[Jack_Spade]

Isaint relaxed a bit. So far it seemed that everyone here knew how to behave in polite society and it wasn't a complete freak show like that business a few days ago where he hadn't even bothered to go sit with them on the table to hear the proposal.

He answered the smile of the elf lady with an acknowledging nod of the head, but kept silent for the moment. The introductions could wait until after Art had made his pitch.

[spoiler]
Post count: 3[/spoiler]

[ScytheKnight]

The albino orc settled back in one of the heavier chairs, his white skin hair and clothing a stark contrast to the other runners. He was content to let the others do most of the talking, knowing what to say also meant knowing when to keep your mouth shut. He gave Art a polite nod of his head and returned the elf's smile with a pleasant one (at least as pleasant as one can manage with orc tusks and teeth).

Those with a keen eyes notice the orc's eyes, crystal blue irises with bright red pupils, moving slightly and steadily as he reads from his AR display, trawling through JackPoint and genuinely surprised at the high caliber of talent that Torrent seemed to have assembled on such a short notice.

Once Art has introduced himself he also starts up a search, seeing what he can quickly pull up about their employer. Some might call it rude, other might call it paranoid, most call it good business practice for runners.

[saithor]

"Good to see you as well Daniel. But please, no actual names among strangers." Sarah whispered back before turning her attention to the Johnson, fingering her power focus the entire time. No way anyonwe would try anything in here. She could try to acess the matrix to search up these people, but she didn't want to fumble it and look like a fool. Don had never taught her how to use the "corrupting" technology, and she still had problems with it. However, if Daniel was here, she shouldn't have anything to worry about. "Very nice to meet you indeed Art. No need to doubt my skills. I can give you a little demonstration if you want." she said, preparing to work some minor illusionary magic

[obidancer]

Right, left ,right punch. The Frenchman was pounding on the punching bag, installed in the old London loft he was renting. Sweat was dripping slowly down in face and giving his body a shine as the ending day light was bathing he place in a eerie glow.

An AR window appeared in the periphery of his vision and he stopped his exercise to pay full attention to the incoming message.

Copy that. The Frenchman. was all he replied to the message.

He looked at the clock the AR was displaying and mentally prepared for the upcoming hours. Clean up, get his gear ready and head to the pub. Easy enough. He had no doubt such a short notice job requirement would end up being dangerous. But he was eager to test his skiils.

****

The Frenchman parked a couple streets away from the meet. A bag containing his running gear was safely tucked in the back of his Mercury Comet. For now he looked all business in his Mortimer suit and greatcoat, and walked confidently with the reassuring weight of his heavy pistol in its holster.
He didn't recognized anyone the Johnson, or Art as he now wants to be called, had gathered. This had been a constant in his life since walking up in the street clinic. He stopped being worried about it. He was however curious to observe people's behavior, maybe seeing a change upon seeing him.

He remained standing while some runners sat down. The sheer number of them was surprising. Most job could efficiently be done by a small group of runner. What was up? He was curious to hear more details about it.

The pretty Elf had summarized the situation pretty well. The Frenchman remained silent. With so many runners, speaking up would quickly lead to chaos. He just nodded
when he made eye contact with Art.

As for the other runners, he'll have time after the meet for more introduction if it ended up being needed.

[DrZombol]

Kind of a big group we got here, Wonder what kind game this is

Daddy settles into a chair and and with a nod to the other runners, watches the others settle in to get down to business, occasionally brushing his hand by his face as if to shoo a fly away
If one were to look into the astral they would see his hand brushing the Woman a little further back from his face as she tries to get closer.

[Triskavanski]

When the first message is gotten, Tobis is running through the halls of an old corp building somewhere in the middle of hongkong. "Deathkilla, target b is 30 m down south, and 5 m to the right. He should be reloading his weapon now. l337p373, you've got two on your six." He was playing one of the worst classes, one that very few people ever played, but he'd be damned if someone would tell him he wasn't good at it. It was the Secret Spy, a class that only started off with a small hand pistol, and no armor or really any other skills oriented towards combat.

What it did have, was something that most couldn't pay attention to enough. Cameras. With multi-screen access, he could watch all the scenes in that building rather easily.

Finally after a moment longer, the words "Terrorists Win" flash in front of him. They did it, they protected the bomb, and soon the world around him began to fade as he pulled out into the real world, rather gracefully.

