A waitress in knee-high sneakers, a low ponytail, and a garish Pugger's shirt brings the pitcher, 4 empty pint glasses, and a sealed water bottle comes along in short order, and introduces herself as Jen. While it's obvious that the crew doesn't fit in here, she's very polite, asks the table if they need anything, and when the sorority girls call out to her across the bar because they need more synth-lime juice, she rolls her eyes at the table, and excuses herself.
Without giving her a fake smile, Ian looks the waitress in the eye, nods his head and says,
"Thanks, Jen. We'll be fine though. If the pitcher is empty and someone's looking at you, bring another. I'll holler if we need anything else, ok?"Etiquette to make nice with the waitress:
6d6t5 2"I'm with you on wanting to find out who and what we are up against. Even if we don't do anything about it, it's better to know than not."
"That's a tough call, chummer. Like you, I don't really like the idea that someone might be snooping around while we're working. Plus, considering how half your team is already missing... I think this may be a mystery that needs to be resolved."
Ian watches each one as they speak, Error just nodding between gulps off his foul pitcher to indicate his approval.
"Alright, sounds like the ayes have it." Before he can say his next few words, the dwarven newcomer steals the words right out of his mouth.
"So if we do it, what's the plan? Are we actually going to put somewhere out there? One of the reasons some of the college kids like it so much is because it's pretty remote, surrounded by trees with a few fire pits from parties past. Between the remoteness and the planes landing, you can raise a decent racket. Drek, you could probably hold target practice there and no one would care as long as you don't hit a plane." Pausing for a second, she continued, "I told them I was a rigger, so if we are going to put someone out there, it might help if they had a drone out there with them." The certain emphasis Bookworm placed on the word 'someone' suggested that she wasn't necessarily volunteering. Offering in a hopeful tone, the dwarf concluded, "I can project over there beforehand and take a quick look around if we want."
He takes a deep breath, getting all his bravado and confidence balled up into a tight little mass before quietly saying with almost a smile,
"Well, I have no plan whatsoever at this point. As far as I'm concerned, we almost don't need to put anyone out there. Honestly, I feel like just staking the place out with drones, spirits, and whatever else is at our disposal and just seeing who shows up. Let em think Bookworm here missed the meet for one reason or another. I guess, technically, that is , like... y'know, a... plan, i guess? So..."Killing people in some forest is not part of the job description. Not that I'm against it altogether.
Hopeless and Bookworm both glance at one another for just a split second, just long enough to notice they both have the same look on their faces. Lacking the proper words, he lets her speak.
"I think just figuring out who is fragging with us could be helpful. I'm not sure what it was they were going to have you do, but asking me to show up at a meet in the middle of nowhere doesn't scream 'goodwill' to me."
Nodding his head in an exaggerated fashion, he points and shakes his finger at Bookworm.
"Yeah, what she said. That." "Here's the area we're talking about... one way in and out by vehicle. There's an abandoned oil well in the middle of the sandpit and a pool of run-off water to the south, I wouldn't put a foot in it if I were you. Other than that, trees surround the area with oil storage containers and a small dried creek bed on the north."
"Yuck." He opens an ARO and looks around a little bit as she talks about the
"highlights" of the area.
This place is a fucking murder hole. You go here to do shit you don't want anyone to find out about. Fuck goin out there without serious support.He frowns a bit as he closes the ARO again and focuses his full attention back on the conversation.
"Yeah, this whole place looks shitty. The more I look at this, the more it looks like a drones and spirits observation only sorta job. Breeze, didn't you say you had some second story kinda whatnot you were good at? Any of that stuff super useful for counter-surveillance?">>Incoming Message:
>>Sender: B-Know
>>Message: Null sheen, breeder. Look me up when ur back in the DFW, n we'll kick it.
>> Reply: B-Know
>> Message: Wiz.Hopeless pockets his comm, and the two runners facing the door notice that a group of the college boys keep eyeing the table and looking to their commlinks and nodding to one another. They're trying to stay chill about it, but it's pretty obvious that they're interested in who's sitting down the way.
