Baba saw the taxi when she pulled up, thinking it a bit suspicious as she headed to the truck stop to scope it out. She didn't like the looks of this one bit, but if this place was packing any kind of security, it didn't show it. There probably wasn't much to worry about, but even so, she didn't live to be as old as she was by not being careful. She decided to find a good vantage spot a distance away to park and wait for the meet, making sure to point her car in a place that gave the front facing camera a clear view of the truck stop, as well as the parked taxi. As she pulled the parking brake and killed the engine, she sent a few mental commands to her comm and pulled up a small ARO in the corner of her field of vision that was a direct feed to her Americar's sensors.
God damn, shit looked like she was filming from a potato. She made a mental note to set aside some nuyen for a sensor upgrade for the car. These stock cameras were terrible.
'It'll have to do for now. Won't see anything unless its big and obvious, but that's better than nothing.' She thought, shaking her head a bit at the feed. She turned to regard the line of cars for a moment, hoping none of that nonsense spilled her way once this meet started. A clever johnson would have hidden some backup among the rabble, some breeder in a trucker hat and a car that needed gas, with a big fraggin' gun in the trunk if things went sour. She didn't know how clever this johnson would turn out to be, so she made sure to keep her guard up. But as she sat and watched, the people came in and left as quickly as the lines allowed. Didn't mean his intended muscle wouldn't turn up closer to the meet time, but none of the bozos already here looked like they'd be any trouble.
As the clock kept ticking, and the taxi stuck around, she grew steadily more suspicious of it. Despite her age, her eyesight was as keen as ever, though some of that probably had to do with the fact she had cybereyes. She examined it pretty closely for a few minutes and scoffed a bit at what she saw. Somebody had a lookout on the meet, a lookout in a taxi with a running meter, over an hour before the meet was going to happen. She assumed it was the Johnson's backup, a combo of lookout and getaway, and she didn't like the look of it one bit. This Johnson had enough cash to blow on a taxi to sit idling for over an hour, but not enough to afford a better ride than a beat down taxi? It didn't make sense to her.
'This guy better not have blown all his cash on that damn taxi. Hell, I just might have to charge this asshole extra for dragging me out here.' She thought to herself, looking disdainfully at the area around her. She could smell the swamp air a little even inside her car, and she had little desire to deal with the mosquito infestation she could already feel crawling around her skin. Not for the first time, she was glad she had orthoskin. She'd like to see those little buggers bite through the bulletproof biofibers that made up her epidermis.
She turned her attention back toward the line of cars, wondering whether any of them were packing. How many of them were cybered? Who might have a piece stashed under the seat or in the trunk? She made a mental note to invest in a millimeter wave scanner. She used to have one, didn't she? Man, what happened to that thing? She had been at this job long enough that she had lost more gear than she still owned at this point. Was it in her old bulldog? Last time she saw that thing it was sinking to the bottom of a bog, and she remembered tossing the scanner in the glovebox once or twice. Oh well, didn't matter now. She'd have to buy a new one, regardless.
She checked the time, noticing that she had about 20 minutes, and the rest of her group should be turning up soon. A bit of anxiety ran through her as she thought about the girl, her baby girl, and what she could do. She wasn't sure what to think about her daughter being a shadowrunner. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, she supposed, and the fact she was awakened too. She absently glanced backwards, towards the trunk of the car, where the claymore was sitting in its sheath. She didn't know if magic was genetic, but her father had that weirdness in his veins. He would have been so damn proud.
Baba shook her head and frowned, grabbing her Savalette off the passenger seat and making sure it was loaded and ready. There was no point thinking about the past. She didn't have time to consider the future, either. It was the present she needed to worry about.
'Better see what this Johnson wants. Sooner I get out of this dump, the happier I'll be.' She thought to herself, holstering her gun before opening the door and stepping out into the grimy, swamp air. Her nostrils flared and she grimaced. She thought she had gotten used to the swamp smell by now, but this place had a special aroma of shit and swamp gas that was downright insulting to her senses.
>>Initialize Call
>>Contact: Hornet
>>Establishing Connection. . .
">Hornet, you read me? I need an ETA. We're 20 minutes to go, and I think Johnson's already waiting.<" She thought the commands to her DNI, and the comm did the rest, her thoughts becoming audio on Hornet's end, though she had her Persona set up with a mechanized voice. She still had a subvocal mic, though it honestly felt a bit redundant to her, ever since she got the 'jack in her skull.
She stood by her car and waited for a reply, taking out a cigarette and lighting it to bide her time. The nicotine took the edge off, made it easier to handle the shaking. She had the Jazz on her, top left pocket, two poppers loaded and ready to go. She could almost taste it already, and her nerves were tingling in anticipation for her next dose, but she resisted. She took a long drag of tobacco smoke into her lungs and tried to steady her hands. She hadn't had a hit in almost a week. She'd been trying to cut back, only use it when she needed the edge in a fight, but the Jazz was in her blood. The withdrawal was going to start eating at her if she didn't take some soon.
She hoped she'd need to shoot something today. She wanted an excuse.
