[biotech66]

You’ve made it to London and are getting yourself settled, but before you have a moment to settle into your new digs, you receive an offer. Someone must be well connected to know you were in London. “The Crusted Pipe at 23:00, 8 Fetter Lane in the Temple district. Ask for the Art Table,” reads the text signed “A. Johnson.” You were warned about the Temple district before you even thought about making this trip. Security in the center of of official and judicial buildings is ultra-tight. You’ve heard horror tales about data jacks tripping A-Level threat responses, so you’ve keenly left your weapons and gear of questionable purpose behind.   Approaching the Temple district you sense a noticeable increase in surveillance. Patrols are frequent; drones silently follow the roads and side streets. There is a constant stream of white-noise scans on active ARO. It also feels as if all communications and active wireless is being scanned.


The Crusted Pipe is a basement level bar off Chancellery Road with dark wood tones, a creaky  door, and cool, moist air. All the lighting in the bar mimics candle or torch flame, and not a single light is above waist level. This gives the place a private atmosphere where the faces of politicians, trideo stars, and more shadowy patrons are hard to make out and easy to confuse.  Seated at the “Art Table,” you fall into the latter group. “Mr. Johnson,” the gentleman at the table unsurprisingly introduces himself as. But call me Art, or if you wanna keep it formal, Mr. Art.”  Leanly sculpted with the  nest chiseled cheekbones and brow money can buy, Art looks  t for a boardroom overlooking the city from a hundred  floors up. His accent is American, probably from New York. Surgery must keep him looking young. Taking a seat in a high-backed leather chair at your table, he continues, “I think you all are right for a job I’ve got. I’ve done my digging through my connections—and I hope you’ll believe me when. I say they’re good ones—and I’ve got what I believe is a very fair offer.” Art lights up a cigar with a match before looking your faces over. “A little about me. I used to broker stocks on the other side of the pond. Now I don’t. I do a different sort of brokering over here, and that’s where you come in. Is that good enough for you?”Art draws on his cigar, its red glow illuminating the smooth skin over his perfect cheekbones. 'So here’s my offer. There’s an upcoming vote in Parliament. I want to know which way it’s going to go before it happens. The opportunity to  find out is already set for you at a social venue. The pay is 8,000 nuyen apiece via certied credsticks, with 2,500 upfront if you agree. That’s all I have until you accept the offer. "

[Imveros]

Ted looks all around the venue while Art delivers his pitch. He was uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. His biz suit had been worn a total of two times, this being the second. He was pretty sure he missed one of the tags both times. Ted catches his reflection in the glass that held what passed for beer here Uggg this place is so stiff. Cant remember the last time my face was a normal color. Worst of all, the babes look like total ice queens. This place is most heinous Ted's attention is immediately drawn back to the table at the mention of cold hard creds. Eight large would go a long way to melting some of these babes icy hearts.

Arty, you mind if i call you Arty? He doesn't wait for a response as he continues on. Now if we're going to a party then you definitely got the right crew. We are quite literally the original party animals Ted looks around the room and all the fancy folk, his gaze pausing on each of the three new comers. First the old fart with the short dark hair, then over to he girl with the gleaming datajack, and then onto... as his head moves back to the girl with a snap SHA-WING Ted's got him some yellow fever, nay yellow plague. He gives her a suggestive wink before readdressing Arty. As you can see we can also make nice nice in fancy digs too I've got this for days. Haven't even scratched myself yet. You've got yourself a versatile team here. Capable of handling any contingency from London's fancy schmancy joints, all the way to the mosh pits of the local orksplotation bar. This vote wont escape us, aka you, no matter where it runs. That kind of versatility's got to be worth a little more scratch than eight big ones. Remember you recognized the talent and called us here

Yeah i rocked that *guitar solo plays in head*

[ProfGast]

Lovelace glances around the Crusted Pipe for a few moments before giving Art, and the rest of what can only be described as a motley crew her attention.  She half-rolls her eyes at Ted's wink after he turns back towards the Johnson, but otherwise keeps her expression composed and remains silent, waiting to see if someone else will speak up.

Eight thousand quid to investigate a Parliamentary vote?  I wonder...

[Citrate]

A small hopeful smile spreads across Caleb's face as Ted says his piece. If Ted can talk some more money out of this guy I might be able to move out of my car

[Csjarrat]

Mick knew that it was not going to be easy staying off the radar in an upmarket part of town such as this and took extra precautions to stay low.
All unnecessary wireless transmissions were turned off and he donned his Berwick suit and Longcoat. He left the weapons at home, if the shit hit the fan, he'd have to rely on his implants to bail him out of the fire.
The pub itself was a bit of a mockery of itself, trying too hard to be discreet to play up to a crowd who both played the public as a career and were probably secretly a bit scared.
The ragtag bunch of misfits that sat at the table didn't fill Mick with much hope, it was almost like half a freak-show had emptied out of the circus into this place and he seriously wondered how they'd not drawn the ire of the local heat.
He glanced at them suspiciously as he took his seat at the table, not entirely sure what to make of the huge centaur towering above the seated runners.
Turning to matters of business he addressed Mr Johnson; Art.
Art, I'm not entirely sure why you need us to find out which way a vote is going to go. We all know parliament is as bent as a nine-bob-note and there are any number of MP's willing to sell their votes or information on other candidates. Hell, there are probably enough bent MP's in here that you could get pissed and probe them for info and have the job done tonight. I have a sneaking suspicion that you're not interested in a vote on the amendment of a proposal to upgrade the A453 through Nottinghamshire though are you? Which means you're probably interested in a closed-house session. Something that's going to draw heat if we make too much noise. In which case, we're gonna need a few assurances. In addition to any agreed payment terms, we'd like to be guaranteed safe passage to the continent and somewhere to lay low over there if necessary.

