsons be gettin them shits, right? He remembers how his impetuous words had probably cost the team close to six grand through negotiations during the last meet, so he's decided that this time he's gonna keep his mouth shut until she and the other three women here had all said their peace. Even so, his mind flits around from topic to topic like a moth, surrounded by lights. Why is she putting me on a team of all women, too? There's the cute rich brunette, the redhead synthleather gal, and the no nonsense ork in the baggy clothes. Is Dadlez trying to find out if I'm straight? PFFFFT! Like you'd ever have the balls to try and hook up with some hottie shadowrunner! You can't even ask the girl at the corner store on a date. He's able to focus a bit more once the Johnson starts her pitch.

"At my right here, we have Mr. Hopeless who will provide magical support."

Magical support?! She knows I'm just a summoner! Or does she? I guess I don't really advertise my abilities terribly well. I hope this woman doesn't think I can cast spells and shit. He keeps his trap shut though, hoping she isn't trying to mislead the other three for some reason. Soon as the four of us are alone, I gotta let em know.

"To his right, we have Phoenix, who I understand is the potential muscle.  Across from me, La Sombre is the second-story woman.  And, Wraith, is it?  Yes, Wraith will be joining us for matrix overwatch."

Ian looks to each woman as they're introduced and nods his head to each in turn. Leathergirl is Phoenix and she's the muscle. Nod. Smile. Baggy ork is La Sombre and she's the inside man. Heh, "man". Crazy how gender biased our language is. Nod. Smile. Rich girl, Wraith, Decker. Nod. Smile. He notes there's no spellcaster counted among them, a fact that worries him a bit. He's not sure how comfortable he is being the team's only "mage" as it were.

"I will be up front with you all.  This is not tasteful work.  There are four specific Yakuza wakagashira and kyodai whom my employers and I would like to see eliminated.  If possible, we would like at least one of the deaths to appear to come from the Feathered.  It is also imperative that these four individuals are 'geeked,' to put it in laymen's terms, within hour of one another, so that they will not have the opportunity to go underground.  We are prepared to offer 36,000¥ for the successful completion of the run, plus a bonus of 7,000¥ should the necessary people believe that the hits were carried out by the Feathered. "Before I am able to go into any more detail, I need to know if I am in the presence of interested parties."

The skinny human man has been leaning back against the chair with his elbows on the armrests, listening and watching, trying his damndest not to react or give himself away. But his body language betrays him finally. Wetwork. Slumping his shoulders forward unconsciously, he glances down at the table for just a moment and sighs a little bit. He inhales and almost speaks, but instead sticks to the plan, waiting to see what might be added to the conversation by tongues more skilled than his. A moment later, a message pops up in the top right corner of his vision.

<<@Hopeless [Dadlez] Should this affect your decision, we believe these individuals are directly responsible for the leaks in your party during the last run.  I am also in the possession of information relating to a certain Niles Gray's whereabouts that I will happily pass along to you should you accept the job.>>

He really tries his hardest to keep his face neutral, but the feeling in his gut just went full out nuclear. This is a fucking set up. Why else would she be trying to manipulate me this hard? She must think Breeze and I really fuckin hit it off. Stay cool, dude. You don't know what she's got going on. Woman like that operate on a higher level than dudes like you. She got schemes within schemes. Don't think cause you caught wind of some schemin, that means you're the target. You're a cog in a machine, dude. A machine that kills people sometimes, so get the fuck over that "wetwork" bullshit, too! He doesn't respond to the message, instead waiting to hear what Wraith, La Sombre, and Phoenix think about being paid assassins.

The ork, La Sombre is the first to speak up.

"Sometimes, rabid dogs must be put down."

He raises an eyebrow. Rabid dogs. Damn. We don't even know these guys. These GUYS?! They're fuckin hardcore Yak murderers, each responsible for more deaths than you'll ever be if you start workin real hard at it. Fuck those fuckin fuckers, right?!

