Session 3, Part 1: Who's Selling?

to be posted.

Session 2, Part 3: Who's Selling?

A block a half was the closest the GMC Bulldog StepVan could get without risking getting blocked in with all the traffic beginning to fill the streets. Indy, Lennie and Spiders decided to use the van as their base of operations while Joe, Yumi and Zimmer made their way on foot.

Their objective was to get inside and find any evidence relating to the disc. 

With an opening band playing inside, hundreds of the gangers stood outside, smoking paraphernalia, waiting for the porta-potties, trading illegal items, and pretty much seeing what kind of trouble they could get into.

Joe split off from the other two and began to walk around the building, examining the security detail and gauging what they were up against. So far he had seen a couple troll bouncers at the door, a pair corporate security guards walking the perimeter, and a pair standing guard by a luxury coach bus sitting outside the back entrance of the warehouse.  Joe blended into the crowd near the bus and waited, keeping an eye on the guards and the back exit.

Not having tickets to get into the event, Yumi and Zimmer made their way to the troll bouncers at the front entrance and asked for Jager, the head of security. They had gotten a piece of info from Yumi’s contact that Jager, Nabo’s brother, was not only head of security, but a liability because of a certain weakness around novacoke.

Using several hits as a bargaining chip, the pair acquired two backstage passes to the show and made their way through the crowd as a local band mixed a noisy electronica with heavy beats and repetitive vocals. The crowd bobbed their heads to the thrumming as the two made their way to the back curtain.

Spiders sent in a watcher spirit, having it comb the grounds, looking for any threats. Not too long after, he sent a second one in to see what was on the bus. All that he found there was someone sitting at a VR station, comfortably accessing various controls.

Indy sent up a drone while Lennie used its camera to help scan and isolate the security team’s commlinks to give her team a live feed on where they were on each person’s AR display.  Indy made sure countermeasures were up to keep them from being pinpointed while Lennie kept an ear open for any incoming corporate police.

Yumi and Zimmer made it back behind the curtain to find Nabo sitting on a couch, surrounded by female groupies. He glanced their direction, but was immediately redirected to the female ork next to him as she moved her hand across his chest and whispered something into his ear. The other girls did not seem concerned and continued taking turns vying for his attention.


"Hey Bro, You're on in one minute," Jager piped in as he stepped through the stage curtain.

Nabo nodded and stood up, much to the dismay of his female companions. He quickly disappeared down the short hallway into the last room. Spiders sent his watcher spirit after him and spyed him pulling out a small device out of a desk drawer. Lennie confirmed it as his commlink when it turned on, her probe catching it, but cursed under her breath when it immediately was turned back off. She let everyone know it was in the room.


"We don't need Nabo, if we can get his comlink," Zimmer whispered through his subdermal microphone.


Nabo rushed by him as the Ork disappeared through the curtain, to a roaring crowd on the other side. Jager sat down where Nabo was, between all the girls in their skimpy outfits and smiled. They immediately rolled their eyes and stood up, making their way to the curtain and cheering on Nabo as the beats began to pound harder.


Jager sighed loudly and looked up at Zimmer and Yumi, shrugging.


Zimmer glanced at the hallway and then Yumi. They needed a distraction.

Session 2, Part 2: Who's Selling?

Although it’s later than some of the group prefer, they meet up at a neighborhood bar in Auburn called Caseys.  The place is low key enough they don’t attract much attention there, at least the kind they don’t want to attract. Being close to Clone Zone Mall, it’s a popular hangout for some of the malls employees and hangers on after hours, which means you can often find some talented hackers talking shop and willing to make deals for hardware and coding work.

Everyone had touched base with their contacts and as expected it was hit and miss, that was until Lennie’s found out about Nabo and his possible connection to the disk.

That said, most of the party had heard of Nabo. Most of Seattle had heard of Nabo, unless they were living under a rock. The whole Orxploitation movement had settled down somewhat in the last five or six years from its former white-hot glory, but that didn’t mean it was going away. Every few moths the music-sim companies find somebody new to promote, propel up to the pop charts, and exploit until they can find a new cash cow. These days, Nabo’s their golden boy. Anybody who pays attention to popular music knows his story: he’s an ork ganger kid from the Seattle Barrens who loves music more than he loves firefights and selling BTL’s. He makes a name for himself performing in small local clubs, gets noticed by somebody big time, and the next thing he knows he’s rocketing up the charts.