[Triskavanski]

Sitting right with the Oni was rather large centaur, his hair the purest color of snow, that slowly got darker down near his hooves where dirt and filth of the streets collected and stained his fur a dingy grey. Goggles around his head blocked out the light from reaching his eyes. Those who knew the pair knew he was like the Oni's brother, though the two were completely unrelated and that he had a rather bad rap for going just a tad over board. After all, chicks don't want a guy they can't remember, and he often tried to make sure that people did remember the two..

Folding his arms, he silently nodding along with everything that Ted said, speaking wasn't is strong suit, Action was. And he was ready for it.

[biotech66]

Art looks you over for a bit, think about the offer you've made and says I think I'm ok with what I'm offering.  I'd love for you to take this job, but honestly some of you are an unproven commodity in London.  And quite frankly, you're asking me for a way out of the city if things go bad!  You're the ones who run the Shadows!  I shouldn't have to baby sit you.  My offer stands.  Take it or leave it.  I can always call your fixer and get another group willing to do the job.  He takes a long drag on his cigar, takes it out of his mouth and lets out a cloud of rich smoke into the air above his head.

[Triskavanski]

"Oh Dude, thats bogus, I run other things too! Like streets and buildings.. Trains and more and uh.. like,  I don't run light. If I did that would be most radical. "

It was clear that this centaur was a bit strange, even more so than other lesser taurs. Probably because he was one of the few that actually lived to adult hood. It was also pretty clear he was in line with the oni a bit, the two probably pretty close.

[ProfGast]

Lovelace leans forwards almost before the centaur stops speaking.

"Mr. Art, I guess we're in so long as everyone present agrees."

She pauses for a moment as if to gather her thoughts.

"So far, you've told us that there's an upcoming vote, and that there's some sort of party where we can find out about it.  Do you expect us at that 'social venue' tonight?  Next week?  How soon before the vote do you need the information?  I mean you seem like a reasonable chap, and we're all professionals here."

For a brief moment her expression seems to say 'Well, most of us are.'

[Imveros]

Ted looks a little disappointed as his offer is rejected, but a smooth smile reasserts itself almost immediately. Fair enough Arty, I understand the opening act doesn't get the tricked out green room. Cant blame a guy for trying though Ted looks over at Lovelace Don't worry, its just a matter of time before we have no brown M&Ms in our green room. Only a matter of time Now if only i knew what the drek an M&M was, but if Eddie Van Halen, hallowed be his name, didn't like the brown ones there must be a reason He scans over the group once more When did this twig man show up. Must have been distracted by babe. *Sigh* it doesn't look he knows how to rock either

Well Arty, I know i speak for the three of us anyway. We've come this far and the show must go on. Don't worry guys, Arty here doesn't want us to fail anymore than we do. He wouldn't have called us in if he didn't think we could do it. You can count on the Wyld Stallions for your little scheme He leans forward to shake Arty's hand. So whats the scan? Whats this vote and who we gotta shake down to get it?

[Triskavanski]

Bill looked up to not to the coiled serpent up on high, then towards the employer with a confused expression on his face.

[Csjarrat]

Sensing that the smooth-talk wasn't gaining any traction, Mick spoke up.
Ok, look. the offer is fairly decent. Lets shake hands and talk details.

[biotech66]

 Art looks you all over, “Excellent. Now that that’s settled, here are the particulars.” Art places an inactive RFID dot on the table under a napkin. “This is an invitation to the Lobbyists Ball at the Massenet Hotel here in the Temple district. It will identify your party as lobbyists for the Atarashii Corporate Council of Kansai. If you thought security was unreasonable entering this district, wait until you try to enter the hotel. Keep that in mind before you bring anything unlicensed. This city takes weaponry and contraband very seriously, and neither is permitted at parliamentary events.”

The ball will be attended by lobbyists and representatives of Parliament. It starts at 19:00 tomorrow evening. The vote I’m interested in is on Underplex Transportation Appropriation Bill 1449A, which will take place the following morning around 11:00. Now listen, you could talk to representatives and get a feel for which way the vote is leaning, but if that were good enough, I wouldn’t be paying for a team like yours. I need to know. The Speaker of Parliament, Addison Hughes, and his aide will be in attendance. Part of his planning for upcoming votes is tallying promised votes. If anyone already knows how things are going to go, it’s going to be him. He’s a straight arrow, though, so watch your step.”

Art Johnson stands, puts out his cigar, and straightens his hair. “When you have the information, post Yay or Nay on the London Rock Climbers forum, under the Rushmore thread. Don’t worry that it’s so public.” He smiles. “This information is worth a fortune before the vote, but will drop to nothing once the votes are cast. If you get me info while it’s still useful I’ll be sure you get they money coming to you.” He turns to leave, then transmits a number to you. “I’m going to give you a number at which to reach me. If you use it, it will likely be the last time I ever use you. That means emergencies only, understand? And like the information on the vote, it won’t be worth anything in another day.

[ProfGast]

"One day to prepare, less than 16 hours to report back.  Got it."

Lovelace glances around at the rest of the team while she sends her mind racing through her deck lining it up to start researching the problem at hand.

"Anyone else have questions for Mr. Art?"

[biotech66]

Art stands, shakes everybody's hands who will let him, and then calmly walks into the night out of the club.

As you all stand and sit around, you all receive an ARO message. The message is from a Lady Glendower, Lord of Snowden. I am aware of Mr. Johnson’s activities. I can assist with the information you need, and of course I will compensate you appropriately. Please seek out out Miss Elwes at the Lobbyist Ball—she will have the information you need.