[HydroRaven]

<Hang back and wait for us since you've got our weapons. Shouldn't take us long for us to arrive anyways> answered Clem after she read O'Connor's message.

[farothel]

Sammy had changed clothes to something more suited to the location they were going to, including her form-fitting armour and armoured vest.  She also took her pistol and taser and some small items she might need, like a first aid kit and stuff like that.

"No worries," she said to Snow, "I understand completely.  And don't worry, just keep an eye on things and be ready to act if there's any problem."


'Leave the Pito to record, but don't broadcast.  We'll check what we broadcast after the run, if anything.  Snow, do you have a good editing suite so we can make it into some sort of regular mini series?'

[Crossbow]

The team manages to hook up and get to the area without incident.  The little corner bar, called “The Bally-Who?” has few customers at this late hour, and Sammy finds no significant magic in the building.

Torley, as the point man for the team, is in the bar, the twenty or so other occupants are checked off as not being A-Kidz, with a few questionable cases being verified by comms with O’Connor and Clem as little better than poseurs.  The heavies have posted themselves at either end of the block on overwatch.

Sammy and Snow are in the vehicle driven by Clem, the mage continuing to do an occasional Astral sweep while downloading and reviewing archived Gang Life episodes for more leads and Snow, already in control of the bar’s node, reviewing footage from the security logs.

Stakeouts suck.

[Mercy Merchant]

Snow is poring over the security feeds and tossing the data through her analysis software to see if something stands out.  She is looking for recurring patrons, of which there ought of plenty in a neighborhood watering hole.  So far no one has stood out, but she has already identified several hookers and other regulars.  She is cross referencing faces with those of the A-Kidz gang.  Every time Sammy comes across a new face on her archive search, Snow takes the feed from her and pops it into the analyzer mix she is running.  So far nothing.  Once she has everything running in the background on her cybered 'link she turns to Sammy.  "So, why did you leave the glamor and glitz for this sort of life, if you don't mind talking about it?" 

[farothel]

"To look for my sister, who dissapeared," Sammy said, "and I can tell you, glitz and glamour are also not always what people think they are.  It's nice to be recognised and not having to wait outside of clubs and stuff, but there's also disadvantages.  Stalkers, runners trying to extract you for another studio, things like what happened in Seattle with Pandora, for women the fact that after 30-35 years you're considered too old for most parts, the casting couch."

[Necrogigas]

O'Connor strummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of his rented vehicle, *This is such fraggin' bulldrek. I had a three way lined up, but no, now I'm stuck with this damn stakeout.* He hoped that they got a lead soon. He was feeling the need to take out his frustrations on these A-Kidz. He scanned the area again, hoping against hope.

[spoiler]
Intuition 3+ Perception 3 + Visual 2 = Pool 8
8d6.hits(5)=3
[/spoiler]

[HydroRaven]

As time was passing by, impatience started taking a hold of Clem. The ork was usually calm in these situation, but the time constraint was putting pressure on her. She tried to inspect her weapons for the third time since they had arrived, but to no avail. After a while, she finally said "If nobody comes by in the next hour or so, we have to think of some other way to find that roach."

[Thvor]

Torley, as the point man for the team, is in the bar, the twenty or so other occupants are checked off as not being A-Kidz, with a few questionable cases being verified by comms with O’Connor and Clem as little better than poseurs.  The heavies have posted themselves at either end of the block on overwatch.

Sam knew that, even if the other people in the bar weren't in the A-Kidz, the gang would be known to the regulars. Bacchus, especially, seemed like a hard-to-forget character. The only question was how best to go about getting the information he needed. He quickly decided against posing as a detective or a drunk member of a rival gang; neither option seemed likely to work. A jealous husband? Possible, but that required the right sort of receptiveness from the audience. A reporter could work, but Sam thought he had a better idea.