After a little more legwork the group finds out he’s holding a concert. It’s in a warehouse. Not a club artfully disguised to look like a warehouse. Not a former warehouse that’s been converted into a club. It’s a warehouse.

Smack dab in the middle of a crumbling industrial district near the docks, the place is obviously not prepared for the numbers of people who’ll be showing up for the gig. Cars and motorcycles choke the streets, everywhere they look people are double and triple parked, and it looks likethat line of porta-potties off to the side isn’t going to be adequate to handle the crowd. Already quite a few people are milling around outside, and the booming sounds of music coming from inside the badly soundproofed walls can be heard from a distance.

Whoever’s sponsoring Nabo must have dropped a lot of cred for bribes to make this happen, since not even a single Lone Star cruiser can be seen prowling around, nor is there any angry fire marshals. While it’s a run dun part of town, even a place like this takes some big money to get something this big ignored.

Session 2, Part 1: Infinity

 

Another day, another struggle for survival on the mean streets of the sprawl. It's raining, Lone Star's running a high-profile "serve and protect" visibility campaign lately, and the pickings have been a little lean for the team. Occupational hazard, they gotta make a rep before they get the good jobs, but they gotta get the good jobs before they can make a rep. 

Life isn't cheap, and while he’s managed to stow away a few extra creds for upcoming months, Howling Yumi knows it's not going to last forever. While pondering his future a familiar number pops up in his AR display. Zeven is on the line, and usually that means one thing- a job. Cred. For his team it’s a way to earn that next boost, or better cyberware, reputation, glory, or even just the next thrill.

"Yeah, I got a job for you," Zeven says, confirming Yumi’s thoughts. "Looks like something you guys should be able to handle. Meet Mr. Johnson at 21:00 at Infinity. The meet'll be in one of the private conference rooms- tell the elf bartender chica that you're with the Johnson party and she'll show you where to go. Oh, and dress like you know what you're doing, willya?”

***

A couple members of the team gathered up at the Infinity the night before the meet, taking the opportunity to familiarize themselves with the surroundings should anything go south. They found the club to bristling with those in the scene, an inferno of bass driven music mixed with everything tres chic and nova hot. 

The found the Infinity networked to the hilt, with everything from public safety AROs to augmented entertainment and social networking applications.  Menus and liquor lists for the bar, different music broadcasts on different AR channels, notices for upcoming events and ads for stores where the hottest clubwear.

It didn't take long until everyone began to get solicitations from members of both sexes to do everything from dance to go off in a private for for a little extracurricular activity. 


"Nice legs, what time do they open?" zipped a message across Lennies AR.

It didn't take long for her to hack his comm-link and have him buy half the place a round of drinks before he rushed the bar in attempt to stop the auto-pour behind the bartender. That would teach the bastard.

While the night began as a quick once over for business, it quickly divulged into a night on the town, the runners joining in on the scene and losing themselves on the hedonistic dance floor. 

Getting into Infinity went much easier than expected. It seemed Zimmer knew one of staff at the club and managed to get their group on the list. While some of them didn’t manage to fit the dress code to the T, the good referral meant they didn’t get the second glance from the boys out front.

The best thing was that Zimmer's contact was the female bartender on duty, Sarissa herself. Which meant that they didn't have to play the games they often had to get the info they needed. It usually just ended up handing over a few extra cred, but in Sarissa's case, maybe it would have been more fun to play the games.


Sarissa was the hot as drek bartender that mixed drinks though more importantly company from behind the counter. A controlled mix of mischievous and professional, she always got the job done but had you coming back for more. She and Zimmer seemed to have a comfortable rapport between them, though it was hard to tell how far that went.

While Zimmer caught up with Sarrisa, Joe sipped from his glass as his eyes surveyed the crowd dancing to the pulsing beats reverberating throughout the popular nightclub. Near center he found Yumi and Indira dancing, moving to the rhythm as holograms mimicked them above the dance floor. Being a club hopper, Indy was far better a dancer, but Yumi’s youth and enthusiasm made up for his inexperience as the couple mixed it in with the rest, melding into the crowd of gyrating bodies.