Wraith, the decker keeps it straight business.

"So, we need to eliminate four yaks in the course of an hour and make it look like the Azzies did it? What's our timeline? Knocking off four targets isn't too tough. Making it look like someone else was responsible also isn't impossible. But timing it so it all happens within an hour? That could be difficult... and expensive."

Good points, all. And you see how cool she is? She's already been told aint gonna be no more info till we say if we're in, yet here she is demanding more info without giving away a damn thing? This chick is on POINT.

Phoenix goes all out for style points.

"Sounds like I rolled into at the right time.  Last I checked, yaks bleed like the rest of us.  And if it bleeds..."  She paused dramatically, tilting her head forward to expose her hazel eyes glancing at each of them briefly in turn.  "...I can kill it.  But the Wraith is right.  It ain't no milk run.  Reckon it would take all of us committed.  Ain't no time for a half-cocked rifle in the mix, if you catch my drift?"  She winked, returning to her relaxed stance whilst grabbing one of the water glasses, drinking it coolly.

Ian had forgotten both how thirsty he was as well as the fact that there are water bottles here until she took a sip from hers. That line is from a movie or something, I think. he thinks as he unscrews one of the bottles and takes a long swig as well. And what's with the winking? As he's drinking, the Johnson makes conversation with Phoenix, turning on her manufactured charm the way she does.

"Ahh, an interest in the classics, I see. I personally find the flatvids of the late 20th century to be most interesting.  There's much that the modern tridflick directors have outright stolen, often to good effect, sometimes for ill.  But Jiminez," she says referencing an early 2040s director, "would not be Jiminez if not for the work of McTiernan.  Of course The Hunt for Red October seems a bit controversial to our modern sensibilities, but I think it's a wonderful piece of filmography, for its time of course."

Sean Connery was in that movie. Asshole woman beater.

The waitress arrives with a plate of the best food Ian has seen in months, if not years and he feels a sense of near disgust when he realizes that these "calf fries" are the appetizer. He doesn't even realize it until Dadlez turns to the waitress and says,

"I'll have the Wagyu sirloin, bloody as you can legally serve it, and perhaps we'd like a couple pitchers of beer.  The real stuff, please.  It is the 5th, after all."

Deciding that it's ok to speak now, he finally pipes up. With a poilte smile and no discernable accent, he says, "I'll have the same, but medium rare, thanks. Oh, and can I also rock the blue cheese pecan chopped salad, please?" He closes the online menu he'd been perusing in the background since he got into the cab to come here. God damn right I'm bout to eat some hardcore food on this woman's dime! This shit probably costs a third what I'm getting paid for the job! Shit, NOT ordering some bad-ass food would be like volunteering for a 25% paycut, right?! Once everyone has finished ordering, and the five of them are alone again, Johnson gets right back down to business.

"The job will indeed prove difficult.  Hopefully, you may find ways to get two, or even three of the targets together, which would make your work much easier.  But I agree, this is no 'milk run.'  That's precisely why we are willing to pay so much, with a hefty bonus should all aspects of the job be completed in a satisfactory manner.  We are also willing to provide an advance, as I'm sure there are palms that will need greasing, and equipment that will need purchasing to help advance our mutual cause.

"It seems to me that there may be some hesitancy from the group, as I'm sure all of you are thinking that this will only be possible if all parties are firmly on board.  Mr. Hopeless, we have not heard from you yet.  It appears as though you may be the deciding factor.  What are your thoughts?"


She called me out, directly, huh? Well... Ok!