Why the hell did I even take this piece of shit out of my pocket in the first place? Datajack, dude! C'mon, get your shit together! Now, why are these dickbags over there looking at us? No, they aint looking at us. They're looking at the suit. God damn this fucking ork and his fucking "lookitme" suit.Three of the college boys are on their way to the table, commlinks in hand. The lead college boy has sandy hair with racing stripes shaved in the side of his head and wears an electrochromatic Hawaiian shirt, which shows the palm trees swaying in some digital breeze. "Uh, hoi chummer," he says to the group nervously. "I'm Daniel, and this is Cory and we call this one 'The Clam.'" He motions to his two companions with his thumb as he talks.
Ian just stares at the broskis. They might as well had been ghouls in tuxedos for how little he could believe this was actually happening. Before the fog can clear from his mind, Error starts talking again, and it only gets stranger from there.
Hello, breeders. You want me to sign your cast?
Sure. Why not? This might as well happen.Daniel tilts his head to one side for a second until Error's meaning registers, at which point he takes an unconscious step back. Then, a smile crosses his face, and he gives three exaggerated snaps with his fingers as he points at the seated ork. "Hell yeah, omae. I fuckin' tol' you," he says to the one called "The Clam." "You're fraggin' Egor the Bear, nul? Man, I grew up on that shit. That fuckin' move you had where you came up on chummers with those cyber arms like BLAH!, that was fraggin' chip, dude. Hey, omae, like, whatever happened to you, man? I can't believe you're down at some little college town like College Station. Drek." Daniel is obviously immune to some of the finer social graces, and seems completely oblivious to any current tension at the table.
Error smiles at the kids and gets off table: Let's get to your table, patsany. It's been a while since I gave autographs.
Ian simply cannot believe what is happening before his very eyes.
Did I start doing BTLs and get so burned out I think it's real? The fact that this johnson sent the beleaguered team a recognizably famous professional wrestler as their backup for a highly sensitive robbery job in the middle of a student uprising is just starting to dawn on him.
Did someone cast a spell on me? Is this an illusion? I wonder if it was Loki? All manner of thoughts, both rational and irrational begin pouring though his head in all directions at once, nearly paralyzing him for a second or two.
composure:
6d6t5 2 His swirling madness is thankfully interrupted by a message popping up in the bottom left of his field of vision.
<<@Team [Bookworm] So... maybe we should conduct our real biz this way? Little chance of being overheard. Just stay casual, plus Breeze can play along while he works. What's the plan for tonight, you all should have access to the ARO map of the area.>>
Taking another sip of beer, Bookworm says in a lazy manner, "I heard Trey Manziel may have been involved in that business in the Quad. What do you think the chances are they kick him off the football team? I'm guessing not, star quarterback and scion of the Manziel family and all that..."
<<@Team>>
<<Good with me. I’ll be going in VR now, ping me if you need me back in meat town.>>
Composing his response with a thought,
<<@Team [Hopeless] Yeah. Good idea. You're just full of em tonight. As for the plan- Before he can finish the message, one last little member of the angry swirling thought flood from earlier comes staggering back to the front of his head, begging to be given its proper attention; And it turns out to be a good one.
Yeah, this is gonna work. Turn your disadvantages into advantages; That's what a clever motherfucker does. As for the plan, Me, Error and his fanclub are gonna be on the ground. We're gonna be hiding in plain sight. Book and Breeze are gonna be on overwatch. Aint no one engaging nothing. We're just getting as many and as varied in type of eyes, ears, and noses if we got em as we can on these fuckers before they give up and leave. Error, you're about to give these kids a friendly lesson in whatever the hell kinda wrestling you used to do over in the park later on. Around nine thirty or so. Whaddayathink? Breeze, you've got enough time to finish what you're doing by then, right?"Trey Manziel? Sorry, i don't really follow any of that stuff. Involved on whose side?"