The Changeling Technomancer  loved playing Shadowrun online, but even with that game, it wasn't enough for him, he needed more. And that more came in the form of a text.

<<Ah yes! I can be there. I do so hope to work with someone soon!>> He replies to the text.
***********************

Sometime after, when the meet was The small childsize  changeling showed up, padding his way towards the meet.

Most of his body was covered in a heavy coat, however the dog like ears betrayed a certain unhumaness, as did the mask he wore that had to be custom designed for his unusual face. For the moment he was quite.

[gilga]

Solo nods at Snow... The albino Orc is hard to miss.
One of the toughest Deckers in Germany. They worked together once and unlike most reasonable deckers in the shadows... a spider jumping them did not mean get the fuck out of the matrix to Snow. Not at all... before Magic had time to think, he was already sending some really vicious signals down his way - he could see the biofeedback pattern.
 
The job was get in, steal data and get out. It got messy and they left a brain fried body of an ace decker behind them. A crime not easily forgiven by the cooperate world. Cyber combat works best in teams - and despite inferior equipment together they out did that Spider.

Magic prefers to keep a low profile and not to leave evidence that he was there. It is good to know that once discovered tough you have someone to trust. He wasn't called Solo in that mission, he was called 'Magic' or 'M4g!(' in l33t speak.  It was Magic's first matrix kill, and he was nervous. He almost blew his cover by pulling mojo to aid them... but the combat ended so quickly it was not necessary.
 He knew that they make a good team so the matrix front is probably strong for this particular team. Especially now that he can also use magic to augment them without breaking his cover.

 

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint now took the time to get a good look at everyone of this would be team and tried to guess who would go on this run.

[spoiler]
Judge Intentions Tobbis: 10d6t5 3
[/spoiler]

'I rejoiced to early' Isaint thought. 'I really don't know how these changelings ever avoid being captured. Even the stupidest witness could pick them out of a line up. Poor bastards, how do you even get a Fake-SIN for somebody like him?  Bit on the plump side. I bet he's one of those hacker-types. Well, that should cut down on his exposure I guess...'

[spoiler]
Memory Test Snow Crash: 8d6t5
[/spoiler]

'No it wasn't Ice Crusher. Snow Crash, that's his handle. I better watch out when I run research in hotsim. That guy likes to fry peoples wetware.'

[spoiler]
Judge Intentions Test Mel: 10d6t5 2
[/spoiler]
'That elf girl has a real pretty face - and the fitting assets too... Damn it, I'm doing it again. One of these days one of these pretty girls will get me because I'm to distracted checking out their asses to notice the gun in her hand. Still, wouldn't mind her to be on the team. After all, I'm not the only one who gets distracted by eye-candy...'

[spoiler]
Judge Intentions Test Smiley: 10d6t5 2
[/spoiler]
'Well now, if that isn't a washed up sioux warrior right there. I wonder if he's drunk or if he always grins like that. Still, might be a chance to learn a bit of a new language.'

[spoiler]Judge Intentions Test Solo: 10d6t5 4
[/spoiler]
'Now, that's an interesting one. Smells like ex-corporate, has probably never slept outside a comfy bed in his whole life. And he's fast - could it be - yes that guy knows the same trick I do. By the saints, Torrent really didn't call any second raters.'

[spoiler]
Judge Intentions Test Daddy: 10d6t5 4
[/spoiler]
'Oh, oh, if that isn't a mage I'll eat my hat. And he's seen some shit - look at those eyes. Damn that guy gives me the shivers.'

[spoiler]Judge Intentions Test Hallucination: 10d6t5 2[/spoiler]
'Wow. That one's a stunner. Girls, pretty, smart and brave bring me to an early grave. Saint George give me strength. I have to keep away from that one - at least as long as we are on a run. Afterwards... well the B&B does have a few more rooms...'