Spiders walked through the room astrally, trying to gauge any threat from anyone who might be using magic. There were a few others projecting and enjoying themselves here, but nothing flagged itself to him as a concern. That said, the place did have a couple mages watching over the place, combined with some spirits and elementals phasing in and out here and there, but it was expected when a club made as much as nuyen as this place. On top of that every wall and door had a barrier, to offer privacy to those who wanted or expected it.

Eventually Yumi pulled Indira out of the crowd, as they both made their way up to the bar to join the others. Lennie sat in a chair as she tested the buildings nodes in AR, staying out of a full VR immersion. She kept the public floor plan handy, it was far more detailed than the swill the buildings ARO displayed in everyone’s AR. She didn’t care where the bathrooms and sushi bar were, she needed the location of every window, exit and the access ways between floors.

She only caught the end of the conversation.

“The Blue Room,” Yumi repeated, nodding at Sarrisa. The room popped up on their AR right after and they followed the ramp to second floor. Spiders had to manifest to get through the door. 

Inside sat a Troll of medium height, no longer young but not quite middle-aged. He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way, wearing a purple and chartreuse suit in the latest style that somehow manages to stay on the tasteful side.

“Welcome,” he says, smiling. “Please sit down. I’m Mr. Johnson, and I trust that Zeven sent you.  Can I get you anything?”

Two of the serving staff, a young male and female quickly enter and leave the room, filling any orders or requests the group may have.

“Shall we get down to business, then?

“Someone has stolen an object from the people I represent. We would like to get it back quickly, as we have reason to believe that this person is trying to sell it. What you’re looking for is some music-related data that’s important to my employer’s business. I don’t know who stole it- my employer’s home was broken into a couple days ago, and the disk was taken along with some other items in which we have no particular interest. Your best bet is probably to keep your ears open to whatever channels you think might be appropriate- if the thief is going to sell it, word will have to get out that it’s available. The object storing the data is an old style optical disk. We want both disk and data returned, in the eventuality that the one no longer resides on the other. In case it’s not clear, my employers don’t want the disk’s data getting into the hands of anyone but themselves, so if the data gets out, we expect you to track down and eliminate any copies.

“Once you’ve located it, the second part of the job is to track down the person who’s offer it for sale- probably not the same person who’s offering the information, since the thief will probably be working through intermediaries- and get the disk back. You can do this in whatever way you see fit: if you can get it back by making an offer for it, my employer can cover the arrangement and take care of getting my money back later. If you’d prefer something a little more larcenous, that’s fine too. Just do it as quickly as possible and make sure the disk is not harmed.

“I’m authorized to offer your team 12,000 nuyen for the job, half up front and half upon the return of the disk to me. Do we have a deal?”

And that was it. The group accepted the job. Sat back after the troll left and took advantage of the free drinks that were being billed to the room. While some of them went to consider what contacts they were going to get a hold of, others took advantage of the opportunity and enjoyed themselves at the club until the late hours.

Session 1, Part 2. First Night: In and Out

The DocWagon chopper arrived to the yacht, much faster than the security team had expected, but considering the situation, they weren't about to complain. Most had little combat experience and were hoping this would be a medical issue DocWagon could take care of for them. And if there was to be combat, at least they would have some support.

While the disguise wouldn't hold in the day or long under scrutiny, at night and at a distance the chopper and personnel exiting the vehicle looked official. The security team never really had a chance when Spiders drew first blood.

Spiders

The bearded dwarf didn't look comfortable in his DocWagon emblazoned jumpsuit, but the run wasn't about comfort or if the legs of his pants were just a tad too long, threatening to catch under the heel of his heavy boots. For him it was about the first step of what he planned on doing for a living.


Blowing the living drek out of any frakin rent of cop who stood between him and his payout. Now that didn't mean leaving a wake of death behind him. He was professional after all. But back to the good stuff.


A simple thought and focus was all it took. Not wanting to kill the two guards in front of him, Spiders centered a sphere of mana between the two and let it go, watching the concussive effect it had its victims. The first immediately dropped to his knees, hands going to his head as he screamed, teetering on the edge to stay conscious, oblivious to everything else. The second took the jolt but remained on his feet, fighting to regain his bearings.