"I don't- " He stops, clears his throat and begins again. "I don't like wetwork." He considers not continuing and just leaving it at that, but he knows he's already in too deep for anyone to let it drop now, so he goes on. "It's messy, it's tricky, it's unpredictable, and it doesn't even look great on a resume." He pops another fry in his mouth, but doesn't chew it yet. "Unless it's an assassin's resume." He gives the scrumptious little morsel one or two chews before swallowing quickly and adding, "Now, considering I'm not trying to build one of those, I'm gonna need more of a financial motivation for it to work out, wiz?" Ian is simply amazed at how cool he's staying under the circumstances. It's cause he hasn't been near the train in a while. He's been staying inside. I can't wait till I'm a real decker! This is more how he'd hoped he'd be during the first meet. Feeling like he's on a roll, Hopeless just keeps on with it. "I'm thinking closer to fourty-five, fifteen up front." He nods his head toward the short brunette called Wraith, glancing at her as he speaks this last bit; "The lady has a point. Gonna need a lot of coordination to pull off."

I can handle this. We're cool. We're cool.
"speaking out loud"
<<matrix actions/communication>>
thought
astral
subvocal/whispering
non-english

Jayde Moon

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« Reply #28 on: <05-13-15/1854:59> »
"The lady has a point. Gonna need a lot of coordination to pull off."

Gabriela smiles.  She had heard that you never took the first offer and it looked like this wasn't her soon-to-be companions' first rodeo.  she glanced at Ms. Johnson.

"It does seem to me that this is a task that will require some doing for just four operatives.  I do not mind telling you that a CAS Spec-Ops team has more boots on ground for a similar op, and they have the luxury of a host of off-site overwatch.  I understand that our line of work forces us to make due with less manpower, but I certainly would be more comfortable promising a successful op with a bigger budget.  The numbers Mr. Hopeless offers seem reasonable to me."
That's just like... your opinion, man.

SgtBoomCloud

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« Reply #29 on: <05-13-15/2228:32> »
"Ahh, an interest in the classics, I see."   

Before she can answer, the waitress opens the door with three large steaming platters of calf fries, which she expertly lays in front of the group.  All talk of the job ceases, but the Johnson continues to comment on Phoenix's interest in cinema.

"I personally find the flatvids of the late 20th century to be most interesting.  There's much that the modern tridflick directors have outright stolen, often to good effect, sometimes for ill.  But Jiminez," she says referencing an early 2040s director, "would not be Jiminez if not for the work of McTiernan.  Of course The Hunt for Red October seems a bit controversial to our modern sensibilities, but I think it's a wonderful piece of filmography, for its time of course."

To the waitress, the Johnson says, "I'll have the Wagyu sirloin, bloody as you can legally serve it, and perhaps we'd like a couple pitchers of beer.  The real stuff, please.  It is the 5th, after all."

One brow raised slightly on Marissa's face above her sunglasses as the plates of Rocky Mountain Oysters were brought forth.  Frag.  Remember joking about these in school.  Reaching forward, a gloved hand gingerly picked up one of the fried morsels, the human plopping it casually in her mouth and chewing, noting the strange texture in combination with the flavor.  Flipping through the menu, she quickly made a choice once it was her turn.

"Go ahead and toss on a CAS sirloin special, introduced to the flame...with that mushroom saute on the side, eh?  I won't object to the beer, either"  Satisfied, she flicked the AR menu away and leaned back, eyeing the well-dressed Ms. Johnson with her hands cradling the back of her skull, a light grin on her face.

"'Russians don't take a dump without a plan'".  Heh, I know the piece.  Flat vids seem to be more..engaging.  Limited perspective and scope, so more is put into what was given.  Regardless, the intensity of those pieces really draws you in.  In the end, though, are we not entertained?"

At that point, the discussion turned back to business, and the others speaking their pieces did pique Marissa's curiosity.  La Sombre's responses were to be expected: she carried herself to be that way.  The initiation from Wraith was a definite positive surprise, of which the Phoenix was grateful.  Hopeless even, now that he was speaking, proved to be some positive negotiator.  Self-admittedly, bargaining for a job wasn't in the style of the Phoenix.  Often, when she was picked out for a job, it was because it was known she could do it.  She'd do the job, get paid, move on.  Simple.  Glancing at the speakers in turn, her eyes fell on Ms. Johnson last, eager to see how this banter played out.