[spoiler]Memory Test The Frenchman: 8d6t5 3[/spoiler]
'Wait, who's that?' Just for a moment Isaint's poker face slipped. 'Shit, shit, shit. It's him. I knew I should have put more effort into changing my face. I really, really need to learn that trick to grow hair and beard. And the voice - skin color probably would be a good idea too.
Shit.
What the hell is he doing here in Britain? That slick bastard.
Keep calm. You learned a lot since that time in Istanbul. Besides, I only winged him with that shot - and it's not like he didn't ask for it, going after that boy and all that. At least he is a professional. Probably won't stab me in the back while we are on a run. Afterwards... well we'll see who'll have to parachute naked with the IS flag into swimming-pools.'
Isaint took off the glasses he wore, polished them and put them back on while avoiding to look into the direction of the killer.

[ScytheKnight]

[Wednesday June 17th, 2076, King William Pub, London]

Snow Crash returned the nod, a look of surprise flickering over his face as looking up M4g!( on Jackpoint redirects him to Solo's more recent exploits, his jaw tightening slightly as he reads over the magical talents he'd known nothing about. Fragging magic, knew there was something odd about that one! that run back in Berlin, yeah. Figured was just lookin' green 'cos I geeked that Spider with Biofeedback.

Most runners just run from Spiders. Then again most runners forget that corp Deckers tend to be weak, lazy, slobs. The don't think to overclock their attack co-processor then run Decryption, Hammer and Biofeedback and ram those signals down the Spider's throat until the weakest link, the Spider's body, breaks. In this case the high-tech corp decks work against the Spiders, actually being able to take more abuse than the Spider's themselves tend to be able to. It had earned him a reputation in the Matrix, and like all such things, it was both useful and detrimental.

Dreck... magic and Matrix, just ain't right. Still, least someone around who knows how the handle the subtle stuff int he Matrix. Things where going good on that run until that Spider showed up... then things got very interesting very quickly...

[Ash Wednesday, March 4th, 2076. Corporate Lab, East Berlin]

They'd gone in on Ash Wednesday, corps where always careful on long weekends, but a midweek holiday threw any schedule into chaos. They where going in quiet, not exactly Snow Crash's strong suit, but he was there for muscle, both in the Matrix and meatspace if the dreck hit the fan. It was just a two man run thanks to their timing, the place was almost abandoned during the day and security was lax, letting them get in place to put datataps and break into the Host via a backdoor... thankfully not literally this time.

Snow Crash was running full stealth, sleeze co-processor overclocked and and running silent. Tailing M4g!( and keeping an eye out for problems, letting the other decker focus on blending in to the regular operations of the Host. Everything had gone to plan until they'd copied the data.

M4g!( <Alright, got the data now lets*>

Snow crash cut the other decker off as alarms sounded and another persona rushed at them, the icons a typical sleek corp Spider... basically a wannabe trying to look cool and special while also conforming to corp expectations and regulations.

Snow Crash <FRAGGIT! Spider! Keep the IC off me while I deal with this guy!>

In an instant Snow Crash had gone from a hidden observer to what could best be described as the Matrix equivalent of a one-man blitzkrieg. Stepping up into Hot-Sim and slamming the deck from full sleaze to all-out attack the orc decker dropped any pretense of stealth or subtlety. Looking like a cross between his meat-world body and some kind of digital banshie he rushed the Spider head on, a straight razor leaving a pair of marks on the persona as well as jolting the Spider's body with their Biofeedback laced signals. His own deck starting to overheat from the overclocking and counter-attack before he started smashing the Spider with Hammer and Biofeedback reinforced Data Spikes until the persona suddenly vanished.

Snow Crash <Alright, done! Jac*> M4g!( <You killed him!> Snow Crash <Fastest way! Jack out, NOW!>

In the real world only a couple of seconds had passed since the Spider had raised the alarm, they could still get out if the moved fast! As soon as he was conscious he leaps to his feet and starts hauling the other decker to their feet. Mentally keeping time as his heavily augmented brain studied the situation and calculated every way to shave nano-seconds off their escape.

As soon as the other decker was conscious he pushed them towards the door, only a step behind as he send a command to fry the two datataps. Time since alarm raised: 6 seconds.

Getting out the door and running towards the nearest exit, a service entrance with only a single startled guard just coming to his feet. The confusion at what the alarm was about evident on his face, being replaced by shock as he pieced together that the two janitors running down the hall where responsible. Time since alarm raised: 12 seconds

The albino orc didn't even break his stride, a hand vanishing into his overalls and coming back out with his Ares Crusader II, drawing, aiming and firing in a single fluid motion. The gas vented machine pistol barked loudly and repeatedly in the narrow hallway, the gel rounds knocking the stunned guard back into his chair and toppling over it. Moments later the orc body-checked the door and they burst into the alleyway. Time since alarm raised: 21
seconds.