Sam was careful to look dejected as he walked into the bar. There were few reasons people willingly went to places like this, and the main one was that the booze would be plentiful and cheap. Taking a seat at the bar, Sam ordered a whiskey, then, while the bartender was pouring, changed his order to a double. He considered asking the barkeep to leave the bottle, but figured that would be pushing the clichéd role a little too far. After nursing his drink for a while, he started talking, half to himself, half to the bartender, half to anyone who cared to listen; the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue up. "Damn her. She's a mage, everyone knows that. This should be easy for her. But she wants realism. This is going to be her big come-back--the great Samantha Delavine returning home after her mysterious absence--and she wants to do it without any drekking illusions. Never mind what it does to our budget. Never mind that we're in the middle of filming already. She wants a gods-damned satyr, and of course the fraggin' producer promises that we'll get one. And then he turns to me and tells me that if I don't show up on-set with someone with goat legs, I can kiss my career good-bye. You have any idea how hard it is to find someone like that on short notice, even in this city?" Probably not as hard as I'd like, Sam thought ruefully. All sorts of weirdos running around here. Finishing off his first drink, Sam motioned to the bartender for a second, then sighed. "Joe said he thought there was someone down this way, but damned if I can find 'em," he muttered to himself.

[Mercy Merchant]

Snow replies, "Is there something about Seattle or is it just misfortune?  I, too, am looking for a missing sister.  She came over from Russia a bit ago under a cloud.  Father had exiled her here to save her life because she had defied the wrong people.  She made a poor choice of friends there and disappeared.  I was sent to find out what happened to her and get justice for the family.  And the man I replaced on this team was looking for a sister.  And you, too.  It is strange.  Did you find your sister?  I have not found mine yet." 

She chuckles.  "You mean that casting couch really exists?  I had thought it was an urban myth.  I spent years being a corporate Hostess Girl for Evo.  That is the polite term for corporate prostitute.  Where I grew up you did what you were told so it was no real problem functioning in that manner.  That is how Clem knows me, and maybe why she has some trust issues.  She was Yakuza and providing security at a party meet between the Yaks and the Vory.  My Vory bosses provided me as part of the entertainment for their Yak contacts.  But the bottom line between us is that she is, or was, Yak, and I am very much still Vory."

[farothel]

"Oh hell yeah, it exists," Sammy said, while filing away the information about the other's syndicate contacts in her memory for future reference, "it actually mostly doesn't exist when you audition for porn, or so I'm told.  But there you know what you're auditioning for.  I was simply lucky in that I worked behind the scenes and when an actress fell ill and I looked enough like her so they could substitute without too much trouble.  Also I knew the lines, having been behind the scenes of the movies.  In fact, working behind the scenes is often much more interesting than standing in front of the cameras."

[Crossbow]

The barkeep pours your drink and takes your cred, casually but purposely leaving the window open and the TIP space blinking.  "Might be able to point you in the right direction bud."

[Thvor]

Sam looked at the barkeep in disbelieving hope, barely glancing at the tip space as he filled it in with a 50. "Really? Man, you have no idea what that would mean to me!"

[Crossbow]

 The bartender replies sarcastically "Really? Man, it must not mean THAT much to you!", clears the field and sends it back.

[Thvor]

Sam blinked in disbelief. "What? Oh...um..." He coughed uncomfortably, squirmed, then typed 500 into the field, looking up anxiously at the bartender as he did so. As he slid the pad back to the barkeeper, he stopped, grabbed the pad back, cleared the field, and quickly typed in 1000 before thrusting it at the bartender with a hopeful smile.

[Crossbow]

The surprised smile on the bartender's face says he hit the right number.

He runs the transaction, then, before Torley can reach for his drink, he dumps the glass in the sink and pulls out two more, filling them from a different, unlabeled, bottle than before.

After a quick toast he throws his back and leans in close, "Okay, so the guy you are looking for is an ork named Bacchus, he runs with this booster gang called the A-kidz.  I haven't seen him in awhile, I think there was some kinda thing went down, but a couple of the other guys have a flop upstairs in the back.  You want me to call them?"