Not giving the security team time to react, Joe followed suit, Ingram smartgun carried high and near his cheekbone. While he didn't need to do so since he was smartlinked, it was a carry over from his previous training and aided him in reacting to any hostile targets. The suppressor flared alive on his weapon and the standing security guard rocked back all three shots from the burst found purchase. 

...to be continued.

Session 1, Part 1. First Night: In and Out

Indy

A helicopter flew across the Puget sound at night, its red beacons reflecting on the shadowy rolling waters as it crossed the bay. Indy sat in the dark cockpit of the Kiowa Warrior helicopter, its green dash casting a soft glow throughout the compartment.

Her pink cyber-eyes shifted to the left, digital iris's spinning as the aircraft gently listed that direction, the copter's control stick seemingly moving on its own accord. Behind her on the bench seating rest the assault team, each member feeling the vehicles frame vibrate as the rotors churned and expelled a dull humming noise around them.

Yumi

The massive troll Yumi, with his albino skin radiating almost a sickish eerie-green in the dim light, sat with his back and head slouched under the low roof, causing his shoulders to look even wider than usual. He took a deep breath of cool night air, ready to complete the final leg of the mission. All they needed to do was snatch one piece of data, to which they were informed was kept in a safe. A Simple in and Out with as little casualties as possible. And absolutely, under no conditions were the two hosts, Mr and Mrs Herdmann, to be harmed. The catch? The whole thing was taking place on a forty meter long private yacht.

Joe

To Yumi's right sat Joe, the newest member of the team. Looking comfortable on the bench as if he's done this before, he pulled back and audibly popped the charging handle of his assault rifle; chambering the first round. After the click he felt better, more calm, finding something comforting in the familiar sound. The sensor in his smartgun output immediately verified his weapon was hot in his augmented reality readout. Below that was an ammo count and a barrel temperature indicator. While it was comforting to some, it was not so much to others.

At the sound Lennie looked up, almost started, her slight body on the verge of looking out of place in the current company. She's tapped into the all the communications channels she could muster, listening for any chatter that might turn their job south. Locating a knight Errant patrol boat in the area, she pulled a few virtual strings and sent out a false distress attached to a phantom ship several miles down the coast. The patrol boat shortly left the vicinity to investigate, sending a brief message to HQ with their intentions.

Sharing the same comm-signal, Indy looked back and winked at Lennie, giving her a thumbs up.

 

Zimmer

On the ship Zimmer walked out into the dining area, holding two trays of appetizers, in one hand some Vietnamese spring rolls and in the other Crab and Cream Cheese Napoleons. Walking around the glossy wooden table his eyes took in everything and everybody. Mr and Mrs Herdmann chatting with their three guests, all eyes expressively open and all too eager to get a sampling of his culinary delights, created as instructed by the knowsoft program he currently had running though his simsense input. Getting a hold of his fixer before hand for it had given him the extra edge and confidence he needed in completing his facade as a sous-chef aboard the yacht.

Just outside the door he noted two guards, both facing outward, sub-machine guns hanging by a strap off their shoulders. Simple discrete black jackets, armored of course, with matching slacks and shiny black dress shoes. Comfortable enough to fight in, but nothing to wear in a situation where your life depended on it.

Zimmer's eyes glanced over at the tall windows encircling the cabin, looking for the two other guards he had seen when the ship left the dock. Nothing was in sight.

Lips barely moving, Zimmer inaudibly whispered into his sub-dermal mic, "Two at the door, two others, whereabouts unknown," he informed, beginning his plan. 

The message came though loud and clear in the helicopter. Indy nodded to herself, changing course to intercept the yacht in five minutes.

A small addition of a carefully administered neuro-toxin to the meal was all it took to render the dining party out. While it wouldn't harm or leave any long term effects, the toxin would trigger the auto response on Mr. Herdmann's DocWagon bracelet. Only seconds after unconsciousness did small LED on his bracelet begin to pulse, matched by a high pitched squelch which alerted the guards outside. The drug had worked faster than planned, leaving Zimmer standing in the same room as the dinner party when security entered the room.