Grabbing the other decker's arm he sprinted for their ride. The albino Orc jumping behind the wheel and hit the gas as soon as his passenger was inside. He was no rigger, but the augmentations that helped him in combat also served well behind the wheel.

M4g!( "That guard*" Snow Crash "Gel rounds, unless he smashed his skull when he hit the floor he'll be fine. Now just hold on and let me concentrate.

Barely 30 seconds after the alarm was raised the two deckers where speeding off in a screech of tires and into the chaos of Anarchist East Berlin.

[Wednesday June 17th, 2076, King William Pub, London]

Shaking his head a little to clear the memory the albino orc refocused on the conversation at hand.

That was a wild run... have to wonder what's coming up with so many of us here.

[adamu]

[Wednesday June 17th, 2076, Covent Garden, London]

When Al walked in, they’d already pushed two tables together, and still there was no room for him to sit.

He’d had a seat - his sofa in the room above the Docklands shop where he’d been living for the last three months. After hours of pounding away at his cross-cut force, he’d gotten frustrated and taken to throwing the cards at the increasingly bold cockroaches encroaching on his modest living quarters. Mostly he missed, though. And when a card did find its mark, it just bounced off harmlessly. At first they’d skittered away in response, but now they just ignored him. Obnoxious bastards. Twenty years ago, roaches were next to unknown in London. What was the world coming to?

Rhetorical question.

So the call from Torrent had been welcome enough. It’d been a while, but the ork had played it straight on the last job. So he drank some beers for dinner, and when the time came checked his tools were in place, whistled for Spike, and headed out in his filthy plain white Bulldog van, just another builder in the most ubiquitous vehicle on the streets of The Smoke.

You couldn’t drive on Kingly, but he’d never park that close anyway. Once he got to the West End, he’d found a parking space up a block and just around the corner on Carnaby Street, said a few words to Spike in Tamasheq, telling the beast to watch the ride, and headed to the meet. He never got tired of the way the light, sound and warmth washed over him when he walked out of the chill London night and through the doors of a pub.

They weren’t hard to spot - you could tell by the mix of clothes, races, postures that said they weren’t from the same office or same book club or same anything, juxtaposed by a certain commonality of badder-than-thou demeanor. Plus he knew Snow Crash, and the albino stood out pretty easily in a crowd. Good people - solid skills, had your back, and played right out on the sharp edge.

Only two squaws. Not the ratio he’d gotten accustomed to in Seattle, but at least they were both hot keebs. A goodly number of round ears in the bunch, which was a comfort. And one of the wizards had brought their familiar - some sort of hairy child-looking thing. And damn there were a lot of them.

The feller with the pint and cigar that acted like he was holding court was probably the boss. Al remembered from the trid that he was supposed to call the guy Johnson. But from the way folks were still chatting amongst themselves, it didn’t look like he’d started his spiel yet.

He sauntered up to the table, all five-foot-three of him in his Doc Martens, and with nowhere to sit, he took a chair at an adjacent table. A few of them noticed when he sat down, the others didn’t seem to. But he knew they actually did, crew like this.

He slouched low in the chair, chin in his chest and head cocked to one side. It was hard to tell how much the deep furrows on his face had been dug by age or by life. His sandy hair was in complete disarray and looked as though it had been cut by a five-year-old playing with scissors while he slept. He wore a yellowing T-shirt and over that an ancient jacket of cracked brown leather. His jeans were full of holes, white knobby knees jutting through. He knew just enough good manners to keep his hands on the tabletop at a meet-and-greet like this, and they both were so badly covered with burn scars the flesh looked as though it would melt off and seep into the cracks between the knotted wood boards.

He nodded at Snow, ordered a pint, and settled in for the boring part.

[saithor]

Sarah looked around at the people that had been called in for this. The chageling was interesting. She had heard of them before, but had never ran into one during her travels. She might want to talk to him later. The albino orc seemed to be a cool one. The other elf was probably a face. As for the other mage...what the heck was that thing on his shoulder? She also noticed one of the others take off his glasses and polish them almost nervously. Pre-run jitters?

[Crossbow]

It was a Wednesday; Smiley knew that because it was Wing Night at Jodie’s Place.  Not that the meat they were serving had ever been on a wing, or was probably even meat for that matter, but it was the right size, vaguely the right shape and it kinda tasted like chicken, and, most importantly, Jodie could buy it by the truckload.

Once you deep fried it and smothered it in enough sauce it went great with a cold beer because it made you plenty thirsty.   Jodie liked thirsty customers, what she didn’t like was the smell, which was why Wednesday was the one day of the week you didn’t find Jodie anywhere near Jodie’s Place.

Smiley was in his regular spot, a plate in front of him and a beer in hand (obviously), keeping an eye on things for his friend, when the scraggly little waif came through the door, her eyes never leaving the sign posted on the front door that said “FREE WYNGZ w/purchase 5-8pm.”

She settled into a seat at the bar and placed an order, the wing plate arriving in front of her even before the drink did.  She began to devour the pile like it was her last meal, or maybe her first one, the spice bringing a tone to her skin visible even under the Amerind coloring.  She came up for air when her beer arrived, draining it in two gulps and sliding it back for refill.

Smiley’s grin got a little wider as he turned his attention back to the UrbanBrawl on the trid mounted above the bar.  He looked back when he heard the shout.  A member of the Leprechauns, a small gang in the area, had decided to try his luck with the girl.   Apparently that hadn’t gone so well, because the punk was spinning her around to face him.

The draft mug swung with her, breaking over Mr. Lucky’s head.  (That really was his name too, it was tattooed on the non-bleeding side of his green-‘hawked dome)  When the razors slid out and his mates started moving Smiley went into action, intending to break an arm or two to send the punks on their way.   He never got the chance as the waif went completely feral on the poor bastards, blowing them and the front end of the bar out into the street with some kind of Lightning Ball thing.

He caught the girl as the drain overwhelmed her, and brought her around just as Jodie made it back.  That might have gone badly for Smiley, but the girl had a sense of right and wrong, and Jodie had a soft spot for strays, so when Sarah promised to work off the debt, Jodie gave her the chance
. 
Smiley got her shadow-work fairly easily, her skills, as most mages are, soon in high demand.   She took off soon after that, but they had kept in touch.

The most amazing part of the story?  Smiley had never hit on her, not once.  It simply never occurred to him, probably because in the back seat of the car that his parents drove off in the last time he saw them, was a brand new Papoose Brand Infant Protection Carrier with a little girl named Sarah inside.

[Triskavanski]

The changeling was, as most law abiding citizens were in the areas, broadcasting the SIN under the name "Mr. Peabody."  His gear kept most of his body hidden, as if he was attempting to hide his disfigurement from the world.

His full face mask gave him an unbelievable poker face, as he moved to climb up a chair to watch with the big folk.

"Garr is here." he remarked. Garr,  a hacker on the web who's appeared a few times, who's persona is that of a large bipedal and heavily armored wolf wielding a large two-handed sword of some kind.  While he doesn't have a whole lot in the way of cred though for actually making any known hacks, he's known for be very tough on the matrix to handle.

[saithor]

"If we're going to be introduing ourselves, I'm Hallucination." Sarah said right after the Changeling had said his street name. Not being well-versed in the matrix, she would have no idea who Garr would be. The silence that was going on was begining to get awkward, and while she wasn't a very social person, even she was begining to get nervous. She kept on looking at the Johnson, windering why he was being so quiet so far. Maybe he was waiting for them to introduce themselves?

Her comn went off, loudly playing a piece of Tribal music she liked. Without anybody really talking, it sounded even louder than normal, and she felt embaressed as she got it out of her pocket. "Sorry" she apologized as she chekced it. It had been twelve hours since Torrent had first sent her the message, and she quickly fished the bottle of pills out of her other pocket and popped two of them into her mouth before washing them down. Then she realized how that might have looked to some of the other people at the table. Smooth Sarah, now some of them probaly think your a druggie.

[gilga]

Solo nods at Garr... nice mask man. I bet it is great for poker... do you play? I am Solo by the way.
He then adress Sarah
Hallucation... sounds sneaky he grins...can I buy you a drink? Maybe it is just me but mr. Art does not like to talk much... we might have time for a quick one.